change

Weird.

I have spent a great deal of my childhood being called weird. To the point that the word always seemed like an insult to me. I was different, I was strange, I wasn’t what people expected, but most of all I was weird. Weird has always been one of those words, that hits me to the core. Maybe, because I had been associated with it for so long that I have grown to hate it.  I wasn’t normal, I was weird. I didn’t like what you liked, therefore I was different. Everyone wants to be accepted and anyone that challenges that is wrong. People can be as cruel as school children can be.

I obsess over every little thing. I love spoken word and written dialogue. I write lyrics to songs I love all over my arms. If I hear something that hits me like a ton of bricks, I write it down, everything. If it makes me sad, if it breaks my heart, everything. If I could tattoo words all over my body, I would. I get excited over a piece of music or hearing an album, that reminds me of a time in my life that people wouldn’t understand. I love things that people don’t understand. I love people that people would never understand. Those are just my quirks that make up my whole existence. I am not gonna sit and lie to you. I am not going to pretend to love something because you love it too. I will not act a certain way just to relate to someone else.  I don’t like the same music as everyone else did or I cared too passionately about something that everyone else disregarded. I cared about background characters, written word and imagery as opposed to what was the hottest and latest in the game. I stick out like a sore thumb. Getting overly excited for the boring and mundane, where everyone else loved the glittery and flashy. I become uncomfortable with the attention. I become obsessed with simple conversations and deep thoughts then I do with moving in a hundred different ways. Because that’s real to me. What other people forget is what I hold dear to me. But that makes me weird?

Instead I find ways to understand my madness. I will not hide my pain or push aside my sadness. I will not make excuses for who I am because its not what you want to see. I love people just as they are in their flawed missed up imperfections. But people have a funny way of trying to change you. Trying to make you into something and someone you are not. What they don’t understand is what makes you weird, sets you free. What sets you apart makes you a stronger person in the end. I have allowed people to call me a variety of different names and sounds. I have allowed them to. Because I was never good enough. I was too weak to understand that what sets you apart, sets you free. When all the fingers point at you, you start to believe them. When you’re different everyone expects you to be just like they are. Insecure and afraid of who they really are. But you’re the different one, you’re the weird one. The one that stood against the grain. I am not who you want me to be. I never will be. I won’t cry or obsess about it. I will not bend and break because of it. I will not change myself to fit any of the moods people want me to be.

What’s weird to you, isn’t weird to me. What’s weird to you, will always make me weird. I am not ashamed to be who I am, why are you ashamed of you?

 

 

 

 

Distance.

I am seeing ghosts in the places where people used to be. The fog comes for people quickly leaving behind their bodies but taking with them their soul and bones. I wonder how much of what you believe, you believe for yourself. Leaving behind your wounded and settling ashore. I could tell you everything. Anything you wanted to hear. Now I sit and watch a ghost of you, mimic your same thoughts.

What did I do to merit all this silence?
What did I do to lose all your mistrust?

I could ask myself a thousand questions but never get a single answer. How generic our thoughts become once we start to lose someone. How simple our responses once we’ve lost it all. The world is filled with busy movers and shakers. Filled with replacements ready to take our place. But I’m too afraid of the dark to see you gone. To afraid of ghosts and their spirits that linger after. I am sorry, I couldn’t be who you wanted me to be. I am sorry, that I disappointed you just as the others did. Maybe it was foolish to believe that we could live forever. Instead I am living with all the ghosts you left and the memories after.

If I could take everything back I would. Anything to bring back what we had before. Everything that made the imperfections perfect. The responses realistic. Anything to take away the generically calculated conversations. Anything to take away the awkwardness of today and tomorrow. I can’t bring you back, if you don’t want to try. I can’t asks ghosts to bring back the dead, once they’ve already left. I can’t ask people to stay with me, once they’re already miles away. All this distance just to find a peace of mind. All this mystery just to prove that what you’ll miss is what you always took advantage of. Saying sorry is better than saying goodbye. Goodbye would mean this would be over and sorry proves that maybe there’s just one last chance.

Just one last chance, before you go completely.

I promise, I’ll change.
I promise, I’ll be better to you.
I promise, I’ll stop being so fucking selfish because all that really matters is you.

I am sorry.

1/22/2012

 

Through being Cool.

You are so Cool.

At least thats what you want everyone else to believe. That everything that you snicker and make snide comments about make you superior to every species on the planet. Because its your opinion that matters over every one else’s. We all want to be better than everyone else. Degrade the masses with subliminal messages. Show everyone just what we are all made of. Made up of materialistic every day things, that will make us better than everyone else. We go out of our way to find these special things just to prove we had it first. Being cool means you have everything and know everything, because that’s what makes you special.

Of course you’re special, you’re so cool.

Its the shoes that we buy that make us who we are. Its the clothes we wear that shape our self esteem. Its the cars we drive, the homes we live in, and our lifestyles that set us apart from everyone else. Because we are the cool ones that show off our material things that makes us so cool. We are whats new and great in the world and it makes us better than everyone else.  Its our status symbols upon status symbols that prove that we have truly made it. All materialism is just stuff that makes us feel superior to everyone else. Sure you find the coolest bands, the coolest clothes, know all the coolest places, but that just makes you in the know that doesn’t make you any cooler. We are a generation of needing to be somebodies when we are really complete nobodies.

But I need the hottest shoes, the dopest bag, and to drive the sickest car. I need a lifetime of “I am so cool” to make me an ounce of fucking cool. I need to find the newest “it” bag, hear the next best thing, watch the cool as fuck video. I NEED these things because having these things makes me better than everyone else. Knowing all theses things proves I am just as fucking cool as the next person. Just as cool as everyone else. Isn’t that what we all want? To be just like everyone else? We all want these things in our cool-as-fuck world that makes us into completely different people. Because being someone else is better than what we show to the world. I wish I was cool. Cool enough to wear the coolest dopest shit you’ve ever seen. Cool enough to share with the world all my pretty shiny things. Every thing I love everyone else hates. Everything I like is different, unusual, and boring. Every thing I want for myself is kept privately for fear of being shunned by the world. Because no matter how much money I make, it’s never enough. For every dope thing thats “dope” to me, people don’t seem to care about anyway. Every thing I have is just my attempts at being cool, which makes me fail miserably. We are not school children trying to one up one another in the school yard. We are not roaming the halls of our imaginative high school. We’re grown ups, who are still growing up. We’re human beings trying to live. More importantly we are not children anymore showing off whats cool in front of the masses at show and tell. What does it matter what I like that you don’t like? What does it matter if the mainstream is more fun then the underground? What makes cool so fucking cool anyway?

You reach that point in your life when growing up is inevitable. Everything that you once held dear to your heart all finds a way to disappear. All the things you once loved starts becoming childish and juvenile. I am through being cool. Through pretending that everything that I like is suppose to be what everyone else likes. Through spending money to impress complete nobodies into believing I am a somebody. Through wishing for material things in my attempt to impress you. New shoes doesn’t change who I am because even wearing new shoes doesn’t change the numbers in my bank account. Material things don’t make me cool because the more we try being cool, makes us less than fucking cool. I don’t need a closet of beautiful things to make me special. I don’t need to drive the coolest car to make me a somebody. Because reality is we are all complete nobodies. Who are we to make people believe that having these things makes us better than everyone else? All the things we love are made by people who have nothing. Some days I wish I had nothing just so I can appreciate everything I have surrounding me.

I am done pretending because reality is I am not cool. Not even an ounce of cool, not even a smidgen of cool. I am just me. I can live with that, why can’t you?

 

Talking sh*t about a pretty sunset.

I am a sucker for sunsets. Where the colors of the sky blend chaotically into the atmosphere. Where the fades of sky blues tarnish into the clouds to form bright pinks to luscious violets and transition with their oranges into the dark skies we see at night. Maybe I am the only one that sees it that way. Watching this transformation of color just happen before my eyes.  The more I try and explain myself, the more people point out the flaws and dismantle the sunset that I love. Colors of sunsets are a lot like dreams, everyone has their own perception of them. No matter how many times a person puts their two cents in about color, I can’t help but feel they have it all wrong. Everyone wants this picturesque sunset to photograph and show the world. To mark it up to their own perspection of beauty and edit out all the flaws. The more they capture the more they turn it around and change it. Editing reality you take away the beauty of it all. Flaws and all.

IMG_1148

Maybe we are going about it all wrong. Taking pictures of the sky doesn’t give the sky it’s beautiful justice. The colors that are sketched into my mind never show up as beautiful as I photograph them. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could photograph the sky without the need of digital devices? No sunset looks as beautiful as it exist in my memory. No sunset can be photographed to its picturesque perfection. Why do I bother explaining the things I love, when someone is going to come around and change everything? You can’t put a filter on my sunsets and tell me that this is what you see. You can’t tell me that life as you photograph it is what I am suppose to see. I find myself allowing others fears and perception of beauty filter into my own ideas. I find myself wanting to change the things I once loved all for the sake of finding something beautiful. I can drive myself crazy trying to change every single one of the flaws but in the end its the imperfections that make everything so damn beautiful.

IMG_8711

 

Nostalgia always has a way of letting us down. Every once in a while people will find a way to let you down and break you heart. Sunsets will come and go and all you’re left with are all the colors they leave behind in your memory. Sometimes staring up at the sky is better than staying asleep and dreaming. Dreams are only real in your memory but sunsets are fucking there for the taking. Don’t allow anyone else’s perceptions of your reality change what you see. Then again what do I know, sunsets are just sunsets. Colors are just as over exaggerated as our dreams. Sometimes people are right, maybe the sunset that I see is in the wrong placement of everything I want. Maybe the colors that I see aren’t as important as what anyone else sees. Who knows. All I care about is feeling something other than nothing. Seeing the colors for everything they are worth, there for my amusement. I’ll never find the perfect sunset everyone claims exists. Maybe I am wrong for loving all the things that I do but for what it’s worth, I still fall in love every time I look up at the sky as the sun sets. That’s all I could ever ask for, falling in love with colors before the darkness hits. It’s through color that we truly believe in ourselves, it’s before the dark that we reach for the light again.  That’s all I could ever want.

IMG_9042

 

 

Talking shit about a pretty sunset
Blanketing opinions that I’ll probably regret soon
I’ve changed my mind so much I cant even trust it
My mind changed me so much I cant even trust myself

I wish that it would rain.

Dark clouds roll over the clear blue skies. The greys and slates covering every inch of white clouds. Every inch of clear sky becomes vanished in the blanketed covers of the gloomy surroundings. The still of the air transforms into a chill that awakes your bones. You wish for it and you want it. You yearn for this gloominess feeling to stay, comfortable in your layers of never ending clothing. Your armor that shields you from everything and anything. It’s only the darkness that comes in. Everything else is just filler space. The chills, the shadows, all just awaiting the storm.

Waiting patiently.

10858529_10204110651900004_983619194156322655_n

I stare at my shoes glued to the pavement. I wrap my coat tighter. Watch my hair dance in sequence with the wind from the corner of my eye. How I wished it would rain, right where I stood. Wishing the rain that fell would flood the grounds that I walk upon and swallow me whole. That all this darkness stood for something, anything besides the illusion of a storm. Watching the leaves fall from the trees and circle in motion beneath my feet. Still I wait. I wait in the cold for any ounce of rain to hit my skin. To fall to the ground and carry me home. Any thing to wake me up from this feeling. This feeling of doubt and sadness that needed a setting to escape to. I listen to the sounds of the rumbling in the clouds and wait for the rain. I watch the clouds anger and light up the dark skies, still I wait.

10409593_10204110647979906_687083242297427381_n

I wait patiently.

Sadness has a way of wishing for storms. Wishing for moments to allow the darkness take ahold of the madness you’re feeling inside. I didn’t care. All I wanted was an answer to the skies that blistered with aches. Answers for this hurt feeling of sadness mixed with madness. Still I wait. I pray silently that the rumbling turns into a thunderous rage. That the skies would release their madness in form of tear drops disguised as rain. Then it would matter, then everything would make sense. Watch the rain slick the grounds and cover every inch of the streets. But the skies fail me. They only taunt the feelings and silence the emotions. I watch the skies continue to dark with night and not a drop of rain fall.

Still I wait.

The skies would eventually have to fall. Eventually the weight of the world would hurt the shoulders of the clouds and they’ll have to fall apart. I look up to the skies, close my eyes, and continue to wish for the sky to fall. For the winds to give answers to the cold. For the darkness to answer to this way I am feeling. I won’t run away. With my head in the clouds, I will stay close to the ground and my feet glued to the pavement. I will wait until the I am washed of these feelings and baptized into new sentiments. Wait until the rains fall from the heavens, until they can’t rain no more. Still I see nothing, still I wait.

We are familiar with the smells before rain that guide us into our sadness. Knowing that eventually waiting for never ending droughts, will get us no where but feeling silly for the waiting game. Still I wait. Wait for change, wait for growth, and wait for the rains to fall and hit me whole.

Any minute now, just a little while longer.

1795724_10202229583114460_750751787_n

 

3/13/2014

Here’s to us fools that have no meaning.

“Here’s to us fools that have no meaning
I tip my glass to you
Let’s toast the night away to friends
And forget about tomorrow…”

 Processed with VSCOcam with c1 preset

2014 started with a haircut.

I really didn’t except much from 2014. I make a mountain of resolutions but never keep them. I make promises to be better but hardly ever follow through. Year after year is just the same chaotic life wrapped up with new promises. 2014 was different. I probably say that about everything, but honestly 2014 was completely different then all the years prior.

2014 was my year of change.

When you’re used to your comfort zone you almost forget what life is outside of it. Working the same job, visiting the same places, doing the same thing. I am all for change but I hardly ever do it. It’s that fear of something going terribly wrong and paying for the consequences. Which is the reason why I stay in jobs I don’t care for, stay friends with people who treat me unfairly, all of which causes me to be miserable. When you’re unhappy, you live unhappily. Everything is negative and finding a silver lining always seems never ending. I was on this sinking ship of life that I wasn’t sure I could continue keeping afloat. It stopped at 2013 and ended with 2014.

It started with a haircut.

When a woman cuts her hair, she’s about to change her life.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 preset

I’ve managed to keep a shield around myself for quite sometime. For a long time my hair had been my armor. Something I hide behind like the layers of my emotions I shielded from everyone.  My hair became my identity to the extent that I had no control over it. I kept my hair long because of the constant praise I was given for it. It became this thing people talked about before they even looked at me. I enjoyed the praise. I loved my hair but something inside of me just wanted something more. Something different. Everything that I hid from wasn’t making my life better and my hair couldn’t shield away everything. There were chips in my armor and I knew eventually something had to change.

On Dec 31, 2013, I sat in a little salon in Mexico with a can of Coke in my hand and told the hairdresser to cut it. I had gone back and forth about whether or not to cut it. The part of me that had grown fond of my shield, my armor that had seen me through every struggle, just couldn’t let go. It took me to get out of my comfort zone and be in a completely different country to just go ahead and do it. If I waited another second, I would have stopped myself. If I had been home, I would have talked myself out of it. But I wasn’t home. I wasn’t with the familiar faces I see every day. I wasn’t around anyone that praised me for my hair. Before I knew it my shield was gone and my new life began.

Looking back at 2014, I let go of a lot of things that were holding me back. I found myself focusing on the things in life that needed changing. Cutting my hair was more than just the start of the cycle of change, it became the domino effect of things I needed to fix to make my life better. I started expressing myself creatively, I started speaking my opinions, more importantly I started to let go of things I didn’t need anymore. I stopped focusing on jobs that made me feel miserable. I stopped focusing on friendships that didn’t last. More importantly, I stopping hiding from my problems. My hair was my armor from the world and after cutting it, it let me be free. I realized how much I missed out on my life, shielding myself with my armor.  The moment I stopped focusing on my surroundings is the moment I finally started focusing on myself. Everything clicked. Money wasn’t going to solve my problems, no one person was ever going to make me happy, and more importantly I needed to love myself to ever feel an ounce of okay.

I would have never had known that sitting in a tiny salon in Mexico, how much my life would change. How much it made me truly appreciate all the great things I have in my life. The love I have from my family. The support and compassion of my friends. More importantly that I am better than my past. My life is a work in progress and every day is a chance to turn everything  around. I can’t continue to dwell on my shortcomings and why I have been handed this short end of the stick. Truth is in the past I wasn’t ready for change. Emotionally I wasn’t capable to handle change at that current moment. Change wasn’t something I could force myself to do, change was something I had to come up with on my own. I needed to feel hurt and this pain in order to grow from it. I had to go through my past in order to solider on through my present. The New Year challenged my old ways of thinking and planted the seeds to change my life around.

Going into 2015, I embrace all the new year has to offer. I embrace the new beginning and fully embrace the change that comes with it. I go into the new year with a full appreciation of life. No longer will my past hold me back. No longer will the stupid insecurities take a hold of me. More importantly at the end of the day, this is my life and no one else is going to live it for me.

Goodbye 2014.

Here’s to us fools that have no meaning.