Carnage

It was the intoxication for you that made me realize that I’ve been getting drunk of the wrong things for way to long

I’ve been sober before your lips, before your hands on my hips

You made me rethink the concept of being in a state sobriety

Because I would always see my self staring at the end of a bottle for a daring push into the world of extraordinary cliches to feel a sense of normalcy, different than awkward social convention I shoved myself into 

But then I found myself drinking you, and felt at ease, felt at peace

Because liquor isn’t supposed to transform you

It’s supposed to bring out your truest shade out form the shadows

Shadows that were born out of the constricted norms embedded into my mind before I could even think about playing with my barbie dolls

And then I drank a tangy mixture of cheap vodka, expensive self-derailemt and an aftertaste of a misplaced childhood.

And for the first time in my predetermined existence

For the first time in my etiquette driven, formulaic personality

For the first time my mask fell of my face

Tumbled down on to the floor

And fell between your fingertips

For the first time I wasn’t afraid of pain

I found comfort in the scars you left on my neck

Open wounds that got infected with delusions and ill-adviced caresses

Because with every stroke they became deeper

And now here I stand

That result of your carnage

Battered black and blue but holding on to your control over me

Waiting

Waiting for you to bite deeper into me until I’m lost in my own oblivion

Only to find myself in your arms

Wanting to feel weak again

Craving the hangover 

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Dear Karma

Dear Karma,

I am sick and tired. Sick and tired of standing back and forgiving everyone who doesn’t need to be forgiven, of being stepped on, of being shot down. I am sick and tired of seeing everyone else being happy, seeing those who hurt me thrive. I am sick and tired of being ok with settling for less that what I deserve. Haven’t I paid enough for everything I did just about a year ago? What is it karma? You gonna throw things at me till I crack? Well guess what, YOU WON, I’ve had it, and I’ve cracked.

News flash you cosmic piece of worthless belief, I don’t think it’s fair that those who hurt me get to be happy after doing everything that they did, and that I’m still paying for hurting him. I know I hurt him, jeez, every person on the planet knows I still feel like shit, and yet I haven’t gotten my chance to redeem myself, to show that I’ve changed. I can’t seem to catch a fucking break in a world where, honestly, the only thing I have going for me is that I was born into lucky family, who in retrospect isn’t even that lucky because I have to deal with two 5 year olds who happen to be my parents.  And it’s not lucky anyway because I feel like shit for having what I have, it’s like a cursed label, but I’m getting side tracked here.

I honestly need a break. I want to be more than content with where I’m at, I want to actually be happy about something, not just be happy simply because I still have a shred of my sanity. So here I am begging you, me the proud midget who never asks for anything is begging YOU the bitch of the royal superstitious mindset TO GIVE ME A BREAK. It can be a simple week where my love life, sport life and academic life just seem to fall into place, and then you can go back to your malicious ways.

And it’s not just me. I know people who are so dead inside because of you that they have lost all faith in anything ever getting better. I know people who because of you, have gotten much more than what they had coming. It’s like you enjoy prying on the already messed up to drive them deeper into their madness so they can keep fucking up and you can keep doing what you do best: screwing people over.

Honestly, you either need to get your act together or leave me the hell alone.

Oh and tell your friend destiny that she is more of a bitch than you because after all that I’ve done defending her and believing in her and what not, she’s jut put me in a plan that my mother doesn’t agree with, and it’s just really messing things up for me.

With great loathing,

The hopeless romantic

 

 

 

P.S. If you decide to build up a storm when my Syracuse application is being reviewed and I happen to not get in, I will find a way to annihilate you because that would be just going to far.

 

*Chilché title bout college to be inserted promptly*

If I learned something this week it’s that college tour guides have and uncanny talent of walking backwards for extensive periods of time. I’ve been going around from campus to campus this entire week looking for the hook where I’m to spend the next four years of my life. What is my perfect fit? Is it the amazing prestigious combination of purple and white with a touch of elitism sprinkled with small town humility? Maybe it’s maroon and silver spiral of high-class hipsters who want to change the world one ridiculous prompt at a time. Or, could it be that imposingly bright combination of blue and orange whose dome is as big as the dreams and wallets of the people who end up going, but who care less about what anyone could say about them. It just might the speck of yellow and blue in the middle of a mountain with, well it has just about everything and nothing I could ever want. Could it be that my perfect hook is the world renowned twang of blue and silver who’s at the capital of honest and celebrated –often times overlooked – idiocracy*? 

If you guessed that I’m referring to Northwestern, University of Chicago, Syracuse University, Ithaca College and Georgetown then congratulations, you know a whole lot about different universities in the USA and probably went through or are going through what I am right now. Looking at these schools It got me thinking about what type of person I want to be. Obviously I want to be a journalist, a writer, someone who has a lot to do with words and little to do with anything but the construction opinions of helping to build the foundations for intellectual chaos. But, who else do I want to be? I think that’s what all this searching process actually is looking for, not an institution where your gonna sit your ass in for the next four years and get the education you need, I mean what you do with what you learn is what matters anyway. What this endless search and application process does to you is that that force you to think about what of yourself you want to develop the next years to come. That’s really a tough question to ask any 17 year old. Forget the mayor, that’s the least of your worries, where are you gonna feel home.

The only thing I have certain is that I’m going to have to become the girl that can endure snowstorms because all of the campuses I looked at will be burred under snow by mid-November. If I don’t become that girl you’ll see less of me that you already do.

As I look outside the window of this fast moving train into the wilderness of red, yellow and green (borderline hipster cliché I know) I just think about what the fuck am I to do, and the answer always seems to be that I’d look amazing in orange.

 

 

*It’s funny that my computer is trying to correct this word into democracy

 

Death of 2014

You know how they say life flashes before your eyes right before death? Well today my life in school flashed before by eyes when I walked in as a senior. I really do hope that this does not mean that senior year will be the death of me.

Maybe, it’s the death of my life as just a child, now I’m stepping up to being a child with just a bit more on her plate. Maybe it’s the death of my indecision, considering I have to have a decision on pretty much my life in about a month. Or maybe, it’s just the death of me because I’m pretty much going to drown in all the work I’m going to have.

Or maybe I should just murder all my horrible thoughts right here and look at my next year in a positive manner!

Yeah well, maybe not.

Fear makes me think of the worse, so when the worse doesn’t happen, I’m happy with what I get. Just a little fun fact about me and my self-content trick.

All I know is, I’m a senior today, in three months I’m 18, in 4 my applications will be sent, in about 5 or 6 I’ll know where I’m going to college and after that well

Welcome to the resurrection

I’ll be just fine

So summer is pretty much over, and that’s a bust. And yes, yes I know I haven’t posted a single thing all summer, I’ve been busy that’s all.

With what exactly you might wonder?

Well, actually having a life for once without having my every move I make be handled with the greatest care by my loving mother.

I actually got to date someone! I hadn’t been on a date since my breakup last summer, and it reminded me why I don’t date in the first place.

It also confirmed that there are some men out there who don’t only want to get physical, or just won’t at all; who would actually want them is beyond me, but that’s just my opinion. Don’t get me wrong, the guy was sweet and cared for me, but I think by the end of our not so steamy month together, I almost went into a diabetic coma.

What can I say, I don’t do sweet cliches and I do think the physical component is somewhat important. Ok, maybe very important.

Look at me I’m even sounding like a guy now.

The highlight of my summer though, I would have to say was actually two things. One, writing my ass of in class (yes I took classes in the summer, judge me) and realizing that, when I graduate, I’m gonna be just fine shipping myself to college. I might even be happier than what I am now.

To be honest I miss my tiny dorm room – even though it was the size of my bathroom – and all the conversation that went on in it. They went from mindless babber to actual moral decisions.

You see, a friend of mine broke up with his girlfriend because he fell for one of the girls at my dorm. She put up a fight, and we she finally gave in, when he finally got her, he cheated. I honestly think I’ve never had such a deep discussion with a guy in my bed and not have it turn into something else.

Another conversation happened one night at about two am. It was with one of the girls in my suite. She was heartbroken because her boyfriend had just decided to breakup with her, and the only person she knew she could talk to was me. I was touched at the thought that this girl I’ve known for only two weeks could trust me with such personal issues.

I became close to people – really close – for the first time in a long time. I guess living with the same crowd for a month does that.

That experience I truly believe can only happen in dorms and college, when we are all flung into each other and pretty much need to build those relationships ASAP.

I got to meet people along with their ideas and complex views on such simple things, that helped me open my own opinions towards things I never really thought about.

I got to meet the city of Boston, and probably where I’ll be living right after high school, which is coming to an end on June 7, 2014.

Procrastination at it’s finest

Holly shit. It’s 9:30 and I still haven’t gotten done half of what I need to do, and on top of that I’m sitting with my blog open in order to complain about studying for my history exam, my physics exam, my philosophy and my precalculus project. All this to be done and it’s not even finals week. On top of that, I have to study for the SAT. Four hours of bubble filling, what a great day to spend a Saturday right? But, what I dread the most about these last two weeks of school is writing my English essay. I do love to write (duh I have a blog) but, this essay is going to pretty much force me to do something I don’t enjoy doing voluntarily: think about myslef and actually describe how my mind works.

You see, the essay is to choose a character, poem, line or passage that we have seen throughout the year and connect it to us, how we tick and tock. I was thinking about using one of the lines form The Wife of Bath but – I don’t know if my self esteem is getting in the way here – I’m not sure how I feel about comparing myself to such a strong woman. Maybe it’s because she’s somewhat of a hoe, or maybe because I’m not sure I should be comparing myself to one of the first feminist characters in the history of literature.

I was also considering comparing my self to the role of Satan in Paradise Lost because I mean, with out the people who think and defy society, and the people who are creative, there wouldn’t be any rules in the first place. Then self doubt invaded my mind again and I started wondering if my thoughts were as revolutionary – I don’t know what other word would fit here – as I believe them to be. Then I got to thinking if I’m as creative as I think I am. I can write a poem, sure, but so can a lot of other people.

Ugh high school, it’s gotten to a point where even assignments make us self-conscious.

9:40. Now I’m even more lost as to what step should I take. Memorize an AP exam, study physics, or keep boggling my head around to figure out what voice form literatures past relates to my own.

9:43 Fuck it, I’m studying for my SAT. Graduating in a year anyway, might as well go out with a bang.

Thoughts Before Midnight

I can honestly say that today has been a day of realization. I learned that people who you think can be trusted are just economically driven pricks who have no problem in holding you captive along with 14 horses. I also learned that a friend will always be a friend, no matter what happens. Cliche, I know, but it’s one of the few that actually has no mocking merit (this coming from a mind who can mock almost anything)

Most importantly, today I realized that I’m much stronger now than before, and I’m not just saying this because I manually plowed an arena today. Ironically, I’m much stronger now, when my love life is non-existent, when my safe heaven has pretty much disintegrated and when my future is on the brink of punching me in the face.

Maybe it’s because I’m graduating in a year, taking my SAT next week or exploring colleges this summer that my mind took sharp 180 turn from being one who avoided everything, to being one that accepts reality. Don’t worry, my fantastical imagination is still in the same dark corner thats it’s always been in, it’s just I can’t keep kidding myself that the scenarios is my head are just gonna randomly come to life. I have to make things happen. How exactly do I do that? Well, I have no fucking idea! I guess I’ll just have to wobble between y stilettos and tall boots until I find out.

I’m growing up. Shit.