A work in progress


05/30(or the 31 since you are in Japan right now.)/2016

How we met: well it wasn’t quite meeting at first, really. You stared at me (checked me out) from two rows back on the other side of the class room of our Econ 111 class in Xavier room 150. I knew your name and who you were, and I ran into you often with The-Girl-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She was something else (and a whole other story) and you and her seemed to be best friends from my point of you. Until I began to pester you.

I thought you were (OMG kill me now for saying this) THE cutest Asian kid I had ever seen in my life, and I was down for the chase.

I made a mistake first hand though by the telling your “Best friend” what I thought of you. She had  a bit(a little more than that) of a fit and she said: “You got, Tomas, and Kiya, you can’t can’t canttttt by any means have Hiro.” And I told her I would respect her wishes, but there was a big piece of me that I certainly was not going to ignore that said “ignore her, he is a catch… even if he ends up just being a good friend” which of course made my reply to her be: “Oh of course, he is your best friend, I would never!!!” (one of the biggest lies I have ever told). And here we are. You are my man.

You ask me to make lists.

I love this. (but you know I love making lists so it isn’t exactly work to me. )

What we should do:

  1. Travel the world
  2. Go to every San Pellegrino 50 best restaurants in the world.
  3. Go to Japan – like everywhere
  4. Take a bath – not too long of one, I hate being pruny
  5. Go to an owl cafe
  6. Go to a cat (neko ねこ 猫)  cafe 😀
  7. Feed each other nutella
  8. Stay at a ritzy hotel and splurge on room service
  9. Keep each other motivated
  10. Keep each other healthy
  11. Couples Message
  12. Take a train over night somewhere, hopefully Europe
  13. Swing Dance
  14. Shop for undies in Tokyo
  15. Ice skate in Rockefeller center in NYC
  16. Build an igloo in Alaska
  17. Pray at a temple in Japan (Nara)
  18. Bake

TO BE CONTINUED.

Shallow – a reflection


And then it dawned on me;

our conversations are shallow our voices loud and confident.

Our intellect in comparison nothing and more base than we thought.

Where did we stop progressing? Where did we stop becoming better and getting smarter? Wasn’t our arrival here supposed to spur a new life of learning and thrust us into a world of inspiration?

We tackle problems without resolve. We argue and research but bring no final answers. We find proof and we find disproof. We still know nothing.

Weren’t we supposed to surpass these things?

Finality seems to exist somewhere else, somewhere we will be someday, like it did when we were younger and adulthood seemed like a fantasy.

 

Belittling


Every stage of my life has been belittled and the next oncoming stage glorified. Why? I think it may have to do with the idea of constantly chasing the carrot held out in front of us. It’s a terrible way of forcing us to progress because we feel small and worthless.

In each era, you are told you will soon meet the “real world” as if you aren’t experiencing it yet. What really is the “real world”? Is it the constant grind of sleep, eat, work, pay bills? Because I don’t think that means “real world” that just means capitalism. The “real world” is never the same for any singular person. Everyone has a different experience and according to the laws of philosophy: no one is ever wrong. Reality is relative to your experience, upbringing, culture, and beliefs.  My “real world” is totally opposite to the “real world” of someone living in Mexico City, Berlin, London, Beijing, or Dubai. My “real world” consists of hobbies, family, friends, activities, personal art, and adventure. Yes I work, yes I go to school, yes I pay for things, yes I eat and sleep. But these things do not make a “real world” these things are characteristics of living in our western culture.

So who came up with this stupid idea that telling kids while they are trying to develop themselves that they aren’t even close to being in the “real world” yet? They weren’t born yesterday, they’ve experienced what it’s like to be hurt and be happy, to see pain and heal. Just because someone is younger than you or experiencing something that you’ve already experienced doesn’t make them lesser to you.

I’m 19, to most people I’m a fetus. Meaning, my development as an adult is so small and insignificant I mustn’t be capable of understanding things without a guide. I’m not a fetus, I know how to walk by myself.

I say all this because every step I take, I am told is not enough. “You’re not there yet! You don’t know what the real world is like!” Sure I dont have a full time job, my permanent residence is listed as my parents house, and my bills are paid. But why do these things make me less of a human? Why do I appear to others as if I’m useless or purposeless?

Let me ask you this: What is so special about your life that makes it worth more than mine? What makes your “real world” experience better and more “real” than mine?

Nothing.

die

I’m Sorry About Today


I’m sorry about today.

I know it felt off. I was off.

Honestly, when you walked in, my heart skipped a beat like it was February still and we had just met. I was awkward, and I didn’t know how to look at you.

I think my page refreshed in my heart or something. Like I’m falling in love with you over again. Not as if I had fallen out of love with you, but I had fallen into stability with you before, and then disaster struck it’s usual course with me and I fucked up. And I told you.

And maybe it’s better now, I’m honest, I’m here, I’m trying my best but I feel like my best isn’t good enough. Like my best won’t ever be good enough.

And I know you know that too, you said it yourself today. “If only it were easier”.

Simplicity is unattainable in a relationship, nothing is simple when it comes down to human emotion, there are too many variables and inputs you can’t discern one from another because they are inseparable. Life is tangled in us, like I am with you, and I get farther and farther drawn into your life the more I think about you and keep you.

So I’m keeping you. On one side, it is because I am so tangled into you that I feel like to be without you here in the wilderness of the world I’m putting myself in I need you, more than I’ve needed anyone (other than my family). I need you to be here to love me, to help me, to make me feel like I have a home, to make me love someone else like I know I can but thought I never could, you’re here to watch me fuck myself over but still love me after it’s all done.

On the other, I am keeping you because I’ve never tried so hard for a relationship ever before you. I’ve never put my all into someone like I have with you, I do you know? I gave and continue to give everything to you. And maybe that’s a bad thing, maybe it’s a good thing, but those words don’t actually mean anything. Good and bad are the worst descriptions anyone could ever use.

So let me try again.

Maybe it’s gonna kill us both. Maybe staying with you will tear my insides apart because everything I have is all in my head and other than  that I’m worthless. Maybe it’ll kill you to put up with that. It’ll bring you to the point of madness because I’m so damn difficult.

But maybe it’ll teach me how to be here. Maybe it’ll teach me how to edify and not feel superfluous and actually do what everyone says the right thing to do is. Love you, love you forever, love you for always, as long as I’m living, my man you will be?

Sometimes I just cry though, cry and cry, and cry and I can’t stop and I don’t why I’m so sad. So I blame it on the fact that my freedom that I used to know is gone and I feel guilty for everything and I feel like the smallest slip with shatter the world I’ve built with you and it’ll be over and I’ll have to go home because I’m such an emotional wreck.

I think without you I would be suicidal. But you already know that.

I’m might be either way, but I know post-you, I don’t know how I feel.

Because obviously, right now, I’m not in post-you mode. I’m present-you. I’m here, I’m honest, I’m trying my best, and you are too. I don’t know if you are honest, but I’m pretty sure you are, I know when you lie. I don’t know if you are trying your best, because I know you are in a slump right now. I’m hoping you can come out of it and get yourself in the right direction, wherever that may be.

But now, I’m present-you and I’m crying every time I see you, and I’m crying even when I’m not seeing you. And  I was crying in the beginning when the curvature of the earth was separating us and I was crying because I knew what I would come to, but not knowing what the future held scared me so goddamn much I couldn’t even voice my fear because I knew you wouldn’t understand.

It’s not easy having a brain that never stops, a mind palace that is infinite. I’m stuffing my closets in my brain with things I can’t say to you because they will upset you. I’m hoping when I’m with you and I’m in my head that I don’t walk past them and smile, because that happened today and I knew it would make you mad to know about the things I stored away in there. They are becoming blue memories because of you, when they used to be golden, funny and light.

I don’t want to ignore all the good things, but right now those are too easy to see, which means they are in such plain view they are hiding the things I probably need to pay attention too. I’m trying to pay attention.

You can’t pay attention. I don’t know how I’ve adapted to that, I guess adaptability truly is one of my greatest strengths. But with your ADHD I don’t have to change my personality and DNA. I don’t have to change my frontal lobes neuron language. But being monogamous, that is trying to tell me to change my DNA. I don’t think that way. I never will.

Since you told me you didn’t like red, I haven’t worn a single thing red. Some how that small phrase you said months and months ago stuck with me, and I recalled this:

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I’m not saying this is true, but I’m finding it hard to not relate with.

I know you have changed me, which isn’t a surprise. I’m glad you’ve influenced me. You’ve helped me to see that life can be simple and you can be happy. You’ve helped me understand street smarts and how to avoid scary things. You’ve helped me see what I dislike. You’ve helped me learn how to trust.

But you’ve also instilled the knowledge that I know a simple life will never satiate me. I’ve tried. I’ve pursued the simplicity of monogamy, the easy life of school, job, boy friend. Which would evolve into : Employment, marriage, children. Retirement, settlement, grandchildren. I don’t think I want those things in the white picket fence, sepia filtered sense that you do. Life is rainbow too me, everything is something different than you thought it was, I don’t see things as black and white with rose colored accents. I see it like a flower child from the 60’s would. Like someone tripping on acid but retaining a sense of self.

Deanna pointed out something interesting last night, she said: “It’s funny, how you like being caged by things, but not by people.” She referred to my love of clothing and obsession with belts and accessories; the fact I can’t sleep without my retainers (AKA teeth cages). Being caged by people, or restrained physically, (as you well know by now) makes me fall apart and have a panic attack. Then she said to me, “Take this and apply it to what is happening with you and Shane.”

11.22.15 I can’t be caged. I knew this before with Cameron. See, he and I started our relationship right before he flew out to school his freshman year to Stanford University in California. It was magical and amazing and I was in love with him. But I also knew that I couldn’t be with him if he was away, and it would be wrong of me to keep us monogamous. I also knew inside me that I would never stay true to that anyways. I was 15, but that feeling hasn’t changed.

Fast forward four months and he is back from school, we see each other and fall back into the pattern of things, we are intimate and it’s wonderful, but we also talk for hours and simply enjoy one another. It’s nothing comparable to you of course, you are the absolute opposite of him, which is honestly great. If you were anything like him I wouldn’t truly love you, I would love the shadow of you but be holding onto the memory of Cameron.

Back to  2013, Cameron left, he went  back to school and I was alone. We didn’t discuss our terms, we didn’t need to. He knew I would be with other partners, and I knew he would too. At the time I was 16, and I wasn’t interested in getting any more involved with someone longer than a night. Maybe a week. The point of dating was lost on me.

That summer, Cameron returned and he asked me to be his girlfriend, but he already knew my answer, I think he just wanted to show how he felt. I said that when he was here, and we were talking affectionately he would be my boyfriend, but when he was gone, and we had space he wouldn’t be. But this did not mean monogamy. No, I was with other people, and I told him that. He knew and knows that I am a free spirit that won’t be tamed. I even told him stories and struggles that I had with other partners and friends and he shared his, as my friend.

Friendship comes first, if I can’t talk about the intimate matters that happen with others or the intimate thoughts I have I am not fully expressing myself. As strange as this may seem, I find that story telling is my way of expressing, sharing, and showing my loved ones what is going on inside me and around me. I don’t know if this “socially acceptable” because as you say, “Kissing and telling is just wrong” and the like… I don’t see it as “kissing and telling” I see it as having an experience and telling someone about it, just as if I had climbed Mt. Hood with you and I told my mother. My definition of kissing and telling is like being a huge gossip whore and involving people in your business that shouldn’t be involved. But you see, by my definition, telling you the experiences that I’ve had isn’t being a gossip whore, it is sharing my life with you, a person who is very much in my business and I in yours. If you considered yourself not involved in my business I would be offended and run off dramatically like in the movies (or like a twelve year old).

So Cameron and I continued in this way. No labels, no monogamy, no terms and conditions, just that we were friends, who loved each other very deeply, and knew that without each others support (in what ever way we gave it) we would be sad.

The summer before I met you, Cameron was very entangled with me, but I had no idea how to feel. I went from “please stay” to “I never want to do this again” to “come back”. These emotional swings are still baffling to me, but maybe I was just tired of the condition-less conditions. Our unspoken rules were eating at me.

Now I told you that Cameron and I were still “on” when I met you. I mean you can’t tell me I was doing something wrong because Cameron and I weren’t monogamous. And for all purposes I would have stayed “on” with him even after you asked me to be yours because he was just south of you on the other side of the country. He wasn’t going to fly to see me, no way, but he and I  being “on” just meant that I was still hearing “I love you”‘s from him. Because he loves me. Me, me. He isn’t like my crazy x that is in love with the idea of me as a pony, fetishized and objectified. Cameron loves who I am, and I love who he is.

Then I told him one fateful night via text (because I am obviously the worst human being. Hypocrisy beyond compare), that I was trying monogamy out. Let me emphasize trying.  Not to be confused with doing and achieving. I’m still trying.

11.24.15 Whatever decisions we talk about, whatever thing we are working on, it is always your way or the high way. Sex, food, sleep, conversation, anything. Everything I do is to accommodate for you. I can’t be changing all that I am and all that I think about for you. I need freedom of thought, I need freedom of speech, I need freedom to be the person I am without being afraid I’m going to hurt you by telling you something from my past. I can’t go on accommodating for all that you can’t handle or refuse to handle. I am complicated and difficult, I recognize that, but can’t you comfort me? Can’t you understand that I love you more than I’ve loved any one else in my lifetime and I want to be with you, but I can’t because I am not who I want to be with you.

I’ve thought long and hard over this, and delicately so. I thought about how I would feel after, post-you. I know both of us will be fine. We will live on. Life goes on. I will always love you. I will always love the taste of your skin, the feel of your arms around me, the way you smile when you are truly happy.

I made my choice to be post-you. I’ve decided and you can fight back all you want. But I’m taking the highway option.

You say I can have you and be monogamous, or be without you and be polyamorous. Well, there isn’t an “or” for me. I AM polyamorous. I DO love more than one person this very instant and  I will always love more than one person because that is just how I love.

One day, maybe a few months from now, maybe a year or more, I’ll say hello to you again. And I want you to know I don’t want to cut you out of my life, my heart, my soul, and my mind, no I want to stop the cycle of pain I’ve been experiencing. I want to heal us. Because ever time I’ve had suicidal inclinations, every time I’ve needed support, it never really went away. It isn’t your fault that I have these feelings but it is your fault for triggering them.

I’m not saying this to be awful, I’m saying this because it’s true. Every time I “make a mistake” that I know will hurt you or could hurt you I feel like I’m worthless. I can’t feel that way, it’s driving me to the edge.

I want the best for you, which I know you might think “It’s you! You just need to change!” Well if I need to change to be with you, then I am not what is right for you.

1.2.16 So I love you. That’s undeniable. I have been trying to sort out all the things left unsaid and all the thoughts I had.

I’m thinking of the plans we made together, that look like old memories now. Obviously, neither of us know what the future holds, but we can at least write an outline.

When we met, you said you wanted three princesses, and my heart immediately jumped and I responded in a way I had never reacted to that future thought. In the past, (I know dredging it up again) I had always cowered away and scoffed at people’s proposals of children and marriage. I thought it was nasty. But, when you said that you wanted children in the sweetest way I’d ever heard someone talk about children, I had a feeling I was going to enjoy you.

It was the first time I let myself contemplate a future with someone. The first time I let my mind and heart wander over a thought and actually commit to this fluffy cloud idea. I call it a fluffy cloud idea because it is unpredictable and can change fast. I like those kinds of ideas though, as you know.

I know this must suck. I write and write, and write… It’s awful. I hate to do this to you, but I’m trying to find closure. Which probably doesn’t exist. But I’ll keep trying for our sake’s, I don’t want to lose you.

^^gross, “I dont want to lose you” is the nastiest— I take that back, the nastiest phrase I’ve heard is the one you told me while we were in your bed: “I’m not angry, I’m disappointed” HOW COULD YOU? we talked about that god awful phrase and cursed its existence and then you go and use it! In all seriousness.

Don’t you dare tell me that again. Don’t tell me you are disappointed. Find a better word.

Exemplia gratia/για παράδειγμα

  1. Crest fallen
  2. Despondent
  3. Dispirited
  4. Discouraged
  5. Disheartened

You get the idea.

Anyways. I want you to know I don’t hate you and I don’t want to cut you out of my life like I have done to so many soul-sucked person. Being soul-sucked doesn’t suit you, I prefer you being soul-filled.

 

If.


What if we pretended we had never kissed before

and we just stared into each others eyes and then glanced down at each others lips

curious

embarrassed and hidden smiles into the crook of your neck.

My stomach a knot of nervous excitement,

you trembling slightly like you’ve never done this before.

We would intertwine our hands, feeling the valley’s of each others knuckles and wrists.

I wonder what our first kiss would have looked like if it was in day light,

did I make a face at the odd way our mouths were introduced to each other?

Did you smile? I can’t remember. I think we looked away.

I remember how soft your sweater was and how it made it easier to touch you

because it was cold and I had never really been with someone like you,

My Seattle boy, with broad shoulders and bright blue eyes,

With the shaky hands and the reassuring smile,

that I never imagined could end up so frequently crossing my mind,

until I started writing about the corner of Madison and 6th,

In the middle of the city in all its tall, metal, shine.

Until I started to remember our first kiss

and how you still don’t know what I mean when I say  “kiss me.”

Now I know why it’s on my mind all the time,

and my heart drops a little,

but I know that it only falls for you.

Diversity


Although my blog is named Sincere Diversity, I’ve never really written about my thoughts on it.

When I think about diversity, I dont always think about race, ethnicity, gender, religion, sexuality, or blood type…. I think about what makes humans different as people.

Here is a short list that separates me from a lot of other people my age:

  1. When I go to the beach,  I don’t lay in the sun, I lay under my ornate colorful umbrella and wear silly glasses and a rainbow bathing suit.
  2. A flower crown is a necessary accessory for traveling.
  3. I take a blue crayon every where I go. (pronounced cran (rhymes with fan), because I’m weird.)
  4. I don’t like listening to hip hop for a long time, it grates on me.
  5. I collect small pieces of paper and put them together for my memory books. Most of them seem really random.
  6. I don’t believe people can exist happily without creating something that pertains to art.
  7. I love cemeteries and I am very comfortable with death

People who are different in personality, preference, style, and speech are the people that diversify us as humans. These are the things I fall in love with.

  1. The small reactions people make to specific actions
  2. Their way of being sneaky
  3. How ticklish they are
  4. What amuses them
  5. Small things that make them so happy
  6. Pet peeves
  7. How they sleep
  8. What makes them comfortable
  9. What makes them feel sad
  10. What reminds them of bad things
  11. What things they wish to not discuss
  12. What things they could discuss all day
  13. Whether they like being feminine or masculine more often then the other
  14. Who influence(d/es) them
  15. What is their favorite music to rock out too
  16. How often do they shower
  17. What’s in their wallet or purse
  18. What they can’t leave the house/dorm/apartment/basement without
  19. What keeps them up at night.

These are the things I love about people. I fall in love with their perspectives of things and their face. Their souls. Their humor and mannerisms.

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But then, I fall in love with the things I learn to expect from them. The things that make me laugh. The irony of them. The things I know I will always laugh with or smile at.

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Then I come to adore how our quirks rub up on each other. How something I hate doing makes them so happy, because I do it for them, because I love them. Or things I like doing makes them cringe and shy away.

Salem “The Ski Mask Guy”


A song:

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v: It’s a never ending story,

My lipstick tastes like strawberry and your mouth tastes like fireball whiskey,

It seems like this night goes on forever

Even as the memory fades I wish you had never left that place

C: Sleep on the floor, I’ll come curl near the door, open up your window, I’ll crawl through quiet as a rat

Come quiet, don’t let me scream, I’ll just hold on with all my might to the pile of wood in front of me.

v2: It’s a never ending story

and I cant explain why I relate this way, maybe I’m much more than you thought I was

The time lines goes not from start to finish but from start to close,

but the curtains don’t close on a mental show because we just

C: Take off our clothes, I’ll forget what I know: you told me not to do it anymore.

Come quiet, don’t let me scream, I’ll just hold on with all my might to the wreckage of our love’s first flight.
v3: Its never after story, I’ll read Greek to the kids at night while you recite that hip-hop crap you know.

I’ll pull all nighters rarely, and when I do it’ll be late date nights with you

C: Where we take off our clothes, become vulnerable, my masks all strewn about the place,

Keep peace in our hearts and forget when when we had something else on our minds.

Out :

It’s never ending story,

You better accept me for who I am, which is a fucking psycho.

When Our Thoughts And Prayers Are Not Enough: School Shootings In America + How we all Miss the Point


Kovi Biokolo brings a really good question to the front of the new page: “Why do we continue to do violent things when there are so many positive philosophies with in religion, culture, and politics? why do we continue to self destruct? Why do we keep giving sorrow to each other over and over again?”  Its a conundrum people have been trying to answer since the beginning of time.

Culturally, and by human nature, all of us tend to shove thoughts away that are hard to understand to save them for a better time, a more suitable mindset, because its hard to think about difficult things. Our brains and souls are made uncomfortable by big questions such as “who is god?”, “What is love?”, and “Why do bad things happen?”. Some people take the route of letting religion explain everything for them, and by religion I mean interpretations of holy manuscripts in ways that reassure us that we are doing the right thing. Not questioning information helps us feel more comfortable, acceptance is peaceful, settling. Coming face to face with blatant fiery red violence and  a clash of morals and the questions come up again, “Who is god?” “Why do bad things happen?”…. Maybe you think you know.

Mark Manson’s post on school shootings in America was very edifying:

“Then there are those who are simply ignored. Dylan Klebold was suicidally depressed for over two years. He fantasized and wrote about killing himself liberally. Despite getting into trouble with the law, turning in school assignments that glorified murder and suicide and failing most of his classes senior year, his parents and friends claimed that they had no idea something was amiss. George Sodini, a middle-aged Pennsylvania man who shot up an aerobics class full of women, wrote in his journal that since he spent the past 20 years of his life alone and miserable, there was no reason to think that the next 20 wouldn’t be lonely and miserable as well. His mother had been emotionally abusive. His father hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with him in over 30 years. Simply put: he had nothing to live for. So why not take some revenge on your way out?

Gun control gets the headlines. Mental health care gets the headlines. Violence and video games and misogyny and internet forums and atheism — the list is endless at this point.

Here’s what doesn’t get the headlines: Empathy. Listening to those around you. Even if you don’t like them very much. We have come to live in a culture where it’s taboo or unacceptable to simply check in with people emotionally and offer some empathy and understanding. I’m not saying this would magically fix all gun violence. I’m just saying that all of these things — the lack of gun laws, the lack of health care, the inability to have basic conversations with friends and neighbors about what’s going on with them, these are all extensions of a callous and self-absorbed culture that lacks any real empathy.”

(http://markmanson.net/school-shootings and http://markmanson.net/terrorism)

Some food for thought today.

If you are really listening; an ode to silence


The lost art of really listening to people. The secret to it is we communicated with our bodies. Open stances or closed stances, fiddling and looking away, shifting glances, wild gestures or uncomfortable arm crossing. The saying “Actions speak louder than words” is a lot of the time true. That’s why reading body language helps tell us when we are being lied to or how people really feel versus what they are saying. A good listener can see these things. A true listener can start to understand someone better by these things. Seeing how a person responds physically can communicate their insecurities and their confidences, the things they like and dislike, and also whether they are extremely selfish or are relaxed and loving. Someone who really listens can see right through people.

Then sometimes silence (or the lack of action) speaks louder than words. Whether that inaction is someone saying one thing and doing another or being completely passive and not communicating at all.

That’s why I wrote a song called “Silence is death

I wrote this because the lack of communication is a huge scream in itself. Crying silently, suffering in silence, sighing silently. It’s all a way of showing a burden, communicating pain or indifference. Especially indifference. “The silent treatment” is a way to communicate my pain that doesn’t need words to describe it. Everyone knows what it is. Everyone understands why. It’s because sometimes the amount of weight I’m carrying inside me is boiling under my skin and its turning my eyes red and soggy, its breaking me so much I can’t even speak. Sometimes the silence is necessary because I’m screaming so loud on the inside I can’t bear to speak anymore. Or maybe its the opposite, maybe it’s because the world and people around me are so loud I can’t handle the noise anymore so I stopped trying and shut down. Maybe I’m too tired of this sick mess to speak anymore. Words fall short of the things I want to say.

This is why people say things like this:

“If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold evermore wonders.”
Andrew Harvey

Sometimes its really hard to be bursting at the seems like this always. I take a chill pill and reseed into a happy numbness, which sometimes solves the problems and I start to see that I don’t have to hate and hurt from all the noise around me and inside me. I can let it out and in and breathe and be one with it or separate my self from it. Nothing is permanent. But I do wear my anger on my heart and not on my skin. I wear it on the inside where it festers and starts to boil again and I start my silence.

There’s a difference between serenity and being numb.

anonymous

Communicating like this isn’t all there is though.  Sometimes small talk and social interaction in the trivial pursuits can be a fueling ground for socialites or a draining all-consuming pit of terror. Sometimes I love to gossip and joke with my friends, and other times it tears me apart inside to hear idiotic and pointless words. I get so upset I give a silent tantrum and stop speaking to people.

‘Cause I’ve seen more spine on jellyfish
I’ve seen more guts in eleven year old kids

Have another drink and drive yourself home
I hope there’s ice on all the roads
And you can think of me when you forget your seatbelt
And again when your head goes through the windshield

Is that what you call tact?
You’re as subtle as a brick
In the small of my back
So let’s end this call and end this conversation

Read more: Brand New – Seventy Times 7 Lyrics | MetroLyrics

More on Existential Crisis


This subject is like a never ending story for me.

I was listening to this song “Migraine” by Twenty One Pilots and it was like every word they said described my exact feelings.

“I’ve got a migraine and my pain will range from up, down, and sideways,
Thank God it’s Friday ’cause Fridays will always,
Be better than Sundays ’cause Sundays are my suicide days,
I don’t know why they always seem so dismal,
Thunderstorms, clouds, snow, and a slight drizzle,
Whether it’s the weather or the letters by my bed,
Sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head,
Let it be said what the headache represents,
It’s me defending in suspense, it’s me suspended in a defenseless test,
Being tested by a ruthless examinant that’s represented best by my depressing,
Thoughts, I do not have writer’s block, my writer just hates the clock,
It will not let me sleep, I guess I’ll sleep when I’m dead,
And sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head.”

This verse pulls me to this spot where I question everything. I’m questioning why my brain is working like a steam engine at 3 am. I’m yelling at myself for being so dumb, for being ignorant, and for tolerating others ignorance. Then I’m yelling at myself for being so hypocritical but I cant stop it because its so damn frustrating for me. After this back and forth I become self aware and realize I’m turning into Gollum from Lord Of The Rings, talking to myself, driving my self in sane over my indecision. At this point, I feel it would be better to just turn it all off. Just shut down and die rather than deal with myself. Yet again, I argue with myself because its no longer a personal philosophical battle, but it is a moral battle. If ending my life would end my suffering it would start more suffering for my family, friends, and others.

Then I think, I can’t be alone in this. It’s impossible for humans to have unique thoughts, other people have to be feeling this way. Then Tyler Joseph sings:

“Am I the only one I know,
Waging my wars behind my face and above my throat?
Shadows will scream that I’m alone,
But I know we’ve made it this far, kid.”

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After the past few years of so many people in my life commiting suicide I don’t think I could ever do it. Seeing and feeling the pain in the wake of a quiet and unexpected death has effected a lot about me. My art, my goals, my faith, and my ideas about life and what to do with the limited time I have. Three years ago there was a big drop in my families sea and we have been swimming in the wake of that wave; a ripple effect that will probably go on for quite some time.

I know it’s not just me, but I also know I don’t see suicide in the same way a lot of other people do. For me, suicide is worse than a drawn out death. With someone who is dying, and has been dying, they have the time to resolve their estate so people dont fight for years, they are able to say goodbye, and they are able to plan a funeral that is good. When deaths are so sudden, especially suicide, no one has time to breath. Everything is a giant mess, worlds are upturned, law suits start, families are torn, and sometimes it leads to more death.

The lesson I learned was: “I can’t go on, I will go on”. I might feel like there is nothing left in life for sometime, or that things are so unsolvable, so unresolvable, so unanswerable, that it has put my mind in a wheel of everlasting confusion to the point which I am exhausted: I must carry on living. Day by day, sometimes its total hell, sometimes it’s amazing, and sometimes it everything at once. But now “Du kannst denn du sollst” = ” I can because I must”…. so I will.