Words In Boxes

My room is a disaster at the moment. I was going to clean it Monday, and now it's somehow Friday night. I swore to myself today I will freaking clean my room, and I did. Almost. I started to, anyway, until I found a box on my shelf. Well, I mean, I knew it was there, so I didn't find it per say; but that's not the point. In this box was another box, one that I forgot about. That was the real find. 

You see, this box holds memories. Thoughts. Feelings. Words. Approximately an entire year's worth of them; 12 little index cards, one for each month, for an entire year. It sounds stupid, I know. But I think this was the best idea I've ever had- I don't know if I'll go through with it, but either way, it was a good idea. 

You know all of those thoughts you have that you constantly wish you could share with people and say what you mean instead of just sitting there and thinking about what you'd like to say in that moment, or even what you've always wanted to say to a specific person, but then just letting that moment slip away without saying anything and you're left just thinking about what could have happened if you simply just said what was on your mind? This is that, written down on a singular tiny index card for each month of one whole year. How I felt and wanted to say for that specific month, but didn't. No dates, no order, just thoughts, feelings- words. 

These are the things I will never say, but wanted to. 

The purpose of this project was to write down the general things from each month of one year that I was feeling at that time, specifically to one person in particular. Then, at the beginning of the next year, I would give all the cards to this person. 

Why? Because life's too short to have meaningful things go untold. I don't want to start to drift away from people that actually mean something to me and have possibly thousands of things I wish I could have said to them just sitting in the back of my head. Those thoughts of untold feelings and unsaid truths would haunt me. I had almost forgotten about the cards, honestly, as I started them at a specific point in the year and one year had already went by now; it was nice re-reading them, however, and I found for the most part I still feel the same way as I did when I wrote each card. Although I was too scared to give away these cards at the true one year mark, now it's getting close to another new year- 2014. Maybe I'll decide to kick off the new year by sucking it up and actually say what I really mean to, with purpose, to those that I want need to. They may already know these things, I don't know. I can't assume that, because as far as I know they have no way of knowing any of the things I have wanted to say to them. 

My main point is: Life is too short to keep your words in boxes instead of using them as they were intended. Don't wait for someone to walk in or out of your life to tell them what you want to, what you need to. Hell, what they need to, even. Even if they've heard it a thousand times over. Don't ever let friendship, happiness, and love go unacknowledged or unspoken.  

The Path To Happiness

For the people who want out, but don't have a light; who don't know they're surrounded by love; who bring themselves pain because they can't feel anything else; for those who have nothing left to feel; who are anxious and frightened but won't accept someone else's helping hand; those I can't do anything for because they think I can't-because I don't understand.

For those who need help, but won't accept it. 

Sadness is all around me. Especially lately; or maybe I've only noticed how bad it's gotten lately, even though it could have been there much, much longer. I am not allowed to say or do anything because I seem happy, because there isn't anything wrong with me, so therefore I don't understand and I can't give them what they need because I haven't been there. Countless times I've heard, "You can't help me," "I don't need help," "How can you be so optimistic?" "Why are you even trying?" Or the saddest yet: "I wish I was happy. Like you. I really do." 

I feel lost in a rabbit hole, trying to help those around me that plainly need it, but am told I can't do anything. To them, if I'm not in the same place, the same position, as they are-or if I haven't been- then nothing I do or say will have any effect on them because I don't know. I don't understand, I can't- I haven't been there. I'm happy- therefore I should let them be miserable, nothing more than just a person with kind words and a shoulder to cry on. That breaks my heart. 

You know what I realized? Their misery is making me feel worse- like I am responsible for making them better, because I'm close to them, but at the same time I'm told that there's nothing I can do. Nothing but listen and sit back while some of those closest to me break. "You are happy- you are so optimistic- but you can't make me the same way."

That has some truth to it; I can't make anyone be anything they aren't. But being happy is something that is within everyone- you have a right to be happy. It's not a quality like being able to sing or being a good basketball player- you can't say that you can never be happy the same way you say you can never be tall; everyone, no matter what, can be happy. 

I don't want to be told that I am not able to help someone in any way, shape, or form simply because I am at a point where they would like to be. Just because I am happy doesn't mean I don't feel pain. It doesn't mean I don't get sad, or that I don't have bad days too. Just because everyday isn't a bad day doesn't mean I don't know, to at least a small degree, what that's like. 

And I know I can't just expect people to think about this all in the same way- I can't expect for people to be optimistic when I am, or when they should. But I can expect, however, that they take me seriously when I offer a helping hand, or at least that I can try to actually help them- not just give them meaningless words of kindness in exchange for the words of hate that they will forget before I'm even done talking. That's crushing-especially now that I see how often this occurs in people.  

You know what the saddest part is? Those who need the most, get the least, take the least- and won't accept (and possibly don't recognize) when there is help around them. When there is love around them. They are so bad off that they don't seem to know anything else but that- and don't accept it when you try to show them the way out- when you want to be that light, but they are blind.  

"At the end of the day, all that matters is if you are happy. If you are happy, then it was a good day." 

I've been hearing versions of this recently, said by someone very dear to me, now more often than before. It may be the most truthful thing I have ever heard- and it doesn't get tiring hearing it in multiple ways every now and again. These words get me through the toughest of days; every night I ask myself, "After today, are you still happy?"  And I always answer,
                                        "Yes- it's all that matters."

I would like to think that if everyone accepted the help that they need at any point in their life, then we should have the opportunity to be happy. This is true; but only if there is a helping hand that these people that need it can grab- and I know, not everyone is as helpful to others when they need it so long as they themselves are happy. I realize for some, helping others doesn't make them happy. But they need it. Someone, somewhere, will need you- weather they reach out or not, weather you want to or not. If you are happy, let others get that boost they may need to be so as well- and if you need that boost, take one when offered. Accept love that is around you; look for happiness, don't wait to drown in sorrow.

Ends of Beginnings; Beginning of Ends

         There was some poem or article or something that I was reading the other day-for the life of me I can't remember what it was or anything about it besides one line that caught my attention: "I am happy because of what's happening right now, but I am also sad because I know time will take you away from me eventually; and with that, surely you will take my happiness with you- it is inevitable."

It seems that whenever I think about anything even somewhat important, I tend to always come back to the subject of time. Is that strange? I'd like to think that I'm just more aware of time in general than most people, but maybe I just bring up the subject more than most people would. I don't know; I'm not most people.
I constantly find myself wanting to be able to control time, just like probably most would, wanting to stop at good times and fast forward bad ones. Alas, then I would never grow as a person and although I would be perfectly content, I would also never truly be living.
        This brings us to categorize life events into good and bad; general rule of most memories: Good- keep. Bad- burn pile.[I'd like to think this is what makes me optimistic]  Note: some 'bad' memories are sneakily put into the "keep" pile as well- for necessary reference so I don't repeat them over again, most likely because I was stupid and messed something up. Much like how we avoid repeating history- and inevitably fail. This may or may not be the best way of preventing stupid things to reoccur; it may just be a sad reminder of when or if they do reoccur, at least you have that memory of last time you screwed up like that to make you feel better [sarcasm; also really not fun, but you know, life].

There is a good side to this, however. Back to the good portion of the keep pile- the past events you actually want to remember, and in actuality play over and over again in your head until you find yourself laying in bed for at least 12 hours straight, not really sleeping but not really awake, just replaying either a memory that was so fantastic that you could live in it forever or many memories that have gone fuzzy from trying to remember them so often from so long ago- and then realizing that it is now almost noon and you haven't gotten up yet or done anything [and would rather not anyway]. Hypothetically, of course.
       From these memories, you can break them down into two parts: Beginnings and Ends. Yes, you can make the assumption that all memories have a beginning and end; that is true, but not what I mean. There are good memories that begin something new, start something fresh, hopefully to be repeated. There is also the counter to that- good memories that end something to allow you to begin something else. Although "ends" are typically referenced to as bad, I like to think that some good things have to end in order for those same good things to continue on in a different light or for an entirely different, better new thing to come along.

That doesn't mean ends still aren't sad. That also doesn't mean beginnings have to be happy either; both can go either way. That thought brings us back to the start: "I am happy because of what's happening right now, but I am also sad because I know time will take you away from me eventually; and with that, surely you will take my happiness with you- it is inevitable."

This quote, from whatever by whomever, made me think. Those thoughts came crashing onto me, like a sort of wake-up call. As much alone time I like to get, as far away from people as I like to be, there are a few people that I think I truly couldn't imagine living without. These are the people that make me happy; but these people can and inevitably will be taken away from  me by time. I don't want to think that this future happening will rid me of the happiness I gained from them, however.
I want those few people to be beginnings, not ends. So when the ends of those beginnings happen, they will continue in a different way, and I can still be happy, because that's all that matters.

Conclusion: No matter how much I say the words I miss you, I need you, I love you- and no matter how much I mean them, or how sad that makes me- I have to know that time will bring us forward. Some things have to happen, and will. My fingers are crossed that those things will become beginnings, not ends.

Going to Go Nowhere

Every morning after the regular first hour of the day [I have band class that hour], I simply drive home and get on with my online classes until the next hour I have an elective [which would be 6th hour, choir- if you were wondering]. But today, as my road was nearing, I just didn't turn. I kept going, for no reason, and I didn't even know where this road would go to or end at or even if it would end at all. The point is that I just had the urge to go, and not stop until the desire to go was gone. 

This isn't the first time I've done this; I just sometimes get the urge and then go- no matter what I have to do or what time it may be, I just go. I have no idea why or what possesses me to actually go through with it- I just get a little thought like, "Hey, you know you could just keep going, even though this is your stop coming up," and I think- "Why the hell not?" and boom, I have no clue where I'm going or how I'm going to get back to where I originally had to be and I just go. Is that strange? I've almost convinced myself that it's a sure sign that I'm going completely mad.  I probably have, if I have to convince myself of it. 

The part that gets me is that I don't get the urge that I want to leave leave, as in out of the town or even the state itself. I have absolutely no desire to be anywhere but where I am now- so why do I just go to go nowhere? Maybe I just get this way on fidgety days, or when all I want to do is to not have to do anything- because I do have the power, at times, to go wherever I want to, and I like that feeling, so I take the opportunity when it shows up. That's not uncommon, I wouldn't think; it's just that I'm actually delusional enough to go through with it when I can. It's a little thing, and it doesn't mean much, of course, but it's just that I've been doing this type of thing a lot lately and it just struck me as a bit strange when I came to that realization this morning. 

Maybe it's because all the people I know have their lives planned out and are all heading off sooner or later to do bigger and better things, whilst I have no idea about anyone or anything and I'm just trying to get from point A to point B and I'm not even looking at point C like everyone else is. Maybe it's because some of the people I want to be around are too far away, so if I drive through their town or by coffee shops where we hung out once it'll make me feel better about it. Maybe there isn't even a meaning to my madness anyway, and just the pattern of myself steadily going completely bonkers is getting to me and I need a way to break the pattern. I don't know. I don't even understand myself anymore, and here I am again over thinking a little thing like driving or an extra half hour before I head home for the morning. At least it's something interesting to think about, or even for someone else to ponder as well. 

In any sense, it's still Monday and I've yet to get anything worthwhile done. 

Do I Know the You That You Know

Is there a difference? I wouldn't know. Since I know my you, but do I know the you that you know, and is my you and your you the same you?

My answer: I hope so. I don't want to think that you have to change who you are when you're around me, because that means you're shutting a part of you away from me. I will never know those parts of you that are hidden from me- which means I can never know you; not all of you, that is. Is that asking too much? I don't know. I never can tell if I ask too much, or bug you when I message you because I miss you, or even what you're thinking when you look at me. Then the you I think I know starts to slip away and I constantly wonder what is going through your mind on a daily basis, and if I would be able to guess if I tried. Do I know you enough to even guess what you could possibly be thinking? I want to say yes; I feel as though half the time I would be wrong, because part of me thinks that I truly don't know most of you- I just know my you.
And that fact makes me feel so incredibly alone, simply because the person that I'm closest to I'm not even sure if I know them at all. If I don't even truly know the one that's closest to me, then who do I even have? Is there anyone at all? I may only know a version of you, because that's the you that you want me to see, even though I want to know just you- flaws and all. Even if it means you're no longer quite the same person that I thought I knew, it would be well worth it.

If I had the privilege of knowing only the you that you yourself knows, that would be the most beautiful thing I could ask for. Or possibly the most selfish. My thought is if there is more to you than what I know, then there is so much more of you that intrigues me and so much more for me to love, since I could never hate you, even if I don't know some of you as well as others or even at all.

While most people wish for things like someone to love them, or someone they can fully trust- I wish that I could be so close to someone that the mere thought of them gets me going for hours just because I know every inch of them, mind and heart. That I don't have to see them because I can remember them so vividly that they seem like they're here when they're not. So that I don't have to say that I miss them, or that I just want to be held, or count the days that I haven't seen their face.

Most of all, I want someone to want to know all of me as well, just so I know there's someone out there who thinks the same way of me.

To Be Perfect

Thought of the Day

Everyone has differences that make themselves slightly unlike everyone else. These differences ultimately make everyone the same in that everyone is different; so similarities show and people can be placed into groups of people that all have similar differences. I can bet that each and every one of us have thought of themselves as 'the one that stands out', like an unlikely hero of any movie with an underdog ever. 

Sadly, this is nine times out of ten untrue. Not that everyone doesn't have their own stories to tell, but your story is ultimately somewhat similar (yet different, of course) from another's. 

People in general are also constantly looking for patterns in everything; even when there isn't one and there never will be one. So, for example, when people are looking for patterns in other people (resulting in the groups of people with similar differences I mentioned before) they tend to find breaks in these 'people patterns'. This break in the pattern would be a single person that stands out, or doesn't really seem to be categorized into any one group of people. 

These people are the ones that we portray as desirable, or "perfect". The people we want to be, but can never really quite fill the same shoes, because we are all ultimately differently similar. These people are ever so delicate, quiet, good at everything they seek and are every sense of the term "perfect"- or to any number of other individuals, they are, anyway. 

        I tend to always be drawn to those types of people, but not in the "I'm going to say hi and be your friend" kind of way; more like the "I'm just going to sit here and people-stalk you because you're absolutely freaking wonderful in every way thus I can't talk to you because I'm me" kind of way. I also can't help but think that each of these "perfect" beings must think this same way about others the way people think of them too. Does the thought of themselves always come with a "I could do this better, like __ does" or "I wish I could look like__"--the very same thoughts that are always answered by people like me with their name, never thinking of themselves as special or even remotely perfect in any way? Or are they aware of this fact, destined to live a perfect life? 

Of course not. To each and every one of us, there is a "perfect" being that we all strive to be like. But of course, we all do not strive for the same "perfect" being- we all have different people that we praise as being "perfect", because everyone is different. 

Which means, in the end, eventually every single person of all time is considered "perfect" to someone. 

It could be anyone. It could be you, or me, or that girl sitting ever so delicately reserved while waiting for class to end, unknowing that someone else is wondering why they can't be just like her. 

Everyone is different, yet similar. Everyone thinks of another as perfect, yet they never realize that someone else is also thinking of them the exact same way they are of another being- perfect- and also wishing they could be just like them. 

In the end, you are perfect to someone. So why stop being you when someone else is just as desperate to be like you as you are of someone else? 

Monday Procrastination

Most of the time, I am pretty good at staying on task. At least...I'd like to think so, anyway. But I think the one day that just gets to me every single week is Monday; it's like the destined procrastination day. Like today, I felt very non-prone to procrastination when I got through three lessons of Spanish, including tests, and then somehow ended up here. 

And...now I have a blog. 

This can only deepen the fact that most of my life is very uneventful, because surely people who have blogs have something to write about and to have things to write about that are worth telling the world about you must have something worthwhile and interesting going on in your life, right? 

Eh, I guess so. 

So maybe I have to try to actually do things. Dang. That means I really shouldn't be procrastinating. 

But if I'm using this blog thing as a means of procrastination, and if I really shouldn't be procrastinating, then I shouldn't even have this blog, but if I no longer have the blog then I will feel no point in doing things to be more exciting because the whole point in doing things was so I could write about them in my blog. 

So then we'd be back to square one, and I'd find other means of procrastination. 

Which then would go back to: I really shouldn't be procrastinating. But I am. 

So what if we thought about it this way: Procrastination is the means for creativity.  What? 

Yes. You see, I am not doing the work I really should be doing, but instead I created a blog. Which is doing something, but just not the something I should be doing. So when I actually do this work I should be doing, I am thinking about other means of procrastination that actually turn out to be worthwhile. 

So is procrastination really a bad thing? Maybe, if we're all destined to be lawyers or accountants or the like. 

.......All this went through my head at 7 this morning, as I was drinking my morning coffee....

                                                    God,I am a strange being.