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aurialis
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Name: Lily
Location: California, United States
Gender: Female
Interests: Art, Photography, Graphic Design, Music, Singing, Politics, Debate, Philosophy, Web Design
Expertise: Web Design, Graphic Design
Occupation: Student
Message: message meEmail: email me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  celesdragon010
Member Since:
1/1/2005
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| Started a new blog. Just wanted a new start I suppose.
http://cassiniflies.wordpress.com/
Weird ramblings. Felt like being confusing.
I'm not happy. Probably depressed. Don't really know why. Relationships are complicated. People are complicated. I don't understand all this stuff. I guess I just don't see the point. I both don't want and do want a relationship I suppose. It seems like such a bother, but its nice to have someone there who wants to be close to you. Its nice. But nothing started now seems like it would last. People get together then they break up. I can see why it happens, but it does bother me to have close mutual friends start dating each other. There's just all sort of weird tensions and open ended questions.
Just stressed with school and extracurrics. And I just feel like all my friends are hooking up and I don't really want to jump into another relationship, but it kind of sucks to be out of the loop. And I do want something. I just want something that is going to last. And then I get sad because I feel like I have really bad luck with relationships and I wonder if I'm just doing something wrong? Or maybe I just can't connect with people? | | |
| I have noticed that my writing often precedes occurrences in my life. As in I might write something, perhaps just a descriptor, a vague sensation or condition that blooms into an inkblot stain upon my life. Perhaps it is that we do receive some sort of precognition, some sort of preemptive awareness, like that of animals who know to hide before a storm or seem to smell danger on the winds (less literally). And bits or tangents slip themselves into the random scramblings of words that pour from my mind through my fingertips as I write and type, type type away.
Or is it that, fate never lived. Never had the golden scissors with which to cut our threads. Never had the power to hold us in our treads or move us as they would. Is it that, all along, we held the power to change the world, to define the paths and waves as we wish, no, as we will. By our awareness and by association, in that for most words are the content with which to express our awareness, the words that we speak and we write also hold the power to direct the world towards its prevailing path. Is it that by writing a depiction of what may (or may never) be, that reality, in the quantum scheme of things, now has a greater probability of being the reality that we will experience. Another way to contextualize this is the idea of "you see what you expect," and perhaps not even what is truly there.
So, if by writing, I determine to a degree what future will unfold. If some of what I write is what becomes real. If I don't write, will bad things stop happening? Because my writing tends to be sad. My lot of poetry usually sad, sarcastic, depressing and/or steeped with wry humor. I write to amuse myself, but the reality I describe is sad. Though I write of it because I feel it to be true, as I write, I always wish that it were not true. That the world is not quite so sad. | | |
| It hurts. More than I will admit. More than I can even say. To where I cannot tell if I feel so much that I am numb or if I am so numb that I feel nothing at all.
It hurts. So that a nudge, a glimpse at the pain, at what I cannot understand, cannot bear to comprehend, tears well and slip down my face. And I cannot stop them. Cannot stop them, stop it from taking control over me. And so I freeze. And I wait. For something to happen, because I cannot move. To move but even an inch is too much for me
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It has been awhile since I have posted anything, really anywhere. I have not really been writing, not really been able to do too much anything. So the general overview of my life.
My best friend from high school became suicidal last semester. My mother and one of my high school teachers, who is now a good friend, were both going through personal crisis for which they wanted me to help/fix. And said teacher was also going through chemotherapy. Another friend was going through financial and familial drama because I inadvertently introduced her to an activity at which she met someone who caused the aforementioned drama. And as I was struggling to not shut down, the guy I was going out with stopped caring. Then said boy made said supposed relationship ambiguous for the summer, during which my grandfather got hospitalized with terminal cancer. Then said relationship ended before the start of current semester, then grandfather passed away four weeks into the semester. Then mother got hospitalized for what should be a minor procedure, but at this point, I don't want anyone I know having to be anywhere near a hospital for any reason other to be declared perfectly healthy. And through all of this I was also going through a career/major/identity crisis of my own. Got a C for the first time in my life, which sunk my GPA and is sinking my grad school plans. My computer died, but was repaired. I dropped a class and I failed my first two midterms. And said boy is one of my roommates for the year. And I probably will always have feelings for him, because I don't stop caring about people. I just pretend that certain emotions don't exist. I have been making sure to go out/be around people throughout the week, but truth be told, I don't really have time for that with the classes that I am taking. I am basically overloading myself with activities and work, to make sure that I don't just drop off the map again like I did for much of last semester and much of this summer. And given what has happened, I have no proof, no faith that there is anyone in my life who is in a stable position themselves and cares enough about me to catch me when I fall. So, I am trying very hard not to fall apart, but really, it seems like its all a joke to me. All just a fanciful game.
My life is in such a state that I don't know whether to laugh or cry. | | |
| Roller Coaster Ride
They say its a roller coaster ride
And after a whirl, past the broken cups
the spinning wheel, the bumper cars
Piloted by adolescents wearing
Cheshire Cat grinning mask faces
The brakes fail and we're soaring
Above it all, unaware that soon
There is falling, down down down
Into shatters like bits and pieces
Reflected in funhouse mirrors, teases
Of imaginary lives and closed spaces
With a loaded rubber tipped arrow
I shoot into the heart of reflections
And though the load is muted
Softened by wavering latent feelings
The purpose is served
At the entrance, a sign denoting
the ride
"out of service".
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I wonder what would happen if I showed him that. Would he laugh, would he cry, would he feel just a little bit sad. In the end, its just like any other story. No pain, no glory. Except there was just the pain. And what remains, I know not, except that I know nothing at all.
It seems stupid, relationships, emotions, love. I cannot see a justification for this anymore, I might have preferred if he had felt strongly, one way or another and made it a clean break. I don't know what I want. I do know what I can't have. I know he wouldn't like it, but I'm telling myself I don't care. There are downsides to being painfully honest and being extremely logical/analytical people. Also, people need to stop comparing me to Vulcans. I like the way they think and I've phrased things in the same manner for years without people drawing that connection until now with the movie out and about.
Life is inconvenient and irrational. That is my current conclusion. That and emotional attachments are more trouble than they are worth. | | |
| Somewhere, sometime, we roam
On beaches, white water foam
Cascading past spirit forms
Of bygones let be bye gone
Disappearing glances, sideswept grazes
Leaving markings in the sand
That remain etched in the mind
Like the taste of salt in the fresh
-water, lingers, never fades
Entirely, something there at
The edges of the everyday
We roam, our thoughts wander, wonder
What it is we do here
Do we, mean what we say, say
What you mean, do you,
Do I know, notice
The words spilling, henceforth
Think before you speak, say
Do you hear the trees?
There is water somewhere
Near to here, nearer
Than I think, perhaps
It always was | | |
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