a fictionalization of complete nonfiction.

I'm not saying it's as bad as it could be. I'm not even saying it's bad. It's just that I know they are talking about it and I know they see how different I am. As much as they say it doesn't matter to them, I know it does. I'm the odd man out. I'm the one who isn't rushing marriage, the one who doesn't want children. The one who believes in a good time.

There are only so many times humor can happen at the expense of another person. There are only so many times I'll laugh with you when you are laughing at me and judging me in my attempt to play it off before I snap. I'm the moody girl in the basement, you're the celestial trio. Believe me, I get it. I'll be burning in hell with the alcohol and the swear words and the bass lines that read to you like crack cocaine in a bathroom stall. Bring on the burn if it means I get to feel joy in life now. At least I won't be bored.

Keep your eye rolls to yourself and I'll keep my suspicions and anxieties buried. I love who I am. I do. It only gets hard to love who I am when you shove it back in my face against me. That's when I question myself. That's when my nail beds itch and my pores crack open. I try my hardest not to judge you. Allow me the same courtesy.

via *

2.26.14

I’ve gotten used to sleeping with my curtains peeled back ever so slightly. I can see a little rectangle of sky when I lay in bed. In the morning the sun nudges my shoulder as I scramble to wake up and start my day. It’s become such a comfort to see my little corner of the sky each night. My black curtains sweep across the entire window, making my room a fortress. But with that small little crack for me to peer up and out of, I can watch the night move and change. I love feeling so small as I lay in my oversized bed. I love feeling so connected even in the detached moments of half sleep.

The best part is the tree. The tree that is sturdy and stable in a way I know I cannot be right now. I can’t explain why seeing that tree makes me less afraid of the dark or why it makes me feel that everything will be ok if I breathe a little deeper. I’m not sturdy. I’m as looped and changing as my record player, singing melancholy song after melancholy song and the gothic clouds mold themselves across the sky and peek at me from behind the arms of my ever present tree.

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tunnel lined with yellow lights on a dark night

I'm in need of some energy, loves. I'm entering the world of winter doldrums that always comes this time of year. It's been grey and cold for far too long. I guess I mean that personally as well as weather-wise. Rough few weeks here. I don't know.

How are you all? I feel sad and calm all at once. I am still loving school beyond words. All it is is words. I feel most alive when I'm in my classes, imprinting each and every word I hear onto my flesh and learning from my teachers and those around me. Sometimes I walk around campus and just feel myself smiling at the level of disbelief of actually being here. It still surprises me sometimes. I like catching myself smiling when I'm alone. My resting smiling face is my aunt's face and that makes me happy. We have the same lips and the same heart. I guess I've been sad since she left, in a way. She lives so deliberately and it's good for me to be around that, especially when winter starts sucking on my jugular.

This post of Shawnee's was really beautiful. Her photos are always a breath of fresh air to me. That girl is amazing. I love the sentiment of the post. Be refreshed, be natural, be you. For the past little bit I was sort of slipping away or letting myself be dimmed. I don't know what was doing it per se but I was feeling so stifled. Stupid inversion in my city is starting to cloud my head. But I want to live deliberately and for myself. I want to read and write and study. I want to inspire and be inspired. I want to talk with all of you and read your words and make my own. I want to go to brunch with my friends on Sundays.

I want to make it through the rest of winter.

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i love gypsy life

(random ramblings ahead.)

After spending five days back at my old house, I am now back in Salt Lake permanently. Today was my last day of work at Barnes and Noble which means no more commuting! more time to myself! back to writing! school in less than a month! I took a little blog vacation for my last five days of work- five very long days and long hours of work. But now I am back and am so ready for a few weeks of relaxing and job securing before school starts in January.

Items:

- I was offered early acceptance to the Honors College at the University of Utah! I applied for admittance and was told that I was applying for next fall but then last week I got an email saying I was chosen for early admittance! I'm so happy! I now have to sort of mess up my perfectly placed schedule but that's alright. I'm just ready to be back on a campus, around working minds and shifting gears.

- I read so much in these past five days and it felt like heaven to feel my brain jogging around the words on the page. I'm so close to my goal of reading 50 books this year and being able to find time to just read about 5 books in 5 days helped push me toward the goal. I'm at 48 books right now!

- Can Game of Thrones just be on again already?

- I know it might appear that my constant repetition of my love and feeling of content at being single right now may make it seem that I am trying horribly to compensate for the true pain of being single but it's the exact opposite. I feel so at home in my own skin and in my new house that I cannot keep from talking about it. My stomach feels dizzy from excitement and bubbling opportunity in the future. The near future. Reaching this exact spot in my life has been my mantra for the past two years. I knew if I could just get here I would be deliriously happy. One person cannot be this happy. An internal bubbling happy that still lets me retain my constant layer of melancholy (ha). I feel connected to my artistry while still being happy.

I still feel myself missing my past boys. Sometimes terribly so. Sometimes I still cry about it. But you know? I'm happy I still do. They meant something and I deserve as many tears as my body still produces for them. Right now is my time to be me and let myself heal in my way. To write them all out so I can breathe them out of my system.

And even in my comfortable isolation, I could still use some male touch every now and again. Someone find me under the mistletoe. Steal a kiss from me. Hold my hand. Touch the small of my back. Whisper into my neck. Touch. Taste. Have fun.

"I don't want to be alone forever, but I love gypsy life." - Lady GaGa

contented isolation

Human nature quakes for connection
like leaves quivering on a branch,
the skin quivering under a shaking
breath placed seductively in
the crevice under your jawline.

Atoms push and pause,
connecting and unwinding
along a garish carousel circling
into a tapestry of anonymous faces,
flushing to harmonize with the
stranger across from them.

The isolated cries of
the not so isolated sweethearts
and their drifting hearts floating to
another beat. Pump pump. Pump pump.
Silence. Isolationism at its finest
even among the flashing lights of
the ferris wheel in the center of the fair.

It's like candy when you find it,
the last bright red lick melting
against your teeth and sticking in your gums.
The sweet almost sickening taste
crawling in your taste buds,
inching down your esophagus,
icing your stomach lining until you feel ill.

Illness and disbelief at the peace
living in your veins and breeding
in your cells. Disconnection
from it all, tearing yourself from
the breast of connection makes everything
silent. You're ok. You're alive.
You're alone and content.
And, god, it is delicious.

via *