(no subject)
What does it feel to be old? I mean really old. Like on your death bed old. I started thinking about how youth is viewed. How do I view people that are younger than me. I told my brother today that I'm glad I never committed suicide. I started thinking about the richness I have discovered and all the people I have met over the years. I told him that puberty is a confusing time and what happens after that... holy shit, the opportunities. Once the chemicals have settled the world is ready and waiting for you to just fucking take it and swallow it whole. The information and the people, the inspiration, the music, the people and the sights. Oh my god, I feel so lucky to be alive. I feel so glad that I'm here now, I would never want to ever be anything else. I am so fed up with being envious. I realize that the person I want to be is not jealous. I am so fed up with strange distractions. I am so fed up with wanting to feel like shit. I'm so fed up with glamorizing pain. I am fed up with being too cool to care. I look at all the teenagers, I look at myself. I look at the moments of desperation and only realize now how petty those moments were.. and how the meaningful things slipped through my fingers. I am so sad when I think of all the superficial bullshit I fell for and all the love I passed over. Today I was watching two teenage girls flip their hair. They were trying to get the attention of the guys in their group. The boys stared off into the distance as the girls violently flipped their hair, unaware of the lecherous stares of older men. The oblivion of youth. The inability to see past your nose. The naivety of being young and unrealized. The desperation to assert yourself, unable to see how others are mocking your confusion. I admired their confusion and I wish them luck in their lives. When will they understand how comical they looked trying to be sensual. When does legitimate sensuality take a hold of you. I wonder if it happens when your innocence has been taken away, and you try to claim it back.. is it the struggle you try to make yourself again. Is it the dance of reclaiming. Is it a woman trying to find her youth. She searches for what she lost, in the eyes of men, women and children. She tries to find it in food, she tries to find it in conversations. Her sensuality is her longing to reclaim herself.