Amidst some hasty talk of you and me and everything in between, it suddenly dawned that I, lazy beast of the deep, could roar no more mightily than the mice I used to abhor. Do not pity this change in me, though for it has been thrust upon my shoulders, I can assure you that I am in no way incapable of self-correction.
I have reviewed the matter at hand and decided that though this may be the death of me, it'll be the death of my accuser, too. Just you wait! Revenge will take its toll and I, the civil servant, will walk patiently onward till my feet give and I collapse, the apex of my existence reached.
Or not. Or I will grow old this way - not obliterating in a torrent of hellfire but expiring slowly, my skin, over time, becoming laced with varicose veins. Perhaps I will not have my revenge. Who am I fighting, anyway?
But damn you, you who made me this way!
The Love Song of Alfred J. Prufrock, by T.S.Eliot. This has hardly anything to do with the actual poem, but the poem put me in a mood and I wrote it down. The mood is much closer to Damn These Vampires, by The Mountain Goats, but I put Prufrock here because it was the initial inspiration.
Friday, October 26, 2012
The bittersweet between my teeth (Nanonotnano #1)
I revised the original draft that I posted on Facebook, just to get the sentences to flow a bit better because I'm bad with that on first drafts.
This was based more so on the sound of the song than the lyrics, though the lyrics may or may not match up well, according to your interpretation.
Perhaps it was something in the way the leaves fell from the trees and littered the streets with flaming orange and red, or perhaps it was something in the way the waves lapped at the shore, pulled by the moon overhead. Perhaps it was these things that made her fall in love with the idea of life, but it could just as easily not have been anything. She could just have been reacting to the way the molecules trembled in the air around her, unable to control being pulled in different directions by the shifting of objects around her - objects making dents in space as they moved along, curving time, and she was sucked in.
She spent a lot of time looking for nooks and corners and tiny places where she could hunker down . . . just as much time as she spent looking for open spaces where she could break open. She liked the ocean a lot; the predictability of the constant circular motion of its waves was a reprieve from the anxiety everything else instilled in her. The thing with nature, though: it never stood still. Even the ocean was moving.
This was a horrid feeling, in the end. Despite the never-ceasing drone of everything buzzing around her, it wasn't a feeling of moving forward. If anything, it was more akin to feeling as if the world was going to be okay, finally convincing yourself of that fact, when suddenly you look down and your hands are shaking, but you don't know why.
She was not glad at all that, in her search for a nest, she had dug herself so deep a hole, cornered herself so readily. Something was beginning, but something was ending too, and she couldn't for the life of her figure out why everything was always ending and beginning. She couldn't see why nothing could just stay still, but she supposed it must somehow be related to the curvature of space and time. There was no other explanation for such constant throbbing.
There was only one time she did not feel like the earth was spinning madly in circles and everything was buzzing alive - when she slipped from the refuge of her bed at night and made her clumsy way through the dark to the dock whose rotten wood she had treaded on many times before. It was different at night, though: the dark made her rely on her feet, and she walked slowly, sensing the vibrations in the beams beneath her sneakers.
Suddenly, without warning, there were no vibrations, no blasting music in her head, no pounding and shaking and stirring. It was still, and the waves ceased their endless spinning momentarily. The still water reflected the moon hung high in the sky devoid of clouds. She wished she could hold someone close, but that might have ruined the sanctity of the moment. This was hers alone, this miraculous stopping of all the forces of the universe long enough to take a breath and whisper, "I'm afraid."
She expected her hands to be shaking this time, but she looked down upon the pale, thin fingers and they were steady as a rock.
Young Blood, by The Naked and Famous
Saturday, October 20, 2012
We wake up with pounding heads, bruised down below. I should've built better walls, or else slept in my clothes. So when I see you again, desperate and stoned, keep your prison locked up and I will leave my gun at home.
It seems silly to put a trigger warning here, because there's like a grand total of, what, two people who read my blog? But I'll put it anyway just incase.
So yeah this is a not okay thing, I'm just trying to figure everything out, and I don't think I was ever confident enough to write or even think about this because it seemed like everything was my fault and if I felt violated it was just me being oversensitive and dumb. Because we know I overreact. This has been acknowledged as a basic part of my personality since forever ago and only until 10th grade did I stop telling people, "No, this isn't overreacting, this is appropriate." and just accept that it's going to be that way. I guess with Robert it was the same thing - I must have been overreacting, because I always do. Because that's me. Even now I don't know how much into detail I can get, and not even for the sake of Maarya and Tyler; I just seriously don't know if I can think about it at length without feeling guilty or somehow wrong again.
But the idea to write this originally came because Maarya asked, "Do you know the feeling of wanting to lay and cuddle with a person but explicitly not wanting sex?" and I was going to say, "Yeah, that's Robert." but it seemed extraneous to say that so I didn't, but the idea stuck.
I mean, yes, there was a time not very long ago where I was not happy with anything that was going on and the only person who seemed to care enough or understand enough was Robert (because he did care, then) and I genuinely wanted him to be my best friend forever. That was the only thing I wanted, though. There was no romantic interest at all; I was perfectly content just sitting there and talking about whatever came to mind, because it put me at ease, if only just for a little while. He was my best friend and there was a time when I thought about why we would ever not be friends and genuinely could not come up with an answer. I couldn't understand why we'd argue. What would we ever disagree on, and why would it matter so much that we'd stop talking? I remember where I was when I thought that - ironically, only across the street from the bench that Maarya and I sat at when she lay her head on my lap. It seems so weird that that happened only two weeks after Robert happened. I think of the two events on separate timelines, and they don't intersect anywhere except the nights when I made the mistake of introspecting.
Yuliya and I were at the library studying for APUSH when I texted Robert and asked if he could come, because Yuliya was starting to get grating and I didn't think I could handle the constant criticism anymore. He came, we sat around for a bit, then moved to the dock, where Yuliya eventually left because she couldn't handle the outdoors. It got cold. I had a jacket. Things unfolded and we were hugging and it was okay because he didn't bother me like the rest of the world did. He asked if he could kiss me and I distinctly said, "No, that would not be okay.", so he didn't.
I mean, it did start innocently enough, and nicely enough, too. I actually cared. He actually cared. I loved him, although not in anything beyond a close friendship. I reckon the problem was that he loved me in a sexual way as well as a platonic way, and I was loose enough with my inhibitions that I was okay with whatever.
When did I even have my first kiss? I can't remember; I think it was the afternoon after the APUSH exam. It was exciting then, but the walk back was bitter and wrong, because that was not what it was meant to be, at all.
See, it was always okay while it was happening, because the line between friendships and relationships are really blurred for me once I get to a certain point. I end up loving anyone I am close enough to, it's only a matter of whether the love is reciprocated or not. And as soon as I walked away I felt a weird unease in my stomach, like I was not heading where I wanted to be heading, even though everything during the daytime pointed to the opposite. I was sad when he asked out Jordan, or demoted me to a second choice, or stopped talking to me altogether. Perhaps that was a pride thing; I don't like being second-best.
Would it have been worth while, to have bitten off the matter with a smile, to have squeezed the universe into a ball, to roll it towrd some overwhelming question, to say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all!" - if one, settling a pillow by her head, should say: "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all."
And there was the week in late June/early July that was perhaps the worst week in the world, not because it felt horrible while I was doing it, but because in retrospect I really was acting rashly and not thinking through my decisions. This was not a peculiar thing only I noticed, either; he pointed out several times, "I would continue sexual relations with you, but I'm not sure whether you're going to regret it later because you always end up regretting it later." But the worst thing was that I couldn't say, "Yeah, let's not. That's a bad idea." It was this really complicated mix of coercion and actually wanting sex because I'm 17, goddamnit, and really loving a person so much that I wasn't sure what I wanted.
Every single time there was this theme of me saying, "No, I'm not sure this is what I want from this relationship." and ultimately breaking down because I wasn't actually sure what I wanted from this relationship.
The last time he tried to kiss me, I ended up forcing him away and walking off.
I Don't Want Love, The Antlers
So yeah this is a not okay thing, I'm just trying to figure everything out, and I don't think I was ever confident enough to write or even think about this because it seemed like everything was my fault and if I felt violated it was just me being oversensitive and dumb. Because we know I overreact. This has been acknowledged as a basic part of my personality since forever ago and only until 10th grade did I stop telling people, "No, this isn't overreacting, this is appropriate." and just accept that it's going to be that way. I guess with Robert it was the same thing - I must have been overreacting, because I always do. Because that's me. Even now I don't know how much into detail I can get, and not even for the sake of Maarya and Tyler; I just seriously don't know if I can think about it at length without feeling guilty or somehow wrong again.
But the idea to write this originally came because Maarya asked, "Do you know the feeling of wanting to lay and cuddle with a person but explicitly not wanting sex?" and I was going to say, "Yeah, that's Robert." but it seemed extraneous to say that so I didn't, but the idea stuck.
I mean, yes, there was a time not very long ago where I was not happy with anything that was going on and the only person who seemed to care enough or understand enough was Robert (because he did care, then) and I genuinely wanted him to be my best friend forever. That was the only thing I wanted, though. There was no romantic interest at all; I was perfectly content just sitting there and talking about whatever came to mind, because it put me at ease, if only just for a little while. He was my best friend and there was a time when I thought about why we would ever not be friends and genuinely could not come up with an answer. I couldn't understand why we'd argue. What would we ever disagree on, and why would it matter so much that we'd stop talking? I remember where I was when I thought that - ironically, only across the street from the bench that Maarya and I sat at when she lay her head on my lap. It seems so weird that that happened only two weeks after Robert happened. I think of the two events on separate timelines, and they don't intersect anywhere except the nights when I made the mistake of introspecting.
Yuliya and I were at the library studying for APUSH when I texted Robert and asked if he could come, because Yuliya was starting to get grating and I didn't think I could handle the constant criticism anymore. He came, we sat around for a bit, then moved to the dock, where Yuliya eventually left because she couldn't handle the outdoors. It got cold. I had a jacket. Things unfolded and we were hugging and it was okay because he didn't bother me like the rest of the world did. He asked if he could kiss me and I distinctly said, "No, that would not be okay.", so he didn't.
I mean, it did start innocently enough, and nicely enough, too. I actually cared. He actually cared. I loved him, although not in anything beyond a close friendship. I reckon the problem was that he loved me in a sexual way as well as a platonic way, and I was loose enough with my inhibitions that I was okay with whatever.
When did I even have my first kiss? I can't remember; I think it was the afternoon after the APUSH exam. It was exciting then, but the walk back was bitter and wrong, because that was not what it was meant to be, at all.
See, it was always okay while it was happening, because the line between friendships and relationships are really blurred for me once I get to a certain point. I end up loving anyone I am close enough to, it's only a matter of whether the love is reciprocated or not. And as soon as I walked away I felt a weird unease in my stomach, like I was not heading where I wanted to be heading, even though everything during the daytime pointed to the opposite. I was sad when he asked out Jordan, or demoted me to a second choice, or stopped talking to me altogether. Perhaps that was a pride thing; I don't like being second-best.
Would it have been worth while, to have bitten off the matter with a smile, to have squeezed the universe into a ball, to roll it towrd some overwhelming question, to say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead, come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all!" - if one, settling a pillow by her head, should say: "That is not what I meant at all. That is not it, at all."
And there was the week in late June/early July that was perhaps the worst week in the world, not because it felt horrible while I was doing it, but because in retrospect I really was acting rashly and not thinking through my decisions. This was not a peculiar thing only I noticed, either; he pointed out several times, "I would continue sexual relations with you, but I'm not sure whether you're going to regret it later because you always end up regretting it later." But the worst thing was that I couldn't say, "Yeah, let's not. That's a bad idea." It was this really complicated mix of coercion and actually wanting sex because I'm 17, goddamnit, and really loving a person so much that I wasn't sure what I wanted.
Every single time there was this theme of me saying, "No, I'm not sure this is what I want from this relationship." and ultimately breaking down because I wasn't actually sure what I wanted from this relationship.
The last time he tried to kiss me, I ended up forcing him away and walking off.
I Don't Want Love, The Antlers
At once I knew I was not magnificent
There's this one feeling that I've been chasing since as early as I can remember, and I can't describe it at all, so here is a list of things that give me that feeling. Maybe someone will know what I'm talking about.
. . . Along with some experiences, most of them visits to parks in my childhood that I've sort of idealised (the 5th grade trip to Alleghany State Park, for instance, or that time we went to a tiny town in Pennsylvania for my 11th birthday, or when we spent a weekend in Westchester when I was in 2nd grade). Some stand out that aren't from a long time ago, though: when I went to Jett's house for her birthday and we made rice krispy treats on sticks and played apples to apples, that one time we walked to Paradise Park after school and ended up in Josh's backyard, trick or treating with a bunch of people in 8th grade, Snow Camp and the sombreness of self-revelation (which didn't last long, let me tell you, but I can write thousands of words about how that delight in being sombre felt), once when I went to Maarya's house in 8th grade and it was so weird because we had been slipping away and it was like a last attempt at piecing things together before they inevitably fell apart, NaNo last year.
An aside: perhaps that's why I want to do NaNo again. I have nothing at all to write about, but I just want the feeling back. Some part of me recognises that I can't have it back, though. Nothing is ever the same twice, so instead of reliving you have to find new things.
Finding new things is worth getting that feeling, if only for a moment.
Holocene, Bon Iver
- Holocene, by Bon Iver
- Smoke Breathing Monsters, by Desert Noises
- Down in the Valley, by The Head and the Heart
- Ho Hey, by The Lumineers
- Stubborn Love, by The Lumineers
- London Iona, from The Illusionist soundtrack
- Glory of It All, by David Crowder
- A note about this song and the following song: they still give me the feeling despite being religious songs (or maybe because they are? I dunno, I don't really understand the feeling), and I kept them on my iPod because for some reason I can't part with them. It's as if deleting them would be forgetting that ninth grade happened.
- He Loves Us, Kim Walker
- All This and Heaven, Too, by Florence + The Machine
- The Illusionist (movie)
- Catdog: The Great Parent Mystery (movie)
- I Remember You, a recent Adventure Time episode
- All of Avatar: The Last Airbender, but particularly the end of the first season and all of the second season
- The Edge Chronicles, by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell
- The Most Beautiful Book in the World, by Eric-Emmanuel Schmitt
- The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
- This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
- The Probable Future, by Alice Hoffman
- The Romantics
- The Oregon Trail
- Salons in the 20s
- C.S.Lewis and Tolkien arguing about religion
- County fairs
- Apple picking
- Villages in France
- Particle colliders
- Quantum physics
- Hitchhiking across the US
- Old-fashioned diners
- Churches
. . . Along with some experiences, most of them visits to parks in my childhood that I've sort of idealised (the 5th grade trip to Alleghany State Park, for instance, or that time we went to a tiny town in Pennsylvania for my 11th birthday, or when we spent a weekend in Westchester when I was in 2nd grade). Some stand out that aren't from a long time ago, though: when I went to Jett's house for her birthday and we made rice krispy treats on sticks and played apples to apples, that one time we walked to Paradise Park after school and ended up in Josh's backyard, trick or treating with a bunch of people in 8th grade, Snow Camp and the sombreness of self-revelation (which didn't last long, let me tell you, but I can write thousands of words about how that delight in being sombre felt), once when I went to Maarya's house in 8th grade and it was so weird because we had been slipping away and it was like a last attempt at piecing things together before they inevitably fell apart, NaNo last year.
An aside: perhaps that's why I want to do NaNo again. I have nothing at all to write about, but I just want the feeling back. Some part of me recognises that I can't have it back, though. Nothing is ever the same twice, so instead of reliving you have to find new things.
Finding new things is worth getting that feeling, if only for a moment.
Holocene, Bon Iver
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
In the silence it became very clear that you had long ago disappeared, and I cursed myself for being surprised that this didn't play out like it did in my mind.
I think it then just finally hit me that no matter how much I or Maarya want to, I'm not ever going to be there. Even when I am there, I'm catching up. There is a group and I am not part of it; worse, Maarya is completely invested in it. Actually, no, it's not worse for her. She's better off having people she loves (or loved) and cares about and likes to spend time with. Maarya's involvement in the group is a major part of what she is, and if I can't join in that, I'm just kind of lurking around on the sidelines and jumping up and down when she mentions, "Oh, Sofiya, I love you, too." but it's not that, not really.
It's hard to explain because I don't actually hate that Maarya is friends with other people or that they take up so much of her time and energy. I'm glad she has friends, and I don't necessarily care about stealing hers. I don't necessarily care about being with her friends.
I guess what bothers me is that I can not compare to what they are, or what some hypothetical new girlfriend(/boyfriend?) will be to her in the future, because they do not have these problems. Hell, she gets along better with Tyler than she does with me, and I'm not quite sure why she keeps insisting that she loves me.
I mean, it's gotten to the point where I'm actually shipping her with someone I used to "date" (I use quotes because it was really just intense hugging that one time), and, although I've felt that way for a long time now, it's never been so immediate. And, get this: it's never been so okay with me. I have sat down, reviewed the situation, and decided that it is honestly more rational for me to back off and let them be super close platonic friends again like they should be, and I'll take my sex and my love and go inward. Or outward. I could go outward and meet new people. Just friends. Just new people. I need those. I'm not needed here.
And that's why I think I need a break. I never thought I'd be the type of person to say that -- I'd always assumed that I was the super clingy person who wouldn't let go, and I was the super unreasonable person who would freak out if someone else were doing anything even remotely resembling distancing themselves. I never thought I'd have the common sense and rationality to be able to do something like that, but I guess I do.
I need a break, a place to think, a place to sit, people of my own. And maybe those people won't include Maarya, I dunno. I really don't know what will happen. I need a week, at least, to focus on other things. A month would be better.
Ultimately, I've got to come to terms with the fact that I am not a major part of her life and that's okay. We don't talk much and there is of course a reason for that (being far away and knowing each other well does not help for conversation topics; what is there that's new to talk about?). If I get myself and my thoughts in order and we see each other and it's still this discomfort (I tried to explain the discomfort to her and she couldn't understand. Perhaps she was upset it wasn't pretty enough) then it will come to an inevitable end.
I don't think I've thought so rationally before. At least, not in a while. Not since Robert, and that took every ounce of energy and self-reflection and determination that I had. This is easy, like dying.
This is only a fraction of the problem. There are many, more than enough to fit on two hands.
Bixby Canyon Bridge, Death Cab for Cutie
It's hard to explain because I don't actually hate that Maarya is friends with other people or that they take up so much of her time and energy. I'm glad she has friends, and I don't necessarily care about stealing hers. I don't necessarily care about being with her friends.
I guess what bothers me is that I can not compare to what they are, or what some hypothetical new girlfriend(/boyfriend?) will be to her in the future, because they do not have these problems. Hell, she gets along better with Tyler than she does with me, and I'm not quite sure why she keeps insisting that she loves me.
I mean, it's gotten to the point where I'm actually shipping her with someone I used to "date" (I use quotes because it was really just intense hugging that one time), and, although I've felt that way for a long time now, it's never been so immediate. And, get this: it's never been so okay with me. I have sat down, reviewed the situation, and decided that it is honestly more rational for me to back off and let them be super close platonic friends again like they should be, and I'll take my sex and my love and go inward. Or outward. I could go outward and meet new people. Just friends. Just new people. I need those. I'm not needed here.
And that's why I think I need a break. I never thought I'd be the type of person to say that -- I'd always assumed that I was the super clingy person who wouldn't let go, and I was the super unreasonable person who would freak out if someone else were doing anything even remotely resembling distancing themselves. I never thought I'd have the common sense and rationality to be able to do something like that, but I guess I do.
I need a break, a place to think, a place to sit, people of my own. And maybe those people won't include Maarya, I dunno. I really don't know what will happen. I need a week, at least, to focus on other things. A month would be better.
Ultimately, I've got to come to terms with the fact that I am not a major part of her life and that's okay. We don't talk much and there is of course a reason for that (being far away and knowing each other well does not help for conversation topics; what is there that's new to talk about?). If I get myself and my thoughts in order and we see each other and it's still this discomfort (I tried to explain the discomfort to her and she couldn't understand. Perhaps she was upset it wasn't pretty enough) then it will come to an inevitable end.
I don't think I've thought so rationally before. At least, not in a while. Not since Robert, and that took every ounce of energy and self-reflection and determination that I had. This is easy, like dying.
This is only a fraction of the problem. There are many, more than enough to fit on two hands.
Bixby Canyon Bridge, Death Cab for Cutie
Saturday, October 13, 2012
I titled this "Florence'
It's peaceful here in the dark,
safe finally from the sirens' wails and the never-ceasing drone,
my only friends the flighty black shadows which extend their arms
and envelop me without ever making contact, their fingers slipping off my skin
like oil, or an eel eluding the touch it desperately wants.
Am I alone?
I used to ask the question often, but the answer seems hardly relevant now --
what would I do with the information?
Here among the shadows I make my temporary nest
out of bricks and mortar and fairy dust.
Call the mortician, the detective -- I've got a case!
Oh, but whatever you do, love, don't alert the relatives:
they're not ready to brace the cold autumn winds that you and I know so well
but that they never truly felt underneath their layers of cow skin and pig fat.
Now, with our numbing fingers, we've been given the opportunity
to chuck it away, peel apart the layers one by one.
Imagine that -- our crummy fingernails in a clean, sterile place like this --
what would the shadows say?
Dear, darling, love,
let me be.
There is time yet in the morning for stories and plans and responsibilities;
meanwhile, I relish in the twilight that's slipping from my grasp,
gone too soon and taking hope with it.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Magic isn't real and anyway, it doesn't matter, because no matter what I conjure it could not help me deflect the angry death of every hopeful thought - that I might be a lover or a fighter that I'm not.
I'm not sure what brought it on but that's not the problem. It always comes strong and fades away into dullness and then comes strong again; none of that is peculiar. It's not even worth wondering about.
What's interesting is that Maarya sent me some links to songs and Ugly Story was one of them. Usually, I try to stay away from anything Homestuck related because I can't stand Homestuck, but I listened to it because I liked the way it sounded, at first, and the second time round I liked the lyrics.
Except they've quoted it before, many many times. Too many times to count. And they've quoted it because they relate, because someone can be the Eridanest, or the violentest, or the angriest, saddest, okayest, winningest. Someone has taken something up to be theirs - Maarya has her grief, writing, constant self-doubt, angry lashing out, her search for identity. Trisha always wins. Trisha is red and angry. Trisha wants to kill everyone. Tyler wants to be the most helpful, and in his need to help people he over-exceeds himself and is left dry and shaking. This need to selflessly help people all the time makes him seem perfect, because how could a person like that do any wrong? Jenny tries to be a good, stable person, but her parents tear her apart and she can't confront any of her problems. Ben has his persona, because being himself makes him too vulnerable. Emily strives to know everything, Yuliya strives for perfection, Robert strives for every decision he makes to be rational, to be a philosopher king.
And then there's me. Or, more accurately, and then there's not me, because, listening to that song, I thought, "Yes, yes, I agree, yes. If only I could write like this and put my feelings into words like this."
I remembered, though, too soon, that they quoted this song a lot, and they must quote it for a reason - clearly they must relate. They'll always relate more than I will, so it's okay, they can have the song, it can be theirs. They can have the Fun. album, too, and The Division Bell. I don't need those, because I don't really relate. Not really. You are all the est. I am just there, and that's okay, but sometimes I want to be something. Sometimes I want to have a thing. I told Maarya about this a while earlier and she said, grasping at straws, "But you can be the Sofiyaest!"
Yes, I suppose that's true. I'll settle for being the Sofiyaest, although that isn't much at all.
What's interesting is that Maarya sent me some links to songs and Ugly Story was one of them. Usually, I try to stay away from anything Homestuck related because I can't stand Homestuck, but I listened to it because I liked the way it sounded, at first, and the second time round I liked the lyrics.
Except they've quoted it before, many many times. Too many times to count. And they've quoted it because they relate, because someone can be the Eridanest, or the violentest, or the angriest, saddest, okayest, winningest. Someone has taken something up to be theirs - Maarya has her grief, writing, constant self-doubt, angry lashing out, her search for identity. Trisha always wins. Trisha is red and angry. Trisha wants to kill everyone. Tyler wants to be the most helpful, and in his need to help people he over-exceeds himself and is left dry and shaking. This need to selflessly help people all the time makes him seem perfect, because how could a person like that do any wrong? Jenny tries to be a good, stable person, but her parents tear her apart and she can't confront any of her problems. Ben has his persona, because being himself makes him too vulnerable. Emily strives to know everything, Yuliya strives for perfection, Robert strives for every decision he makes to be rational, to be a philosopher king.
And then there's me. Or, more accurately, and then there's not me, because, listening to that song, I thought, "Yes, yes, I agree, yes. If only I could write like this and put my feelings into words like this."
I remembered, though, too soon, that they quoted this song a lot, and they must quote it for a reason - clearly they must relate. They'll always relate more than I will, so it's okay, they can have the song, it can be theirs. They can have the Fun. album, too, and The Division Bell. I don't need those, because I don't really relate. Not really. You are all the est. I am just there, and that's okay, but sometimes I want to be something. Sometimes I want to have a thing. I told Maarya about this a while earlier and she said, grasping at straws, "But you can be the Sofiyaest!"
Yes, I suppose that's true. I'll settle for being the Sofiyaest, although that isn't much at all.
Monday, October 1, 2012
I'm all alone again, stuck by the phone again, just crawling back home again.
And now I really can't do anything but sit here and feel this need to stretch but my muscles are too tight to move and my brain can't will anything.
Grey Room, Damien Rice
Right so I'm doing this because I don't want to take a shower and I'm also sort of talking to Maarya and stuff but it's not a super heavy conversation so there are gaps, and I don't know how to fill them since tumblr isn't working for me right now.
Also Maarya u so clever with ur clever titles 4 ur blawg posts & stuff y u gotta b so clever
Layer One: The Outside
Eye Color: Grey, I think
Hair Style/Color: Brown. It's dull. Dull hair. At least it doesn't frizz up now as much as it used to, because otherwise it's a mess. I wish I could get it cut because it gets in the way, but at the same time I kind of like to fail at hair tosses.
Height: 5'2"ish but my permit says 5'4" because why not
Clothing style: I've recently begun wearing nicer clothes, because usually I thought it would be weird if I wore anything nice, like I was tied down to a sub-par standard just because everyone expected me to be that way and it was out of my place to try to be better. Maarya and Trisha really like wearing nice things, though, and I think I got bored with wearing the same ten t-shirts over and over, so I started gradually wearing nicer things like actual shirts and different sweaters and jackets and trying to match things. I thought I was doing well, too, and then my dad said, "I don't like that you're trying to dress like a man now. You dressed so much better before.", and that made me sad, because I like my button-up shirts and my plaid and why why do I have to wear frilly silky delicate things
Best physical feature: Ahh
Layer Two: The Inside
Your fears: Huh. I'm afraid that I'll stop moving just for a second, because then my thoughts catch up with me. It's not an unreasonable fear, either; it happens several times a day. I'm afraid I won't ever find friends. I'm afraid there's no future, that what lies in store is just a continuation of now and that's all there will ever be. Perhaps everyone in the world is walking around in a stupor, trying to figure out what's next but there is no next. I'm afraid Maarya's in love with someone else, or that I'm inadequate. That maybe once she gets to see me every day for weeks on end she'll realise she could do so much better. And my biggest fear, of course, still stands the same as it has been for the longest time: I'm afraid I'll run out of words and there'll be nothing else at all but silence left in the world.
Your guilty pleasure: Party in the USA
Ambitions for the future: Do things, go places, learn and eat and laugh and read and protest. Hopefully do things with Maarya. Worry less. Later on, live with her, if we don't break up by then. Study abroad, do internships, graduate, move on to grad school (maybe not even in Boston). Maybe New York. It'd be nice to come back as an adult. Go backpacking in Europe. Run a marathon, write more books, make spontaneous plans, worry lessworrylesssworryless
Layer Three: Thoughts
Your first thoughts waking up: When did I ever fall asleep? I'm still tired. I don't want to go to school. I didn't get enough sleep, but I'm wide awake. Why do I have to look at people, walk by people, stare at them instead of talking to them? Where is Maarya?
What you think about most: How to get out.
What you think about before bed: By the time I go to bed, I fall asleep as soon as my head makes contact with a surface. Sometimes even before then. I haven't thought before I went to sleep for a few months now. I haven't dreamt for a few months now.
You think your best quality is: Clearly my sense of wit.
Layer Four: What's Better?
Single or group dates: I've never been on either, I think. That's sad. Why have I never been on a date? I want to go on a super formal date, with dressing up and dinner and walking around.
To be loved or respected: I agree with Duo, they should go hand in hand. (oh wait I never changed this answer this was Maarya's answer but I third it)
Beauty or brains: I'm assuming that in this particular scenario I have to choose between a gorgeous person who is also dumb and an ugly person who is also really smart. People who chose the former are shallow, and people who choose the latter are intelligent and deep and stuff. But intelligent people can be assholes, too. Not all smart people are people worth knowing. If the prettier, not smart person is someone I get along with well and can talk to about things I care about and e doesn't bore me, why not? Looks don't matter to me that much anyway. It's just that intelligence doesn't, either, or at least not grades/facts intelligence. Life intelligence, maturity, the desire to learn and explore and care about things - those are always better than brains or beauty, and they're the deciding factor.
Dogs or cats: Such a hard decision, but I want a dog. I like the feel of having a dog.
Layer Five: Do You?
Lie: Yes. All the time. All I ever do is lie. It's all I'm good for, really.
Believe in yourself: Eh
Believe in love: The magical all-healing power of love? No, but I think love is a thing, yes. Or maybe it's something you convince yourself exists that doesn't really, but that's irrelevant. We don't really touch things - we never make contact. It's the forces acting between the two objects that causes you to feel as if you're touching something. That is our definition of touch, though. There is no other touch. The idea of making contact is a foreign idea, because there is no alternative. If this is what it is and this is all you have, then semantics - "what is really real" - doesn't matter. Love is the same way. We can't ever really touch.
Want someone: Heh. Reasonably so, yes. No, do you know what, though. It actually tears me apart.
Layer Six: Ever?
Been on stage: I'm sorry. It was a requirement for elementary school. I had to do it. If I've emotionally scarred you, it's not my fault.
Done drugs: I wish I could say yes, but no, I haven't.
Changed who you were to fit in: All the time. I wish I were one of those people who had a strong sense of identity, but I don't, really. The lying doesn't help much, either. There is no me.
Layer Seven: Favourites
Favourite colours: Perfect orange. Bright exact blue - the standard, generic blue you see everywhere. All the greys. All the dark blues and purples. TARDIS blue. Tumblr blue. Apple green - Jenny green. Forest green.
Favourite animals: I don't think I have an opinion on this one.
Favourite movie: Inception, still. Perhaps that's cliche. I need a new favourite movie.
Favourite game: No
Layer Eight: Age
Day your next birthday will be: Too much work. Not doing this.
How old will you be: 18
Age you lost your virginity: 17? The first time didn't count.
Does age matter: For what? A lot of the time, no. It really depends on the person.
Layer Nine: In Another Person
Best personality: More talkative than me, because I can't deal with the pressure of having control of the conversation. Thoughtful and insightful and interested in different things. It's always nice to see people with a passion for something. People who care are nice, but sometimes caring too much is stifling. People whom you can talk to without feeling like you have to watch what you're saying. People you don't have to change for.
Best eye colour: No strong opinion. I like bright blues and bright greens - basically anything that stands out and you feel like you're drowning in them. That's not realistic, though. Out of the browns, dark brown is the best. I'm not a fan of the lighter, hazel-ey colours.
Best hair colour: Anything but blonde/red hair on Asians (by Asians I mean anyone hailing from the continent of Asia). That's really hard to pull off, okay. Odds are, you probably can't do it.
Best thing to do with a partner: Cuddling. I like cuddling a lot, because I don't have to worry. Actually the best thing was when Maarya and I tried to watch a movie and I nestled into her shoulder and our legs were intertwined and I was so comfortable and also tired that I fell asleep. I mean, it probably wasn't fun for her because then she had all this dead weight leaning on her and she was watching a movie alone, but it was nice for me. Hah. Okay. Also sex is really nice, but I have to be in the mood. I have to not be tired, and there is clearly no time when I am not tired. It gets exhausting because I want to and I feel the pressure building up inside of me but I can't force myself to move a muscle.
Layer Ten: Finish the Sentence
I love: Sasha, and her hugs and sarcastic comments and the drawings she makes for me. Maarya - everything about her, from her hair and her eyes and her mouth and her teeth and her shoulders and her tentative hands and the way she walks and the way she laughs and when she giggles and brushes my hair behind my ear and holds my hand without saying a word and the way she makes me feel, like it's going to be okay. Also, economics. Also, physics, but the class makes me feel horribly inadequate. Whereas economics the class is easy and fun and no work at all, physics the class makes me want to cry because I can't. I thought I could but I can't. I still really like physics, though, just without the pressure.
I feel: Tired. Mostly tired. I can never get enough sleep, even when I do get enough sleep. All I want is for everything to end because I can't stand feeling so tired all the time.
I hide: Nowhere. There's nowhere to hide. Every place I go there's a familiar face and they leave me alone, they never talk, but I can feel them there.
I miss: I'd say feeling like I had friends, but I don't ever think I felt that. I just felt hopeful and then crushed. I miss Maarya.
I wish: There were people that cared. Maybe it'd be alright then. Not perfect, but bearable. Alright.
Also Maarya u so clever with ur clever titles 4 ur blawg posts & stuff y u gotta b so clever
Layer One: The Outside
Eye Color: Grey, I think
Hair Style/Color: Brown. It's dull. Dull hair. At least it doesn't frizz up now as much as it used to, because otherwise it's a mess. I wish I could get it cut because it gets in the way, but at the same time I kind of like to fail at hair tosses.
Height: 5'2"ish but my permit says 5'4" because why not
Clothing style: I've recently begun wearing nicer clothes, because usually I thought it would be weird if I wore anything nice, like I was tied down to a sub-par standard just because everyone expected me to be that way and it was out of my place to try to be better. Maarya and Trisha really like wearing nice things, though, and I think I got bored with wearing the same ten t-shirts over and over, so I started gradually wearing nicer things like actual shirts and different sweaters and jackets and trying to match things. I thought I was doing well, too, and then my dad said, "I don't like that you're trying to dress like a man now. You dressed so much better before.", and that made me sad, because I like my button-up shirts and my plaid and why why do I have to wear frilly silky delicate things
Best physical feature: Ahh
Layer Two: The Inside
Your fears: Huh. I'm afraid that I'll stop moving just for a second, because then my thoughts catch up with me. It's not an unreasonable fear, either; it happens several times a day. I'm afraid I won't ever find friends. I'm afraid there's no future, that what lies in store is just a continuation of now and that's all there will ever be. Perhaps everyone in the world is walking around in a stupor, trying to figure out what's next but there is no next. I'm afraid Maarya's in love with someone else, or that I'm inadequate. That maybe once she gets to see me every day for weeks on end she'll realise she could do so much better. And my biggest fear, of course, still stands the same as it has been for the longest time: I'm afraid I'll run out of words and there'll be nothing else at all but silence left in the world.
Your guilty pleasure: Party in the USA
Ambitions for the future: Do things, go places, learn and eat and laugh and read and protest. Hopefully do things with Maarya. Worry less. Later on, live with her, if we don't break up by then. Study abroad, do internships, graduate, move on to grad school (maybe not even in Boston). Maybe New York. It'd be nice to come back as an adult. Go backpacking in Europe. Run a marathon, write more books, make spontaneous plans, worry lessworrylesssworryless
Layer Three: Thoughts
Your first thoughts waking up: When did I ever fall asleep? I'm still tired. I don't want to go to school. I didn't get enough sleep, but I'm wide awake. Why do I have to look at people, walk by people, stare at them instead of talking to them? Where is Maarya?
What you think about most: How to get out.
What you think about before bed: By the time I go to bed, I fall asleep as soon as my head makes contact with a surface. Sometimes even before then. I haven't thought before I went to sleep for a few months now. I haven't dreamt for a few months now.
You think your best quality is: Clearly my sense of wit.
Layer Four: What's Better?
Single or group dates: I've never been on either, I think. That's sad. Why have I never been on a date? I want to go on a super formal date, with dressing up and dinner and walking around.
To be loved or respected: I agree with Duo, they should go hand in hand. (oh wait I never changed this answer this was Maarya's answer but I third it)
Beauty or brains: I'm assuming that in this particular scenario I have to choose between a gorgeous person who is also dumb and an ugly person who is also really smart. People who chose the former are shallow, and people who choose the latter are intelligent and deep and stuff. But intelligent people can be assholes, too. Not all smart people are people worth knowing. If the prettier, not smart person is someone I get along with well and can talk to about things I care about and e doesn't bore me, why not? Looks don't matter to me that much anyway. It's just that intelligence doesn't, either, or at least not grades/facts intelligence. Life intelligence, maturity, the desire to learn and explore and care about things - those are always better than brains or beauty, and they're the deciding factor.
Dogs or cats: Such a hard decision, but I want a dog. I like the feel of having a dog.
Layer Five: Do You?
Lie: Yes. All the time. All I ever do is lie. It's all I'm good for, really.
Believe in yourself: Eh
Believe in love: The magical all-healing power of love? No, but I think love is a thing, yes. Or maybe it's something you convince yourself exists that doesn't really, but that's irrelevant. We don't really touch things - we never make contact. It's the forces acting between the two objects that causes you to feel as if you're touching something. That is our definition of touch, though. There is no other touch. The idea of making contact is a foreign idea, because there is no alternative. If this is what it is and this is all you have, then semantics - "what is really real" - doesn't matter. Love is the same way. We can't ever really touch.
Want someone: Heh. Reasonably so, yes. No, do you know what, though. It actually tears me apart.
Layer Six: Ever?
Been on stage: I'm sorry. It was a requirement for elementary school. I had to do it. If I've emotionally scarred you, it's not my fault.
Done drugs: I wish I could say yes, but no, I haven't.
Changed who you were to fit in: All the time. I wish I were one of those people who had a strong sense of identity, but I don't, really. The lying doesn't help much, either. There is no me.
Layer Seven: Favourites
Favourite colours: Perfect orange. Bright exact blue - the standard, generic blue you see everywhere. All the greys. All the dark blues and purples. TARDIS blue. Tumblr blue. Apple green - Jenny green. Forest green.
Favourite animals: I don't think I have an opinion on this one.
Favourite movie: Inception, still. Perhaps that's cliche. I need a new favourite movie.
Favourite game: No
Layer Eight: Age
Day your next birthday will be: Too much work. Not doing this.
How old will you be: 18
Age you lost your virginity: 17? The first time didn't count.
Does age matter: For what? A lot of the time, no. It really depends on the person.
Layer Nine: In Another Person
Best personality: More talkative than me, because I can't deal with the pressure of having control of the conversation. Thoughtful and insightful and interested in different things. It's always nice to see people with a passion for something. People who care are nice, but sometimes caring too much is stifling. People whom you can talk to without feeling like you have to watch what you're saying. People you don't have to change for.
Best eye colour: No strong opinion. I like bright blues and bright greens - basically anything that stands out and you feel like you're drowning in them. That's not realistic, though. Out of the browns, dark brown is the best. I'm not a fan of the lighter, hazel-ey colours.
Best hair colour: Anything but blonde/red hair on Asians (by Asians I mean anyone hailing from the continent of Asia). That's really hard to pull off, okay. Odds are, you probably can't do it.
Best thing to do with a partner: Cuddling. I like cuddling a lot, because I don't have to worry. Actually the best thing was when Maarya and I tried to watch a movie and I nestled into her shoulder and our legs were intertwined and I was so comfortable and also tired that I fell asleep. I mean, it probably wasn't fun for her because then she had all this dead weight leaning on her and she was watching a movie alone, but it was nice for me. Hah. Okay. Also sex is really nice, but I have to be in the mood. I have to not be tired, and there is clearly no time when I am not tired. It gets exhausting because I want to and I feel the pressure building up inside of me but I can't force myself to move a muscle.
Layer Ten: Finish the Sentence
I love: Sasha, and her hugs and sarcastic comments and the drawings she makes for me. Maarya - everything about her, from her hair and her eyes and her mouth and her teeth and her shoulders and her tentative hands and the way she walks and the way she laughs and when she giggles and brushes my hair behind my ear and holds my hand without saying a word and the way she makes me feel, like it's going to be okay. Also, economics. Also, physics, but the class makes me feel horribly inadequate. Whereas economics the class is easy and fun and no work at all, physics the class makes me want to cry because I can't. I thought I could but I can't. I still really like physics, though, just without the pressure.
I feel: Tired. Mostly tired. I can never get enough sleep, even when I do get enough sleep. All I want is for everything to end because I can't stand feeling so tired all the time.
I hide: Nowhere. There's nowhere to hide. Every place I go there's a familiar face and they leave me alone, they never talk, but I can feel them there.
I miss: I'd say feeling like I had friends, but I don't ever think I felt that. I just felt hopeful and then crushed. I miss Maarya.
I wish: There were people that cared. Maybe it'd be alright then. Not perfect, but bearable. Alright.
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