I had always thought I was a pretty staunch believer in Karma. If you put good out into the universe, good will come back to you. Events that have transpired lately really make me question my belief in Karma and a slew of other things. At the rate my life has been going lately, I'm starting to think it's true that nice guys (and girls) finish last.
Think about it. It's not the drug dealer struggling to make a living, it's the working mom trying to feed her kids. The student with rich parents, who coasts through life because they have money to fall back on, isn't worried about finding their way into college. The student from a low income family, who works hard in school, is the one who can't afford the university of their dreams. The CEO, who lied and stole his way into wealth, is sleeping fine at night. The honest, ambitious intern is the person struggling to pay their rent. Why does it seem like those who deserve the world bear the weight of it?
I've always heard that you'll never be given challenges you're not strong enough to bear; and the cliche "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger." But sometimes it's tough not to feel like you're dying on the inside. There's always a great rags to riches story out there. What happens to those who work tirelessly to escape those rags but still end up being buried in them? What separates the winners from the losers?
Are some people destined to suffer with no reward at all? I know many people will interject with "the reward comes in the afterlife." If the afterlife is so fantastic, why do we have an earthly life at all? Sometimes it would be nice for our good deeds to simply seem acknowledged, not even rewarded. The daily onslaught of merciless blows to our wallets, bodies, heads and hearts are sometimes too much to handle.
I guess what I'm searching for is a release. Furthermore, it would be great if this release didn't have to come in the form of death. I don't want to believe that we are all simply pawns in this cosmic game between good and evil. My goal is not to become a King or Queen in that game; I just wish the pawns weren't sacrificed so easily. I believe the hardworkers, the honest individuals, the dreamers and so-on deserve a chance at some glory. Glory that wasn't inherited or the result of a lucky break. Simply, glory that was earned.
I almost never remember my dreams, and when I do, they're dull and senseless. Last night I had a dream so vivid and perfect, that waking up was one of the greatest disappointments I've had to endure.
He was in my dream. The 'he' who inspires almost every word that I write. He who once was the glue that took the time to piece my broken soul back together. He who showed my what love what was, even though I was too blind and naive to see it and hold onto it. He who I let slip from my grasp and haunt me daily. He is the ghost I want to confront but never exercise from my life. He was my life. He now consumes my core, my being, my existence. He is a part of me. He is the one memory my mind can never erase. He was in my dream last night, and he was gone, like always, when I woke.
In my dream, I received a letter. One of the letters, thick with time and commitment to writing me the most perfect words ever penned. Opening the letter was a delight within itself; breaking the seam his lips and tongue had once touched. I longed to be that seal, unbroken by my greedy, impatient fingers. Once the envelope was opened, and the letter unfolded, I was greeted by that bright, green calligraphy I had grown to love. The meticulous curl of each letter, as meaningful as every word penned. His words, his soul, flowed through his pen. Words for my eyes only. Words that I longed to hear.
The dream was so real. The letter so tangible; so similar to the other letters I had once received over a year ago. They were not just green words on a page, they were him. Oh, how those words were him. They contained everything I had longed to hear for the past year. I was forgiven for letting him go. Time had not deepened the gap between our souls, it had closed it. The desire to once more be together was mutual. His charm and playfulness danced off the pages in this dream letter and straight into my heart. Struck with delight, like Cupid's arrow had again pierced me. I could not read the words on the pages quick enough. My pulse quickened with every letter. He wanted to be with me, in the same way that I wanted and needed to be with him. To feel whole again.
The euphoria of my dream only escalated once I finished with the letter. I beckoned my sister into my room and told her what I had just read. Then, the doorbell rang. She went to answer it, and in the next moment my heart stopped. She guided him down the hallway he walked countless times before. He stood in the doorway; as perfect as he had been the last time I saw him. The familiar driver's hat perched upon his blonde hair. The smile that I had always delighted in, now only feet away. He was there. Though it was just a dream, it seemed so real. He was so tangible. It felt as though time had never passed. We had never parted. We were still together. Inseparable. Friends and loyal Lovers. All the things we had sworn to remain that day we first said 'I love you" and he gave me the most perfect gift. Not only did I have his heart, I had a symbol of it in the claddagh jewelry he gave me.
My dream only got better as he walked towards me, silent. Smiling, he embraced me. In that moment, I felt as though I would collapse into the floor and sink into the abyss. His long, muscular arms felt like they had never left my body. His tight shoulders made me feel safe and secure. Even his scent danced in the air. This could not be a dream. He was there, in my arms. The past year of confusion, isolation, and conflict within myself was the dream. I would not make the mistake of falling asleep again, and letting him go. He was mine again.
Is it fair to call this a dream when it ends like a nightmare? Waking means losing what I've wanted for so long. When the light of a new day seeps into the window and floods the room, he drowns into my psyche. He goes back to the place I've tried to bury him so that I can function daily. He's still with me, only hidden. I've never put much stock on dreams becoming reality, but if this did, I would not protest or think twice about it.
They say everything happens for a reason, but I cannot figure out why I was so ignorant. How could life be cruel enough to place love on a silver platter at my feet and allow me to clumsily walk all over it? I've wondered if I was given this glimpse at love so I'd never make the mistake of letting it go again. What happens if it never comes again? What if that was my one shot at true happiness and I pissed it away in one night? Eight months of happiness, murdered by one night of self-doubt. I hope that the reason for my foolish actions will one day be revealed. Until then, I'll at least have this dream. This memory of true happiness clinging onto my soul.
It seems like each day, I see or hear something that worries me for the future. Today, while watching the news, a segment focused on teachers who are learning to use firearms. In the wake of the Connecticut school shooting, apparently educators see a need to brings firearms into schools and classrooms. This seems entirely counterproductive, in my opinion.
Why must fire always be fought with fire? The initiative to arm teachers is defended by calling this the best way to protect students. I believe the best way to protect students is to keep them as far away from firearms as possible. Personally, I believe that bringing a gun into a classroom would not make children feel safe. I think it would desensitize children to guns, and furthermore, teach children that violence is the best means of action against more violence.
Before educating teachers on how to fire a weapon, teachers should be educated on how to recognize signs of psychological disorders. In school, I never even knew the name of my counselor. What good does it do to have a counselor in a school, if this person is not active in the school at all? I believe all students should spend one-on-one time with their counselor, and that this counselor be better trained on psychological issues.
Not only that, I believe all teachers should have some psychological education under their belt, so they can recognize warning signs that something is not quite right with one of their students. Instead of sending a problem child to time-out or the principal, maybe they should be sent to the counselor first. So many students are sitting in classrooms today with issues just under the surface that no one takes the times to uncover or address.
The shootings in schools, and movie theaters that have happened recently are at the hands of young individuals. Perhaps this senseless violence could have been avoided if someone had sense enough, while these individuals were in school, to look closely at their mental health. So many mental disorders go undetected today, which is surprising, considering how many people actually do struggle with their mental health.
We live in a very fast paced society; a society that is very self-centered. Perhaps, instead of jumping the proverbial gun and setting our sights on arming teachers, we should pause, and instead place our sights on the students. Focus on the real issue here, because it's not guns. The real issue is mental health, and the blind eye that is turned to it.
I hope that one day, no one will ever have to live in fear of sending their child to school. Or live in fear of venturing into public, because anyone could be armed and ready to pull the trigger at the drop of a hat. I'm not a fan of guns to begin with, but I believe the government shouldn't focus so much on reforming gun laws, they should invest in psychological education.
That's one thing that really annoys me about America and the age that it's in; everyone wants to fix problems as quickly and painlessly as possible, instead of investing some time and effort. So many of the issues in this country could be fixed if people and politicians weren't so greedy with their money and time. Instead of being so self-centered, we should be society-centered, and look out for each other. I sadly don't see this happening any time in the foreseeable future; but maybe if more people started highlighting the real issues, eventually others will catch on and change will slowly become more visible.
Today is my 21st birthday. This is usually a time of great celebration and copious amounts of intoxication. Not for me. I had final exams all day, and I have been running on empty. I celebrated my milestone birthday by writing a paper and enjoying a slice of cake with my family. I'm okay with that; I have never really wanted to drink or "party hard," that's just not my thing. Honestly, I'm really glad that I spent this birthday doing what I normally do. I feel like if I went out and did the typical 21st birthday thing, the gravity of this new age would not have really sunk in.
I graduate with my Associates in Arts degree tomorrow. This means that I'm already halfway through with my college degree. Wait, what? It does not feel like I should be this far along in my life yet. I think a huge part of me is afraid to grow up. I'm not scared of this big number, I'm scared of the big responsibility that comes along with it. I'm taking a semester off from school in order to find a job, sort out my plans, and to honestly grow up a bit more. I recognize the fact that I'm not fully ready to be on my own. I still need my family and the security they bring as a crutch.
I hope that during this semester off, I find my own two feet and feel stable enough to support myself. When I go off to college in the fall, I want to be self-aware and self-sufficient. I don't want the world to scare or change me. I am going to be focusing all of my attention becoming a true 21 year old young woman.
The word "woman" has always scared and slightly offended me. It seems like a term reserved for people my mother's age. I've always been the petite, cute little girl that's just too adorable to have any real responsibility. I am going to embrace the word woman from now on. To me, a woman has her priorities in order, she doesn't always need the help of others but knows when to accept assistance when she does need it; a woman knows who she is and where she is going in life; a woman is sound mentally, spiritually, and physically. A woman is everything that I have been pretending to be for years, but never actually put enough effort into becoming.
So from this day forward, I am going to put all of my attention into becoming the best me possible. I am going to cut ties with those who have been enabling my lazy and dependent nature, and begin enabling myself. Growing up is a terrifying thing, but I feel prepared to jump into the great abyss and come out the other side standing on my own two feet. I know this transition into adulthood is not going to be easy, but I am committed to transitioning as gracefully as possible. I'm going to document every step and stumble of my journey, so prepare yourselves for a bumpy ride.
They say you live and you learn. They say it’s better to have loved and then lost than to never have loved at all. They also say you sometimes have to let go of your past do you can move on with your future. They suck and have obviously never truly lived. Sometimes it’s just way too difficult to ever actually do any of the things “they” say. I find myself struggling to keep my head above water these days because I’m learning that I lost the love of my life, and now my future sucks because I screwed up in my past. It’s an awesome predicament to be in, huh?
About this time last year, I had that mad, passionate, real love people always search for and dream of. The problem was that I didn't see it. I was insecure and let others peer pressure me into ending what was probably the best situation and relationship I had ever been in, or will ever be in. I regretted my decision pretty much instantly. Instead of trying to find myself, and find out what I really needed in life. I threw myself into countless, meaningless relationships. I couldn't bear the thought of being on my own. I loved myself when I was with this other person. I felt whole, and complete.
The thing that hurts the most is that hindsight is 20/20 and I didn't realize that this person had completed me. I thought I was this invincible and strong chick who didn't need a man to complete her. I thought this relationship was just a handbag to compliment my already awesome outfit. (Ignore the cheesy fashion metaphor; it just best describes my feelings at that time) In reality, I had been an incomplete being, and when I found my mate things fit together so perfectly, I didn't even realize it. This perfection and completion of me happened gradually, but I stupidly tore it down in an instant. So in order to cope with this gaping hole in my being, I started clinging to any and every guy who gave me attention.
I wasn't a whore when it came to my body, but I would call myself an emotional whore. I tried to share my feelings with these guys, but nothing clicked. I could tell they liked me, some even loved me. Their feelings were on a very superficial level. I was craving a deeper connection than what they could offer; even if they were offering me all that they had. I’m not an idiot, I can tell when a shoe fits, and I can tell when a person fits into my life. I've only found that fit once, and I threw it away.
So here I sit today, wallowing in my past. I’m haunted by thoughts of what could have been. I know my life would be miles different today if I hadn't screwed up so epically. It’s remarkable to me how blind we can be in certain situations, yet looking back, things seem crystal clear. I found love at time when I wasn't mature enough to realize the value of what I had in my possession. My riches weren't stolen by some clever thief; I tossed my wealth aside and I've been thriving on pennies ever since.
I’m tired of trying to find someone to complete me, and settling on people who aren't the right fit for me. It’s time for me to complete myself. It will be a struggle, but I think it’ll be worth it. In a perfect world, my missing puzzle piece would read this, and he’d miss me too; he’d call me up and we’d go meet over some coffee or ice cream and things would fall right back into place. It would be as if nothing had ever happened, and we’d live happily ever after. Unfortunately I’m not Cinderella, and I obviously suck at creating fairy tales for myself. So all I can do is warn the masses so some idiot like me won’t suffer the same fate.
If you have something good, something that just feels right, don’t let it go. Don’t seek bigger and better things. Be humble and honor what is right in front of you. Sometimes we don’t realize what we had until it’s gone. I’d give anything to go back in time and change my fate. Don’t be a fool. If it feels like love, it is. Simple as that. If it doesn't feel right, or it feels forced, it’s not love. Leave. Save yourself the headache and heartache. Life is too short to settle for anything mediocre, especially when it comes to something like love.
Religion is something that can both bring people together and put a great divide between them. It is something I have never put much thought or value in. I've always straddled the fence between believing in a higher power and straight up atheism. For me, it's hard to believe that the universe formed by chance, just as it difficult for me to believe that God, or this great cosmic deity, created everything. Neither makes sense and both rely on faith of some sort. Faith in the power of the universe to create something out of nothing, or faith in a God or gods. After much debate within myself, and a conflict of the head and heart, I feel like I've drawn a somewhat logical conclusion.
As humans, I think we all want to leave a legacy, and feel like our time on this earth isn't all that we're given. We like to value ourselves so much that we end up needing an afterlife, because we're just so wonderful we can't simply die and be done with things. Most all religions speak of an afterlife of some sort, where our souls go after we die. If you live a moral life based on the practices of your faith, you will be rewarded with many virginal wives, or a mansion and streets of gold. If you live an immoral life, or do not subscribe to a faith, you will end up being punished in Hell or something of the like. Why do humans feel so entitled? Just because you live a moral life, you think you deserve riches and glory after you die?
Personally, I believe that's just selfish. I think the reward of living a moral life comes in the form of knowing you've helped someone who could not help them-self. I agree, life is too short. Instead of putting all your stock in an afterlife, why can't we focus more on enjoying the time we are allotted and live a life of love. Love for our families, love for our friends, love for our fellow man, and love for ourselves. Many religions teach that love for oneself is simply selfish and that we should ultimately only love God. But that seems hypocritical. If there is a God, and God created you, wouldn't it be wrong to not respect and love this vessel provided to you?
Much as George Washington warned against political parties in the early formation of the United States, I believe if there is a God, God is universal. God has no gender, no beginning, no end. God is in every man, woman, plant, animal, cloud, atom, molecule. If this is the case, I feel as though God would not want the people It created to be divided among different denominations and religions. If a closer look is given to some of the main prophets of the world, ultimately their message was the same. Buddha, Jesus, and Muhammad all spoke of loving those around you, being kind and generous, not being judgmental, respecting ourselves and others, and about being grateful for the lives that we are given. Whether or not you believe all of the prophets, one or none of them, they all had a similar and wise message.
God does not want human beings to focus on separating themselves from others, I believe God would want people to come together. Stop drawing lines in the sand between your faith and the faith of the person next to you. If we were created in the image of God, are we not all divine, regardless of what faith we subscribe to?
With that being said, here's what I believe: There is a God. This God is not a Christian God, Muslim God, African Goddess, Norse God, etc. This God is a universal God. It is in everything, and is the beginning and end of all things. When we die, we wont go to a specific level of Heaven or Hell; when we die we will return to the Earth and be recycled into the universe. I believe everything in this universe is cyclical. The circle appears in many forms and has many connotations. To me, that is significant. I don't need a mansion when I die or streets paved with gold. I believe there is beauty in becoming one with the Earth, being recycled into a plant, being food for insects and animals so that life may continue once my time has expired. It is the circle of life. Instead of worrying about what others believe in, who they pray to, how many wives they have, their sexuality, their race, or their political affiliations, I am going to chose to love everyone around me. I will strive to live a life free of judgement and hypocrisy. I believe that in living a life of love, giving to those in need, helping those who need a second set of hands, and respecting myself, I will please God. I will be closer to what God intended when mankind was created.
God doesn't have to be a wizened old man, with a white beard, sitting atop a throne surrounded by angelic beings, in a constant battle with evil forces. For me, God can be the universe. God can be nature. God can be me. We are all connected, whether through the sharing of atoms or connections between souls. I think we should stop trying to separate ourselves from others who are not like us, and come together. When we create a unified, loving, and respectful unit of one, we are the closest we will ever come to knowing God.
What is love? Ah, the question that has baffled philosophers and high school students for centuries. Every single time I think I have an answer, life throws me a curveball and makes me question everything I believe. I am aware of the fact that there are different kinds of love, I even wrote a post about it at one point, but recognizing the type of love you’ve found seems trickier than I first suspected. I guess my dilemma is that I’m a restless spirit, and I never know when I’ve actually found a person worth holding on to. There are so many sweet, caring guys out there, but that isn’t all I need to be content with someone. Am I selfish for wanting more than sugary sweet compliments and affection? I mean, a relationship shouldn’t be so easy it’s boring, right? Or am I just nuts?
People search high and low for someone who will give them the time of day, and actually want to keep coming back for more. Once they’ve found it though, am I the only person who gets discontented quickly? I guess I just want and need more out someone in a relationship than a barrage of sickeningly sweet tokens of affection. I want to be challenged, provoked, caught off guard, and swept up in a moment that lasts. I’ve been in plenty of relationships, but I’ve never found someone who holds my attention and makes me want more. There are always butterflies in the beginning of a new courtship, but do the butterflies always have to drown in stomach acid and disappear forever, after time passes? Like I said earlier, maybe I’m just selfish, and this post is making me sound like the most ungrateful, bitchy little psycho ever, but I’m simply curious.
I never expected love to be black and white, but so far all I’ve seen of it is in grayscale. I know I’m young, and have all the time in the world to fall in love, but isn’t the perfect time to get swept up in something when you’re young? I’d rather experience something intense, passionate, and real when I’m young as opposed to when I’m older. I want to have something to look back on that’s beautiful, raw, and untamed. Not something to look forward to that may or may not ever actually happen.
I try to live an optimistic life, but that gets harder and harder when the world you expected to be technicolor is just kind of blah. There has to be someone out there with the same fervor for love and life, someone feeling the same way I am right now. Where are you, though? I believe we may soulmates.
I have desperately wanted to go get some tattoos for a long time now. I am constantly getting asked why I want a tattoo so badly. There are several reasons, honestly. Firstly, I find tattoos beautiful. I’m not talking about the little hipster triangles, tramp stamps, and ‘YOLO’ script I’ve been seeing on so many people from my generation recently. I mean real tattoos, the ones that someone put more than five seconds of thought into. The tattoos that have a story, and personal meaning behind them; size doesn’t matter when it comes to these tattoos. Personally, I want several small tattoos with big meanings.
This life is not permanent. Everything fades. We’re only on this earth for a short period of time. I love the idea of something that is permanent; something that will be with me for as long as there is flesh upon my bones. I want a little marker of where I am in life; a timeline of my story in symbols upon my body. I want to be able to glance down, or look in a mirror and remember what compelled me to get something permanently under my skin. Tattoos are both tangible and intangible. Sure, flesh can be touched and broken, but
the memory and message behind each tattoo is hidden until the wearer wishes to make it known.
As a private person, the idea of having little pieces of me exposed to the world in the form of tattoos feels liberating. I want tattoos that will make people wonder, and attempt to figure out the story behind them. I just want to express myself in a new medium, my skin; something I’ve not always been comfortable in, but I’m growing to love it. Maybe I’ve not been comfortable in my skin because I haven’t made it my own. We don’t buy houses and then leave them in the condition the previous owner did. We renovate things, and make our own havens. I want to renovate my body, hang art on the walls, and be who I choose to be; who I was born to be.
So, in my art appreciation class I recently had an assignment to create a short work that contained and centered around the following phrases:
"What is that?"
"It's a unicorn."
"I've never seen one up close before."
"Get away. Get away."
The following short story is what I decided to create for this assignment. Enjoy!
Two year old Liam sat in his playroom, stacking blocks with his nanny. His mother and father had been away for two days at some far away land called 'the hospital'. While building his latest skyscraper, Liam suddenly heard the front door swing open which was followed by the hushed voices of his parents. Gretchen, his nanny, told him to sit still and continue playing as she hastily left the room. Minutes felt like hours to Liam, so he decided to go investigate what was keeping his beloved Gretchen from assisting him with his latest creation. He picked up one of his wooden swords for protection, and slowly crept out of his playroom.
He slid along the walls of the hallway like a stealthy spy. He came upon the living room door, and spied Gretchen unpacking a suitcase full of his mother’s things and tiny clothes; clothes far too small for him to wear. This perplexed Liam, so he quietly snuck past the living room so Gretchen would not scold him for leaving the playroom. He journeyed further down the hallway, and stopped just outside the door from which his parents’ voices could be heard. He carefully peered into the room, so he would not be seen. Inside, his mother sat in a rocking chair holding a small bundle in one of her arms. In her other hand, she held a small toy. One Liam could not identify. Liam’s mind raced with the different possibilities of what could be in his mother’s arms. His thoughts were halted whenever his father stepped in front of his mother and asked “What is that?” Yeah, what is that? Liam thought to himself. “It’s a unicorn” his mother replied. A unicorn? I’ve never seen one up close before. Thought Liam. He had heard about unicorns in the stories Gretchen read to him, but he never thought one would be in his house, in his mother’s arms. In an attempt to get a closer look at the fantastic creature, Liam ventured slightly into the room.
“Beautiful.”said Liam’s father. What’s so beautiful about it? Thought Liam. He had to get a closer look. Tip-toeing further into the room, Liam was unaware that he was swinging his wooden sword dangerously close to a lamp on the table he had been hiding behind. In one careless move, Liam clipped the lamp, sending it crashing onto the floor with a loud bang. Suddenly the unicorn began crying. “Get away! Get away!” screamed Liam’s father as he tried to get him out of the room. “I’m sorry!” Liam exclaimed repeatedly. Suddenly Gretchen swooped into the room taking Liam into her arms, carrying him away and into the playroom.
When he was tucked away among his familiar toys, Liam began to calm down while still in Gretchen’s arms. “What were you doing in there, Liam? I told you to stay in here and play with your blocks.” All Liam could say over his sniffles was “unicorn.” “Unicorn?” Gretchen asked with a puzzled expression. “What unicorn, Liam?” The young boy pointed down the hallway to the room in which they just left. A confused Gretchen picked Liam up, and slowly ventured back down the hallway. Once outside the room, she put Liam down and told him to wait there. She went inside the room, and told Liam’s parents to take a break and unpack. Soon, both left the room, not even noticing Liam standing outside the door.
Once they left, Gretchen returned and took Liam by the hand, guiding him into the room. “There’s no unicorn in here, Liam. There’s something better” she said. She picked Liam up by the waist, and hoisted him over a strange bed with high sides. Liam peered over the edge. He did in fact see a unicorn, a stuffed one. What was even more fantastical was the small creature lying beside the unicorn. “This is your new baby sister, Liam. That stuffed unicorn is hers, but she’s all yours. You’re going to have to look after her, and be a good big brother now”said Gretchen. “Think you can do that?” Liam stared at this small bundle in bewilderment. Suddenly the baby smiled up at Liam. He instantly felt love for this small creature and loved by it at the same time. A smile formed on his face, he knew that this was going to be greater than any unicorn could ever be.
If there is such a thing as 'organized clutter' my life would be a perfect example of this. I am an extremely unorganized person, and I constantly bounce from one thing to another. I drive my poor sister absolutely mad. She is a very organized, type-A personality. She's determined, tidy, hardworking, and extremely mature for her young age. I'm basically the complete opposite of her. It's quite depressing, but I look up to my younger sister. I aspire to be more like her. Sometimes I feel like she parents me; I am constantly coming to her for advice about my whirlwind of a life. She's the one person that will not judge me for all the screwed up things I do, and say.
I often feel like my life has ADHD or something. I get attatched to people and things quickly, but I lose interest in them just as fast. I'm terrible at making plans, especially long term plans. Even when I make plans, I always leave myself wiggle room, because more likely than not, I'm going to change my mind about something. A lot of my decision making issues stem from my overall fear of commitment. I love having options, but I can never be satisfied with just one choice. It's like with ice cream, why would you order the same flavor every time you go buy ice cream? Sure, chocolate is yummy, but mint-oreo might rock your world. You'll never know until you try. What gets you in trouble is when you try to eat the chocolate ice cream and the mint-oreo in the same sitting. All you're going to get is an upset stomach.
Putting too much ice cream on your plate is dangerous enough for the average person, but with me, it's catastrophic. I'm not good with balancing my time, emotions, or energy. When I attempt to spread myself too thin, I'm not the only person that starts to rip apart. I can tell exactly when I've gone too far with people, it's kind of scary. I've already addressed the clutter aspect of my life, here's the organization: I have a very distinct pattern. Once I've spread myself too thin, I start getting distant. Distant from everyone, and everything. Then I start slacking off in all aspects of my life. Eventually I get hurt and so does someone close to me. It's a terrible pattern, I just don't know how to break the cycle. I feel like a really twisted person, and yet I continue to mangle myself and those attempting to get to close to me.
Maybe there's no resolution for a person like me. Perhaps this cycle is just my life, and it will always be that way. No one and nothing will ever mangage to tether me to them. I feel like a balloon filled with helium that has lost it's string. Like all balloons though, once I get too high and isolate myself from the ground below, I'm going to burst. Fingers crossed that I'm nowhere near that point yet, and that something will manage to keep me in this atmosphere.
Lindsey. Twenty-Five. Currently pursuing a degree in Professional Writing & Film Studies.