Party girls

19 Aug

Party girls don’t get hurt, Sia’s right. Why does the numbness make big girls cry in the darkness then? Where do these suppressed emotions go? Do we bury them deeper or do we become so good at pretending that they actually disappear.


 Party girls drink, this is true. Why do some have it together so easily and these girls don’t? How did we become these party girls? We like the attention, we like the emotions. We’re fabulous and nobody can deny it. Behind the scenes isn’t as glamorous but equally beautiful.


 We just want to fly through the night and have our tears finally dry out. Will they ever disappear? Will age help? I don’t know. Until morning light, we’ll keep the glasses full. Until the moon vanishes, we’ll hold on as tightly as we can. The shame will show up but soon enough, the night will come again.


 Losing count might be the only thing that makes us not lose it completely. Swinging from a chandelier seems perfectly understandable when this living situation makes no sense whatsoever. We don’t know where we are or where we’re suppose to be. It rang true to my heart.


 I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to escape. Have I succeeded? Well, can anyone escape themselves? Until I know, I’ll hold on for dear life.

What’s left

14 Aug

I can’t stop dreaming sometimes. My day dreams are so real sometimes that I forget it’s a dream for a second. There’s a split of a second where I’m there and when I realize I’m really not…I STRUGGLE. It is so wonderful that realizing I’m not really there is like falling from a CLOUD. Sometimes I cannot channel this disappointment and I get frustrated.

But this bruised soul will be REBORN and START from scratch. Let’s see what I can do with the pieces and the time that’s left. Let’s see what happens with the bruises and the imperfections. I just hope that I get to taste the stage. I have savored it so many times in my head that I just want to know what it tastes for real. I play so hard my invisible piano sometimes that my ARM starts to hurt. I don’t want to be a VICTIM. If I did that, I would be no better than the rest. Yes, I completely screwed up by taking years to figure out what I already knew. Yes, I was lazy and did not discipline myself to do what I love. But it’s time to MEND my broken spirit. I wish I could know what will happen and how it will happen, but it would be no fun that way. Sometimes mending what’s bruised ends up being the greatest gift. It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I resisted life and now I let it be.

I need music, I need words, I need passion and I need love. I’ll work on being happy and going with the flow of life and what will be left will be what shines through.

Can I go back in time? No. So let’s see what I can do with what is left of me. I have a feeling it’s beautiful and it’s BRIGHT.


1 Aug

You’ll be loved. Someday, you’ll be loved. Her mom assured her that she was worthy of love. The little girl believed her at first. Then someone broke her heart a little and she still believed.

12 years passed and she still hadn’t been loved. When? She wondered.

She learned the hard way to suppress the pain. Will it ever come? Will it ever happen? Who else has had to wait this long? No one she knew.

History has been painful but it helped her cope. If humans can endure so much, why can’t I endure the lack of love?

She saw a monster do horrible things and rip people’s hearts out and still…she wants to keep hers so that she can someday have stupid, crazy love. Even if it means suffering. Crazy, right?

She doesn’t get the urge to try as much anymore but her mother assured her that it’ll come back. When? No one knows. Time is strange sometimes. We cannot seem to wait. And sometimes the longer we wait, the harder it gets.

You’ll be loved. Someday you’ll be loved. When?


18 Jul

She was born in December. Her skin was pale as snow and her eyes black as night. The stars pulled her hair and talked to her constantly, especially when it was pitch black dark…they’d whisper lovely secrets into her ears.

Once the day came, she started to see other creatures. Most of them came in pairs. Venus started telling her about love and how she should desire it deeply. She was too young and easily got distracted by pretty things so she forgot to ask the purple goddess exactly why she should desire romance. But she believed her.

During the night she rejoiced in her solitude. During the day she searched for her mate. Everyone seemed to be taken. Some that she liked were wandering souls. They wouldn’t stay. Others were boring because all they did at night was sleep, afraid of the dark, afraid of the unknown.

Venus kept pushing her and as soon as she became old enough, Winter decided to sleep more at night so she’d have more energy during the day to look for that perfect other.

She’d sleep, wake up, search. The stars started to become a distant memory. Her hair wasn’t as messy as when she wandered through the night. She used to float, she used to sing, she was free.

The days became longer, the search harder. She’d meet creatures and they were never quite right. She’d sleep more, hoping maybe the right one would at least show up in her dreams.

It was her 30th birthday and she remained alone. The sadness put her in a comatose state. She was about to give up. And then one night, she had a nightmare. It was full of fearful monsters and settlers. In the dream everyone had somebody but they were utterly miserable. They had all chosen comfort over authenticity.

Winter woke up startled and couldn’t go back to sleep. She stepped outside into the woods and looked up. It all came back. The connection and contrast was too strong to ever fully escape her.

The stars pulled her back in. The darkness of the night hugger her. Winter began to create her very own constellations. The music returned. The trees danced in harmony. She decided to marry the night. It all made sense again.

During the day she’d plan for the night. Some creatures started to pursue Winter but now, she wasn’t willing to give up her nights.

This time, she’d wait for one that wouldn’t just keep her company during the days but also would embrace her endless nights. One who understood her restless heart. One who wasn’t afraid of the dark, one who wouldn’t run away and was clever enough to know that the only way to keep her was to let her go and let her be.

Until then, Winter would create, she would float, she would shine.


3 Jul

I would kill to make you feel, Amanda says.

I wouldn’t kill a mosquito, Chris says.

She’d never kill a soul, or so she says.

He killed my heart, I know that for a fact.

We talk about killing all the time. A part of us dies sometimes and we never even make enough time to mourn. Amanda once stepped on a dying bird; even though she’s not the killing type. Chris doesn’t kill any mosquitoes but he kills friendships, all the time. I’ve seen him do it more than once…but he’s not the killing type either.

She said she’d never kill a soul because her father left her feeling empty and so she killed her own. Beware. He killed my heart. He didn’t break it, he killed it. Did he care? Not enough.

Just because you’re very good at justifying your beliefs doesn’t make it right. Just because you’re not the killing type doesn’t mean you’re not a killer. Amanda is a genius. She shows death in a different shade of red. She understands. She sheds light on raw emotions, my favorite kind.

Be careful what you kill; you might want it back. It doesn’t matter if you want it back, you’ve given it away. I don’t know why Amanda is such a wonderful lyricist. A mystery as unknown as her killer.

Which side?

30 Jun

After being alone for so long, I’m standing on one side of an ampersand and I’ve forgotten what the other side looks like. I’ve never truly been good friends with the ampersand; it’s so serious and official. I truly want to be with somebody but not with an ampersand in between.

He used to be my friend until he wasn’t. He used to be on my side until he wasn’t. Why are there sides? Why can’t I see sides most of the time? I’ve found myself in the middle of fights and I have no idea how I got there. He never spoke up so I couldn’t possibly know something was wrong.

She never loved herself until she did. There certainly aren’t any sides, except our own. If there’s one side that exists that we can actually control is loving being inside our bodies. That’s a side you can’t go against.

I’ve felt utterly and completely alone except when I deeply appreciate myself. The lessons have been endless and I don’t like picking sides. I like choosing what feels right.

Her father figure hurt her. Her mother figure loved her. What side should she pick? It’s a no brainer. Not picking sides sometimes can be as damaging as any other poison created by any wicked witch. Stay close to someone that hurts you long enough and you’ll end up hating yourself. Then you’ll have a harder time learning how to be on your own side.

Try to stay balanced and peaceful so that there isn’t a side to choose. Try to pick them all so you can see the different angles of the movie of your life. Unless someone is trying to hurt you, then pick the opposite side of that coin. Never let go of who you are, even when it’s hard. Be on your side even if no one else is. Now that’s a side worth picking.


27 Jun

She has had to go to Hell and back. Why? She doesn’t really know. The underworld fascinated her somehow. The darkness, the withering flowers that never seemed to die, Persephone, the green eyed monster that seemed to “get” her, the mermaid that kept her company when no one else would. It’s not as drastic as one might think.

The rain comes from the rivers and oceans above. The souls aren’t dead, just dark. The music isn’t that bad and there’s temptation wherever you look; kind of like the real world only never hidden.

When she was there, she started to forget about love. In some twisted way it felt good. When she was amongst the living, it seemed to be the only thing every single girl searched for, it was exhausting.

Once she went under, the urge went with it.

On a less than dark day, she noticed a ray of light. She knew once she stepped under the light, she could go back up. Not sure if she should or not, she did it. She said goodbye and was on her way back up. Was she ready? She wasn’t sure. She did it anyways. She started to talk to the living again and people started to walk in.

But love was the one thing she wasn’t sure she was ready for. It was the reason why she went under in the first place.

There isn’t an answer. All you can do is push through even if you’re not ready and trust yourself to do what’s best.

It’s not like anyone is ready to go to Hell but it happens nonetheless. We fight the demons, we swim against the current simply because we must survive. Then we learn and grow from it.

Be as ready as you can be and if you’re not, that’s fine too. Be happy with who you are and who you want to be. With or without anyone else.

Ready? Go.


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 107 other followers