I’m sacred that I’ll convince myself once more that I am wholeheartedly over you. I’m afraid I’ll fall into that abyss of denial and will never find my way back to you. I’m quick to guard my heart, which means if you tell me I’m single, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll share the most meaningless exchanges and inject as much meaning as I can for the other person. I’ll gain their affections, hoping their piqued interest will someway invigorate my attraction to them. Currently I’m playing this little game, I already have my first play in motion, and I’m afraid it is working all too easily. You see I’ve never really had trouble in this game, I just chose to never play it, cause it didn’t suit my style. Instead I played the waiting game. I’d observe the players that walked by, and if any looked particularly unique, then I’d prepare to play. They’d take note, and the games would begin. The only reason I ever participated is because when I waited, I had the opportunity to play an entirely different game altogether. I found that when you play with the best, you always have the most fun. I miss playing with the professionals, the rookies aren’t just cutting it. They don’t know how to make my heart skip a beat, or give me those nervous butterflies. Though maybe it is due to the fact that my heart’s just not in the game anymore. My body is, but even it wants to retract and discontinue what I’ve started. I have many options, but you’re the only one I love.
Today has been an interesting day for me. There haven’t been many ground breaking interactions or events, it is just that a lot has raced through my mind today. Today I feel antsy and energized, one may even call it restless. It isn’t a different feeling for me necessarily, but it is heightened because I made the poor choice of drinking half of an energy drink this evening. One could say I am quite hyped…. I am actually kind of sad too. I am in an odd reflective, energetic mood, so a lot of random thoughts will be voiced throughout this post.
The first thing I would like to start off with is that today I was thinking about my funeral. No, I am not dead yet, nor am I planning it in anticipation, nor am I writing this from the dead. A vision popped into my mind though about how I would like my funeral to be. I want my favorite musician’s (The Weeknd) music to be played throughout the funeral. EVERY SONG HE HAS EVER SUNG. So however long that takes, would be the duration of my funeral. It is not because I want to torment my family and friends with music that I already play constantly, it is simply based on the fact that there is something about his music that feeds my soul. My body reacts to it in such a different way than it does towards other music. It isn’t necessarily the lyrics, but sometimes it is. However, the song I would have played at the end of my funeral would be about just that: the lyrics. It is titled “Angel,” and is by far one of his saddest songs (in my opinion). In this song, he sings the verse “I hope you find somebody to love” many times, and every other utterance eats away at my heart. It is because he doesn’t say that to mean exactly that, he sings it in a mournful way towards what he and the girl he is singing about once shared. This song would be played at the end with the sole purpose of speaking to the guy I love one last time. I want the overall event to be joyous and cathartic, but I definitely feel that every funeral has a sad note to it, and depressingly enough, I would like for mine to end on a sad, reflective note.
Throughout my funeral, while the songs play, I want people to dance, talk, and interact without a care in the world, not worrying about how others are perceiving them for their poor dancing skills. I want my guests to be weird, eccentric, and most importantly, fully immersed in all senses. If someone cries, I want them to not feel any need to hold it in, or be quiet, I don’t want them or anyone else to feel awkward about it. I want it to be a mess of emotions, a fully raw experience, whether they be sad about my death or not. I want it to be an opportunity for them to look at life differently. It wouldn’t necessarily matter that I’m gone, I don’t even care if they shed one tear for me, but I do have one condition. I want people to begin living life differently. No, not change themselves. Live and love like you’re taking your last breath. Dance like everybody is watching and don’t give a rip. Lastly, stop feeling self conscious with new people or any people for that matter. We all are human, we get quiet, stumble on our words, and make fools out of ourselves. So stop letting silly things like self-consciousness get in the way of you living your life. One more thing, stop thinking so hard about being “normal.” Be you and do you, that’s all I ask.
To end this, I would like to bring up one last thing. I am frustrated at the world around me, which is partly why I wrote this post. Right now I feel the urge to contact each and every person I feel like contacting and say exactly what is on my mind (not necessarily the same thing to every person, cause I have different topics flowing through my mind currently) without having to think about what was last said and feel as though I need to “stay on topic” whatever that means… (it means humans are notoriously boring in conversation due to this obsession). I want to know that other people share the sentiment that life is precious and we should start living like every moment is our last. Everything around me is so stagnant, and people are so hesitant, all in efforts to not step on anyone’s toes. Yet there comes a time when you just need to LIVE YOUR FREAKING LIFE. That is all. Goodnight.
You stare contemptuously, letting the hate eat away at what remains of your character. All that lies before you is filthy, ridiculous, and unloveable. Unfortunately, that is an incorrect conclusion. What lies before you is the perfect example of care, humanity, and kindness. All that has been exemplified by that form in front of you is nothing but pure humanity, and you view it with the utmost disgust.
That’s where we falter. We see all the flaws immediately, sometimes never acknowledging those qualities that embody true perfection, true admirability. It perpetuates a vicious cycle of hate and creates an absence of appreciation. It is one thing to let these negative thoughts and comments silently ruminate in one’s mind, it’s another to continuously voice them aloud to taint the current rapport.
The most unexpected things occur when one spreads love rather than hate. One receives love back, the world becomes a better place to live in. It’s miraculous to see the results and watch happiness and love spark from every action, setting the world ablaze to create a bonfire of positivity. Soon all the flaws are unique features we’ve never seen. Those actions of ridiculousness, imperfection, lack of attention that causes us to stumble, are the pieces of humanity that spill out of us to signify to others that no one is perfect. While simultaneously discovering that it is this same quality of imperfection that leads one to claim that the one they love is perfect.
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.
Warning: this post may come off as insensitive. It is merely meant to air frustrations. I am open to hearing your opinions on every part of my position if you are offended”
It has recently come to my attention that as a result of the controversy of pronouns, my professor* always refers to each individual as “they.” Now it is all fine and logical to me to refer to a group as they, but eh hem, it is damn obvious that that girl over there is a she, and that guy in the back.. yeah.. umm I’m pretty sure he is a he. I get it, we have people who don’t identify as a he or a she. Though, I believe if one prefers to be referred to as a he, a she, a star, an other, a they, they’ll let you know if you are addressing them in an offensive manner in relation to their preferences.
Let me give you an example of how my professor* uses the word they though… My professor* will ask a question to the class, get a response that may be too quiet for the class to hear, and as the professor* looks at this girl with make up on and long hair, the professor* says “if you didn’t all hear, they said ‘blah blah blah'” In a way, it removes the credit given to the person who has commented. It also distances this professor from us as a class, but also as individuals. I realize that we must respect other’s pronoun sensitivities, but the road goes both ways. What about those who identify to the standard pronouns? Do they have room to be offended that you aren’t addressing them how they would like to be addressed? Oh but you’re making it so that everyone is included in the pronoun you have generalized and chosen to use to address every single one of us in the room. Well to inform you, I identify as she, not they. I am not a group of people, I am one individual who would appreciate that at the very least, you address me by the gender I identify with, to show me you are giving me a small bit of acknowledgement as an individual.
Perhaps at this point in my rant, you all are saying to yourselves “you are all offended as a person who conforms to a gender many ignorantly will assume you are. You are primarily accepted by the pronoun you associate with. So don’t you see how those who prefer to be addressed by a different pronoun feel when addressed incorrectly?”
I get it, it is frustrating. It is also frustrating that we have gone from including one demographic’s opinions into consideration. Then completely shifting over to a new demographic’s opinions in order to be less ignorant towards the issue. When we have just forgotten the previous demographic all together.
I nearly feel compelled to request that this professor call me she. I feel as though those who identify with non-conforming pronouns should feel the same freedom. So then I must ask, if we are so concerned about being socially correct that we generalize an entire group and address every individual and they, why can’t we simply ask EVERY SINGLE PERSON what they damn well desire to be addressed as. Well that would take too much time… So it is really in an effort to save time? What about the effort to respect the wishes of those sensitive to how you address them? Or are you not concerned with that? Is it simply because remembering what everyone prefers to be addressed by, or remembering the names is too time consuming? Or in a way, do you also feel like it is not important. You are the main star of the show, we listen to you for a great portion of the class, so why is it important to know who we are.
Through all of this sarcasm and frustration, I am merely trying to allow those who address EVERYONE by ‘they’, to see that ‘they’ are still offending and frustrating those who don’t identify as a ‘they.’ If you really want to be socially correct, remember a name or two…
Quote in reference to being addressed as ‘they’: “yeah, it wasn’t me who said it, it was a group of us: me, myself, and I”
*pronoun omitted and replaced by professor in order to respect the professor’s possible unstated pronoun preference
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.
Time is a social construct made for those who feel compelled to measure life, measure moments, measure the time it takes to obtain happiness. There are others who disregard this petty measurement. They don’t see it as lacking or possessing value, it simply exists to them. A short love is not any less powerful than a longer love. You commit for a year, you commit for 4 months, the longest must be the strongest, right? It just might be the one that was worth holding onto. Well maybe that’s the case, but other times, the love most fleeting, those connections torn apart by bad timing, those are even more powerful, consuming, and captivating. However, let’s not discount time all together, for it plays a more drawn out role in those shorter love affairs too. It’s the time spent yearning for a lover’s presence after the split, it’s the time you’ll never get back, but couldn’t care less. The longer something resonates within your mind, the harder it becomes to deny it your attention.So when you pride yourself at staying together so long, 1 year, 2 years, whatever it may be, and celebrate that milestone, I apologize for my perplexed expression. Yes, it’s commendable that you’ve stuck together for so long, but I can’t help but be saddened by the thought that it’s so prevalent in your mind. What’s with the counting? The tallying of the days? I feel as though that alters your mind to think of it as a challenge, not a pleasure, to stay with one another. It’s like one of those games that requires intense endurance, that you can’t wait to set the record and finally take a rest (traffic master or flappy bird anyone…). Sure, setting that record feels great, and it provides ultimate bliss, but you’ve just cheapened the game. Where is the pure enjoyment of playing it? I think the problem is that it was never for the fun of the game, it was winning, it was beating the rest, proving you could do it.
Now I’m not saying you must look at games differently, but I feel you should look at relationships and love differently if this is the mentality that you’ve adopted. It’s not failure to lose a relationship 1 week in, 1 month in, 2 months in, etc. It’s simply a byproduct of self discovery. Your self discovery, but also the self discovery of who you date and choose to love. You find what you’re looking for, how you want to be treated, how you need to be treated, and they do the same. If in the process, one of you finds that it’s not working, it’s not a failure. In fact, that’s a success. You may not think that at the time, but when you’re happy years down the road, knowing that you two weren’t meant to be, you’ll be glad you stopped tallying the days and trying to set your new best record for the longest relationship you’ve had. Because that’s when you’ll find a relationship that feels like you’ve only been together for a week, when in reality, it’s been years. Days will blend together, and you won’t care to keep track of how long it’s been, cause that’s not important to you. You live in the moment of love, and that’s all that matters.