Merry Christmas To All, and To All a Good-Night!

A very Merry Christmas to everyone.
Have a beautiful New Year.

As this year comes to a close, I can't help but smile.
Something, obviously, went right.

Distant In the Night

Your light, like a star, distant in the night -
And I, I see it still burn bright.
Dust and dirt can only disguise
That which lies inside.
Capture the rain on your tongue,
Twist your mind around,
Someone must believe in you,
And it is only me.

My light, like a star, distant in the night,
And I, I am blind to its light.
Dust and dirt can truly disguise,
The miracle inside.
Capture the snow on my tongue,
Twist my mind around,
I believe in you,
But I cannot in me.

POEM

Have you forgotten how to love and how to care?
Hatred waves on the chill air;
Instead of bringing love and faith,
A season of "joy" brings more wrath.

Light a candle, though it be small;
Bring your heart to life, and call,
A lion's roar and eagle's scream,
Listen!  You'll hear it - "dream".

For there's a little bit in all of us,
Where we need not judge,
Just love - give out what's inside:
I know it hasn't died.

So in this season of December,
Holidays, and winter weather,
Do not forget how to love,
For that is the greatest gift from above.

Thanksgiving and Birthday

Thanksgiving was... well, it's officially yesterday now (12:43 AM).
My birthday was the day before.

That's all, I'm done here.
Figured I needed to post these things on my blog.

BECAUSE I CAN!.

yup.

Crazy, Silly People

I am one of those crazy, silly people who are high on life, livin' la vida loca, singing songs of wild and crazy swinging things. don't stop believing- never have and never will. So when you ask me "Do you believe in magic?" the answer is always yes. The syncopated rhythm in the city, broken and unending, cycling its own Bohemian rhapsody that lifts you away, breathless, in the beat of victory pounding 22 city lights, blown away by the electric twist of movement. It's all the things that make me brave, the breathing recklessness of freedom - these bare necessities of being royals and ruling despite being broke as dirt. But life is a lovesick drug all on its own, and I am a wild spark, singing this is the life I want to live and everything worth it.

All those links are songs. I'm sure you'll know some of them at glance, and others... CLICK IT XD I have a good variety of genres and such up there so it should be worth it. It started as the first sentence, minus the "singing songs... swinging things" parts. And then I realized "Hey that's a song title!" and everything else appeared.

I wrote this probably like two weeks ago? But didn't post it. Now I've transcribed it, linked the songs, and voila, here you are.

ENJOY.

T-Rexes on Bouncy Balls

SO I'M AT SCHOOL AND I OPEN UP GOOGLE CHROME.
THIS IS WHAT I SEE.  Well, sort of.  I click those arrows and ultimately end up with this image:
T-REXES ON FREAKING BALLS, LIKE CIRCUS ANIMALS OR SOMETHING.  IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL.

Normally I'd just wait 'till I got home but this - THIS MUST BE SHARED.

Desperate for Organization

Soso, in Photobucket, I've recently gone through and sorted everything into categories.

That means my links are all missed up.

If you happen to wander here from a forums I'm on or some such, and know a link is missing, tell me so I can fix it.

If the images are missing from this blog, tell me so I can fix it.

That is all.

Omg I can actually FIND things now...

OH WAIT ONE MORE THING.

If ever a 'Kunabee', 'Kunabee Tiger', or any other variant on 'Kunabee' did an image for you, and that image got messed up, that's probably me.  Go ahead and post there (or contact me on the website I know you on) and I'll fix this up for you.  Thanks.

Why Don't You Care?

Why don't you care?
I've left plenty of room between the lines,
Plenty of "I hurt" between "I'm fine."
I've smiled when broken, listened when sad,
I hate being the kid, I can't even be mad.
I've whispered what I need,
But still you don't see.
I'm too scared to scream, but that's just me.

Why don't you care?
I've told you before;
I'm desperate and dying,
Useless and unsure.
And, insult to injury, pathetic as I am,
I fall completely apart when things don't go according to plan.

Why don't you care?
Or do you just not understand?
I'm trying my hardest to live by your rules,
But there's nothing you give me,
No slack that can free me.
I guess we are too far apart I'm this world,
I the little, broken-hearted girl,
And you drunk on power, though, it's not too bad.

An Argument for Technology

Technology is very much a part of life. I'm writing this post on a new smart phone, my Samsung Galaxy S3.  It truly has taken over our lives.  Nobody can deny the massive reliance on phones, computers, TV.  But despite all the hate technology gets, it seems very few argue for its benefits.  With "internet addiction" to become a disease in 2014 and people struggling to have a conversation when face-to-face, it seems there are no benefits to this so-called plague.
But I'm here to say different.  Technology definitely has its issues; otherwise saying so is ignoring all the people at the stores or bus stops on their smart phones or tablets.  However, these issues are not the issues of technology.  They are issues of human self control, encoded in our DNA to be lazy, to take the easiest way out.  How much easier is it to stream music on your phone than buy tickets to watch your favorite band?  How simple is it to press a few keys, tap a few buttons, and have every library in the world at your fingers?  It is straightforward enough to Google whatever you want or need.  Instant gratification - but instant gratification of things our ancestors could only dream of!
We have become addicted to these things, is the argument most would give.  But is that such a bad thing?  The world is becoming more catered to our younger generations, the millennials and we teenagers who have grown up in a world where everyone has the coolest phones and latest gadgets.  I can rightfully say I have been a "long-time poet" because a long time is no longer decadeS but a single period of ten years.  You're old at fifty even though living to one hundred is becoming a common occurrence.  Technology is a part of this paradigm shift.  It is also, irreversibly, a part of everyones' lives.  I know many of my generation who mock older people who cannot use a smart phone or the internet.  I also know that there's too many times when I've gone behind my parents' backs, utilizing the technology they have trouble with.
These, of course, are all negatives.  So what, then, are the positives?
As someone with social anxiety (and anxieties of other forms...) and depression, I have found a strong, immobile support group online.  People who I would never have met in real life I've been able to contact and talk to.  Ask almost anyone else with a mental health issue (at least, those of teenagers and college age kids) and you'll get a similar response.  Mental health issues, for many teenagers especially, have been addressed and aided online when there is no support or understanding to be found anywhere else, especially if those in the LGBT community.
On top of the support, the internet has promoted a greater amount of understanding than anywhere else.  Research is easier to do than ever, and though people still act like sheep, it has not been in any way helped by the internet.  Not only that, but television has also promoted greater understanding and acceptance.  Technology is a benefit.  Whatever issues come about from it are almost always caused by our human nature.

A Song That Fits

This is good about describing my feelings about the current situation...  Only it's about a friend, not a love interest.  Still dang rough.

O.A.R - Shattered (Turn the Car Around).

To S------

You know, I have always felt alone.

I am the girl who cares, who gives a crap, who loves and listens and who never is appreciated.

Today I found someone who is like that.  Someone who knows what it's like to be the shoulder, the rock, everybody else's support and finding none of her own.

Today I was her support.  And as she fell apart in front of me I held her in my arms and told her that I admired her.  She is strong, she is powerful, and I look up to her.

Today I found someone who would run after me like I ran after her.  Today I found someone who knows what it's like to care for people who have abused you in some way or another.  Today I found someone who has been where I've been, who's in places I'm not, and who doesn't know some things that I've felt.

I never would have been there for her if not for the issues with my other friend.  Today I am afraid she would have been pushed off the edge.  But there I was.

And when I'm falling apart, I have someone to call who will listen.

This is the poem I wrote for her:

When you think you're alone, I am there.

I love you because

You are strong

And a person I want to be.

You've walked the higher road

In situations worse than mine.

When you think no-one cares, He cares.

He died for you.

He loves you because you are strong.

You do not preach His word,

Or know His word,

But you ARE His word.

So don't give up,

Because I'll stand by you,

Hold you close

And together we'll know.

We are strong.

It shares the same title of this blog post.

I've been looking for so long, and here's a kindred spirit in the place I never expected to find one.

Of course I look up to her.

Nobody

You know, you'd think that with my friends I wouldn't have to deal with the shit I have to deal with.  You think that I wouldn't get the "nobody does this" or the "everybody does that" comments.  But still I get them.  Yeah, I'm a freaking nobody.  People actually have the audacity to wonder why I struggle with self-esteem when, inadvertently or not, they are constantly calling me a 'nobody'.

I have never been accepted, I have never found someone who can appreciate me.

And I can't freaking say anything, because every time I do all of a sudden it's my fault I'm the nobody.  I'm the one who gets punished, I'm the one who gets blamed, I'm the one who is the 'instigator'. Because I have the gall to stand up for myself.

Even with my mother, she can't even stand to be wrong just once.  Oh, she's okay with me being right.  As long as she's not wrong.  But as soon as I suggest she may be remembering something wrong, or she may have done something, she gets pissed off.  Even when her voice is clearly frustrated, while my voice is perfectly calm, she claims I'm the "pissy one".  Really?  Because that is sure as hell not what it stands like.

Of course I have no self-esteem.  I am a nobody, I am always wrong, it is always my fucking fault.

And where has God been?  Certainly not answering the prayers that I can't say.

Because I can't say shit.  As soon as I speak up, I get beaten down.  And I get that enough from my silence.

Of course I'm suicidal.

Nobody fucking cares.

I freaking love animals

I'll pick you up when you have no feet,
Because I know you'd do the same for me.

"Are you okay, buddy?"

For He Gave Me Patience

As I sit alone I shall wait,
For He gave me patience.
I shall not hurt, I shall not hate,
For He gave me patience.
I will smile and appreciate,
For He gave me patience.
I will see small things become great,
For He gave me patience.

I am His child,
A chosen one,
Though I am not perfect,
I am with the rising sun.

As I feel boots in my side, I will not cry,
For He gave me patience.
I will forgive my enemy, or at least try,
For He gave me patience.
I will offer open arms and truth, not lies,
For He gave me patience.
It will not be for earthly riches I time,
For He gave me patience.

I am His child,
A mansion in heaven.
Though I am not perfect,
I am truly blessed.

To K--------

Don't you know I did it for you?

I agreed because of you,

Changed myself to fit you,

Got on good terms with your parents for you.

I made an effort,

Said those things because of you,

And I didn't let you down.

I was selfless, giving,

Offered a hand when you weren't around,

To impress you, to see you,

To let you know how I cared,

And to show what a good person,

What a good influence I was,

To your family and other friends.

I fought long and hard,

Offered hugs and sympathy,

It was you who chose not to talk to me.

You chose to give it up.

Now I am broken, and lost,

I never gave up on you.

Now I think of you, and ache,

And see you, and ache,

And tears fill all my days.

I've cried for you,

And I would die for you.

I cared for you,

And I will listen to you.

Here I am, lost and alone,

Adrift in the sea, now,

I call it home.

And I want you,

Please remember my tears for you,

My heart filled for you,

And how when I reached out,

You didn't understand,

You ran and hid,

And I forgot about it

And loved you anyway.

Can't you see what you've done to me?

I hear your voice,

And I ache,

I see you,

And I ache,

I think of you,

And I ache.

I can't tell you to earn me back,

Because if you came running,

I'd hug you, love you, and wipe away your tears.

The Top: Saying Good-byes

You will never understand how much I love you.
I never fell for you, I don't want to be your girlfriend.  I just want to be there for you.
I just want to give it all up for you.

Even when you clawed out my heart, even when you broke it in two, even when it was shattered on the ground, I still loved you.
Even now, even when distance makes my memories hurt, and make me long for the pain or the joy or whatever it was you meant to me, I love you.

I have hated others before.  I have hated myself.  But now?  I don't hate anyone.  All I feel is a terrible love that is ripping me into pieces.

I don't want kisses or flowers or gifts.  I just want someone who understands what it's like to care for people you do not know, for people who have hit you down, for people you know only as the best of friends until yesterday happened.

"This too shall pass", words I don't want to listen to though I know they're true.  Words I haven't listened enough to.

Now I realize everyone will forget the good in others, everyone except for me.  Because I am the nobody, the exception, the person who is not like other people.  The one who wants to listen, who cares.  Yes, even now, even when you've decided I am not worthy of you, I care for you.

You'll know who you are, someday, or maybe you know right now.  Either way I am here, solid as a rock, ready to hold you or listen or go to the ends of the world for you.  I have heard your lies as they ring against my ears, and my heart is broken.  Yes, you have lied to me.  If I know you you have lied to me at least once, some lies greater than others, but it has happened all the same.

I am sure you have felt the pain of loss, but I don't think you quite understand.

I write this with two people in mind, one who broke me from the day I met her and one who I gave my whole heart to and has chosen to break me because of something that I am not at fault with.

And yes, even though one of them will probably never read this and the other will never change her mind I write this, because it is not just them that I love but you, whoever you are.  And if you are them I hope you understand that this is who you are, that these words are meant for you, and that I am still here.

I am a rock for everyone; I will not retract my patience, my willing ear, because of wrongs both past and present.  No, I am the one who gives second chances and yes, you'll always have second chances with me.  And third, and fourth, and fifth, and millions of chances.

I cannot forget.  I am not God, these wrongs cannot leave my mind.  But I do forgive.  So yes, I forgive you all that you have done to me, all the ways you have broken me.  I will not forget.  This means trust will come slowly, it means I may be suspicious, and that you must be patient with me because I would be patient with you if the rolls were reversed.

But it could happen.  I cannot change this.  It is not my fault and I have no power.  And it hurts, it hurts like nothing I've felt before, but I can't change your mind or what you've decided and the fact you have decided I am lesser than you.

I tell you now, I am greater than those who have broken my heart.  Because today I listened to someone, despite my own problems, and told her I loved her.  Because today I took the time to sit with someone, to give them compliments, in the hopes that maybe he'll feel better tomorrow.  Because today I taught someone that she could trust me as I lifted her up in dance class.

If you have not been one of the people who've damaged me, which now are very, very few, and I probably don't know them, then perhaps I am not greater than you.  I can't judge.  But I am at least equal to you, to all of you, because here I am, still smiling, still strong.

I am on top of that mountain and it is beautiful, and I feel sad because you will never ever see this.  You will never see how beautiful love is, how strong and pure and true the world is, how touching, how perfect it is when two living creatures meet in soul and not in body.  Yes, look at my soul, it is tattered and ripped but here it is.

You probably have a piece of it, along with the heart I gave you.  The love I feel for you does not come easily, but once I climbed this mountain I saw it.

There will be more good-bye's in my life, more tears, more pain.  But I am at the top of the mountain, and though there will be monsters and inner demons wanting to throw me back down I will cling to this.  I will cling to the feeling of knowing I can rest, the feeling of peace, the feeling of knowing at last that I am not lesser than anyone, and greater than many.

Because despite everything, I still love you.
You will never understand how much I love you.
I don't see anyone else on top of this mountain but me.

Manners, Morals, and Modern Life

Schoooooool.  It always makes me think deep thoughts.  Maybe because I actually experience more when I'm there; I'm dealing with 2500 people (roughly) and the freshmen are, well, pretty obnoxious.  Not to mention classes, where God loves to bop me on the head with spiritual and life lessons while history and science shove facts down my throat.  Not like I'm particularly bothered or anything (I like learning), but it can get overwhelming sometimes...
But that's besides the whole point of this post, so let's move on to that.

Today I was in the line for lunch.  I was standing idly.  I got distracted with talking to a friend.  We chatted and had fun.
Then this freshman decided to attempt to cut me.  I kept inching forward to change my position to the point where he wouldn't be able to go in front, but he kind of nudged me out of the way.  Then he was holding his nose and said, "Ew, you smell.  Do you ever take a bath?"

...

Ouch.  Yup, this stuck up freshman was being a total jerk to a junior.  I didn't say anything.  I didn't bother with him.  (It was actually rather wonderful to be able to have it roll of my shoulders that easily.  Even just a few months ago it would have had me in tears.)  I just let him cut in front.
Because he'll do something similar with someone else, and they will verbally murder him.  They will be as rude and inconsiderate as he is.  Because once you reach high school, nobody takes BS from anybody.
Except for, you know, some people.  Me sometimes; it's about fifty fifty and is all dependent on the sort of BS I get.

Another thing that happened in English...  The English teacher handed out to us permission slips for R-rated movies.  Now, I've seen some of R-rated movies (really, parts of them) and my parents only on occasion watch certain fairly "toned down" R movies.  The English teacher was all like, "Hey guys, just check the permission so you can see the movies.  You're all mature enough, I mean we're watching movies like Crash for example."

What she apparently didn't understand was religious morals and values families may have.  It doesn't matter how mature you are, it matters what you want to expose yourself to.  For example, I'd probably read an "adult content" book if that adult content wasn't cussing and didn't have explicit sexual description.  I could probably handle that cussing and sexual description; however, I want to be opened to more positive experiences.  My church advises against stuff like that, and I proudly follow what my church teaches.

My joy at turning in the permission slip also apparently passed by her; she read my happiness as it meaning I was happy to be able to watch the movie.  When she found out that the thing I had check marked was "no" (and I actually filled out the WHOLE THING, all my mother did was sign) she instantly passed by my happiness and offered to call my mother to explain things to her so I could watch the movie.

These are just two examples of stuff that everyone has to deal with.  Sometimes it's in middle school; sometimes you're in high school before you realize that people suck.
Either way, to keep yourself strong in this adversity is really hard.  People will be cruel and beat you up - sometimes physically and not just mentally/emotionally - and think that it's "your parents" or something that's not YOUR choice.  High school is when everyone says, "The kid can decide it all!"

But honestly?  I still let my mom handle a lot of my decisions.  I'm not ready for bills or a family.  I am not mature enough to decide whether or not I should/can go to an alcoholic party.  I mean, personally, I've never been invited to a party and SO BADLY want to go to one... but if it has alcohol in it, I shouldn't go.  I probably would anyway.

It's been a political scheme, an ignored fact by teachers, and something everyone takes for granted.  Now that we're fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, and even eighteen, we are smart enough to do all these things and mature enough to watch things like R-rated movies; nothing else should matter.  But it does matter.  I don't care that you're eighteen years old, you're still a teenager.  Me, at sixteen (almost seventeen!) years old, am still a kid.

Maturity does not come overnight.  As teenagers, we need to remember that are parents often... really do know best.  As adults, people need to remember that kindness is key.  "Do unto others as you would them do unto you" is the Golden Rule for a reason.

And, on top of it all, we need to remember that without morals, civilization and structure would fall completely apart.  So stay strong in the face of adversity; and encourage your friends to hold true to what they believe.

In the modern world, sometimes the medieval basics are the best to fall back on.

(but, within reason.  Let's not, y'know, bring back the horrifying medieval torture instruments back, or anything...)

People are Cool

http://memolition.com/2013/02/02/the-best-examples-of-street-art-in-2012-48-pictures/

This is proof.

Learning to Love Myself

There's a mountain.  It's a big old thing.  I've been climbing it for a while - four years in fact.  I'm almost to the top now.  I made it there once, but tripped and fell.  I didn't fall too far, and here I am, almost there again.  I just have to take one step at a time.  Move forward.  Sometimes I can't get my feet to move.  Sometimes I fall a step or two.

When I was little there was a storm.  I was only ten at the time.  It had built up since I was eight or so. Dark gray clouds, but they eventually started pouring.  I stood out in it, felt myself soaked to the skin.  I thought the sun was still shining, I got so wet.  And anyway I loved the rain; I danced in it and laughed and really enjoyed myself.  It just brought a little sadness, with it being so gray and all.  Still, though, it was mostly fun.

At twelve, I walked into the halls of my middle school.  There was a monsoon.  It crashed against me, tossed me about; the rain had gone on for far too long.  I was drowning.

The monsoon ended after a year, but then the earthquakes started.  They shook my world.  And, eventually, produced a mountain.

This is the mountain I have been climbing.  I am armed with only my backpack and the occasionally stopping points on my way.  Behind me I can see the people on the ground cheering; you can't see them when you're close to the bottom.

Now I'm almost at the top.  I stepped up there for a day and I realized I was beautiful.

I see the world and see how wonderful it all is.  It's an amazing place.  I mean, look at that sun over there.  I couldn't see it from the ground.
The last little hill, this last little bump, is all about the most difficult task.  I've forgiven others, seen that people care for me, and struggled past all the people telling me lies.  I know where to go now.

All I need to do is remember how to love myself again, and with this mountain below me...  I know I can do it.  And that is a really powerful feeling.

You

Are you a hero,
Or a traitor in disguise?
How can one know you,
If the mask never goes away?

Chocolate chip cookies,
Sweet apple pie,
Flowers and sea shells,
What are you worth?

 You've worn your mask,
You've forgotten,
How to feel and love,
Discoveries make.

Are you my hero,
Or a traitor in disguise?
Happy endings are impossible,
When you can't be found.

Light up the sky,
Make the heroine cry.
It's not always a happy end,
Though I do try.

Far away on distant shore,
You will read a letter.
Far away on distant shore,
I may wait forever.

Kiss me on my cheek,
Whisper my name.
Give me sweet nothings,
As I fall asleep.

Are you a hero,
Or a traitor in disguise?
Your mask never comes off,
This will never be the same.

Light up the sky,
Make the heroine cry.
Flowers and sea shells,
Weaved through my hair.

I will remember you,
Prince Charming,
Though you haven't been found.
Why are you waiting?

Light up the sky,
Make the heroine cry.
Are you a hero,
Or a traitor in disguise?

What are you waiting for?
My whole world to change?
Aren't you happy with this broken soul?
Or is it someone else you're searching for?

Are you a hero,
Or a traitor in disguise?
Though you haven't been found,
Your mask still hides your face.

Flowers and seashells,
Make the heroine cry.
Are you my hero,
Or a traitor in disguise?

Done.

I am the fixer, the peacekeeper, the solutionist, the person who makes sure people don't kill each other or hate each other forever.  I am the person who buries it all inside, who only shows emotion to a few people (read: my mom and a friend I don't even know in real life (who knows who she is)), who makes sure everyone is happy at her expense.

Today a boy who has been rude to me had his mom send an e-mail to mine.  Or something of that nature.  Honestly whatever happened it was the mom sent mine an e-mail because of a fight that is between ME AND THAT BOY.  All I did was get advice from my mom.  She sent no e-mails, no anything.  Just gave me some advice.

My mom suggested I tell his friends what's happening.  What did I tell her?  I told her that I wouldn't because I didn't want him to lose his friends or have them be angry at them.

I'm never someone who wants to hold her friends back.  I encourage them.  If they want to sit by someone else, fine.  I do have my jealousy issues.  I will admit this.  I'm far, far, far from perfect.  However, I'm not about to hold my friends back.  I'm the one who suggests friendships, who opens up the doors for friends (as best as I can).

And yet, here it is.  I'm being blamed for something not my fault.  It is all falling apart.  It seems everything I've done for everyone doesn't matter.  It doesn't matter that I give and give and give.

It doesn't matter that I never blame people, that I always am willing to give people a chance.  It doesn't matter that I would die for a stranger and never want someone else hurt, ever!  Doesn't matter that I always behave.  None of this matters.

All that matters is that I'm easy to blame.  Yes, that's right.  This self-sacrificing goody-two-shoes always solves her problems (and other people's too).  But I'm always the one people talk to.  "Stop doing that," they say to me, because I don't sit by the side and stay silent.  I state my opinions and that means I do fight with people.  I stand up to bullies.

And oh, what happens?  I get told to stop.  I get told to fix it.  I get told to be the bigger person.

Well screw it.  I'm done.

If anyone wants to be my friend still, that's your effing business.  Figure it out yourself.  Because me?  I'm done with the effort it takes to maintain this stuff.  I'm done with the effort it takes to smile and then just help someone out.  I'm done with the effort it takes to make and keep friends.  I've done it all my damn life, and it hasn't payed off.

Your turn.

A View into the Past, and Organizing Crap

So occasionally I go on a brief little 'organization' kick.  It can be with my computer desk or stuff on the floor of my room.  It's likely to be the various things I have in folders on my computer, or in different places that allow for folders.  Stuff like that.
However, I always end up getting distracted.  Which is interesting.  I get to see old things, from poetry to little conversations with my friends.

Though when I end up doing it for about an hour, clearly I've been doing it for too long xD

Still, it's an interesting peek into the past.  Some of it makes me want to grown and hide my face in shame, and others make me go "did I actually write that?"

Ahh, the little things xD

The Wonderful Things About Writing

As I'm sure you can assume, I am a writer.  I am also very partial to scifi and fantasy (though I prefer fantasy to scifi; still, they are ridiculously similar).

This post was inspired by this:

Ah, yes, writing.  There are also many more inventions that were inspired by science fiction.  In the future, there may be an invisibility cloak, and it's about darned time that they're getting close to creating a hover board.  (read here for more).  Future inventions and past, the imagination of authors has inspired so many of these.  It starts with the idea; the idea that is written down.

Even fantasy ideas can come to life.  As an author, I may be the one who inspires that next brilliant invention that, decades from now, people can't imagine living without.  But it's not just the ability to inspire others that makes writing so great.

As I'm a fantasy writer (and occasionally delve into scifi), I create worlds.  I get to come up with unique species, stories, people, histories - all of that.  I am creating something brand new.  And as a reader, I get to experience other people's words (and even become inspired by them in ways I write!)

Writing is one of the most fantastic ways to express yourself.  And it has some of the most fantastic results.  There is nothing like diving into someone else's world, or immersing yourself in one of your dreams.  I know a lot of my stories come from dreams that I have.

I mean, when it comes to writing, there is absolutely nothing like it.  When you read, you can go all over the world and through a couple dozen dimensions, without ever leaving your seat at home.  When you write, you are the person who controls where you go; you have a power.  It's part of the appeal of Sims and many other games; the control of who-knows-where.

And who knows?  Maybe that short story you posted somewhere... You never know when it might give someone an idea for the next great invention.

Well It's Been a While Since I've Done This...

My absolute favorite song by Taylor Swift.  It is amazing and beautiful.  Enjoy.

I Know Why They Die

Last night I was gazing at the sky, and a star shot across it,
Headed to some impossible place I cannot comprehend,
A meteorite burning in the atmosphere,
But it never lands.

A week ago, to the hour, I was sleeping in the sun,
I tossed and turned, could not comprehend,
Why what happens, happens,
Why we cannot escape.

But last night a meteorite gave me this quiet, little answer,
When I made a wish, which is just a prayer,
And I felt safe, and at peace, and it was wonderful,
All is fair.

Two years ago, I held her dying in my arms, as she was unable to move,
Black fur was just an overcoat on an empty shell.
I thought then there was no rhyme or reason,
That Earth... was really hell.

Last night as I watched the flickers of the remaining bits of dust,
Lighting the night in a fireworks display soft and quiet,
I realized a truth and I fell to my knees,
I couldn't keep it private.

Why good people die young is because of reasons humans cannot comprehend,
But occasionally I think we can just slightly understand,
For last night I came to the discovery,
That each death is carefully planned.

The best are always taken from us early, so we can barely experience their light,
But that's okay, they're still around, checking in,
They are unable, incapable, as in life,
They could never sin.

Last night the meteorite told me the answer, whispered I know why they die,
And I will tell you that they are far too good to stay on Earth,
So they become angels, loving us, guiding us, instead,
For the weak they search.

Tomorrow I will wake up with the rising sun, and I will tilt my head and smile,
And I will wave at the angels that are flying, soaring all about,
Taken from us on Earth to do the most magnificent of duties,
And in joy I will shout.

Yes, I know why they die, it gives me peace of mind,
To know they are doing grandiose things,
Twenty-four hours they are working, but they haven't forgotten us,
Checking in on us, our hands, our dreams.

So next time you see a shooting star cry out your wish to know,
The meteorite will tell you, no price will it take from you,
And you will understand as I do that they are taken from us because
Their hearts are the purest truth.

okay

Okay, okay,

give me some faith I thought I had it all figured out

for me, in my own way, the way I wanna believe.

Okay, okay,

I thought wishes that maybe it might come true tomorrow,

that it’d be magic, electric, I’d be where I wanna be.

Okay, okay,

I can admit I was wrong I’ll fall to second place,

second base and second heart the second wind ain’t comin’.

Okay, okay,

been falling apart for a while now, trying to scream out,

but though it’s heard people never take the time to listen.

Okay, okay,

so I have a lot of wants and wishes, I dream big,

but is it so much to ask for the solid stone I see in movies?

Okay, okay,

I’ll lie and I’ll smile and say I’m fine, day by day, one step at a time,

you can make anything beautiful after a whole lot of time.

Okay, okay,

I just wanna be okay.

Personality Quiz!

Yahoo.

Lol the ironic thing is I'll have to wait to see it myself to see my results xD
(I bet it's something like 'healer' though.
it better be something like 'healer' >:K)

In the Moment

I just want to live again, to be alive,

Things are getting harder now and I can barely survive.

I'm scraping by, holding tight, falling under the waves,

Gasping for breath and screaming to be saved.

 

When happiness was a daily event,

And joy was when everyone was still blessed,

Courage can stir in someone else's heart,

I don't want to do more of this part.

 

Beaten down and disrespected, and feeling like I've failed,

Haven't you hurt as much as me? Pain's been here before,

So I write a poem, it tries to rhyme,

I realize it's as broken as me.

 

Still, in the back of my mind, as is all the time,

There is a quiet voice,

Telling me that there is hope, giving that touch of optimism,

No matter how far I fall.

 

I'll survive, don't worry about me,

I've broken chains and now I'm free.

I'm worn down and weary still,

But walls will crash down with my will.

It Won't Suck Forever

This is mostly a courtesy post for anyone who saw yesterday's posts, one of which was not in poem form ("Cold").
I'm O.K. now.  I was okay sometime around eleven or so yesterday (talked to the school psychologist).

It's just that, one friend hates me now it seems, and the person who insulted her said a racist joke that he didn't intend to be racist, and I'm just trying to explain where I'm coming from - which people understand - but even if I clarify Asperger's they're just clueless.  And really the only people who get the situation are my parents.

Because I feel like that one friend is mostly at fault.  I know that the friend who said the joke (which he was trying to compare the other friend in to a chicken, by the way), should apologize (and we will sometime after the weekened), but she didn't let me explain anything.

I got a bracelet from the psychologist that says "It won't suck forever".
Man, that's hard to believe sometimes.

Hope life's easier for ya'll.

Cold

I'm lonely.
I'm lost.
I wish I could go home.
But no matter how much I beg and cry and plead
I still have to go through the day.

Honestly...
If I'm left alone today,
I'm going to try and kill myself.

I'm so tired.

Makatza 'Ri

A strange feline-mostly creature with a bit of a draconic nature.  Wild, untameable, and entirely her own.  She's pink and purple, obviously.  Though moreso pink than other colors.

She's obviously not humanoid.  She also can't breathe fire or anything else.  Her draconic side is fairly small and mostly shows up with her wings and little back-spikies.

Look what I got drawn for her ^.^

Someone else did it, by the way.

I can't draw. xD

Yay for Furcadia.

By the way: I'm trying to clear out or finish old posts, this is the last one... and the only one that was published and shall remain that way.

So that's why it may seem a little mis-placed, in the midst of all my emotion issues.

Dying Inside

I've seen the colors splashed on the walls
Finger-paints of God
and I feel like a doll
Growing dusty and cold
Empty of life of soul of hope of faith
I'm dying inside.

I can't say it straight,
so I say it distant,
acting as though I'm fine.
With a smile, faked, like any other time,
Breaking down.

It's the music and the soul, I'm opening a Pandora's Box,
Anything can happen, it's true.
Anything can happen.  Let it be true.
I write and it's strange,
how when I was young I used it to express
and now I hide under words
fancy and plain,
adorned with hope that I'll be okay.

My shield is cracking.

I want someone to see.
Nobody sees.
I've hidden to well.

So if I'm broken tomorrow, if I finally give up,
Just let me be, I have that right,
Don't I deserve some peace?

The worst kind of narcissism is what I believe
I haven't done a freaking thing.

I'm torn up inside.

Anything I do, selfish,
is the worst act I've done.

I preach love, I pray for others to understand they matter,
and then I break, I hate, but only myself,
My love goes to the others and I don't know what to do,

When I'm clear-cut like this, no metaphors and riddles,
I'm dying inside, I'm breaking more.

I can't let anyone see.

I'm torn up inside, my shield is cracking,
I won't let you see me break.

It's sad when you wake up every day
And feel all this pain.
You'd think all the medications would help me some but
They help me some it's never enough.

I lie and I pretend because I don't know what else to do.

I'll never be fixed, I'll never be whole,
I'm finding my faith waver.
I believe in God, I know He's real,
Maybe He loved us once but He's tired now,
And he's judgmental and temperamental and I'm just done.

Can't I ever run away?
I don't ever want to be saved.

You Remember

It's pushing like darkness.  What color, what color could describe the build-up of every horror and all this fighting and forced and the fact that we've all become demons?

Demons to ourselves and others.

It is the fight within that hurts moreso than any other.

When suicide is cowardice but for the people who want that freedom more than anything else they call life cowardice.  When it is all mixed up and mushed up and nobody realizes it.

The ones you hate are the ones you become.

You carry that weight like a constant burden, as you hook up person after person on your backpack, and all day you go through walking with this hate pushing down.  And you never let it go.  Ever.

You remember.

You remember.

You remember.

This stone sinks throughout your soul like a boulder, fast and quick and heavy 'till your stained tar-black and you remember.

Heavy hands, bleeding hearts.  Hospitals and white-rooms and the scent of alcohol on someone's breath.  Motions, blurs, as memories crash down like lightning strikes, setting fire to your mind 'till its ashed and gray and thoughtless.

And you remember.

And like a monster the hate swerves up in you and grows a little bit.  It's such a small thing.

It is writing this piece, this thought.

That adds to it.  It could be any day, any action, and the hate grows and grows, just a little at a time.

It is not harmless.

You remember.

And like echoes and repetition there is something going on in your brain, destroying it and healing it in one fell swoop.  And sanity is just a question mark, an impossible thing distant to reach.  And each action you realize how stupid they are.  It doesn't matter who 'they' are.  What matters is that it is your 'they'.

You remember.

And the hate fills you up and pushes out all room for love and suddenly the object of your hate?

You can't love it anymore.

I can't love myself anymore.

You remember.

And how horrid is it to see these things and echoes but you're just one person.  And even if someone listens to you it will never spread fast enough or far enough.  But even a message you give of love, it becomes a message of hate.   You're fighting through a foggy haze and losing yourself in something.  And you can't even remember what that 'something' is, because you're too far gone.

You remember.

And tomorrow you will wake up and you will fake everything you feel because the hate numbs you, and you welcome it as you fall into a black so dark it masquerades itself as emptiness but ultimately it comes to the same result.

Please don't let me go that far.

And nobody knows if it's reversible because most people don't realize they're destroying themselves.  Let it go, let it go, let it go and save yourself from this pushing darkness, this horrid thing, this terrible thought.  As it crams you in a hole too small and pushes and pulls you until you are shaped in some sort of jagged grotesque mockery of you.  It is not you but the monster that arose in your mind, that is created.

The greatest monsters are the ones in ourselves, the ones that are formed by life experiences.  For some they draw up as nightmares.  For most, they draw up as hate.  Yes, this darkened creature that is twisted and cruel, that is - that is everything you hate.  That is now you.

You remember.

It is a matter that we must not forget.  We must not forget these terrible actions but neither must we forget to forgive, to release, a little bit at a time.  An ebb and flow that can save us if we let it, if we grab on and let it pull and peel our layers away until we realize that we can be saved.

You remember.

When you are raw and red you are real, and you are no longer hate but instead you've located your center.  The thing that made you, you when you were first born as pure as sunlight.  That is what is there, that is why it is something burning past the hate that doesn't let you fall completely.  Because it craves the light and the peace and it is pushing out of its shell.  It's there.

You're alive.  You're real.

You remember.

Something's Gone Seriously Wrong

The internet is being attacked again.

You guys all remember SOPA and PIPA, right?  The things with internet censorship?  The things people even unaffected by united with to fight against?  Yeah, those.

This time, they're being a lot more subtle.
It begins with putting sales tax on online purchases.  That's right.  Minecraft is now 7% more expensive.  That DVD you're ordering?  7% more expensive.
Or at least, it will be.  It's still in circulation.  Which means we can stop it.

I always thought the internet was untouchable.  SOPA and PIPA were easily tossed to the wayside.  The internet is the haven where outcasts can go, where best friends can be made.  A shelter for many of us, a way to pass the time for others.

SOPA and PIPA failed.  So now they're taking it slow.

It'll start with a sales tax.  By the way, small online businesses... They'll be hurt.  You people who sell stuff over the internet?  You may be screwed over.  7% is small... but it adds up.  It hurts small businesses.  The small business entrepreneurs who made up America.

Let me tell you a story.
Sometime in the 1800's, the government imposed a federal income tax.  The Supreme Court said, "No, that's unconstitutional, that shouldn't be applied."
In 1911, they overturned that decisions.  So, the government said, "Alright, you rich people.  You only have to pay a really small amount."
Then it went on.  "Okay, EVERYONE has to pay 1% of their income."
In New York, 2013, people pay anywhere from 15%-20% of their taxes as income tax.  Their tax?  An upwards of 60%.
Small, subtle things.  Nothing to cause a rising.  People ignored it.  It wasn't much.

Oh, they're adding a sales tax.  It probably won't affect you.  But that is exactly what the people in 1911 said.  "It won't affect me."

From small, something grows big.  From 13 colonies, the United States became a country.  From 13 states, it gained 50.  It is the same with the internet.

They'll start with the income tax.

They'll stop when Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr is gone...  Or at least, inaccessible to Americans.  Which if you're anything like my friends, and you live in America, you should start having panic attacks.

Mark my words, we will live to regret this.

Unless we band together.  This is the Internet, for Pete's sakes.  The place where we laugh at trolls, cry at assholes, be assholes, share our experiences, cry about real life, together.  The place where someone in the U.S. and someone in Japan can be best friends.  Where fandoms come to life.  Where cat pics and stupidity run rampant.

A fantastic escape for many of us.

But now there's an income tax being planned for online sales.  It'll kill small businesses.

It's only the start.

As an American citizen, I feel it is my duty to spread the word.  I feel it is my duty to let you know the truth.  I feel it is my duty to tell you this:

Today, income taxes are the bill.
Tomorrow, the bill will say this:

"Controversial websites may be monitored for controversial topics, with which they may or may not be flagged."

Vague.  You don't really understand it.  But let me break it down for you:

Anything the government thinks is 'controversial' (which, for example, may be this blog by a 16-year-old filled mostly with poetry) can be watched by the FBI.  If I make another post like this (with this hypothetical and very possible bill in place), the government doesn't agree with it.  Thus, it's controversial.  I'm "flagged".  The blog's shut down.  My personal details are found.  I'm monitored.  Or even it's just shut down.  Maybe my internet access is closed off.

Suddenly, someone's off.

That, my friends, is the definition of censorship.

It starts with income taxes and leads to the president having full access to drones... which he can order to shoot anyone, at any time, at any place.

It starts with sales tax and leads to censorship.

Once censorship comes into play, you need to be running like hell and fighting like you are defending the nearest possible things to your heart.

Because once there's censorship, good-bye freedom of speech.

Today it's the second amendment right.
Tomorrow, it's the first.

Spread the word.
Fight against the online sales tax.
Our internet purchases should be between the consumer and producer.

Artisan

In the corner of the park there is a tree.  It is great and tall and huge, a truly awe-inspiring creation.  Each leaf is so finely crafted, unable to be truly mimicked by any artisan, no matter how they paint or sculpt.  The bark is rough but painted with designs that no hand can recreate, that no tree has ever had before.

Like the stripes of a tiger or a zebra, like a fingerprint, like the things that are so original, that never repeat and cannot be copied.

It cannot be some random idea, some quick switch-up of nature.

Have you ever seen a canyon?  Echoing and huge, pressed down and orchestrated in a nice symphony of color.  It is large and enough to bring anyone to silence.

And also, fields, rivers, valleys - the oceans.  Gorgeous things that no matter how much anyone tries they cannot get it just right, cannot mimic the exact flow of the water, the feeling of flight, the motion of a boat, the cool sand.

But in doing so they create something of their own.  And though people will try they can never truly copy the work.

Photographs and print-outs can only scratch the surface of what a thing is.  So unique and powerful it takes all your senses to even grasp the concept.

For there to be such a fantastic world, there must have been an artisan, once, long ago, who decided to write and sculpt and paint, and made these gorgeous running lands.

This world was made by a master artisan.

The Light

A glimmer from the flashlight, shining out on moonlight waters, dancing like tomorrow

like tomorrow is already gone, dancing like life is beautiful and painless and dreaming of all sorts of crazy things,

moon and stars shining and creating boundaries to the wild, making the light sparkle in control,

so the fire doesn’t burn and consume everything, a powerful force that sparkles and

smiles.

Reflected on glass-like creations, purring, content and happy in its life, hoping and praying and wondering

please that you’d see what you can do, values and hopes and dreams and things people don’t really think about,

like how you don’t have to take sides, and this real war isn’t about that at all; no, it’s more about

hope.

How that’s what we’ve been fighting for, person to person, creature to creature, connected,

though of course the light whispers this in a language that nobody quite understands, but shhh, listen, you can hear it,

straining its voice and telling you, yes you, that you’re beautiful and important and it knows without a doubt that you’re

just right.

How can you argue with it?  the light that’s dancing, shimmering, showing you a whole world you’d never seen before

of city streets and jungle trees in peaceful co-existence, and while lions don’t lay with lambs they don’t hate them, either,

and it’s showing you how beautiful it is, when a tree rises against a high-rise and a house shelters a family of mice,

unharmed.

This is the world now, it whispers, the light, a flashlight or a glimmer of moon or sun or whatever it is,

whatever it is it’s telling you, showing you, showing all of us, that the city’s as natural as the rain, and that we’re all interconnected,

saying that interconnected, there’s a solution and a way and people thing there’s only one thing, a me-or-them fight, but it’s a fight that means

everything.

We can make it out of this, this pit of dark blackness because it isn’t oppressive, and that’s what the light’s trying to say, sparkling and fizzling like a firecracker,

a firecracker wise in all ways of life, demanding our attention and if you just listen, you can hear it,

hear how content it is with itself and with you and how it hopes you can realize that it’s all together, all connected, and their can be peace and co-existence and every life

thrumming.

So it is not a one way path and it is not good that people hurt each other or any sort of crazy idea you can come up with,

instead it is a multi-wayed path and eventually the solution will be reach, the solution when people lay down their guns because they feel safe and lions and lambs sing music hymns together,

and there’s no worries of political battles and manipulations and hatred, instead it’s nice, because of

patience.

And one hundred years from now we’ll be telling our grandchildren how we’d all but given up hope,

but hope wasn’t ready to be given up and so it sparkled and whispered in a still, small voice, echoing all the whispers of slaves saying prayers and children taken from homes, the hope that’s in all of us that’s telling us to realize and to wake up and understand,

that it’s not a war of human versus earth or human versus human but of hatred versus hope, and that hope can and will win and do not give

up.

Look up instead, and smiling because there’s something sparkling up there, dazzling the eyes with its displays, and look down and see the pavement and the grass, and how they seem to be content,

and peaceful and at home, co-existing, like we all should be, and do not forget

that little light, shining on the water, glittering like a firecracker, whispering in a voice so soft but if you just listen really closely, you’ll hear it:

“Believe me, we belong here, and all will be okay.”

Breath

 

Anyone remember my “Songs of the Day” and then “Songs of the Week”?  It was from ages ago, back when I was still Unistray208.

Cheers to all times, happier and sadder.  Today and tomorrow.

Maybe it’ll eventually get better.

Masks

Forgetting that I am covered I go about my day,

Amazing that everyone else can do the same, when they show through,

Could anyone ever still be true?; I’ve given up on such a feat

Almost before I began I realized that I couldn’t do something so fanatically fantastic

Dreaming dreams and showing them as if they were reality;

Evermore for someone much, much braver than me.

Facade

Façade that’s mine, a faceless mask,

Or more of a smile, more that I’m asked,

Nobody can see the problems inside,

I cram them down and in selflessness hide.

And when I say but a single word,

Do you know how hard it is to displease the world?

I don’t want to hurt anyone so I never speak.

Right now, right here, my knees they are weak.

I won’t, I can’t, I’m not the victim you see,

So to make sure I don’t manipulate I never am free.

Every moment I peel off a bit of the mask,

Each time I give information without being asked,

I shake and I shiver, I tremble and fall,

I shrink and I hate myself, I never stand tall.

I prefer to hide behind endless confidence,

Nobody worries, not even one bit,

And you see, when I do voice my complaints,

They’re always quiet behind other strains.

Seems I get shot down by my so-called friends,

But I refuse to let our relationships end.

I love these people, they’re dear to me,

The whole world is my family.

And so I feel the mother’s shame,

When a person makes an unforgiveable mistake.

And then, furthermore, I forgive unconditionally,

Even the one time I hated someone other than me,

I loved them, still, it was just a grudge,

I don’t have it in me to be much of a judge.

See, from my view, I’m the worst person ever, much worse than you.

And also from my biased eyes, I long to never speak the truth.

I refuse to burden you, I’m no victim here,

So I run and I hide with the strangest fear.

And being this straightforward, it chills me to the core,

I guess that’s why poetry appeals to me more.

Question Time–For God and Readers!

Everyone has a story.  Everyone has a life.

What is the meaning and the value?

The value is unable to be calculated.

The meaning is beyond understanding (Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – the number 42.  Well obviously this is just a bizarre answer.  Make it up as you go along.)

There’s always the what.  And the why.  And the how.

Questions that end up filling your head with circular thoughts.

And then there’s the hard times intermingled with all the bad.

And I ask this all the time:

“Who are you?”

It’s to myself.  It’s sometimes to God.

Sometimes it’s to someone I’ve just glimpsed.

But it’s always kept in my head, bottled up and wrapped in a cloth.

It’s a question I’m too scared to ask.  A question I’m too scared to answer.

And who am I to question God?

The thing is, I question him all the time.

I believe in Him.  He is much greater and wiser than I am.

But to myself, I think, “He’s not perfect”.  God is just as fallible as the rest of us.  No wait.  Not ‘just as’.  Considerably less so.  But not quite infallible.

Satan was once His son.  Still is, really.  He talks with the Devil.  But the Devil can’t live with Him.  And oh, I understand we must be tempted.  I understand free will.

What parent hands their children everything on a silver platter?  A bad one.

But then I think that something imperfect can’t be with God.  Someone like me, as I am now, couldn’t live with God.

No, I’d need a Savior for that.  Someone to make up for my sins.  Which I have.

(Thanks, Dad in heaven).

Still, though.  It all becomes a muddled mess.

Also: polygamy.

Read the Bible.  Polygamy left and right there.  Sure, we don’t do it today.  But what about in Heaven?  Would it be allowed there?

My belief is that everyone has a Soulmate.  Sometimes that Soulmate isn’t encountered until after death.  But you’ll find your One True Love eventually.  With patience and kindness and love.

But then polygamy.  What then?  What if it is allowed in Heaven?  So Kings of old in the Bible have multiple wives… Family is forever, after all.

Disturbing, isn’t it?

And there’s more.  Gays.  I mean, being gay was something… originally created… by God… sort of.  A genetic thing that happened to occur.  Slash being effected by the world around you.

Honestly, I don’t give a crap if someone marries someone of the same gender.  God is a merciful person.  He would want us to be happy here on this painful Earth, even if it went against His wishes.

After all, one can’t control the heart.  As we know from books and movies and games and even real life.  Yeah love is sort of a random occurrence.  When it’s more than the puppycrushes of high school.  Those may be borne of desperation.

But then there’s the Soulmates.  Shouldn’t there be a chance to connect with the Soulmate on Earth?  I mean…

So it just confuses me.  And frustrates me.

Obviously God is considerably more perfect than I am.  I said He wasn’t perfect and then turned around and said He was… He is as perfect as He possibly could be, I believe.  As anyone could possibly be.  Wise and omniscient.  Meaning He sees all possibilities, all choices, all futures.

He never knows the choice we’ll make until we make it, however.

And even then, All Things exist Simultaneously.

It’s sort of like a science fiction novel.

One of those head-banging ones.

And maybe I shouldn’t question God.  He’s ten million times wiser than I am – or may ever be – after all.  But my dad here on Earth taught me to question. everything. (politics man)

I think I have a right to question even God.  It’s how your testimony grows.  It’s how you learn, explore, test your boundaries.

How could I know of Him if I do not question my heart, my friends, my family, and then Him, first?

So right now I’m in the learning stages.  Eventually I’ll understand the whys of these.  If it’s after death, then so be it.  Though it’d be really nice to know now.

Yes, God, I know you’re seeing this.

Please help me understand?

…Yes, I do talk to Him aloud ALL THE TIME in the middle of conversations.

And get teased mercilessly for it.

But then again, I get teased mercilessly for a lot of things.

Mormon Christian who believes that fairies and unicorns and mermaids and etc. exists and thinks her stuffed animals are alive.

Yup.

I’m getting teased and treated as an outcast.

Woo-hoo.  People are meanies.

At least God… understands my questioning.  That’s one thing I can take comfort in.  He understands all my weirdness.  Even when my parents don’t (and they really DON’T understand that stuff), He does.  Small mercies.

Now God, help my parents out?  I love You, but You know how I am… I need the Earthly, too.

But really, I’d just like to have some answers.

In the Name of Thy Son, Jesus Christ, Amen.

(weird broken-paced post COURTESY OF The Ting Tings – We started Nothing.  Oh music, how it affects us all.)

Brainzzz

Dude I had a seriously weird dream last night.

It involved a group of friends, two straight guys and three gay girls.  And also Minecraft and various other video games.  Including stuff that doesn’t exist irl.

It was insane.  I even got like two names!  but I only remember one.  Shane Carson.  Who was a girl.  And also black.  She was lesbian but got hit on by guys a lot.  Though one of the guys in her friend group joked with her.  It was actually a funny situation.

This, my friends, was a dream.

I have a weird brain.

I do want to write about these people now.  They were pretty cool.

Two of the three girls could also sing.  They sung in my dream.  One of them sang about Minecraft, and the other one was Shane and she sang about being hit on even though she was lesbo.

Fun fun fun.

I do want to write about these peeps anyway though.  They’re pretty cool.

Sexism

It's everywhere.  And you don't even know it.

Girls.  Guys.  All sexist against each other.
Against themselves.

Find some pride and read.

"Real men", "slut", "whore", "sissy", "pussy"...
Listing words, for both genders.  Listing how wrong it is in our society.

You, right now, whoever you are, whatever race or gender or whatever the hell you are, no matter the brainwashing, if you read nothing else read this.

You can be or do anything.

You can be feminine and be a guy, or a girl; tomboy for both, too.  It's all okay.  Unfortunanently society doesn't see it that way.

Take a look around, folks.

I'm too angry about how stupid we all are - brainwashed if I want to be honest, all day every day - to even make this a decent post.

Read about it.  Watch videos.

And while we're at it, stop victim blaming.

Get rid of society's brainwashing.

The Mountain

It's like climbing up a giant mountain of emotions, when you're just so small, so small, the size of an ant while the mountain is the size of a planet.  And each grip you take you feel a wild sense of emotions and you just keep climbing, never giving up, carrying a pack so heavy you'll feel like you're going to fall and die and rip to pieces but you stay strong, you never let go.  The mountain is steady and the handholds don't tear at your fingers, and it's all stone and nothing comes off, you don't have to worry about that.  But you feel like it's so tall.  Because you've climbed miles and miles straight up and you're not even a quarter of the way to the top yet.  So you just find the nearest ledge and crawl inside and cry.
Because you're too small and too weak to make it, but then the heaviness on your pack reminds you of all the people that need you, and you go back and your grip is stronger and you keep trying, even though it might kill you.
But if you just give up that's even worse, because exiting from the long-drawn out metaphor that's when you commit suicide.  And your pack just hangs there, dangling like some reminder of your attempts as people cry and mourn.
But then if you fall, outwardly, you've just broken inside.  You're a shell.  You're empty.  You're so shattered that this time there's no repair.  Sure, you've slipped before.  Broken a little.  But always repairable damage - stuff that lets you go on.
And your fingers hurt and you realize that you're just switching through how it's going, but it's inspiration and you've just come from a nice warm shower and you feel like you need this to breathe.  I guess that's writing, the only way to breathe is to do it, but this is a little strange because normally it's poetry because you don't want to add to anyone's burdens.
And oh, you feel all the time.  You feel all the emotions all the time.  The happiness is a facade but then again it's real, you're always happy.  And when you cry the tears are true but they're fake, too.  And it's like your anxiety and depression and something else you don't dare tell anyone else of - not like you have the words to fully describe that other - all roll together trying to crush you so you fight back and yell.
But they get to you, anyway, and it starts with a little iddy bitty corner that never goes away, and then it grows and grows and you still hold it all inside, because you have to be strong, but then it breaks out in little things, whether tears or anger or the fact you feel like you're so anxious you're about to pass out.  And it's all flowing and running and insane and you don't know what to do but you keep climbing because you're needed and you won't let the people you love done.
Because it's the happiness and sadness and anger and joy and sense of peace and fear and horror and I'm constantly feeling it.  And maybe there's that little bit of hate there too, but you don't know what it's at or for because you've chipped away at the hate for yourself and the hate for your Daddy and the hate of the girl that bullied you all through elementary school.  But maybe it's for the world, because the world is cold and cruel and hateful and sometimes you just gotta turn your back on it and cry, because you can't bear to be judged or to let people down.
And you're always confident, the strong one, the peacemaker, and you let other people lean on you and they do, because you're warm and understanding and know just what to say and people "wish there were more people like you" because you'll never give up on them even if it seems like it sometimes.  And you laugh and shrug off all the insults and criticisms because they don't matter, you know who you are and you love yourself, but secretly they fester and burn while you forgive the person who said them to you until it gets to be too much where you want to cry because the people who say these things the most are two of your friends and they just don't stop; you guess they don't know how to because one of them is a year younger than you and the other one has Asperger's.
And you're terrified they'll read this and also hoping they will, because you can't say it to their faces but you're not about to say it behind their backs - not in a nasty way, anyways - because they care about you and when it comes down to it they're there for you.  And you wonder if you're doing this right.
And you try to talk to your therapist because she's just the sweetest lady and you wonder if you should give her your blog so she can read this.  But you don't know what to do because there's sometimes not words for what you need to see and other times you feel so guilty, because she's a mother with her own children tending for their own pain.  And you keep it to yourself that you'd cry if you had to stop seeing her because in your heart you call her 'friend', but anyway you do that with everyone and let them go because you don't want to get in trouble, or hurt anyone else in anyway.
And you pride yourself on your relationship with your mother and love to boast about it no matter how much she annoys you but you realize she can never understand everything.  You realize this because you've tried to tell her and you realize she's a mother and mothers just don't understand everything, even though they're wiser and older and were where you were, too, but it's something about motherhood that makes them unable to understand everything but that's okay because you love them and at least you can hug your mom whenever you're upset and it doesn't matter because you can't stay angry at her unless she keeps joking when you're in a mood, then that's just frustrating.
And really the only person who understands what you're going through is Jesus Christ, and you feel horrible guilt because he's felt exactly what you have, and so you pray to God that your Savior doesn't have to feel your pain even if it gives up you being able to live with Them again, but you can't stand to think that you, right now, have and are adding to His pain and it's kind of killing you inside.
And anyway if your prayers didn't do anything other than give you a mild sense of comfort for just a couple of minutes your Savior isn't on Earth and he can't hug you with the solidness of a mother, or listen while you look each other in the eyes.  And you need that Earthly thing.
And all you want is someone you can tell everything to but you don't have that person because life is like a marriage, and sometimes you have to compromise and give and give until you're hurting because you're carrying everyone else's burdens, but you won't dare give up your own.  And you think how funny it is, how selfishly you want someone to share your burdens for just a few moments but how selflessly you refuse to share your burdens.
And you make such deep connections with people, I mean you have emotional attachments to pixels, for Pete's sake, and you can't help that.  Which is why you keep it tucked inside and don't show anyone but yourself the pain when someone leaves or when you have to push someone away.  And you have to push someone away.
You just want to improve the whole world but you can't, so you just write because you feel it all so powerfully.  And each little facet of your personality you give a name and a face and a voice and then you modify it until it becomes someone different, someone you hold within you, but then you give them life because you write about them and they exist outside of you, forever.  But they're also inside of you, tucked close to your heart and they support you even if you argue with yourself.
And you're scared about what this means and you quietly realize that everyone in the world has multiple personality disorder, really, because someone acts one way and then another as the situation changes, and that sometimes they lose grip so the "real" MPD is really just schizophrenia but anyway you don't want to sound like you know everything because you know you know practically nothing and you're just guessing and feeling and hoping.
And you tuck inside yourself a fact you know and can never share, and you've lived your life for so long in the way you've lived it that you realize you've hidden it so well that the only issues they declare you have are anxiety and depression, but you know you have much more.  You just fight it back with growling and hissing and pass off when it comes as imagination, because oh, you are imaginative.
And you know people are going to read this and realize what you're talking about but you're going to press the send button before you lose your nerve, because you want people to know just for once.
And you laugh at how silly you are because you wrote this whole thing in second person, and you wonder why you can't do it in first person, and then you cry.

To Be Saved

While procrastinating I found this.

I think He's trying to tell me something.

Home Isn't Real

How can you put what you feel into words
When it's treated like a joke or a scam,
It's always manipulation or fake,
And you don't even deserve a friend.

And they were there once,
All the adults do say,
But if you were there once,
Why do you treat me this way?

I just want to be understood,
But I won't say it aloud.
It's too cliche and pathetic,
And I am much too proud.

So that's why I sit here crying,
Trying to hold it all inside.
Writing a poem, my last release,
Thinking of all the other times I've cried.

Why would you try to explain the truth,
When you're just ignored and put to the side?
Is it because I'm too old, or because of my youth?
I'm done; I've tried and I've tried.

And you'll see the comment on this post,
Another falsity and lie
I'm so tired of trying,
This is why I don't cry.

Inside there's a monster,
It's eaten me whole,
But it hides behind the smile,
Even though I'll stumble, fall, and roll.

They say that my Savior felt this way,
I do think He did.
But He's up there, and I'm down here,
And I'm only just a kid.

I don't have what I need,
And this'll be read,
And people will sympathize,
And it won't mean a thing.

How can you say what you feel
When it's treated like a joke or a scam?
You'll shuffle your feet and feel incomplete,
And into your dark hole you'll cram.

Seems like I'm too busy being told what to do
To let go of how I feel.
They constantly give me advice and give me words
And this is why home isn't real.

They'll order me around and threaten me,
With grounding and grades and I'll cry,
They won't listen, they don't care,
And this is why home isn't anywhere.

Savior

It was long ago but clear to me,

The wisdom and the honesty,

In sacrifice it blessed.

I am a witness of the Savior,

Knowing of the perfect One,

In perfection He came.

And knowledge of the Savior,

Brings wisdom of the ones,

Angels on Earth, wingless and strong.

Sent here to love me, be saviors too,

Keep me on the right path,

Bring me back home.

And so I look to my Father and Brother,

Holding hands with those on Earth,

Someday we'll find our way.

So reaching across miles and days,

Or sometimes right there in front of me,

We touch the hearts of those we love.

And charity is our taste of perfection,

And I'm glad to know I am loved,

Ready to find my way.

And I walk in the right, love and with might,

We push and we pull together to find,

Our way back to Him.

Nonsense is My Only Fluent Language

And also maybe Gibberish.

So there was a post here.  And then it ran away and ate chocolate cupcakes and is lost forever.  This is my life.

Everything eventually becomes "alive" and "human".  Sort of.

...

Don't ask.  You don't want to know.  Hell, I don't want to know, and it's my brain.

But yeah.

Chocolate.

Yum.

I have been mildly depressed for the past two weeks.  And sick for the last three. Luckily one or two more days and it'll be gone (I can sing without sounding awful and hacking my head off).

The depression sort of started on Monday.  My mom had to go to the hospital.

And I'm scared.  I really am.  What if I have what she has?  It's a congenital heart disorder and that means I have a 50% chance of having it.

I've started to have back problems, and I may have vertigo.  I don't want this.  I was healthy.

And then, of course, I'm fat.

It always cycles back around to that.  I want to be healthy.  I want to be thin.  I am beautiful... Now I want other people to see that.  I want to have children.  I want to improve my mental - and now, physical - problems.

But then I don't.  Oh, chocolate.  Oh, ice cream.  Oh, bread.  Yup.  Freaking bread.
And I see veggies.  I could grab and chomp in less time than a bag of popcorn.  I love clementines.  I have them!  And apples, and cucumbers, and edamame, and soybeans, brocolli, cauliflower - so much stuff.
And I'm not going for it.  I want to hit myself on the head.  Why the heck?

I think everything's scaring me.  My mom scares me, and I'm worried about her, and... I'm overwhelmed.  I'm in tenth grade.
The hardest year of my life so far.  Not socially, but workload - heck yes.  It's kind of killing me.

And my dreams.  My hopes.  My talents.  I have a guitar collecting dust in the corner; I could get it out, spend 15 minutes a day.  Get good at it; write songs - not just the lyrics.
I could practice drawing.  Just a little.  A bit at a time.  Get good at it, instead of pretty bad like I am now.
I could excersize.  30 minutes a day (except Sunday).  Be healthy, be strong, improve this apparent beginnings of vertigo and back issues.
But then I just don't.

Even when I don't have the computer, I choose a book.  I laze around.  I neglect homework - procrastinate - even when I'm not on here.  And on the computer I could be working on coding.  Game-making.  Drawing with a mouse.

I have a game to help improve my drawing, for Pete's sakes, my mom bought it, and it's on the wii.  It would take practically no effort to just do one activity one, twice a week maybe.

I could work on cooking from scratch and find healthy alternatives to the foods I love.  I could work with my mom on that.  I could experiment with recipes - like for cookies - to have less sugar and butter in them and still taste delicious.  Get my mom's help.

But all of that, none of that... I'm just...
Why aren't I doing things that would be just so simple?