Thinking cap.

    I long for rain on nights like these, when nerves rush like traffic through my brain. Two fingers softly clenching a cigarette, hoping that the intensity of my being tense will disappear like the smoke being forced from my worried lungs. Music selected to drown the quiet that for some reason is drowning me, lately the discomfort grows when the world isn't making enough noise. I haven't been making too much sense lately, perhaps it's all just a strange phase.
    Maybe I'm just transforming into my idea of an adult, taking tiny steps towards becoming some sort of grown up. Or as stated before this just could be a phase. I seem to venture down all different kinds of paths, never really choosing one staple road to continue down. I'd like to think that I'm figuring things out, but it's never that simple. I have these portraits in my mind, all painted with detail. Created for me to recreate.
     My dreams have never really been king sized, never really too far-fetched. Always obtainable, with just a decent amount of determination and effort, but the thought soon begins to plague me. Is the juice worth the squeeze? I'll never know unless I squeeze. Fear is sometimes a necessity, but mine is like a rose bush grown out of control. I can find a balance and move forward, I feel pretty ready.
     I think too much, which verifies that my mom is quite often correct. I detest that fact. Imagine if somehow we could pause our minds for a bit, just whatever we didn't want to deal with. I have this thing with backtracking, living in moments that I absolute hate. Conjuring the memories entirely knowing that I will feel like shit afterword, which makes me think that I like feeling like shit. I don't, but the subconscious can really do a number.
    I'm really just hoping that tomorrow brings answers, and allows me back on the path of becoming some sort of adult like entity. Ready to take on the real world, and allow myself all of my extremely obtainable dreams. I hope all of you do the same. :)

The quiet things.

He asked me if I was a fan of the band, I blindly said yes. I was a fan of whatever he was. Upon further scrutiny I realized that the band played an anthem of mine, mostly forgotten due to the time lapse. Years seem to pass like days, I was under the impression that feelings would do the same. Being wrong upsets me, hence my frantic ability to never be right, either. He always seemed so brilliant to me, he still does at some points in our conversations. It's sort of funny how love can dissolve and return, like a sand sculpture destroyed and then rebuilt by the oceans will. Secretly, at one point I was almost to the point where surrendering to him seemed logical. That notion was lost, upon realizing that he was too familiar. Nostalgic, and noticeable like each of my mistakes. A castle build from the shards of beauty and horror, a story so recognizable that it stole the breath from my inner gallows.
I can say with a straight face that I love you more than I should. I focus far too much on what you used to be. A soul bearing so much pain and beauty that it pacified my own, and left me reaching for more. I can't blame you, it is my own fault. Had I an option to start all over, I can almost guarantee that I would find you.
Back in those days, we were both so young and silly. Straining words like muscles to appease to each other, now a bit older, I almost feel the same. My feelings don't matter all that much, because I've learned that my feelings are awful and destructive. Yet, somehow I've granted you the permission to destroy me. I sort of expect the truth from you... Get it over with, establish something or walk onward, with me on the same page as your hearts needs.
I just sort of have always seen us on the same page, a wavelength connected by our minds. I know it's foolish, be honest and let me know that I have invested too much trust in you. I have, I can feel it.
Smile, live well, and never regret anything.
And just know, that someone is always here for you.

1000+

     Every once in a while I'm consumed by this notion that I am incredibly trapped, and with that comes a heaping side of anxiety. It happened again today, so I thought, and thought, and thought, and... Well, you get the point. These logically ridiculous episodes have been happening an increasingly lot lately, and it's clear why. Sometimes my mind just gets a little too fragile for me to look the truth in the face and do something about fixing my predicament.
     Setting goals does not seem to be working out for me. It's awful but it's starting to make sense. Just because I can say that I want a change, doesn't mean really anything until I put forth the effort to create the desired changes that I need. So I'm not going to set any goals, I'm just going to make them happen. This plan should be foolproof, but with me you never know.

On a less crazy topic, you guys have given me over one thousand views! Thanks for reading. I do have some new stuff, and makeup looks planned. As stated in a prior post, if there is anything you would like to see, just leave it in a comment! :)

Interlude.

     The entirety of my life is constructed of a cycle of circles, and I'm finishing up another round. Frustrated scribbles on off-white paper, a mix of black and blue ink. Memories absolve like smoke rings, and fade before my hand can reach to grasp them. A weight on my rib cage, a question attacking like sharks finding the scent of a flesh wound; Was my time wasted? Were my experiences worth the mistakes... Perhaps things were just meant to happen, but as of right now it's hard to understand. 

     Fifty-fifty the thought process consumes, and I'm left to be referee. To be careless and free, or contained and semi-comfortable. The length of living is short, a wave to shore that is over in but a blink. Fight to put the past to bed, tucked in and drugged with a cocktail strong enough for it to never wake. Anger can be so incredibly empty, like carrying a stainless steel box of nothing. Forgiveness seems sort of cliche when you are lacking an entity to push it off onto, so I'll forget and send it out for the ocean waves to mutilate. Exhale and allow particles of sunlight to disperse through the blood stream. 

     This war was over years ago, I've been knife fighting with ghosts for too long. It was strange looking at my wounds and seeing only scars. Perhaps confusion plays a part, or maybe it's the similarity in scenery. There is a need spreading like fire inside to find an exit and run. Someplace new, where no one really knows me. Where I can close my eyes and let peace fill my body until it overflows. Where waking up isn't exhausting, and where my dreams can manifest without threat of a wrecking ball, or flash fire. Breathing in these toxins for this long made the cigarettes taste like cotton candy, and the alcohol pour down like rain water. I've been a zombie for quite a while. And,

     I'm so ready to start over again. 

Today

I have dreams and aspirations,
And a terrible urge to sleep.
After years of bad decisions,
I stay quite true to my streak.
Tomorrow means next month,
And that month is forgotten,
Because of excuses and cocktails;
Both strong and addicting.

I have this ringing in my ear,
Wait, that's my family.
Echos melting into Psalms,
The creepy unison prayers;
That I'll pull my head out
Of my ass and do something.
The desire isn't present,
And I'm sick of always faking.

Tomorrow I'm still safe,
Monday is the deadline;
A promise I made to try,
A couple small phone calls.
I can already feel the anxiety,
A stupid crack in my voice.
A rude woman at a desk,
A flustered disconnection.

It's pretty damn hard to find
The perfect sound of quiet.
A mix of soft white noise,
And a mind saying nothing.
Perhaps I'll find it tomorrow,
And progress down a path.
Paved by a bunch of tomorrows,
In which I force myself awake.

You're a boy, why do you wear makeup? lol

Because, I do what I want you little bitch.


    Our gender expressions have changed drastically over the years, and yet still there are people who don't understand. I especially hate when women give men a hard time for wearing makeup and feminine clothing... My experiences with idiots is dwindling but when a woman genuinely has a hard time understanding the simplicity of a man wearing makeup I just look at them slyly, all while thinking why don't we go stuff you back into a corset and a big elegant Victorian style dress. Men usually have a tougher time getting it, I think the problem is that men are extremely anti-feminine, they only see women as sex devices, so when a man looks like a woman, they have to question themselves because there is nothing worse than being a faggot (in their minds). So when a man gets angry at a man who looks like a woman, he's really just freaked out because the brain below the belt sent a signal to the brain above the belt that confused him. The open minded guys are the ones who are usually most confident in there heterosexual orientation.
     My parents have a pretty hard time understanding why I choose to look the way I do, and it gets to the point where explanation isn't doing anything. So, I'll just have to wait for androgyny to become more of a trend, and then when their friends kids start doing it, I'll be normal and understood. Self expression should not be limited to men wearing work boots and jeans, and ladies wearing six inch pumps and dresses... The problem with people is that we have a hard time digesting what we don't understand. In order to push through all one must do is live and let live, perhaps even do a serenity prayer.

The anxiety diary.

   Breathe. That's the first step in slowing down the anxiety... It's also one of the more difficult steps to do whilst under attack. Meditation works sometimes, until the quiet gets too loud and you find it growing more difficult to breathe, so you get up really quickly and you walk around and try and make yourself laugh, or distract yourself as best as possible. Until the shit really hits the fan, and the attack is full blown and you later find yourself on the bathroom floor running the shower because that sound (besides a vacuum cleaner) is the only thing that can fully calm you down. Once semi-stable you turn the water to warm and climb inside and try and wash away whatever fear is still crawling on your skin. Residue is left over, and you try and convince yourself that next time the detection will be early, and that you will have mastered the art of self calming before breaking down. Usually that doesn't happen.
    The medications work, but the risk of dependency and rise in dose is almost as scary as the actual attack, so you try herbal remedies that work pretty well for the small spells, but doesn't do much for the big stuff. I find that sometimes writing can bring a big attack down to just a little one, that usually fades off in anywhere from twenty to forty minutes. Hence the creation of this gem.
    On and off for eleven years I've been sleeping in this exact room, it's always comfortable, and feels safe... One show. It took one paranormal witness show and a shadow created by a lamp shade to (what I hope only shortly) desecrate the comfort of this room. Funny how the mind can turn a spec of nothing into straight fear. Like trying to rub a small stain out of a white shirt. The annoying part is that I fully understand that my fear is irrational, but a portion of my mind defies logic and convinces me that I am in danger, despite the fact that for eleven years I've only ever felt safe.
     I'm only a four out of ten right now on the nervous scale, but you never know if it will keep increasing or just stop completely. I'm hoping for the second option because sleep sounds really good. Any readers have bad anxiety? It's really a bitch.