Twenty years after,
There is still
The crescent shaped eyes,
Clutching wild dreams
And notions of the improbable…
There is still the heart-shaped infant-like face,
Kept beautiful by
The background glare
There is still the heart
Twice her weight
Big enough to swallow oceans whole.
Twenty years from now on,
The stiffness from
The wearying tramp
Through life will only
Soften the kinder parts
Her anxious dreams will be found relaxing into the grace of fulfilment;
On her brows
Will be the heavy, golden linings
Of the memories
Of honest love given and received,
Memories of victory,
And Olympus and the forty years,
Of the bright lights of happiness falling
Level across her face
Of living a life, Impeccable.
This poem is not mine. A friend of mine wrote it for me and because I wasn’t expecting really anything from anybody, it absolutely made my day. I couldn’t decide which I loved more: the cover art for my anthology that @josh_impressions drew (I’d love to share it with you all soon but that would be after I make more progress in writing). Much better than the box of chocolates and a hot lesbian that I was wishing for when I woke up, right?
The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.. I should know because I have been lying about my age for a while.
Truth be told, yesterday was my 20th birthday..
I was perfectly okay with spending the day in my room watching The Big Bang Theory and eating a shitload of junk food, but I had to go out. I had a little fun though.. Good company always cheers me up even when I’m not in the mood to be all bubbly and happy.
This ‘mood’ has been building up for days. I’ve not really felt like doing much or going anywhere for a while now and I’ve been just fine with it. Better than fine, in fact. I’ve been having the greatest time on my own. I even wrote the silliest poem ever while taking one of my night strolls:
While taking a walk,
I heard Ribs in my head.
Oh it went on and on…
It soothed me
And bathed me
In inexplicable emotions.
As I thought about
These feelings I was having,
Lorde raised me
To previously unattainable heights.
Then I thought about how it looked like my boobs have grown. And then I thought about someone and I smiled reaaaaaalllly hard. Like my weirdest, most ridiculous smile in a long time. And it felt good. It felt a lot like.. Happiness. I don’t know which one made me smile more, I just know it felt good. Aaaaand I saw four dogs hunched over a garbage basket like witches at a crossroad.
I made a couple of discoveries in the past few days.. Believe it or not, I am 64% emo. Not goth at all. And I’m starting to realize how much of a jerk I’m being to people, but I don’t really care.
I also made a couple of minor decisions in the past few days.. Some of them are short term while the others are long term. I won’t go so far as to call them resolutions but anyway.. I’ll make a list:
- Use twitter more often.
- Watch new sitcoms.
- Buy tampons.
- Buy panty liners.
- Rock band tees more often.
- Buy heels.
- Stock up on dark jeans.
- Get even more ripped jeans.
- Get lost and make the most of it.
- Add leggings back to your wardrobe.
- Speak the way you write.
- Buy a kitten.
- Dye your hair.
- Make a mess in your room and don’t care about it.
- Go out more often.
- Get Chemical Romance and Tokyo Hotel albums.
- Wear more black.
- Eat more junk food.
- Shut the fuck up sometimes; and
- Use baby powder.
To be very honest, I expected something to change in me yesterday. Maybe a switch or something but nothing happened. There’s just the knowledge that I’m 20 years old. 20. Two whole decades. But I don’t think my parents got the memo. They still talk to me and treat me like I’m 10 (ten) years old. Only thing that’s different there is that I now stand up for myself (although in all honesty, I was doing that before my birthday). I wish I could say that tomorrow looks friendly now that I’m 20 years young but that would be a lie. But at least things stopped appearing solid, permanent and untenable. So to “celebrate” my birthday, I’m going to buy myself a kitten for doing my best.
Also, I want to share a collabo I did with someone I met on a group chat. I hope you like it:
What a cold sterile life!
The truth stripped my soul
And left me with nothing but a handful of broken dreams
And soon-to-be-broken promises.
Our heartfelt vows of people in love
Were fragile words that now have been shattered,
They’d bleed forever
And flow to a place where the air is brown and the earth is dry.
Tears have blurred my vision
And I’m constantly slogging through the bleak confusion
Unable to break through to the surface
Walking through a dense grey fog.
I’m engulfed by a paralyzing gut-wrenching fear
And the small seed of apprehension growing inside me.
I’m thrilled and terrified
Of the cold green darkness.
If only you listened, you’d have heard the residue of a lifetime’s pain-
A memory that wouldn’t hurt for the rest of my life
Seen the tiny, squiggly grey line in a sea of fuzzy black-
Strands of sunlight sliding through the open windows of pain
Because I feel the silent, insistent march of every hour
Ticking away what I want most in my life,
The steps towards my own happiness
Creak under the weight of this overwhelming self-loathe.
The end, the pain- that’s out of my control
As the knot of colorful anguish makes the windows glow with golden light.
YOUR LONELY NIGHTS ARE NUMBERED.
I promise, it gets better.
Your pain is not deathless.
Seeing stars and bright colors would stop being a consequence.
Drugs and abuse stop feeling like punishment.
Loss of breath hurts different.
You want it to last till your face turns blue and hell freezes over.
I LOVE YOU WHEN YOU’RE SOBER.
Your scream rejuvenates my vapid cells.
Riding on the energy from your tears.
Basking in the pain that jolts me off my numbness.
I am not taking you for granted.
Intimacy just wore down our high.
You’re my heart now.
Familiar enough to be ignored.
LOVE DOES NOT LAST FOREVER.
Your beauty is not striking like the girls on magazine covers.
Your eyes don’t sparkle in the light like they should
Yet your love crept on me like old discarded pills;
It’s the type of beauty that poets write about.
There’s a lot of potential in a heartbreak
If you’ll just stop protecting yourself from another heartbreak
And start over.
I know this post is long overdue but this has to be my longest post yet so I hope I made up for my lateness. I’m sorry it’s so all over the place and not at all interesting but that’s how most of my day was yesterday.
Anyway, I’m going to close with something I found on tumblr:
Yes, you. Stop being unhappy with yourself. You are perfect. Stop wishing you looked like someone else or wishing people liked you as much as they like someone else. Stop trying to get attention from those who hurt you. Stop hating your body, your face, your personality, your quirks. Love them. Without those things, you wouldn’t be you, and why would you want to be someone else? Be confident with who you are. If anyone hates you because you are happy with yourself, then stick your middle finger in the air and say, “Screw it. My happiness will not depend on others anymore. I’m happy because I love who I am. I love my flaws. I love my imperfections. They make me me and ‘me’ is amazing.”
And this one that I found on Instagram:
Transformation isn’t sweet and bright.
It’s dark and murky, painful and pushing,
An unraveling of the truths you’ve carried in your body,
A practice in facing your own created demons;
A complete uprooting before becoming.
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