Nothing and Everything

My life has become a cup of coffee
A black substance-seemingly bottomless until you reach the end

it's another sleepless night. and i realized i havent written in this new blog at all. and so i decided to start it back up. why? because it's a good way to get things off my chest. and possibly help me sleep? is that why i spend so many countless nights wide awake? because i have so much to say? so much on my mind? possibly.

and much of it is not for the faint of heart. not for the casual reader. not for those who may just stumble upon one lonely little girls postings. and therefore i journal else where. i've learned my lesson.

and on this sleepless night i think back upon memories that plague my thoughts daily. and i think. God. take it all away. when will this be through? i really would "love to start again. go back to innocence and never leave..." why is it that life is so hard? so messy. so incredibly messy. how come we werent prepared for any of this? how DO we prepare for this?

and so i muse. poetry. mmm.


Breathless and bruised
Forgotten , refused
I’ve fallen down more times than I choose

Meager and brittle
This heart, so fickle
Is broken, shattered, the pieces so little

Rather to run
Than become undone
I’m strong, I’m able; I’ll do it alone

But I don’t want to.

I dont want to be alone.

There’s something to be said about watching obviously awkward first dates from afar. Something about it is like watching a car wreck. You shy away from actually seeing the destruction, yet you can’t stop from looking. You wonder. Do they realize how apparent it is to the room how uneasy you are in your own skin? How much you are trying to impress the other. How often you nervously touch your hair/smooth your shirt/fidget in you chair. The weird awkward mating dance. And we all do it. I don’t think I’ll miss it when Im done with this stage of my life. I’m strangely content with where I am in life. As a single that is. And yet there will be a moment. A passing moment. When I’ll have this wave of desire to just be standing. In that moment. With another. One who understands my innermost thoughts and concerns. Cares and worries. Who understands me. Without even having to explain a single thought. I miss those days. Those days when I felt so secure. So safe. So understood. Emotionally cozy. Warm. Wrapped in a blanket of consistency and sheltered from the prying eyes of the world. What’s wrong with me? Why do I lose interest so quickly? Is it me? Or is it God taking the desire away because it’s a “not yet”. Or is it a “not ever.” God, I hope it’s not that. I really do. I cant imagine spending my life alone. But then again, I cant imagine my life spent shackled to someone who could care less about me. Or I him. An emotional hell. Internally dead and alone.

Im an emotional mess. I appear so hard to others. So jaded. So sad. So beaten down. Where did I get this defeatist attitude? I wish I was someone different. A little less bold. A little less loud. A little less weird. A little more refined. A little more genteel. Smarter. Serious. Just better. and less like the black coffee i consume on a daily basis.

iam

I am abstract art
Awkward and angular
Contorted and quirky
Misunderstood by most
Beautiful to only a few

I am glass
Clear, yet distorting vision
With a most unlikely composition
Strong, but easily broken
Able to slice to the bone

I am fire
Warm, but able to burn
Bright, but easily extinguished
Contained, but difficult to control
Devastating and dangerous

I am vapor
Calm yet easily stirred
a whirlwind of turbulence
Mysteriously fleeting, not dependable
Fickle and easily swayed

iam

i am too much. It's the musician in me. everything i do. it's 110%. i throw myself into things heart and soul when i realize there is no risk and i dont have to be vulnerable.

all these things i want to say. i cant.


Easily distracted
Cohesive thoughts escape me
A labor to finish

...the fight inside is breaking me again... its everything...

...i could never be that for you...

Man. i havent blogged in so long. im not even sure if i like this whole blogspot setup being so alien to me. i like live journal. i miss live journal. but ive decided i need to let that one go. reading those posts made me realize just how much ive grown. how different i am now. and yet how ive retained alot of things that i thought i would have let go by now. needless to say, im not using my LJ account anymore because i want a change (*gasp!* i know. me? want change? this is a new thing...) and ive decided to walk out on my past. at least begin to let it go. little by little. of course not the people i love and care about... never. that would be seriously ridiculous.

to qualify this entry, i wrote half lastnight. half this afternoon. why? because i was too tired to finish lastnight. but i really just needed to get things off my chest. venting to cyber-space somehow has some pretty amazing therapuetic effects. seriously. anyways. if it's pschyzophrenic. or slightly disjointed, this may or may not be the reason. maybe i AM just a pschyzophrenic, disheveled, disjointed person.

I'm so tired. tired of alot of things. tired of being that girl. the one that's too loud. too boy. too girl. too nice. not nice enough. too smart. not smart enough. too caring. too selfish. too talkative. to quiet. too extroverted. too introverted. too bubbly. too emo. too free spirited. too tied down. too insecure. too prideful. too worldly. too stressed. works too hard. doesnt work hard enough. too irresponsible. too hard on myself. too slow. too impatient. too thin. not thin enough. too side-tracked. too focused. too busy. too vibrant. too dull. too obnoxious.


too worried about what everyone else thinks.


and thats really what it all stems from, right? striving for acceptance from the masses...or from the few... that drains all our energy. all my energy. Yes, i DO agree that there is a manner in which we must, and SHOULD act as followers of christ to spare other's feelings. but when does it stop? where is the line. When does it become masochistic? when we care more about the other feelings in this world that we suppress our own?


all i know is that im tired of suppressing my feelings. of pushing them down. locking them away. stuffing them in. so much so that at times i think i may just burst. 99 red balloons. down to one lonely red balloon. stretched so thin that the breaking point is in sight.

i sometimes feel as though my personality is so intensely vibrant. I love to the utmost degree. i give everything for friendships. i disregard my own needs to make others happy. i strive for perfection. and always fall short. im realizing i will always fall short. no matter how hard i try. why? because its all in my own strength. every single bit. and i didnt notice that i was trying to do it all on my own until i was forced to step back and actually take in my life. to look at where ive been and where im going.


which is the perfect segue to grad school. oh grad school. i really feel as though its not my niche. maybe not quite. i mean i DO enjoy getting down and dirty. and the mental stimulation is alright. sometimes. but sometimes i just want to be able to walk in to my job. sit at a desk. type away. do mindless acts. and be able to leave when its over. and leave the job at work. period. to not carry the feelings of failure as another experiment comes up negative. or to see the look on ur bosses face when it's not enough. or it doesnt work. or it gives results that are out of the ordinary. or gives problematic results. to always feel inferior. its like a large black rain cloud that follows me around. regardless of whether im at lab or away. constantly sprinkling on me reminding me that i have more to fail at. and yet more to do to strive towards success. i think having set hours would be nice. having some sort of separation between life and school would be nice. wait. having a life would be nice.

maybe it's all just the post prelim depression (or PPD as thomas says...) maybe it's God trying to tell me that he has bigger things in store for me. and still my heart is continually crying out for music. and yet my instruments gather dust. my lyrics remain note-less, and my musings remain locked away. no time = no writing = frustration.

and this is where i leave it. my irritation by my lack of discipline. to set aside time to write, to work out, to call friends... and my frustration that things just seem to be moving at a snails pace.

patience is not a virute i possess. and God is constantly reminding me.

and in the silence i hear the whisper. "wait my child. just wait."