Appearance

My Grandma Simon is cooking a birthday dinner for me tonight. I am bringing my roommates along since they haven't had a legitimate home cooked meal in a very long time, I'm sure. This week will be my debut, seeing I haven't gone out very much in the past month and haven't seen really anybody I usually hang out with outside this house.

Every time I am about to go out something comes up, whether it is another activity or an emotional confrontation. Social events take a lot out of me. I would say after about 2 hours of a social gathering feels like I have been awake for two days without any sleep. It is draining and exhausting to be with people I have just met. To try and force a social interaction with a complete stranger. Standing alone in the corner feeling like a spotlight is beaming in me showing off every stray hair and makeup flaw on my body. Insecurities are fleeting but once one leaves, another comes along. Example: I look in the mirror and my makeup doesn't look half bad. But my haircut is terrible and in the awkward stage. I suppose that is ordinary, to worry about my looks. I only wish I didn't have to. I wish people would look at me and think "She is a good person," or, "That girl seems like she would have intelligent input in a conversation about the theory of relativity."

"The great majority of mankind are satisfied with appearance, as though they were realities and are often more influenced by the things that seem than by those that are."

Out with the old

I painted faces on my fingernails last night and when I woke up there was an imprint of four faces on the side of my cheek. So, I guess you can say I didn't wake up lonely this morning in retrospect.

I threw all of my clothes on my bed and probably had a pile about six feet tall, no lie. It's about time that they finally meet the local goodwill bin. I never throw things away. Everything I have is a concrete representation of a specific memory. I look at my dad's dusty keyboard and remember standing in the office at my parents house in the suburbs and playing Greensleeves on repeat. I wore that shirt to grad bash. I bought those pants when I was shopping with Kory. Madison got me that jacket for Christmas two years ago.

It's like throwing away my past.

In the end, maybe it will make me feel new. Tossing out old memories to make new ones.

Excitement

Please?

I'm tired of sluggishly rolling downhill

save me.

lately

I've been falling in love with a lot of things I read lately.

For Example:

I can't say for certain what the future's gonna bring

I look to the horizon, I don't see a thing

I've got a picture, I've got a frame

Future and horizon both look the same

My heart belongs to the sea.

She wore a button down shirt with a holster and a gun

And rolled both her sleeves, and put her hair back in a bun

She spread out her fingers and she painted all her nails

And lifted up her hands, And blew across the sails

My heart belongs to the sea.

That's all,

Alexis Bea

What the fuck was I thinking?

love grows in me like a tumor
parasites bent on devouring its host.
I'm developing my sense of humor,
till I can laugh at my heart between your teeth,
till I can laugh at my face beneath your feet.

And so life goes, the saga continues, and I have lost one of my best friends.

I'm so sorry.

Metaphor

Although I have cast plenty of stones there are still a duet of rocks that weigh me down. They are chained to my ankles as they unexpectedly tug at my feet and I dance with defeat no matter what my plea.

They sit on a ledge and wait for an inopportune moment to fall, so instead of free falling with the rocks flailing unnoticeably and plummeting behind me, they take the first leap and drag me into their pitfalls leaving me with broken bones and bruises. With time these rocks slowly erode away, but in comparison to stones their lifetime is far greater and weight is much larger.

One of these rocks is more of a catalyst for the other, considerably less in mass but it's experience as a deadweight is far greater. It's initial purpose was to pull me to the greatest depths of the ocean, but once it got toward the bottom it cracked under pressure and the deadweight devolved into a regular rock that lies in my front yard, camouflaged by the overgrown weeds and stones.

The other is always in my general line of sight, friendly and enthusiastic, but I'm still unsure of the elements that compose it. I understand it's facade and extraordinary affectation, but am infinitely perplexed by the truth of it's nature. Although it slowly sinks ahead of me, I buoyantly ogle as it does. Hopefully the inner elements of this rock are sturdy and sure, without too many cracks in it's design. A granite finish, as opposed to it's marble cohort. Even if that rock will never be tied to my hand again, I'm sure it will pull at my heartstrings even once it reaches paradise.

"You love a sinking stone that will never elope,

so get used to the lonesome."

Happy Independence Day, by the way.