The World That I Know- Collective Soul

This is entirely a work of fiction. All places, events and people do not exist. If you see a resemblance to any place, event, or person. You’re stupid.

I’m back, in the most delicate meaning of the term. Things have been chaotic the past two years of my life, but I guess I’m ready to return to describing it all in my literary metaphors. In the overall picture, I am pretty positive I am writing to myself a majority of the time, but for some reason the idea of being alone doesn’t nearly bother me as much as it used too.

Back in the days where this shit was my life, I used to pick topics for every post, yadda yadda yadda, but that was back when I was like, five. Now, I’m going to type whatever is on my mind. If you don’t like it, I suggest you die.

I read this, dare I say, short epic by Oscar Wilde. Actually, I have been reading it everyday for weeks. The Ballad of the Reading Gaol. Honestly, it is probably one of the best compositions of words I have ever read in my life. He managed to grasp the idea of human love so viciously and knifing, I’ll just let you read a smidgen for yourself.

“Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word,
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.”

Read it again.

Again.

And again.

If you aren’t brought to tears or if that didn’t affect you in the least way: exit out of this screen. Listen to some Justin Bieber. Piss yourself, eat an eggo because you have soul.

This is just an intro post, I probably won’t be so hyper or sporadic in the future, but if you don’t like it than fuck you.

 

I’m not dead,

L.

 

In Repair- John Mayer

Prepare all you want for the battle. Get your armor built strong, your allies stronger than your offender, and make sure your battle field works to your advantage. Practice all your moves, and make sure your comebacks are smooth and flowing. Put on your most aggressive face, and go at it with all you’ve got.

You can Prepare all you want for the battle, but what  no one ever prepares for what might happen if you fail. Your allies might flee, in fear that they might injured too, or they might switch sides, because they feel what you’re fighting for is insufficient to what they want. Your armor might crack, from all the weight and pressure of the opposing forces. Your battle field may crumble, and your moves may not be strong enough. Whatever effort you have, may not be enough. And when the war is fought and over with, you are left on the ground, bruised and broken.

Take all the time  you need to get back up from your battle. The bruises will stay fresh, and the pain will stay sharp for a while. You cannot heal overnight, the new skin you’ve grown from losing, will take a while to shed. Don’t be afraid to be hurt, or torn or destroyed. Don’t be afraid to groan or mope or cry. Scream, yell, beat the shit out of some random object. You will be rescued, and you will be saved.

If their any advice i have its this, no matter how much you prepare for the battle, you will never be prepared. Expect the unexpected, Prepare for unpreparedness.

Sweat the battle before the battle sweats you.

Change Your Mind- The Killers

Change. Change. CHANGE. 

Change has been the hardest concept for me to ever grasp, besides love. I’ve been thinking for weeks on how to even approach the topic of change. What I say might be controversial, you might read one sentence and totally disagree. But hear me out, my intolerable words might only help you strengthen your own. I’ve composed three different kinds of change in this world from my own experience and knowledge, i will not cite specific examples, but i will use what i use best. Metaphors. 

Change is like the feeling you get when you try a food for the first time… and it’s repulsive. You weigh the pros and cons of trying this new thing. You go for it, then hesitate out. You have pressure from those around you saying, “what is the worst that could happen?” And with a final breath the food makes it into your mouth. Immediately, you freeze and think, ‘what have I done?’. Now you have two options. Spit it out, and try to rinse it out with false relievers like water and forget it ever happened, but the taste will still remain. Or you can take the shock, deal with the pain, and man up. Either way, you’ve done it. You can’t take it back.

Change is like buying a new shirt. You enter the store and the colors crash down on you. Your eyes brighten as you see styles and fabrics and mannequins that portray an image you wish to have. You’re raised up on a wave, as you start to consider buying a new shirt. Armed with a wallet of cash and a new mindset, you weigh the consequences. Money will be gone, Mother might not approve, what will people think? And in a spur of the moment you take the shirt to the register, and walk away with your secret in a bag. Whether you chose to wear it is your choice. But you still bought the shirt.

Change is like growing old. You live your life according to your own mindset and morals. You make decisions, you turn down food and run miles. You get your yearbook at the end of the year, and fill it with signatures, memories and you scribble out your enemies faces. The next year is the same, but a little tweaked, only because your older. You still make decisions, accept food, but now you walk. You get your yearbook, and ink covers it. And it goes on. You choose to one day open all your old year books , just to see how silly you used to be. ‘When did i lose that haircut?’ ‘I was friends with her?’ ‘Why did i stop doing this?’ everything rushes back to you, all the memories and tears and laughs. but you can’t pinpoint WHY. WHEN. WHERE. HOW. did this all happen. You changed, unwillingly. Everything seemed the same as always, but then you look back… and everything is different.

Critizise me for this. Tell me why everything I said is wrong. I wanna hear all your old memories, i want a fourth type of change. Explain to me, argue. I want to know if anything I have said touched you. Give me feedback.

 

Change me. Change you. Change this.

On Your Porch- The Format

The doors of schools around the country are locked and bolted. The parking lots are empty, and the lights shut off. While the buildings that we spend too many hours are left lifeless, the town is roaring. Cars are zooming and bonfires are billowing smoke into the star-y sky. Books are being left on shelves, and bath suites are vacant from drawers. This is the time where we actually get to be alive. No responsibilities, or Shakespeare tests, or ratty Mile-runs in gym. We get to run and laugh and dance and sing and swim. It’s the three months of our life where no one really gives a shit. It’s something about the humidity, or the soft breeze, or maybe its those kaleidoscopic sunsets, that transform us. Because when we return in the fall, we’re not who we were when the doors were last closed. We’re stronger, brighter, and a helluva lot tanner. As we sit in class that summer skin we had grown so fond of, it starts peeling away. Teachers and Faculty and ratty Mile-Gym runs start to peel the freckles from our shoulders. We lose those summer nights. So if there’s one thing i could think of to say its this:

 

Go back to school next fall with the thickest summer skin of them all.

What We Hate We Make- The Rocket Summer

I’ve been tuning into the news a lot lately. I’ve been letting my eyes stray upon the horrors of this world, and what the adolescent people that we have become have been doing. We are repulsive sometimes. I don’t see how parents and children and grandparents and businessmen can sit and watch the news day in and day out without feeling a wound to their flesh? The government and people need to stop funding these local channels, all they do is project an image of the human race that is unfair and bias. Why can’t we just have one TV channel that tells of all the good that’s going on in this world? Why can’t we report on The Rescue instead of the War? The volunteers instead of the murderers? Maybe if we stop giving the false and incredulous evils media, and starting projecting an image of peace and tranquility, humans will stop starving for fake light. Have faith in the human race. We are not as bad as the media has made us out to be. Everyday i see a simple act of kindness and wonder happen around every corner. Channel 11, 13, 12 and 102 news should be racing to capture that, those simple moments of one helping another, instead of telling the world of death.

 

Let’s throw a unrushed pandemonium of good news. Project it.

Self Conclusion- The Spill Canvas

I wish i was an artist. I want to have the ability to paint a picture that means and represents something. The power to use the vibrant and piercing reds, yellows, purples, and pinks to make humans feel emotions with a simple glance. But I’m not a painter, a musician or a athlete. All i have is the simplicity of the everyday dictionary. That’s all i really need . All i need is words. I draw pictures with letters and phrases. I create emotions with adjectives and verbs. This existence, it gets rough and intolerable. when i write, i feel like i connect. not only with myself, but with you. All i could ever ask is that you feel something when you see my words.

So i’ll stand at the edge of the world, and preach my sorrowful catch.  It’s a long shot, and a whirlwind of confusion. but there is only one thing I ask of the humans on this planet. Write and sing and dance and jump and shout. Make sure everyone knows how you think and feel. i notice that as the years fly past words become less and less sufficant. actions and movements mean nothing, we are becoming less social. words and ideas, they control the world. I believe that if we change and improve words and ideas, we can better the world.

 

Things are not always as they seem when your standing at the edge of the world.

A Drop In the Ocean-Ron Pope

Beauty isn’t just what’s on the outside, or what’s on the human flesh. Its the whole capacity of intelligence, personality, and generosity inside oneself. The words that run through your veins is what makes someone appealing, the frost in their words and the bite in their actions can leave you disarmed. Beauty has nothing to do with appearance really. Words can be the most gorgeous thing in the world, and a sight just as the sun setting or a baby crying can leave you completely winded.

Outer Beauty without intelligence is like a masterpiece drawn on a napkin. Gorgeous to the eye, but only used to wipe what you have left behind. The magazines and media and computers and humans, we all project this image, this mold of what a woman should be. So on the outside these women are discreet, hiding the kaleidoscope of color and vibrant inside. and that. right there. that kaleidoscopic of energy and animation. thats beauty.

I think of you in colors that don’t exist.

This Town-O.A.R

This town. probably one of the best songs. I’ve always wanted to get outta this place. I think no matter where you are, you want out. Some little knick in the back of your head is yelling saying ‘there is more out there.’ and there is. There are oceans, sidewalks, paint, flowers, ink, and children yet to be dicovered. Walls still needed to be created. and streets that haven’t yet been ripped up my fast tires. but i think, if given the chance, at this given moment. i wouldn’t leave this small, confined place. I haven’t taken this town yet. I haven’t walked this historic streets and felt like I belong here. I don’t wanna leave somewhere knowing i just existed there. i wanna leave my mark on a tree, my story written in the paper, and my friends with my name still on the tip of their tongue. One day, when all my work is done, and my ideas are splattered on the buildings, I’ll drive down the highways and leave this town in my rearview mirror. But for now, I think I’ll hang around. There’s a couple boys i still want to kiss, and a couple fights i haven’t yet resolved. There is only one thing i know for sure, I’m not leaving this place alone. I want someone by my side, a hand to hold when all the feelings of regret and memory come flooding back into my eyes. I want to know that i’m not the only one leaving everything behind. This city, These lights, this town. Its up for grabs. Take it.

 

And everyone of you, all around, come on ya’ll let’s take this town.

White Horse-Taylor Swift

I never thought… i mean, no one likes to think they are not good enough for someone. We all like to believe that if we let the right words slip through our teeth, and have the right shoes on our feet, that the world will just fall into our hands. I never thought someone would get over me that fast. But then again, I’m the furthest away from being good enough for anyone.

Maybe it’s because I’m a thinker. I’m not like those people who think by their blood, which doesn’t exactly flow towards the brain. But I’m afriad i’ll be even more flawed if i think that way. That I’ll have all these bloody mistakes surrounding me. I’m cautious. Aware. I want to feel like I’m good enough for someone. something. I’m sick of being used. All those boys who think they can love me, then just walk away like I’m nothing. i don’t believe it for one second. At night their gonna regret it. I’m usually a pretty humble person, but I’m not that easy to forget. NO ONE can be swept under the rug like that.

 

After being  lied too all the time. I got to the point where nothing matters.

Girls Do What They Want- The Maine

I’m sick today, not fun at all. but a sore throat doesn’t stop these fingers from delivering yet another liberal masterpiece by yours truly (: I had this, i don’t know, realization, the other day, that maybe we’ve got it all wrong. Maybe this world doesn’t revolve around the job you have or the car you drive, and maybe the fact that you live in a house bigger than your neighbor, doesn’t make you any better. we’ve been programmed and taught and shown just one way of living our whole lives! what if for once, we stopped analyzing and spending and being cautious. that’s why I don’t like money. it makes people cautious. we just need to dive into this crazy sea of people and sidewalks and money and faith, and just realize that we are all the same person, the same life form, trying to survive in the same world. 

I hate when people say, “there’s always someone who has it worse than you.” that’s a load of bullshit if you ask me. sure, you could be faced with the fact that you can’t shake the feeling that your only being used by the opposite sex, while someone over seas gets beat for not being able to attract a husband. but that’s an unfair comparasion, you and that person overseas were raised on different morals, and ethics, brought up in two completely different worlds. what your going through, is just as bad as what another is going through. unless you can honestly say that you have never thought “man, i dont think this can get any worse.” then you have no right to say that im wrong. we all have a certain capacity of pain we can withhold. but it hurts us all the same.

 

The world falls at the same rate.