To be or not to be

My throat is so swollen I can hardly speak.
I don't see why I deserve this.
Usually it's karma. You lie. You get a sore throat.
But I feel like I'm one of the few people actually being honest these days.

I can't trust anyone.

I don't feel like I'm being treated properly, by a lot of people. I don't feel like I'm actually taken seriously. Honestly, the only people I feel really respect me are Megan and Leland. That's strange because before Megan and I fought... but you know, we don't lie to each other. And after we had that huge fight this year after being friends for years with no fights at all, we're now great. We're always upfront and understand each other completely and have no judgment against the other. And Leland, I never thought he really viewed me as a great friend or someone who had anything important to say until this year. Living with Leland has been one of the best things for me. He really cares, and he is someone who would never play any kind of game or speak any kind of bullshit.

So I can trust them.

As for the rest, I feel a bit burned.


I just want the truth.

I'm awkward.

I believe I lost my inhibitions from moving around, heart breaks, experiences with intoxication, performing dances and songs, and most of all, from the crowd of friends I had the last year.

I forget that not everyone is like this. I forget that some people might find me difficult to relate to or connect with or understand. I forget that some people might think I'm weird, come on too strong, or act too impulsively.

Maybe that's why I have an audition with a ridiculous reality show this weekend.

Dream.

Wrote this for a book in the summer. Don't know how I feel about it.

I awoke on a rough ground, sprinkled with metallic sediments and red plants that resembled some type of fruit. I stretched out my arms and brushed my fingers through my tangled black hair. It was slightly longer than I remembered it being, by a few inches maybe. I yawned and breathed in an unfamiliar air. This isn't where I had fallen asleep, yet I wasn't alarmed to wake up here. There was nothing to be afraid of.
Above me were purple star lights, only they were closer and brighter than before, and shaped like sharp diamonds rather than circles. I wasn't sure if they were beautiful. I felt a drop on my head, I spun and danced expecting rain to fall. There were no clouds, there was no sun, there wasn't even a sky. Just the star lights.
A trail appeared in front of my feet, and I wandered down the path. Every step I took was illuminated with music. I played distinct melodies and harmonized with the tips of my toes. An electric frenzy of sound gathered and collided all around me. The path was thinning. A green flash up ahead caught my attention. I wasn't sure where I was going, but I knew I had to get there soon. I ran trying my best to keep my balance, as the ground had vanished except for the trail below me, getting thinner and thinner every inch forward.
"Brittany," a calm voice whistled. I kept running. I needed to be faster.
"Brittany," the same voice repeated, wanting to capture me. I wouldn't succumb. I needed to keep going, I didn't want to waste the moment.
"Brittany!" the yell sent shivers through my spine forcing me into paralysis. I was standing on the edge of the path, trying not to fall into the nothingness before me. I slowly turned my head, looking for the source of the voice.
And then I fell. I fell down into spiraling doom with nothing to catch me, but fantasy. I saw myself landing in a field of daffodils, feeling light on my skin and love in my heart. Before I knew it, there I was.
"How is this possible?" I wondered aloud. Just then I heard thunder approaching. Loud, cracking thunder. I searched but I saw no storm brewing from any direction.
THOOM!(yes, thoom) Stumbled in front of me was a creature that resembled a black panther but five times the size, and it had magnificent wings coated in an iridescent sheen. It had pure white eyes and soft teeth. Upon it's back was a boy, only he was facing the other way, forbidding me to get a good look at him.
The boy climbed down off of the gigantic animal and walked around to face me. Only, when the boy approached me he was still facing the other way.
"Let me see your face," I demanded.
"Do not worry, Brittany," the boy said once again. Why would I... or should I be worried? I felt his stare on my face, but how could that be? He wasn't looking at me. Yet his eyes saw me, not just my physical presence but everything that I am. I closed my eyes, hoping that might shut him out.
By closing my eyes, I was able to see. I saw memories, year by year, day by day, second by second. All the experiences of this boy flashed before me, a movie premiere within my mind. All of them were so brief I couldn't fully comprehend a one. I believe I saw his father, who is no longer alive. I couldn't quite grasp how he died. I saw the boy learn how to fight, but I didn't know what he was fighting. I saw a girl, she appeared quite often. Her bright green eyes and shiny golden hair stood out tremendously. I couldn't tell what their relationship to each other had been. Last, I began to see something smoking, something arising out of flames...
"Brittany!" my eyes were forced open by the sound of the boy's yell.
"I... I'm..." I thought to apologize, but I didn't feel I had actually done anything wrong. "What just happened?"
"It's this place. Here, there are no secrets. Everything is shared. Every voice, every thought, every dream, can be any ones. It's not safe here. You need to go back." His ambiguity bothered me. I hated taking guesses at what people meant, and I hated being told what to do.
"What if I don't want to go back?" I tested.
"Do not worry, Brittany," he soothed.
"Why are you repeating that?"
"As long as there is a reason to say it, I will. You have to go back. You can't be here." I thought about his words.
"How do you know my name?" I asked.
"You really don't remember, do you? This always happens. I want to try something different this time, maybe... maybe then you'll remember never to come back."
He ran away from me. I knew I was supposed to chase him, but I didn't like the idea. I held back, I wasn't the type of girl who's going to run after a boy even if he did seem intriguing. I looked down and realized I was after him. I wanted to kick myself for doing it, but it seemed something else was in control of my body. I tried to clench my knuckles but I couldn't make myself do it. For the first time since waking up here, I was afraid.
My heart was beating steadily, though I felt the current of adrenaline pull me onwards. I felt as if I was being chased, rather than chasing the boy. Emotions, logic, and sense all seemed to be in a power struggle.
Stopped. We stopped running. We stopped breathing. A single inhalation of air would destroy this feeling. I silently closed my eyes and felt the boy's connection to me, a pang hitting my chest while romantic intoxication clouded my brain. He began to turn around.
I saw him. His face. He had been hiding it so long but when I looked at him I remembered it all. I remembered all the times I had met him here. He was my all, my everything. I revisited memories of pressing my lips against his, meeting as one.

But he was trapped here. And I needed to save him.

Actual Reality.

Wrote this for a book over the summer. Not sure how I feel about it. Viagra line is hilariousssssssly bad. Named the main girl Blake but... I mean obviously every main character I use is basically me just prettier and more badass.

She then moves her attention to the car window.

It fascinates her. Watching new worlds come and disappear over and over again before her eyes, all set in a hazy lens as the pane is covered with fog. It would storm later tonight, Blake could sense it, not that it is some sort of super power. The low orange glow of sun was casting a sepia color tone on the earth. The air had grown humid and still, causing her long black hair to gently curl at the ends. Blake watched the gray clouds forming overhead as she tried to tug her curls straight. Temporarily, this is a distraction from actual life.

Too quickly and too slowly she is home. Within seconds she is in the house, in her dark bedroom, her lap top beside her playing classic rock and an old notebook is clutched tightly in her hand. Across from her is a large mirror, where she studies. She studies the asymmetry of her face, the small bumps and crevices on her skin, the black clogged pores on the tip of her imbalanced nose, and the crooked part in her hair. To everyone else, Blake was a beautiful girl. She was short and petite, but she wasn't an obvious pretty, either. Her smile stayed with you, though her teeth weren't perfectly white or perfectly straight. Her skin was fair without seeming pale even against her black hair. Her eyebrows were thick but didn't dominate her large, deep blue eyes. Her eyes were striking and questioning, but painted with makeup. In her own world, she was plain. Not even close to slightly above average. Blake's disappoint in her mediocrity consumes her.

She opens up the notebook she had in her hand and begins writing the inscription on her heart. All those words so haunting and clouding her brain are released. Her insecurities, fears, and confusions. Words keep raining on the pages as it starts to pour on the road outside. She pauses to scratch ferociously at the freakishly huge mosquito bites on her right shoulder, the same one that contains a tattoo of a black crescent moon. She then continues to keep writing these beautiful lyrics of her soul, knowing that she has clarity and a sight for that which is typically unseen.

Suddenly, it hit her. She was writing down the fourth confession of her teenage broken dreams and realized it. You could see her shake off the first warning, casting it aside like spam mail from Viagra companies. But it kept coming. She didn't want to hear it, she tried to tune out her inner voice. No one wants to feel inadequate to themselves. No one wants to validation that their greatest fear is all too real. Blake shuts the notebook and stares at the cover. She had drawn an elementary taught "v-tree" and misshapen stars on it, making known to the world this notebook belonged to only her. Blake couldn't fathom the truth.

Writing is nothing. It's her favorite thing to do and it's nothing. It's her center of gravity and it's nothing. Why is this happening? Why is she being told this? Blake throws her notebook onto the ground beside her and cradles her head in her hands. This is a pretty inconvenient truth.

She's not sure what to do next.

"words like stones" this is actually from a different blog of mine.

Words like stones,
but they are my own
Afraid for them to leave my lips
And hit my friends, my loves,
or worse yet, miss
And become lost in ruins.

Words, like stones,
can be a bit rough around the edges
but sparkle in the right light,
or dim within cracks and wedged
between broken hopes and songs.

Words like, stones,
are hard to swallow,
can leave you feeling alone,
can leave you feeling hallow.
yet in times of great sadness
they can remind you that no one is ever alone.

At this very moment

in all space in time, I have realized what, or rather who, is important to me. All it took was a peculiar series of events, and I have found out who really matters. I know exactly what my heart is feeling.

The only trouble is, my feelings are at all logical. I want to be closer to people I don't really know. I want to be closer to people I almost have no chance at getting close to. But they matter. I want distance from a lot of those trying to push down any walls I build to keep a barrier between us.

I can't figure out exactly what to do. But this is one of those times when life is an adventure, and I just need to follow along, accepting everything thrown my way, and making decisions when different opportunities are presented. You know.. like the goosebumps choose your own adventure novels. I was always so mad at them because sometimes they didn't have a choice that I wanted to make, or sometimes the outcomes would be lame so then I'd go back and change my path. I'd reread and reread, yet I never felt I truly got to choose my own adventure. But you can't do that with life. You can't go back and choose a new adventure. You're given one big one, that can be divided into a series of little ones. No matter how many fresh starts, you never truly go back to the beginning. Sometimes what we want to do is not an option. Sometimes, the outcomes suck. But this is reality, and in reality we can't turn the pages back.


Our adventure, our fate, our destiny... isn't completely in our hands.
It's difficult for me to accept that.

Update.

I feel like maybe I'm doing something wrong?
I don't know. I express my feelings all the time. I try to make sure everyone important in my life is feeling okay. So... why all the emotional unrest? What exactly am I not doing that needs to be done?

And I just want them all smiling and happy and feeling satisfied with the way I interact with them.

Also... I wish I even knew what was going on with people. Honesty is so refreshing. And I would hope that people would be willing to let me in when they admit they care so much for me. It seems like that should happen. But yet... here I am, left waiting in the dark.

I'm sick of the shadows.

*******************************************************

I'm pretty happy with myself. I'm happy with the way life is starting to go. I'm happy with the decisions I've made. I can only trust that everything will work out as it should.