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I quite enjoy writing and grammar classes. I was always told I'd make an exceptional writer. It also helps that I enjoy the writing teachers that I have. They're always women who are personally interested in writing and literature, and I definitely identify with that. That's probably the reason I do well in these classes, is that I guess I have some desire to impress the educators that I, in a way, look up to. I've always been somewhat aware of it, but never took it upon myself to enroll in more challenging courses. I fear failure and challenging myself.
Let's Stay Together is currently playing in the classroom. This particular song brings me back to my first American Idol CD as a kid. One of my favorite contestants sang this song, and I vividly remember climbing on top of my bed and belting the lyrics into my hand shaped microphone, stumbling around due to my clumsy and whimsical attitude I had back then. I didn't even mentally process the lyrics; I guess at that time I hadn't developed that kind of critical thinking or experience, but somehow I could convey those feelings through my body language and facial expressions.
There's always a couple of people in my classes that I feel like I want to reach out to. Whether it's for companionship, or maybe I'm feeling particularly empathetic and want to reach out in the hope that I can provide some clarity or comfort to that individual. I had that feeling, that strong urge in the back of my mind to reach out to someone for companionship in this class, but as soon as I heard them open their mouth, two spectral beings came up and blew deafening raspberries into my ears. The feeling is dead and that's alright.
Fear is strange to me. I'm sure this isn't a unique opinion. My biggest fear is being forgotten or left behind, yet I was never afraid when my brother would chase me around the house to hit me, or when he'd strangle me. I never thought, "I'm going to be hurt! I'm going to die!". There was always rage. When my cat left the car and ran under the fence into the woods in the middle of a rest stop in Mississippi, however, I was filled with terror. Someone could leave, and you'd never be able to figure out why.
We're all standing in a circle. She paces slowly inside the circle, faces me, then kneels down and looks up at me. The prolonged eye contact is terrifying; my palms start to sweat. I am growing more nervous as you look at me, and you stand up and start to place your hands on me. At this point my face is hot and I don't know where to look. You pull me into the circle with you, holding my clammy hands, and all that comes out of your mouth as I feel as though I'm going to explode is "Yeah?"
Being a loner and someone who's very against authority, it's difficult to have a boss who loves to abuse that authority. You want to lash out, hurt their pride, and storm off without looking back, but in this world it's just not possible. In the past, it was easy to leave without a second thought; parents helped with bills, rent; life is easy. Now I must grit my teeth, make sure my words have no sass and more submission, lower my head, no matter how badly I want to shove my head back and knock them off their high horse.
It's that burning sensation between your eyes; the feeling of storms brewing in your abdomen. It is the sound of children shouting that makes it hard to keep inside. It is blowing up a balloon so full that it pops, and just before that moment you see the rubber rip open, the shape it took collapse, and the overwhelming sounds stretch into many deafening moments. Sometimes it's sitting with you in a crowded room, beckoning to be tended to, especially at the most inappropriate moments. You know you shouldn't, but damn would it feel good to release a terrifying SCREAM.
Intrusive thoughts can truly be a pain in the ass, especially when they're words spoken by someone close to you. They creep up at the worst possible moment, and suddenly your entire demeanor changes; your posture is less confident, your eyes gaze outward into things others cannot see; your throat dries up. What do you do when you're told something in passing that opens your eyes to something you were completely oblivious to beforehand? To be told in passing that there's incredible tension in my intimate friendship now suddenly makes me crave it; I didn't know it could feel good.
There is an incredible amount of possibilities to anything; it's overwhelming. I could be an actor, a performer, a botanist, a researcher in marine biology, a translator, a wild animal expert, or anything else I could have taken interests in had life been any different so far. It's so odd to think that every step you take can open and close so many doors. Honestly though we can open any door if we try hard enough, but what if it isn't worth it? What if the door was actually just a path down a dark tunnel into a black abyss?
I want to be enveloped in silence today. I want to go about my day doing what I would normally do but no noise to overstimulate my thoughts. My thoughts today are like those flashback scenes people in movies have right before they die where .3 second snippets of their life in chronological order go one by one by one by one endlessly. This is a pretty normal thing, I think. Today, however, it's weighing heavy on my chest and making my eyes water. Focusing on anything today is difficult. I'll be fine, though, no light can happen without darkness.
My face has a lot of quirks, I think. I go through opposite views of my face on a regular basis.
"My my, those dark circles give me a sleepy aesthetic, I can get behind that."
"God, that pimple looks so fucking nasty. I need concealer."
I think in this way my self esteem is really conflicted because I appreciate my face, even aspects that society would consider flaws, but at the same time, I have been sucked into the system where I'm supposed to disguise parts of myself in order to be more appealing to others.
This challenge almost feels more like submitting an online diary entry. Being restricted to 100 words is challenging. I feel forced to come up with something creative in a tight area.
I definitely feel more at ease knowing I can spew my thoughts out onto a pixelated screen. My words are read and possibly comforting to someone out there who may feel similar things. I think that is something valuable about this site.
It's pure, simple, and people can connect to merely 100 words. I find comfort knowing there's others out there who have the courage to document their thoughts.
I've been straying with my firm beliefs lately. I've been focusing less on energy and letting myself get wrapped up in petty shit. I've been eating less organically and eating more meat, more junk, and just all around less ethically. I realized this for the past couple of weeks, but it really sunk in just now when I realized I was eating coconut milk yogurt. I was not only eating coconut milk yogurt, but I also drank a few beers last night, then bought peach rings at a gas station. I'm eating them right now as I regret my decisions.
I could have sworn something was there. For a long time I thought I imagined it; I dismissed it entirely. But lately I can feel that the stares have a little more intention. There's words in those eyes if I could only read them. Eight years should be enough studying but it appears I still do not know how to read the language you give off. I think I'm so stirred up and perplexed because of this. You are still an enigma to me. There's so much I need to know! But you're not literally a book, you're a person.
It feels so freeing to let you go little by little. You call every so often, but I either let it ring to voicemail or keep the conversation to a minimum. You call at the worst times, too.
During the middle of the night when I'm trying to sleep, when I'm doing homework, even when I'm with all of my friends, having a great time, you find some way to show up and try to ruin my good day.
Sometimes I want to follow you. It's easy to give in and say "I'll just go fuckin kill myself."
I no longer feel comfort when writing creatively. I think when I found a passion in acting, it felt better to verbalize my thoughts and feelings through another character rather than to write it down. When I was 12 I wrote a piece on how I felt like all my feelings, specifically my sadness and tears were being stuffed to the brim in glass bottles, lined up against a wall in the dark. Writing my pain down didn't open the bottles, it just placed it somewhere else. I prefer to confront and physically break the bottles with a baseball bat.
I'm worried for Nina. This man, Hector, stayed in our store for 45 minutes waiting to see if she'd show up. Last night we almost got into a car accident because he was driving recklessly. As of now he still has her phone and refuses to give it back. I'm sure Nina's father has been calling from Puerto Rico wondering if she's okay. He won't stop driving between her apartment and her job. He called every Starbucks in the area searching for her because she wouldn't tell him where she worked. Now he knows, and he's not going to leave.
It's terrifying to be in the back seat during a car chase. It was nearly midnight, I had to be up by 4:45 am, and I had drunk a few sangrias. I wanted to go home, but I knew I needed to be there for my friend. It can be traumatizing to have to go through those types of situations alone; chasing an ex on the interstate because they stole your phone and they're calling everyone in your recent contacts calling you a liar and a whore. She needs to report this and get a restraining order. He's dangerous.
I don't know what to do about my job. I've been there for a year now. That's longer than any other job I've ever held. Usually management or another coworker pisses me off so much that I impulsively walk out and never come back. The only thing they hear from me is a brief phone call before my next shift saying in a monotone voice,
"I won't be coming in, I quit. Goodbye."
Maybe it's the caffeine addiction that's got me struggling to decide.
Maybe it's me growing up and wanting to fix my problems. Who knows.
Well, everything has been said, except it wasn't through my mouth. I don't know if that makes it more embarrassing or if I'm off the hook.
It's too early to tell. Or maybe there's nothing to tell at all. He's always been hard to read. More often than not, he has no opinion. I think that is the worst part about having someone like him as a companion; I feel so strongly about a lot of things, and he can barely come up with a fully formed opinion. That's one of my favorite and least favorite things about him.
I didn't used to get stress induced acne until after high school. The desire to rip my skin off wasn't so intense until now, probably.
This is what the beauty industry wants. They want me to hate my skin. They want me to be insecure of the irritation and fine lines on my face. They don't want me to be proud or content with myself. They don't make money promoting self love.
I could rebel from the system built around my body and learn to love myself, but goddamn, it's hard. Self-hate became a default in me.
This semester is hard. Actually, this whole year is difficult. I want to lie in bed for the rest of the year and sleep. My thoughts are jumbled today and I can't seem to keep a straight thought. I want to plan a trip to Glacier National Park. I need to get more furniture for the house. I don't have a dining room table to eat off of. I want to eat Indian food and stuff myself with chickpeas. I want to go swimming. I want to go to work and pick up my tips so I can buy food.
It's weird to be sitting here in this chair in a class that isn't too interesting. I mean, I thought I'd be dead by now. Instead, there are clowns terrorizing people in my old town, I'm in college, and death isn't on my agenda; at least, not for a while. It's difficult to put in effort into something that doesn't matter as much as it should. When you compare death to punctuation and conciseness in writing, there really isn't a comparison. How do I force myself to care? Do I confront my problems or stomach through them and carry on?
I went grocery shopping hungry and spent more than I should have. This happens all the time. At least it was all food that I love instead of things I've never tried. Sometimes I do that and I only end up liking half of what I bought, then it goes to waste. This is honestly the most boring entry ever but I love grocery day. I finally get food in the house that I want. I could eat hummus and sweet potatoes all day. I'm still craving Indian food, though. Maybe next paycheck I'll stuff my face to chickpea curry.
Today I died at work. Two hours of sleep, still the slightest bit drunk when I woke up. It wasn't fun. We were busy the whole morning and night crew didn't stock shit. I ended up going home afterward and sleeping. I built a new headquarters between a lava fall and a waterfall underground in minecraft and ate some rice and vegetables. I still feel very exhausted. Lots of strange things were said by Cris last night but she doesn't remember any of it and I'm a bit embarrassed. I hope I can get some more rest tonight before hell.
Clouds seriously fuck me up. They're so beautiful and come in various shapes and forms. If I could live in a cloud, I would. I could choose a giant cotton ball cloud painted in the colors of the sunset, or live in a soft watercolor shroud. I'm embarrassed when I'm with someone I don't trust emotionally and they catch me tearing up because I like the clouds are up to. I also feel grateful that I'm no longer in hellish El Paso where there's never a cloud in the sky. No moisture, no trees, no life. Florida isn't THAT terrible.
Kovsky is starting to get daring again. He was able to slip past me onto the front of the house, and now he's tried to get outside 3 times today.
It really bothers me. I
he wants to go outside. I encouraged him to go all the time because I know he was feral as a kitten. But these fucking uni students have no idea how to drive! I can't expect any of them to slow down if they happen to see an animal in the road. I want him to be happy, but also safe.
I want to plan a trip to Glacier National Park. The landscapes I see of Montana have always taken my interest. I want to hike up a mountain and feel proud that my legs did that shit, you know? I want to unplug from all social media and just rely on my body to take me on a sick ass journey. I wish I could take Kovsky with me. I know he would enjoy getting to smell new smells and get a little too curious about what is inside a mysterious bush. I just want to feel alive and aware.
My gaydar was right. I KNEW IT! I had a hunch that she was attracted to me, but I dismissed it for months. I didn't want to get a big head and think that any attention like that automatically means they want me. But I was
Now I have no idea how to approach her. Should I just play passive until she feels comfortable to do something?
Flirting makes me nervous. I don't want to come off as some kind of pig, like when a man pursues someone. I just wanna see where this goes.
I've been having frequent existential crises. I'm so at a loss at what I'm going to be doing with my life. What's my purpose? What path that I will inevitably choose will be the best choice for ME?
I've been thinking about this for a few years now that I know I won't be killing myself any time soon, and I am becoming increasingly frustrated just thinking about it.
I just want to know that the choices I make are the choices I won't regret when I'm 50 sitting at home knowing that there is no turning back.
The Tip Jar