Have you ever wished for something so much for so long, and then get it once you have grown comfortable not having it?
I have, plenty of times before. This time, it's not so... depthy. It's simply a room.
I've lived in this house since I was around 3. That's... wow, on so little sleep, it's hard to think about my mental connection between 8s, 3s and 5s. Anyways, that's around 15 years. That's more years in the same house than many of the people I know.
So 15 years I've been in this tiny room (except for a stint in the basement- too creepy, and a stint in my parents room- they wanted it back after a month or something like that). I've always envied my brother's spacious room, which is about double the size of mine. But because I was younger, I got this one, and he hasn't relinquished his room for good reason.
And since he's 22 and still living here, I came to terms about a year and a half ago that I was never getting his room until it was too late (I seriously thought I'd be out of the house before he would). Now since he has a girlfriend, he's been MIA for most of the days of the week. And I got the offer to move into his room.
Excitement? Not so much.
As I said, I came to terms with my small room a long while ago, though I still kept pining for his, thinking I'd never get it. I drew on my walls- blue vines, fish, masks, plants. My friends and I painted (very badly) Chinese symbols all around it. Quotes cover my wall in the form of sticky notes, some of them hiding more than just walls- some angry scribblings back when my dad and I were on less than good terms.
Then there's all my stuff. My books, wall hangings, shelves, knick nacks, masks.It's true that these things would be better fit into my brother's room, but I don't know. I like the small room now, though sometimes I do wish it was a couple of feet larger. It's a closed space that comforts me from the vast and harsh world. And I've fallen with my chair into my dresser and piles of junk so many times- I don't think I could do that in a spacious room.
But I guess I could always make it that way, you know? Section it off. And I've all summer with nothing to do. And all year.
And then there was the idea that I liked the idea of having a bigger room for friends and sleepovers. But that's not happening any time soon.
But either I'm living there for 3 years, or 1. Depending if I go to Vancouver or Toronto come September. But I guess if I go to Vancouver, the room will still be there when I come back for T.O studies.
I don't know. I'll have to think about it.
It's a Record
It's nearly 1 AM. I'm not going to be a happy camper tomorrow, but right now I can't sleep, even though I finally can.
You might not believe it, but this is the earliest I've finished a co-op poster. The past two times, I've stayed up all night. And I mean all night. Last time, I got to sleep for a half hour only because I was going to the school that morning, instead of co-op. The time before, I went a good 30-something hours without sleep, and had to go to my bakery co-op.
This is refreshing, though as I said before, I won't feel so refreshed tomorrow morning. Or this morning, depending on how you want to look at it.
Speaking of looks, this is probably the prettiest poster I've made. The first one was horrid, I'll admit it, but that was when everything went wrong, and I had no answers. I was picking out thin pieces of paper from my wool blanket a year from then, or more. I'm pretty sure I could still find some that had woven themselves into it now, if I knew where that blanket was. I kind of feel like digging it up, because I've had it wrapped around me both other times. Tradition, you know? But this time I'm breaking tradition already, not staying up all night.
But I've too much to do this week to stay up for nostalgia's sake. Plus, I don't particularly like the feeling of staying up when 9 AM rolls around. And I've a headache.
I can't close my poster this time, though. Not because of lights, or a mishap with the border. Simply because I went 3-D in a way, and so I've no idea where to put it. I might just sleep with it on top of me.
But that is enough of this sleepy ramble. I'm in pain from yesterday (another post), but at he same time I'm too tired to feel it fully, except for my head. So I'm gunna write a sentence or two of LUS to fill my daily quota and fill up on melatonin, because despite being up for a good, what? 19 hours after a long, long, week of little sleep, I'm wide awake. It's not healthy.
Night.
You might not believe it, but this is the earliest I've finished a co-op poster. The past two times, I've stayed up all night. And I mean all night. Last time, I got to sleep for a half hour only because I was going to the school that morning, instead of co-op. The time before, I went a good 30-something hours without sleep, and had to go to my bakery co-op.
This is refreshing, though as I said before, I won't feel so refreshed tomorrow morning. Or this morning, depending on how you want to look at it.
Speaking of looks, this is probably the prettiest poster I've made. The first one was horrid, I'll admit it, but that was when everything went wrong, and I had no answers. I was picking out thin pieces of paper from my wool blanket a year from then, or more. I'm pretty sure I could still find some that had woven themselves into it now, if I knew where that blanket was. I kind of feel like digging it up, because I've had it wrapped around me both other times. Tradition, you know? But this time I'm breaking tradition already, not staying up all night.
But I've too much to do this week to stay up for nostalgia's sake. Plus, I don't particularly like the feeling of staying up when 9 AM rolls around. And I've a headache.
I can't close my poster this time, though. Not because of lights, or a mishap with the border. Simply because I went 3-D in a way, and so I've no idea where to put it. I might just sleep with it on top of me.
But that is enough of this sleepy ramble. I'm in pain from yesterday (another post), but at he same time I'm too tired to feel it fully, except for my head. So I'm gunna write a sentence or two of LUS to fill my daily quota and fill up on melatonin, because despite being up for a good, what? 19 hours after a long, long, week of little sleep, I'm wide awake. It's not healthy.
Night.
I don't want to see kindness in your eyes
I ask for permission after I ask the question. Because I'm more set on knowing the truth than being polite.
I've little patience for fake smiles and sugar coated words now. I've never had much patience in the first place, but now it's little to none.
Don't tell me lies of forever. I might not want to see the dark side of life today, but nor do I want to be lied to.
Perhaps I've become hard in these past few months.
But if I had one wish, and only that wish, I wouldn't use it on changing what happened, though many think I would or should. If I had a million wishes, I'd not wish to change it.
It's not that I don't miss my life before, sometimes I do terribly. It's just that it's not worth giving up my life now. They're not worth it.
In truth, they never were. In fact, they made my life near worthless.
I've little patience for fake smiles and sugar coated words now. I've never had much patience in the first place, but now it's little to none.
Don't tell me lies of forever. I might not want to see the dark side of life today, but nor do I want to be lied to.
Perhaps I've become hard in these past few months.
But if I had one wish, and only that wish, I wouldn't use it on changing what happened, though many think I would or should. If I had a million wishes, I'd not wish to change it.
It's not that I don't miss my life before, sometimes I do terribly. It's just that it's not worth giving up my life now. They're not worth it.
In truth, they never were. In fact, they made my life near worthless.
Where did we go wrong?
Received more proof today that true love, and forever, doesn't exist.
And yet, I still believe.
I still believe. And it almost makes me cry.
And yet, I still believe.
I still believe. And it almost makes me cry.
I could use a dream, to go to a place much simpler than this
Tears hang on for dear, suspended life on my eyelashes as I look to the ground. There's a pebble on the ground and I kick it with the toe of my shoe. I can't help but imagine how I'd display all these memories as a series of pictures.
Us biking through the night, laughing and shouting at each other. It's the last day of summer; tomorrow we'll wake up early to start our senior year. We'll go early to see each other and hang out. And in a couple of months, everything will fall apart, but right now? Right now we don't know any of that. The darkness of the night, punctuated by stars, streetlights, and the moon herself doesn't reveal the thicker shadows that chase us. They are simply a part of the thrill of the warm summer night. We caw out without restraint. We feel the wind through our hair and our shirts, and we feel it glide over wings we only imagine we have. We stand on our pedals, gliding like birds around the corner. Our destination is clear, but it's also cloudy. We don't have to be anywhere anytime soon. Tomorrow brings new adventures, and a long lasting hope.
Us in my basement before another place became a better suit for all of us but a few. Darkness surrounds us as we hide under our blankets and stare up at the ceiling that could contain any number of spiders or ghosts- because it's half demolished. We're telling our hopes, our dreams, or secrets. All without fear, because nothing can break this now. And in the morning, we'll remember, but we won't talk about, because that's just how it works. The hall light is on, just below the stairs, peeping in through the crack in the door that is always open to let the cats in. It's us, in a triangle of strength, talking about things that are the complete opposite and it doesn't matter that they're that way. We're not just a triangle of strength, we are a triangle of hope.
Us with the sun shining on us as we pose for the camera. Butterflies are fluttering everywhere, and two of us are secretly hoping they don't land on us, or we might just cry. It's the picture of friendship, as we smile and hold each other close. The air is humid, but it doesn't dampen our spirits. Our happiness soars to the height of the butterflies, and our hope is on their wings.
Us with punctured glo-sticks in our hands, dancing around my basement again, bringing the darkness to life. It doesn't matter that one of us has love-handles, and another has a bit of a stomach, and another has scars that run across her abdomen. We dance in short skirts only one of us would ever wear outside of the darkness and bras that don't match anything we ever wear. We laugh and sing and paint each other with the glowing substance. We smile wide without restraint, and our hairs are a mess because we just don't care. The blend of light and dark mixed with our endless and seemingly unconditional love for each other gives us the freedom we crave, and the hope we need to keep going day after rotten day.
And then I'd show Us in different places- one in her basement playing horse and car games on her television, because I just can't picture the party girl she is now. One up late at night, staring at her cellphone, texting shallow messages to the new people she knows, because they just wouldn't get her like I do. And one sitting at her computer desk, work all around her, and piles of books, because she needs something else to fill her time now that all the memories are what was and never, ever to be what will be. And in this broken picture, there'd be hope still. Hope in new futures, sitting right above the shattered hope of staying together.
Basically- I'd paint a picture of Us and Hope, because that's what is the same about all these pictures, and every other one I can think of.
It's enough to make a girl want to go back, or to plan out a fairy tale ending. Another bike ride, another sleep over, another butterfly observation, another glow-stick night. And then maybe I could scratch the final picture, and paint something entirely different. A girl who has Us to play video games with. A girl who has Us to text deep messages to. A girl who has Us to replace all these pointless things.
I kick the pebble farther, and it lands in the gutter, falling, falling, falling. With it, goes my wish to bring everything back to the good times. The price for these paintings alone is too steep.
Us biking through the night, laughing and shouting at each other. It's the last day of summer; tomorrow we'll wake up early to start our senior year. We'll go early to see each other and hang out. And in a couple of months, everything will fall apart, but right now? Right now we don't know any of that. The darkness of the night, punctuated by stars, streetlights, and the moon herself doesn't reveal the thicker shadows that chase us. They are simply a part of the thrill of the warm summer night. We caw out without restraint. We feel the wind through our hair and our shirts, and we feel it glide over wings we only imagine we have. We stand on our pedals, gliding like birds around the corner. Our destination is clear, but it's also cloudy. We don't have to be anywhere anytime soon. Tomorrow brings new adventures, and a long lasting hope.
Us in my basement before another place became a better suit for all of us but a few. Darkness surrounds us as we hide under our blankets and stare up at the ceiling that could contain any number of spiders or ghosts- because it's half demolished. We're telling our hopes, our dreams, or secrets. All without fear, because nothing can break this now. And in the morning, we'll remember, but we won't talk about, because that's just how it works. The hall light is on, just below the stairs, peeping in through the crack in the door that is always open to let the cats in. It's us, in a triangle of strength, talking about things that are the complete opposite and it doesn't matter that they're that way. We're not just a triangle of strength, we are a triangle of hope.
Us with the sun shining on us as we pose for the camera. Butterflies are fluttering everywhere, and two of us are secretly hoping they don't land on us, or we might just cry. It's the picture of friendship, as we smile and hold each other close. The air is humid, but it doesn't dampen our spirits. Our happiness soars to the height of the butterflies, and our hope is on their wings.
Us with punctured glo-sticks in our hands, dancing around my basement again, bringing the darkness to life. It doesn't matter that one of us has love-handles, and another has a bit of a stomach, and another has scars that run across her abdomen. We dance in short skirts only one of us would ever wear outside of the darkness and bras that don't match anything we ever wear. We laugh and sing and paint each other with the glowing substance. We smile wide without restraint, and our hairs are a mess because we just don't care. The blend of light and dark mixed with our endless and seemingly unconditional love for each other gives us the freedom we crave, and the hope we need to keep going day after rotten day.
And then I'd show Us in different places- one in her basement playing horse and car games on her television, because I just can't picture the party girl she is now. One up late at night, staring at her cellphone, texting shallow messages to the new people she knows, because they just wouldn't get her like I do. And one sitting at her computer desk, work all around her, and piles of books, because she needs something else to fill her time now that all the memories are what was and never, ever to be what will be. And in this broken picture, there'd be hope still. Hope in new futures, sitting right above the shattered hope of staying together.
Basically- I'd paint a picture of Us and Hope, because that's what is the same about all these pictures, and every other one I can think of.
It's enough to make a girl want to go back, or to plan out a fairy tale ending. Another bike ride, another sleep over, another butterfly observation, another glow-stick night. And then maybe I could scratch the final picture, and paint something entirely different. A girl who has Us to play video games with. A girl who has Us to text deep messages to. A girl who has Us to replace all these pointless things.
I kick the pebble farther, and it lands in the gutter, falling, falling, falling. With it, goes my wish to bring everything back to the good times. The price for these paintings alone is too steep.
Airplanes like Shooting Stars
Oh, I can almost go on as if nothing is happening. I can keep going on and on and on, and ignore that I'd be on a different patch of soil right now, if I'd made a few less choices.
But the patch of soil I stand on is my own. I stand here by myself, on my own. To get here, I've walked on my own. I've made my choices on my own. Everything that got me here, everything that is here, is my own.
And some days I can't decide whether that is a good thing, or a sad thing.
"I am miserable. It doesn't become me, but I find I am too miserable to care."
But the patch of soil I stand on is my own. I stand here by myself, on my own. To get here, I've walked on my own. I've made my choices on my own. Everything that got me here, everything that is here, is my own.
And some days I can't decide whether that is a good thing, or a sad thing.
"I am miserable. It doesn't become me, but I find I am too miserable to care."
Pretty Little Liars
Right about now, I'm wishing I was part of the Pretty Little Liars A-Game. It seems like thrilling fun. And then I think how the girls in those books must have felt (though I've only read the first 78 pages of the first book), having "A" threaten to spill all their secrets. It's chilling.
In a bit of "You don't know what you're talking about/be careful what you wish for," I wish that something exciting like that would happen to me.
But, after that bit, I think "Maybe I'll stick with wishing fairies would abduct me."
x x x
In a bit of "You don't know what you're talking about/be careful what you wish for," I wish that something exciting like that would happen to me.
But, after that bit, I think "Maybe I'll stick with wishing fairies would abduct me."
x x x
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