Over My Dead Body

*Le Sigh*

Who needs a shrink when you have a pen and paper? Or the internet? 

I stopped writing this way for a while.  And it showed. But I've picked it up again and I'd like to think I'm at my best with it now.

So yeah, into the mind of a creative, a Capricorn, a twenty-five year old, a dreamer, a girl......

It gets pretty complex up there sometimes.  So much so that shit just fades to black sometimes and theres nothing going on up there at all. Then it comes pouring back tenfold.

Writing should be mandatory. If not for everyone, at least for me.  Shit could sit on my mind for months with no closure but once I transfer it to paper (or computer) I'm instantly relieved.  

I could hate myself for being so in my head all the time.  I could let it drive me crazy. I could drown myself in drugs and psychologist bills. Or I could just hide from it.

But really, what would be the point? 

Even though it rarely seems so, I think your thoughts are all related/connected. And if you work through just one, you end up uncovering some shit about another. I guess thats the scary part. 

The exposure.

Exposure> Vulnerability> Pain> Some kind of death.

I'm not built for any of those things.  No one is. But the fear isn't worth the sacrifice. Or at least thats the lesson I'm trying to get through to myself. I don't think any of those things are escapable. And if thats the case, why be afraid to understand them?

So when that one that you finally want is no longer an option, when you're dead wrong about something you really wanted to be right about, and no one will ever understand...just write

I'm a Braveheart

"I drove an old school Beamer
You drove an eighteen wheeler
With nuclear bombs
Slowly dropping them down for fun
But I didn't run..." Brave, Kelis


No one wants to be fucking rejected. 

Like, ever, bro.

But the shit happens. Everyday. All day. 
To people who deserve it just as well as those who don't.

What are you gonna do?

I had a paralytic fear of rejection. I'm talking some unnormal-type shit.  I'da sooner died than put myself in a position to be played so brutally.  The thought of someone being able to look at me with the word "Loser" written across my forehead, and THEY'RE the one who put it there?? And I actually like THEIR ass? The HORROR!

Fuck. Outta. Here.
Not the kid.

...Until it actually happened. 
Twice.

Its hilarious.  I mean, my feelings were absolutely demolished at the time but that shits only fleeting.  Thank God.

What I'm trying to unload is that it wasn't that damn bad, now that I look back on it. So what? Bitches weren't feeling me, fine. It cost them nothing to pay me no mind. 

No matter how vile it may seem that someone isn't interested in your awesome ass; no matter how malicious their efforts in getting that message to you may actually be- it doesn't fucking matter.

In the end, you get a thicker skin out of the experience and know what to stay the hell away from in the future.

Miles

You ever forget who you are sometimes?

And no, I'm not on my usual emo shit today.  This isn't some in-my-head shit.  

I mean, like, do you ever find yourself thinking or acting some kind of way that is totally not YOU?

Like, normally I'm a lover of all things unconventional.  I love learning shit.  I like getting to understand  things that are outside of my comfort zone.  And I'm usually pretty unapologetic about it. I will FIEND OUT for you to help me understand something.  You will want to slap me.

...Normally.

So why then, am I being a little scary bitch about asking someone this one thing that I REALLY WANT TO FUCKING KNOW THE ANSWER TO? 
1) Because its about myself
2) I'm afraid.
3) The answer has no real function in life other than to irritate my soul.

Walk with me through this one.  The music of Miles Davis and a 10-second reality check from my best friends boyfriend gave me the courage to get this far.  I can't stop now.

My normal self is courageous.  I'm a pretty brave girl, in theory. Sort of. My normal self doesn't care too much what people think about me personally. Don't get me wrong- I'm VERY interested in peoples perception of me but not in the sense that it affects what the hell I do.

So if the above statements are true, I should NOT be afraid to hear what this person has to say about me, right? 

Where the fuck is my 'normal self' right now?

...ok, so maybe I am being in-my-head again.

BUT

If we move past the fear factor of it all, to the next point...

3)It doesn't even matter. At All.

I'm fiending to know something that, even if I had the answer to, wouldn't do or change anything.  So whats really the point?

There is no point.

I'm just neurotic.

I Was Here

I want to be inspiring.

I want to be brave.

I want to be unafraid.

I want to encourage.

I want to motivate.

I want to be secure spiritually, emotionally, financially.

I want to be an activist.

I want to make an impact on people.

I want to make an impact on the world.

I want to be full of wisdom and knowledge.

I want to be free to make changes in my life on a whim.

I want to be creative.

I want to be an entrepreneur.

I want to be a writer.

I want to travel.

I want to live my life to its fullest capacity and potential.

I want to do what I was put on earth to do.

I want to be who I was put on earth to be.

Some things never seem to f*cking work

"I've seen you with the lights off

I've seen you and you'd think you loved me

I've seen you with your hat off

I'm dreaming of a time when you knew me

So baby, is it all you've got?

Tell me if you got some more

I'm thinking of some time off

I'm dreaming of a time when you knew me"- Solange, Some Things Never Seem to F*cking Work

My dad once told me that hindsight is 20/20.  I thought he was nuts then but I get it now.  Most of us come from under that cloud of smoke eventually.

I'm a Bad Kid

I've been actively working on my attitude.

I wanted to become a more assertive, honest, free-flowing type of person and somewhere along the way I detoured to Assholeville, never to be heard from again. Blame New York, blame other people, blame life itself but really, its all just me.  I noticed it and didn't like it so I've been working on it.  

Being raw and unfiltered works in the comfort of my own mind and when I'm dealing with shit alone.  But when I'm interacting with other human beings I've found there are better ways to communicate. 

Not everyone can handle f-bombs and sarcasm.

Say You'll Go

Noemie Lenoir for Lurve

Quite often, I get these random pangs of anxiety.  I'm sure its something all creative types go through. They're like these physical thrusts that come from deep within but hurt in a way thats almost entirely mental.  SO weird. Its like my mind and body are having this simultaneous reaction to my lack of living to my fullest potential/capabilities.  Its that point where my actions, no matter how productive they may seem, aren't enough anymore. 

Perhaps its just as simple as my old/accomplished goals and aspirations being replaced with new ones? But it just seems as if my soul is yearning for a greater existence. And the closer I get to something that feels real, the more my soul yearns for something even more consuming.  Its like a never ending quest for fullfillment that Im not even sure exists. Or maybe Im looking at it the wrong way.  Maybe my subconscious mind just knows exactly 

-what I want out of life
-how capable I am of obtaining it
-how close I am to achieving it

and refuses to let it die in transit?

Tupac Back

This girl.

I can't.

She hit the fucking nail on the fucking head with this rant.

Don't disrespect the legacy.

Ladies and gents, Jasmine Mans

Frank

No one ever seems to have the answers to the questions you need answered the most.  

I find that highly annoying.  

I'm sure you can figure out simple mathematics and directions and other bogus shit on your own, yet nine times out of ten there's usually someone around to help you out.  But when you have a legit dumbfounded life moment and you really need someone outside of your self to help you see the light, nada.  Nothing.  Whether it be about love, career or religion, everyones an idiot all of a sudden.  No one wants to be the one to give you the advice that can either turn you into a monster or help you evolve into a spectacular individual.

It is at these exact moments that you really have to get in touch with who you are at your core being.  I mean, you really have to dig deep.  Figure shit out and shit.  You almost have to re-question who you are, what you represent and what you want out of this little journey called life.  And hopefully, thats enough.  

For some of us, however, those series of questions just lead you into a deeper vestibule of your emotional makeup, further confusion. Still, with no answers.

This is why I don't do this shit.

In the worst kinda way, I want you, you, you, you, you

I don't want no trouble

Just a little lovin'

I don't want ya money

I wanna get to know ya

You oughta get to know me

I wanna make you wander

And then the church said, "Amen".  

If you're lucky, every once in a while you'll meet someone who kinda puts you on your ass.  In a good way though.  Im talking about when someone makes you have a fucking seat for a second. And regardless of whether or not the feelings mutual, you can't help it.  Your ass is grass, officially, even if the moments only fleeting.


Before you know it, your ass is doing all types of frivolous bullshit to kill any idle time you may have.  Why? So you won't sit around daydreaming about inappropriate things you want to do with/to a stranger, of course. All the red flags in the world couldn't stop you from jumping out of the window with it. In a way, you've learned more about yourself in the last 24 hours than you've learned in the last 24 years. And that beats logic any day. 

Shit is legit.

Petite Noir

(Zoe Saldana for Malibu Magazine, Sept 2012)

Are you
Or Aren't you?
Cause I can't seem to make one from the other



 Amazing record. Relative lyrics.

If you do not want to see me again, I would understand

When someone extremely important to your very existence is unnecessarily MIA.

I miss absolutely everything about my friend.  No she's not dead.  But I'm probably dead to her.  And she has been quite ghostly to me as well for the longest.  No, we didn't do anything evil to one another. No, there was no backstabbing or boyfriend stealing or any other typical cat fight shit going on.  We just fell apart. And not a day goes by that I don't wish I could just call her up and play some corny emo song and laugh my ass off about stupid shit that we used to do ten years ago.

It really sucks- growing into the woman you've always wanted to be without your codependent confidante, your right hand, your biggest fan, your....everything, in a sense. It wasn't supposed to be like this.  Its not supposed to be like this.  We were supposed to grow together.  We are supposed to exchange life experiences and shitty advice just like we did when we were sixteen.  We are still supposed to be enabling each other to do stupid shit and encouraging the brave, bold new adventures we encounter.  I don't want to date guys that I haven't gotten her approval on yet.  I don't want to post pics on my Instagram that she hasn't told me look cute yet.  I don't want to buy books and ask strangers for life advice that she could be giving me with complete understanding and enthusiasm.  Its like seeing something cool when you're out by yourself and looking desperately around to see if someone else saw it too. Someone you can share that moment with.  And,...nothing.  Your ass is just left hanging.

Sure, I was blessed enough to have more than one best friend in this life but I still want the one that I lost.






Perfection