Just a dream, just an ordinary dream

Can I be honest?

I feel like I am floating. And I don’t know what it is I’m floating in, but I think I am floating in you. And you. And you and you and everyone I know. I am a drifter in all your thoughts, your memories, and dreams. I am a ghost, or a whisper, or a trail of smoke disappearing beneath your skin.

Someone once asked me what my biggest fear was. Spiders? He asked. Death? The dark? But I said, No, my biggest fear is being forgotten.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like something was missing within me, that my identity was not complete. I am often unsatisfied with who I am. I feel simple. I feel lonely. I am silly. I am a girl with a name, but not a name that is spoken very often.

I wish there was something striking about me. You know? Like charisma, or talent, or intelligence. Something that would put be apart from everyone else. I am not unhappy, or depressed, or sad.

But sometimes – can I be honest? – I feel so ordinary.  

The Things They Tell Me

People always tell me that I am naive. They tell me that we live in a dangerous place, that I won’t survive by always doing the right thing. They tell me that the world is full of liars, and that often times, it is the liars who win. They tell me that people are selfish, that behind nice deeds are always ulterior motives. They tell me that I am too innocent. They tell me that they know better.

Sometimes, I believe them. I am too trusting, and so it is easy to let them convince me that I am too trusting.

But I am telling you right now – don’t believe them. Don’t let the world take away your innocence. Don’t let it harden you. Don’t let bitterness or anger make you forget what kindness is. Don’t let stress and worry become your whole life. Don’t let experience diminish your curiosity. Just don’t become one of them. 

Stream of consciousness, because I have no time to write anything else these days

My roommate is playing an album by some group called Houses. I’ve never heard of them before, but I like their music. It fits my mood tonight. There is a candle flickering to my left, a candle that we are not supposed to have in the apartment because it is a fire hazard. Which reminds me, I should put the battery back in our fire alarm; I accidentally set off the alarm with a hot shower the other day and I panicked because I thought someone would come in while I was still in my bath towel so I climbed onto the bureau, reached up, and yanked the battery out.

I admire this little candle – how it burns and burns with all its unfaltering might, all the while shrinking beneath its flame, drowning in its own melted wax. I wonder how it feels to be the cause of your own destruction, to consume your very self.

I wonder if, in some subtle way, I am not unlike the sad candle which burns itself away in my modest apartment. I am still young, I know, but what if these years melt away before I have done all that I have set out to do? I would like to go to Paris and watch the city’s reflection float across the surface of the river Seine. I want to truly understand why F = ma, and I want to study the philosophy of science, how Ptolemy’s ideas evolved into those of Copernicus, and Kepler, and if Newton really sat under an apple tree when he came up with the theory of gravity. I want to write my own song, I want to learn guitar, and I want perform Clair de Lune flawlessly. I want to go to Mauna Kea in Hawaii and look at the stars; I want to see an aurora in real life. I want to love someone, and be loved. I want to open a coffee shop, or a bakery, with a fireplace and classy art on the walls and antique poetry books on almost-dusty shelves. I want to go on a road trip without even bothering to check if I have enough gas in the tank, and I want to go hiking and canoeing and whale watching in Maine and ride with sled dogs in Alaska. I want to live in New York City, and live in California, and I want to ride a horse without the saddle and go so fast that I almost fall off. I want to fly into outer space.

There is a bowl of leftover pasta in the fridge, except I doubt I’ll ever eat it because I couldn't find any plastic wrap so I will probably get hungry in a few hours, look at the uncovered pasta in the fridge dubiously, and throw it away. I hope I don’t get blown out before my passion is done burning, although I do like the smell right after you put a candle out. It’s like burned roses, rusty fragrance. I’m going to blow the candle out now and go to sleep. 

How To Say Goodbye

Goodbyes suck – I know. There is nothing that hurts more than letting go of someone who everything reminds you of, someone who became a part of your own identity, someone you built your life around. In a world where everything is always changing so quickly, it’s scary to lose the one thing you thought was your constant. But sometimes, change is good. Without it, we’d be stuck in the same skin, stay the same person, for our whole lives. A goodbye may feel like a closed door, like an ending – but it’s not. A goodbye is just one of many, many changes that we’ll come by in life…changes that are as inevitable as living itself. 

I believe the world is burning to the ground

It's so hard to wrap my mind around the fact that while I was happily hanging out with my friends last night, innocent people who just wanted to have a nice night at the movies were dying in a mass shooting. Teenagers saw their friends with blood on their shirts, couples on dates ran screaming from the theater, and a 6 year old child was shot. What was the shooter trying to prove?

Once upon a time...

when I was but a wee little girl, I decided to start a blog. You see, I was a blossoming young poet who wanted to share her rhymes of woe to the big bad world and gain fame and fortune from the tear drenched words in which I described with great detail how my ten year old heart was broken from unrequited love. Alas, my mother gave me a long lecture on the dangers of the internet and how a naive little girl such as myself could easily be manipulated by some evil cyberstalker. Although I obstinately denied this insult to my maturity and proudly declared that I used a fake name on my profile, my brand new poetry blog was no longer in existence by the next morning.

A few years ago, I once again decided in a moment of great inspiration that I wanted to start a blog. I did, in fact, successfully maintain this blog for several years, but after a while, its introspective and philosophical nature made it tiresome to write on. I hated that I couldn't make a post unless it had some deep moral behind it...or maybe I just became more shallow and ran out of things to say. In any case, while I sat on my bed feeling fat for not working out today, I thought I'd take a shot at making a brand new blog, one with a name so terribly not philosophical that I could feel free to write about everything and anything I please. As for why I chose this specific name...well, I've been told that I tell the worst stories. I think I have a habit of giving too many details and getting far too excited about things that other people don't care about in the slightest. And since I do not want to prove that this disability of mine is true and prevent you from ever visiting this blog again, I will promptly stop my rambling here and go make myself some dinner.