Whenever I need to calm down, the second thing I know I can do to calm down isis talk to Jesse. Whether it has been three hour phone calls or one hour Skype calls, all I know is that he’s probably one of the very few people who does and say the right things to make me calm down. (He should also always know that I’m never busy and that I will always make time for him!)
I think I need to go to sleep now for real. Hopefully tomorrow is going to be a better day.
At least now I know how to save my own self from drowning; I can just paint galaxies. I think I knew all along how to come up for air.
I know it’s a total mess, just as I am, just as I feel with the oils still sticking to my skin and my hands, but that’s always the best part of painting. Feeling my passion palpably on my fingertips and knowing that I can find solace whenever I wanted to, when I feel lost and alone.
If I’m alone, I’ll float in space. It’s the one thing I know that will never fail to stop the tears from falling down my face and heart from bursting out of my chest.
I feel absolutely hallow. My eyes are wide open in the dark and I’m tired as hell and I’m convinced I’m falling asleep but I am not.
It upsets me that my bad moods are more intimidating than pitiful. It’s horrible that they ruin good times. What more, they’re scary and pushes people to get away from me instead of comfort me. I’ve always wished that my bad moods made people want to change them. But I guess they just always win.
But I guess that’s my problem. I personify my bad moods and let me myself, the controller, the godhand of the mood slip the blame. I should be the one to not let my bad moods win, I always had that problem to let them control me.
I guess I just need sleep. Bad mood defeated me today.
So, apparently my Spanish class required out-of-class participation group speaking sessions, and there were ten sessions in a semester. I showed up to absolutely none of them because I didn’t even know about them halfway through the semester and halfway through I was like fuck it, I don’t care.
I got a B in that class when I could have gotten an A if I showed up to the participation. What’s even greater is that my teacher emailed me about not showing up to any of them three days ago and I just replied right now, at 3:30AM
I’m such a good college student, it’s overwhelming.
When it gets hotter this summer, I want to cross skinny dipping off my bucket list.
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Anonymous What were your best and worst subjects in school or college? |
Gee, in high school, my best subjects were each year’s math and Spanish. My worst was physics, probably. In college, my best subjects (so far, from this last year) is English, and worst is probably Chemistry or math.
On a side note, I wasn’t that great in English when I was in high school, but English now happens to be my best subject. What’s up with that?
Aw, questions stopped, too short to enjoy the attention! But I suppose, I’m just going to private (some) them anyway!
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Anonymous okay so let's say you didn't go to heaven and you went in the opposite direction. what would you hear satan say to you? |
I tried to think of something clever and I just couldn’t.
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Anonymous okay, let's say you died, and you went to lt's say heaven. what would be the first thing you want to hear jesus say to you? |
“Welcome to my crib.”
I was going to title the link “the n00dz” but I see that it shows the url and all y’all would just see that I just want asks. But please, someone un-bore me, I stupidly had a half a cup of coffee two hours ago and I’m still wide awake.
Going through my old posts from last year:
It’s an odd thing that some music that I listen to makes me nostalgic for sadness, for the past, and for what was not good for me. I just remember all of the times that I was sad, I felt everything immensely, I was more poetic, more prone to write and write and write and to purge everything.
I think it’s horrible that I ever got used to sadness, but that’s the truth. I loved being a shadow, floating in the middle of the ocean without breath. I loved that feeling of being able to take my sorrow to form it into poetry, prose, and paintings. I won’t lie about that.
I think that my sorrow was beautiful in a very pathetic and disturbing way. Yet I would not trade anything I have now, I do never regret those moments I would sigh heavily and give into my sadness.
I just need to remember that I am no longer a shadow, I am the sun shining bright. I feel alive everyday, and although I know that I will see sorrow again someday, I will hold on to this feeling as long as I am allowed to.
