Nobody knows. It would take attention. Intuition. A moment of not focusing on oneself. There’s beauty in this world, but there’s also an area of darkness that remains inconspicuous to most. No one notices it within others very often. It’s all internal. It’s all in our heads. Well that’s the most dangerous thing for one’s sanity. For their mental health. For their happiness. To continue going on through life, caring about others, wanting to connect to them, needing to connect to them, but not feeling the same care reciprocated. It’s like you’re that cashier that continuously asks distracted customers how they are, and wishing their ungrateful ass a good day when you finish giving them what they bought. You’re left feeling alone, while standing surrounded in a crowded room. You’re never alone in the literal sense, but you’re always alone in reality. Depth doesn’t seem to exist anymore. Intimacy is a rarity. No one knows how to connect anymore… Actually, that’s not true. No one cares. There is a lack of interest. “Focus on someone but myself? Make someone feel valued? Have genuine interest in someone? Pshh that’s too much work, I’ll just let people treat me like some amazing discovery while I remain indifferent towards them.”
The other day, I looked in my mirror, and in the reflection, I saw a stranger. She looked at me with wide eyes, begging to be noticed, but I avoided eye contact. She made weird faces, bugging out her eyes, sticking out her tongue, forcing a smile, finally shedding tears in defeat. None of it worked. I looked at her, but not directly at her. I was scared, and she was sad. I had forgotten her in the mirror. Every time I step in front of that mirror, I look right past her. I don’t look, because I don’t recognize her anymore. I’m afraid that if I look too long, it will all become to real. I’ll finally take notice that I’ve heartlessly abandoned her for all these days. The fear that I’ll remember her. Who she was, her vibrancy, her enthusiasm for life, how I felt whole when I saw her in the mirror and could tell you her name. Every second she’s trapped in that mirror, I hear her cry. It’s quiet in efforts to not disturb anyone, yet I hear it all the time and it keeps me awake at night. She knows I hear her. I feel her presence beside me wherever I go. She and I used to be one, but now we’re two entirely different entities. She’s drowning in her tears, and I’m numb. She screams at me, in order to bring me back to reality. She makes a mess in every area of my life in order for me to see the destruction to bring me back, to make me aware. Yet I’ve lost all touch with reality. She knows that. That’s why she continues this seemingly pointless effort.
She’s the only one who knows, and she’s the only one who can bring me back.
Lately you may have noticed, that even though I’m posting more frequently than I have in the past, the posts aren’t long, and the content is very vague and random. Truly, there is an underlying theme, and if you deciphered hard enough, I’m sure you’d find it, but for the time being, I have to remain vague. Lately I’ve been keeping to myself about a lot of things. So by nature, I feel compelled to write it out since otherwise I would feel like a shaken up soda can ready to burst. You see, in a way, those of you who read my blog are given more insights into what’s going on in my life, and you don’t even know the half of it. Imagine those that I don’t even show a single sentence of these posts to. They are informed of even less. Originally I planned to keep this blog completely anonymous, but as of now, I have about 5 people I know in person who have access to my posts. At first I was glad to finally be able to just mutter “read my blog” to save myself the effort of reiterating a thought or idea. Though now, it’s not as nice. The moment you’re going through an unpleasant moment in your life is when anonymity appears the most appealing it ever has. I wish I could write as freely as I once did, but given the fact that it’s no longer anonymous, I can’t do that. So I will continue admitting every unfiltered detail of my thoughts and feelings, but for now, they’ll be expressed through metaphors, or vaguely described from a detached observer (referring to my post written in second person, titled: “Why They Leave”).
A while ago it was brought to my attention that we all are partially lacking in our skills of noticing the tiny details of other people. We focus so much on ourselves, and think about how we are coming across to the world, that we forget the best thing about life. We are on this planet, surrounded by vastly different people in every way. Every single person is an individual puzzle that is impossible to solve, yet that’s the beauty in it all. Sometimes we get lucky, and we find a puzzle we’re enamored with, and addicted to solving. Through this, we end up discovering an amazing attribute we may have never known existed, that lies within in us: selflessness. One thing that bothers me to no end is when we allow ourselves to get so caught up in our own world, that we fail to see the beauty in others. It is possibly one of the most disgusting attributes about humans— our tendency to always focus on ourselves. I just realized as I’m writing this, that that is probably why I dislike writing directly about my everyday life, highlighting every moment that revolves around me. Instead, I just wish to share my thoughts—not to hear myself talk, but in order to put these thoughts on a page so that someone can comment what they think about it.
Back to my point though. What is noticing necessarily? Like if we were to tell someone “I’ve noticed things about you,” what kind of examples would come to mind? Personally, I can only picture someone mentioning tiny quirks in someone’s appearance, or actions, not their mind. Though noticing those physical things is still quite flattering to the person being observed, more mind/ personality centered things would be refreshing. It would urge the subject to question how it is that this person picked up on that— especially when they may not have been aware of it before it was mentioned.
The issue with it all though, is that everyone wants to be the subject of admiration, not the admirer. It takes too much work being the admirer, so why not let the compliments and observations revolve around you. The thing is that if this is your mentality, you most likely don’t have much about you to be discovered. I’ve found that the most fascinating and interesting people are the ones in tune with others, and focus on things outside of themselves. It appears that the more you focus on everyone but yourself, the greater you become as a result. Not necessarily doing things for others, but just taking the time to get to know them, to observe them, to notice them.
Sitting, surrounded by people, and none know a single thing that’s going on. The opposite sex accidentally reveals their struggle blatantly, but yours remains hidden. It’s random, unexpected, but also pleasant. You’re not supposed to feel these sensations while in public. It’s a private matter. You tell yourself to stop. To think about neutral topics. Despite it all, your body rages on. Coerced by nothing, stimulated by the unexpected. It’s just happening. As hard as you try to stop it, to repress it, it continues on.
The second you can, you run to a private space. You question why you’d allow yourself to feel such innapropriate sensations in public. ‘It didn’t harm anyone.’ ‘Yeah, but it’s also deviant behavior.’
There’s a knock at the door. You answer, and in he walks. That innocent little striped dress is now slipped off of your body by his big hands, with your assistance. Next thing you know, there you lay, directly undrrneath him, both of you with minimal fabric to cover your bodies and shield your eyes from lustful glances. His gaze is begging to look at your body in its one true state. Unclothed, unaltered, the imperfections revealed. You look into his eyes and desire the same of him. To have him reveal his body, for you to watch as he unveils what your body is begging to see. Both of you take turns indulging in how every part of one another’s bodies feel under the touch of your hands, how wonderful it is to run your mouth along the most delicate, sensitive areas, and place a kiss, or deliver a tantalizingly gentle bite. Your lips meet, and your tongues begin to explore and intermingle, like two long lost lovers discovering one another once again. He flips you two over, and now you’re on top. You’re nearly naked form on display. The first article of clothing… Then the next… Suddenly you’ve found yourself completely stripped of everything. His eyes take in every inch of your body, arousing all of his senses. It’s his turn next, and he happily obliges. Soon, the two of you have now found yourselves ultimately revealed. There’s nothing left to cover, everything’s exposed. You indulge in your desires. Your bodies mold as one, as he moves in you. You engage in the most sensual, lustful, forbidden, sinful, dirty act known to man, and you love every second of it.
Recently I’ve been thinking about the differences in the music we all listen to. For some, folk music is their preference. For others, heavy metal. Some like a mixture of things, but generally there is a primary fixation on one genre. Maybe the fixation waivers and switches to an entirely new genre all together, but for the time being, they are enamored with the genre, or particular artist. I think the common theme is that no matter who you are out of these people, or what music appeals to you, we all have one common motivation that draws us to our preferred genre. We listen to and seek the things that we identify with, but also the things that make us feel empowered. Now for those of you glancing at the screen with skepticism, I’ll explain what I mean by empowered exactly. You may think that it is surely not possible that everyone’s choice of genre could truly provide empowerment. Such as for the women who listen to sexually degrading rap and enjoy dancing/ singing along to it. Even if there seems to be an underlying conflict between the content and the audience, I still believe it can provide the empowerment that I am referring to. It isn’t the topic of the songs that is important in this instance. It is the melody, the beat, the way the voice in the song sounds, the emotions it evokes from the listener. Though, it may also relate to the topic in particular instances. Such as when that sexually degrading music is being produced by someone who has their own set of difficulties. No, I’m not saying that any misogynist should be let off the hook if they are going through a small difficultly. I’m talking about an underlying emotional turmoil of the artist. Say for instance that artist fell in love. They fell in love so deeply, and found someone that makes their life complete, there is no one else out there more perfect for them than that person. Then the artist makes a choice, or perhaps a mistake, and they are torn away from their love. Either way, or whether or not that was what led them to where they are now, they find themselves so famous, that they don’t know who talks to them for them or for their fame. There is also that factor that they’re constantly put on this pedestal by all of these people they meet. Given these circumstances, they can’t connect with anyone. No one cares to know the true them. All these people assume they already know everything they need to know about the artist as a person. They’ve listened to every word they’ve ever sung, read up on their wiki page, and saw a few interviews online, so they’re an expert on them, they know everything there is to this person. So when they meet them, there is only this bland, mundane, obsessive admiration. All of this is thrown at a person who has no clue as to a single detail of the admirer’s life. The artist may appreciate their fans very much, but I highly doubt they’d ever say they enjoy the one-sidedness of it all. Considering all that must be going through their head, mixed with regular sexual urges, you may come to the conclusion that there is a bit of disconnect. It’s no longer the sex that everyone has come to know as the norm in music— It’s not making love, It’s purely physical for this person. Mostly because those surrounding them regard them in the same light. Neither seeks to discover more about the other. So the lyrics come about from these encounters. The things they sing sound detached, because they are. They are no longer regarded as simply another soul. They live in a bubble of solitude, away from everyone else. It’s not because they started out with this detached view towards women initially, it is because they are describing all it is to them anymore. It is only the acts, only the body parts involved, only the pleasure, that they can see. My point is that even underlying lyrics that come across crude or disrespectful, there lies a back story that with the comprehension of, one could come to find themselves enjoying the music of this person. Such could also be said for music containing just about anything initially offensive. So, with all of these things, no matter what genre it is, it could happen to be the genre that leaves you feeling your most empowered.
Music can also provide catharsis that leaves us with the impression of empowerment. If you haven’t experienced or felt a sense of catharsis by listening to music, then I suggest you go searching for the music that will enable you to feel it, because it is invigorating. You feel and sense every detail of the song, every nuances with your entire body. You feel as though happiness and bliss is flooding through you. You are entranced by it, and find yourself becoming at peace. After the release, your mind is at rest, and the things that generally weigh on your mind have been lifted for the meantime.
The point of all of this random babbling is that I have come to acknowledge that the music that provides me with this feeling isn’t always everyone else’s cup of tea. Some think it is sad, overly sexual, and depressing. Well they are correct, it is all of those things and more, and I love it for each one of its components. For some reason, the music that brings me the amazing feelings I just described is the kind that possesses a sullen, dark, and sexual tone. The songs I like seem to resonate within me because they are a reflection of my energy. The more I listen to it, the more energized I begin to feel, and it feels as though I’m replenishing the energy that courses throughout my body. For me, the sadness doesn’t bring me down, it makes me feel alive. I like to hear theses kinds of songs, because you can feel the emotion. It reminds me of what it’s like to be human, where sadness is a reality. Sure, happiness is as well, but that can be faked easily. No one enjoys feigning sadness in the same manner, and even if they do fake it, there still lies a genuine ounce of hurt in their voice. I guess what it is that I love about sad songs is the potency of them.
Happy as ever, a picture perfect couple on paper. Around everyone else you two appear to be happier than ever. Deep inside you both are breaking. You want to make this work, but is it simply becoming a test to see how long you can maintain it? Sure you two care for one another, but where is the passion, the lust, the total understanding. No not the best friend kind of understanding. The kind that when you look into that person’s eyes, you know you’ve finally found that feeling, that connection that you’ve been looking for. It’s not just a lustful gaze, comfortable gaze, or a passionate gaze, it’s all of those and more combined into one look. You two are the only ones in the room in that moment, and everything fades away. The objects in the room are just a blur to you. All you see are those beautiful eyes staring back at you. That’s surely not what this is though… Yes there’s history, and yes they’ve got your back, but is them being them simply enough for you? If years down the road you were to meet again, with faded memories, and see them pounds heavier, would that feeling they give you still remain the same? If they were to do something that frustrated you to no end, would your reasoning be to get mad now, but not give up on them because the feeling of being apart would tear you apart to no end? Is your love for them unconditional? Not simply meaning you’d go out on a limb for them. That’s caring for someone–It’s quite common. The kind of unconditional that draws you to them when they’re away. They remain in your thoughts even when out of sight. The kind of connection that no matter what they do, no matter what’s going on, no matter how they look, just being them is enough. That’s all that matters. You wouldn’t have it any other way. You don’t want someone fitter, more intelligent, more accomplished, you want them. Only them. They’re perfection. Not external perfection, but rather internal. Every part of their soul resonates with yours and brings you peace, happiness, and fulfillment. If something exists between you two that we all can’t see, then by all means, continue on, keep the details of your relationship a secret to others. Allow others to see only a mirage of the two of you. Pretend to be the cookie cutter perfect couple. When you two appear to fumble and sink into a boring depressive state in public, don’t feel the need to defend your relationship if there’s more to it all that no one else is able to see but you two. If being apart is harder than being with them, then by all means, stay and savor every moment you’ve got. They’re your definition of perfect, not anyone else’s. Don’t feel the need to defend a connection you know is strong. Though if what they all say is true, if they’re simply not the one for you, listen to them, listen to those doubts you’re having. Perhaps you care for them, but spending your time with someone who doesn’t truly love you unconditionally, who you don’t truly love unconditionally, is surely a waste.
To those of you who read this thinking it was about you, just know that this isn’t just one person or couple I’m talking about. This is based on a mixture of all the relationships I’ve seen around me. But if at any point this made you think of someone, or a relationship, don’t ignore that. Just look at this like one of those cheesy reposts on Instagram with the caption “I never mentioned a name, but someone popped into your head while reading this.”