It’s true. This life is not what I want, what I need. This Is not how this should play out. I am supposed to be happy. I am supposed to be fun. To be bold. When did I become this hollow shell of a person? How did this happen? I could blame it on a million things, but I think it’s my fault.
All my life I have lived for others. For my family, for my friends, for men. Never for myself. It’s funny really, how I’ve changed myself to fit into different molds. Not me. I think I might know who I am, maybe?
I am wild. I am fierce. I am honest. I am kind. I can be harsh. I am loud. I have passions. I love to laugh. Writing used to be my joy, and I’m trying to find it again. I am a wolf. I am beautiful. I love to drink. I love to cook. I love company. I love to read, paint, and dance. I am clumsy. I trip over my words. I am jealous. I am anxious. I am depressed.
I am so much more than I give myself credit for.
I have a purpose. I am supposed to love without fear, without regret. I am supposed to enjoy life. I am too young to be this bitter, to be this sad.
My life is not over. It’s only just begun.
It’s been so long since I’ve been able to push out anything remotely coherent. I’ve started therapy to try and work out some issues, maybe she can fix this writers block I’ve seemed to carry for years. Why would anyone ever want to be a writer? The imaginative and creative process is such a fickle thing. It’s quite destructive. I feel like shit when I don’t write and I write like shit when I do write. It’s so turbulent in my head. I wish I could explain. Although, I’m not some special flower, there is someone out there who knows exactly what I feel. So anyway, I guess the point is that I wrote a tiny little blurb. It’s about love or something stupid like that. Enjoy. Or don’t.
Your kisses, they taste different. They no longer breathe a world of life into my soul. They no longer set fire upon my skin. I don’t feel it anymore. That spark, the ignite. This may not be a bad thing. They taste like a fresh morning, a new start. They taste like sunshine after a rain storm, clean and lovely. The fever is gone, the rush, the vivid flames. Now it’s replaced with a safeness, a comfort. Oh how I love the flavor of 2 am conversations, of waking up slowly to find each other under the sheets. It’s a new feeling, a new journey that I’m finding to be a delight. Please, kiss me more often, I crave that new sensation. Your kisses, they taste different.
For no discernible reason other than wanting to see my thoughts typed on a screen, I have come back. I have come back to tell a new story. A new tale of woe, so to speak. I’m trying to appeal to the readers, if there are any out there. I want to become a better writer, so I guess that means I shall have to write more. A lot more if I ever want to make anything of value.
It’s always around this time of year that I find myself growing disconnected from my friends and my general life. I start to ache with a strong need of something new and exciting. Something that never ends up coming my way. I frequent my room more often and I bury my mind into books. I staunch off invitations to leave the safety and comfort of my home and I pass up opportunities to spend time with loved ones. In short, I become a hermit. A time to reflect, to think, to create. It aggravates the hell out of people, or at least it used to. I know exactly the cause, and I know most of you will find it ridiculous and absolutely absurd, but it’s a hundred percent true, I promise.
It’s the weather.
Here in good ole’ Florida, it is an astonishing ninety degrees outside with the promise of seventy five in the evening. It’s September, which means that every freaking retail store in the state is already starting to get ready for “Fall”. Pumpkin spice flavours everything from drinks to candy. Everything is orange and black and of course Halloween decorations have started to litter the shelves.
I hate it. It’s hot. Whilst the rest of the country and world have started to cool down in terms of temperature, we have just started to become more humid, more unbearable. I hate the heat, I always have. I have always found that I am more active, more creative and definitely happier when the weather is cooler. I don’t understand it, but it’s true. I get so excited when it cools down. I get to wear jackets and scarves. I get to have fires out on my patio. It’s not miserable to go on a hike outside. Everything feels better. But at this point in time, I am stuck in limbo. I am stuck checking the 30 day forecast everyday and hoping it’s wrong because it doesn’t present a cool down until November. I can’t wait that long. I have Summertime Sadness. I want it to go away.
So I wait, impatiently if you will, for Florida to decide to cool down. I feel I am waiting in vain. I think when my lease is up I am going to find myself somewhere with actual seasons. Somewhere that has an Autumn season. Somewhere with snow. Somewhere very far away from this God awful heat.
When I kiss you, I taste the rain.
A thunderstorm rolling through the city.
There is lightning and the thunder.
There is the torrential downpour that accompanies the lights and sounds.
It’s a force of nature, sending those of us fleeing to the safety of indoors.
The trees drink of the rain.
The flowers sway in the wind.
Nature relishes in her own fury.
When I kiss you, I taste the rain.
Of gentle drizzles lightly covering the grass.
Of hail and wind. Of tornados, of hurricanes.
The flooding of rivers and creeks.
The puddles left on the side of the road.
When I kiss you, I taste the rain.
Today is Christmas. Normally a fun filled Holiday with lots of laughter and quality time. Today just felt like it was filled with soul crushing loneliness. My father wasn’t able to have Christmas with us due to being in the hospital, so that made everything really hard. My mom is feeling it to. It just felt so lifeless this year. Uninspiring at all. This last month has just been a storm of shit.
At this point, I would usually be wishing for the New Year to quickly wipe this slate clean, but not this time. It’s taking me twenty-four years to realize that this is as good as it gets. People die, people break up, fights happen, money gets tight, work sucks, holidays are no longer the best thing ever. If anyone told me this is what growing up would be like, I would’ve stayed young forever. Peter Pan would’ve been my best friend.
I’m not sure I want another year of this lack luster life. I want to change. I NEED to change. I don’t want to make resolutions, those never stick. I want to make life changes. Travel has definitely got to be in this new plan. Maybe even a new state to live in and explore. Weight loss is always on my list for any major life changing plans. I want to write my book. I’ve started but haven’t picked it up since. That is something I need to actually sit down and do. I want to be a writer? Well then I need to write, no matter what.
So many things. So many questions I keep asking myself. I have no idea how to answer them. I don’t have patience for any of this. I like instant results, as I’ve been raised in a “give me it right now” society. If I could just stay focused and get one thing done at a time, that would be great.
I suppose we shall see.
There is one movie that I have watched over and over and that, without fail, has me weeping like a sad child. It’s like clockwork. I put on the movie and I’m fine, and then towards the end the tears begin to flow. I turn into this big, emotional ball of sadness when I watch it. I don’t understand it. No wait, I do.
The movie is Finding Neverland and I think the reason I always cry is because I feel like I will never find my own Neverland. I am being chased by ticking crocodiles and I’m not even close to being a part of one of the Lost Boys. The movie is fascinating for me, as a writer and just as an imaginative person. I can imagine that we all have our own version of Neverland. I am sure mine is filled with magic and fairies, mermaids and unicorns. Silly, I know, but full of wonder. A much better place than I live now.
I feel in this day and age that we, as people, have lost the magic we so desperately need. We’ve become so involved in social drama, gossip and unimportant bullshit that we rarely have the time to stop and smell the flowers. We should be exploring the forest, picnicking in the park, reading books and drawing pictures. We should be painting, speaking with strangers until they are no longer strangers, find new hobbies, meeting new people. There should be more love, less violence and hate. More movie nights, more building pillow and sheet forts in your bedrooms, and definitely more late night conversations.
I am guilty of falling into the human trap. The social media, the technology. I don’t go anywhere without my phone. I find myself too wrapped up in the digital world than in the real world. I am living my life through Tumblr, facebook and twitter. Conversations become broken because I must check my phone to check the latest bullshit someone has posted. I’m guilty. We all are. I am not sure about the rest of you, but I want to find my own Neverland. I want to travel, I want to write more. Less facebook, more actual books. I am so desperate with this need to find something more. To detach myself from certain things. I want more freedom. More exploration.
I am going to find Neverland. On my own.
So I am sure this is most likely a common problem for a lot of people, but my Wanderlust gets so bad sometimes that it makes me feel physically ill. I have massive panic attacks and I feel anxious and very trapped in one place. I am scared I am going to be stuck here. This isn’t where I want to be, but I am terrified of leaving everything I know behind. Packing up all my shit and leaving sounds wonderful but terribly frightening. The amount of fear I experience when I think about leaving the state just leaves me in a state of disarray.
What if I can’t find a job? What if I am stuck in some dead end job like the one I am in now? What if it’s the same shit, different place? Will I ever be satisfied? What if I can only afford some shitty apartment? The questions are endless. How do I even go about moving to another state?
This isn’t supposed to be this hard, right? Fuck that. It is. This is life. Everything is hard. That’s alright though, I am willing to work for it, if I can just get passed all of these damn insecurities. I will eventually surpass them. I have faith in myself. If I didn’t have faith in myself, I don’t think anyone else would.
Anyone in Denver, Colorado looking for a roommate? Any jobs available? I have years of retail and customer service experience.