“Like a shrine to a childhood that never was.”

I am always looking for an explanation and conclusion, and it is the death of me.

I love some things like I love my old home

Does that explain why I let you go?

I pray to god when you call my phone

but it’s just not that simple.

I’m anxious in class when you want to know

where I’ve been at and if I’m alone.

Just the same like them high school days;

to god I pray, to god I pray 

humans are specific in their experiences or needs or wants or hopes, I am so unspecific and I have dwindled in this grey area hiding behind the uncontrollable aspects of my life for So long and my era of life right now is me slowly swimming away to the surface

I wish I could feel a softness when I look back on my past and sympathize with what I was going through. But instead, my acquiring of emotional intellegence has only made the flaws of my character so utterly clear, its like looking through a lagoon on a clear day. Lagoons were always my favorite. Sea anemones are living all around them with their little tentacles waiting for a touch. Kind of like me - doing nothing, remaining consistent in my nothingness, and still expecting the attention I so deeply desire. Except sometimes the attention you get is not always from the right person. All my relationships fade and I have always thought people were evil and hated myself at the same time. Are people evil and why do I hate myself then? I am still working on that last part. Everyday is a new day with a new conclusion. Maybe that is my problem, conclusions. Meditation teaches me to accept things as they are. There is no need to analyze a feeling, categorize a thought. You can accept it as it shows itself, remain constant in that moment, and let is pass if that begins to happen. So I have begun a period of “to be continued…”. Keeping track of my thoughts and letting my brain forget, until I stumble back to it later. I am so tired, and I hope that when I close my laptop tonight, I can remember where I was coming from by writing this. Maybe then I will feel some of that sympathy.

Its insane. Isnt it strange. 

Blink twice when you feel pain. 

Feel your eyes strain when the cement closes in on your temples.

Breathe in breathe out breathe in breathe out.

Blink twice if you can feel anything.

Dont loose sight of your goals even if you’re naive.

Why have I become so insecure? When? 

Purposeless in doing anything because nothing is mine, my own.

So lets write, lets keep on writing.

If not for the praise of others, for my own future mental clarity. 

Remember when you use to seek out the world?

When you would scroll on your phone and drop a pin on something beautiful

In your eyes?

Is it that you dont have someone to join you?

Do you know how to exist without someone at your hip?

Because your judgement has proven flawed.

So what now? Where do we go?

Where do i go?

The boy in the shiny box was carried all throughout Southern California. His name was Roy and he never grew up.

Last night my mother and I talked on the phone for over five hours. I learned that 1) My dad had an affair with a 24-year old congressmans daughter, 2) My dad is a serial cheater, 3) My dad choked my mom two months after giving birth to my youngest sister, 4) My mom lost touch with her parents when she entered into riches, 5) My mom is in pain. On we go.

The more fruitful my life becomes the more pain I feel for the past. I am on the verge of finding people. I am entering into normal life. It feels so good but I feel naive for what was once my philosophy. I should have done so many things. I can’t see what is right in front of me. I really cannot figure out what to do. It takes years for one choice. I don’t want to compare myself but I am nothing without all the pretty girls and all their pretty friends. The more I embrace myself the more I set my past self free. All the feelings that flame around me are too much to let go. It is for the old me. Everything is for the old me. 

Thrice is Nice

I do important things bit by bit

I suck a little lollipop, lick lick lick

I’m late in the elevator, click click click

I rush straight to class, skip skip skip

I think about my grades, shame shame shame

I hate my situationship, games games games

I look just like my father, lame lame lame

I fix my hair in the mirror, tame tame tame

I can’t commit to anyone, bye bye bye

I can’t commit to any home, fly fly fly

I moved from west to east, why why why

I smoked a little too much, high high high

I can’t do life without you, bad bad bad

I don’t have a real family, sad sad sad

My sister is my bully, mad mad mad

I walk to my support group, glad glad glad

I fly to the west coast every winter

I fly to the west coast for some closure 

I sleep in a guest room or my mother’s couch

I wish I never left you or this little town

I’d like to protect you, 

I obsess about it,

But never really do the work

You dont think that it’s important

I’m really just tryna get hurt.

Call me again, call me your friend

This is so sentimental 

I hate this phase

Id give it all away in a blink

A little flash in your eyes will lead to suicide eventually

Rolling my eyes to the back of my head

All the hours you lay in bed 

So many secrets are floating to the ceiling.

Everything is devastating and everyday I’m searching for a landline. I watch through the window as adults scurry to their final exams. I, a child, cry in the Spring Aspen cafe as I sip a matcha latte and listen to the student next to me describe how the NSA pays for her college tuition. I’m looking and looking for answers everywhere. I’ve spent the last three and a half years searching for the writing on the wall. I’m drowning and drowning and searching for the surface. Every part of my life is lacking. When the choreographer tells me to close my eyes and visualize someone I love and look up to, and to send them love, I realize how few people in my life are that. I don’t know how to create such a thing for myself. It is an endless cycle. It all gets better and it all falls down. Day in and day out, without fail, I will meet myself again.

I do my little things bit by bit

I suck a little lollipop, lick lick lick

I’m late in the elevator, click click click

I rush straight to class, skip skip skip

I think about my grades, shame shame shame

I hate my situationship, games games games

I look just like my father, lame lame lame

I fix my hair in the mirror, tame tame tame

I cant commit to anyone, bye bye bye

I cant commit to any home, fly fly fly

I moved from west to east, why why why

I smoked a little too much, high high high

I can’t do life without it, bad bad bad

I don’t have a real family, sad sad sad

My sister is my bully, mad mad mad

I walk to my support group, glad glad glad

 Im holding onto so much like a child who wants to carry all their toys in their arms without realizing physics goes against their tactic. Now that I am finally forcing myself to express my mind into clear words on paper after all these years, I fear I am too late. I am too old to barely be describing what it is I describe. Or perhaps it is the way in which I am describing them, that has an immature tone to it.