She had blue skin.

And so did he.

He kept it hid

And so did she.

They searched for blue

Their whole life through,

Then passed right by --

And never knew.


-Shel Silverstein

"I should have left long ago."

“He forgot men, the Dean and the principle behind the Dean, which he wanted to discover. He thought only of how lovely the stone looked in the fragile light and of what he could have done with that stone.”

-Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

"I don't usually let things happen to me."

I want to see, real, living, and in the hours of my own days, that glory I create as an illusion. I want it real. I want to know that there is someone, somewhere, who wants it, too. Or else what is the use of seeing it, and working, and burning oneself for an impossible vision? A spirit, too, needs fuel. It can run dry.

-Ayn Rand

"These rocks, he thought, are here for me;"

None of these pages are the same. They're not even in the same book. That's funny to me, because when we talked I was under the impression that all these people had my books. I thought I had theirs as well. I thought we had weekly discussions about our favorite characters and chapters and lines.

It turns out they burned them for warmth while they were waiting for something that was never coming in the first place. They burned them and now it's just ash in my fireplace. I don't like ash in my fireplace. I like my fireplace clean and empty. I don't like it filled with ash. Especially not the ash of my favorite books.

Maybe, they're not my favorites anymore. Maybe, they never were. Maybe, they were just books I picked up for half off in the self-help section. Maybe my favorites are really The Alligator and The Coyote and The Zoo. And you know what? Probably, The Antelope as well. I like those ones, and I always have. Maybe those are my real favorites. And maybe no one else has those, but it honestly doesn't even matter.

I hope that ash stays in my fireplace forever. I hope it sits there and watches me read my real favorites. I hope it stays that terribly boring shade of black. I hope no one notices it; not even when the wind picks up and it blows all over the rug. Not even then. Not even ever.

Ash isn't worth my time, and it most definitely isn't worth yours.

I can't fix you.

The spider is eating me for dinner tonight.

Gray areas are getting bigger. Bodies are getting skinnier. Small chat is getting longer. Eyes are getting heavier. Mouths are getting wider. Tolerance is getting lower. Thoughts are getting ruder. 

I generally like you. I just don't like what that entails sometimes. And no. I don't mean this in a vague way. I'm addressing you. All of you. All of the world. 

I'm excited to work at my favorite coffee shop. I'm excited to never see my dental teacher again. I'm excited to burn all my paintings. I'm excited to meet new people and start new things. I'm excited to earn money for college. I'm excited to go to school and not know anybody in any class.

This chapter of my life is almost over, but that pages are all stuck together. Which means it's going to take that much longer to get them apart without ruining the next one. 

That's the part I hate.


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Maybe it's choppy to you, but I like things asymmetrical.

Blue lips, blue veins

I can't believe high school is almost over.

There's a lot I'm going to miss, I guess. 

I plan on coping with my emotions by cooking and learning to knit. I'll probably watch the 83 episodes of Boy Meets World I've got recorded on the DVR as well. Once I finish that up, I'll probably start on Days Of Our Lives. I hear there's a character with my exact name. 

Where would we be without daytime television? 

Saves me everytime.

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + 

XOXO



When you cry a piece of my heart dies

Lately, I feel like blogging is stupid.

I have nothing to say. I just like taking pictures and need a place to put them.

I don't want to complain about anything. I don't want to recap my day. 

So, what to write, what to write.

Perhaps I'll share a secret everyday. That sounds fun, doesn't it?

Secret numero uno:

The only time I have ever snuck out my window, was the summer of 2010. I stayed up all night to watch the sun rise in the morning. I made some chamomile tea, just so I could have something warm as I sat outside. I sat in my driveway and noticed there was an ant on the cement. I remember thinking that it took a long time for the sun to rise. It wasn't what I was expecting. I climbed back down my window well, and back into my room. I checked myself twice for spiders, and then started making breakfast. 

I never crossed "watch the sun rise" off my bucket list.

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XOXO



What's meant to be will always find a way.

This is all I have for you.

Here's a list of all the things I'm going to do this week.
+vacuum my room+wash my sheets+clean my closet room+finish my painting+lay out everyday+walk every night+make a college meal everyday+paint my nails striped+finish my book+take Veronica's photos+experiment with bookah+mow the lawn+write in my journal+

Also, photograph it all.

XOXO

Let's jam.

The earth is all we have in common.

I feel like I would really miss the mountains if I didn't live here.

I think that's the thing I liked about India, as far as the nature went. 
The mountains were gorgeous. 

I could have sat on the roof of our compound for the rest of my life and I could have been completely fine. I believe I took a video of it. Pear haps I'll post it tomorrow.

I miss that, though. I miss having somewhere I could go, even if it was just for two weeks. Somewhere I knew I wouldn't be bothered. I mean, sure, now I can go to that one park I like. But, the park isn't the roof. The roof was a sanctuary. It was peaceful and it was a secret even though everyone knew about it. It was completely surrounded by the most beautiful mountains. It was quiet, except for those mornings when the Indian man sang his own definition of opera. But, that wasn't the worst either. 

Just go to India, okay? Then we can talk about it and connect. Like, the real kind of connect. The kind where you know the other person understands exactly how you are feeling about something. That's what we could do if you went to India.

Go there and sit on the roof. Sit on one of the concrete blocks with the strange metal tubes coming out of it. Watch all the lights go out. Listen to all the noises and make sure you memorize them, because they will be gone in two weeks. Don't take anyone with you either, because it's one of those things you have to experience alone. 

Those are the best experiences in my opinion.

We all will be the greatest





I'm probably going to lose a lot of respect from you hipsters right now, BUT it needs to be said.

MUSIC IS NOT LIFE. MUSIC DOES NOT DEFINE YOUR LIFE. 

I mean, I get that music can be a great influencing factor, but I just get sick of these kids who claim "music is my life". I have however, found something that quite perfectly explains my feelings. I believe I found this blog through blog stalking, but honestly who knows. Sometimes I honestly have no idea how I found peoples blogs. Like Lindsey. How did I find your blog? I really can't remember and I think about it quite often for some reason.

Anyways, on this blog it says, "The words and expressions of people you don’t know and will never meet seem to somehow explain your innermost feelings. Since you’re not creative enough to express yourself artistically, you will use the musings of someone else and try to pass them off pitifully as your own".

That, to me, is dead on. It's like, why can't your life be explained by you? Why does a song have to explain "everything"?

Since we're on the subject of things-that-will-make-you-lose-respect-for-me, I should just say straight up that I listen to Hilary Duff and Lindsey Lohan. Gross, I know.


Find out what it means to me