Happy 17th.
One thing I've learned in the last year is that just as you reach top, you crash and burn. These days I have a wonderful, amazing boyfriend who gives me the world and even more. I have support from my family, my friends, from strangers that just listen to my voice yet never see my face. My pockets are full of love, laughter, and life. My smiles are mostly natural, and my kisses full of passion. I'm almost done with the bullshit that we like to call High School. I love my job. I'm sleeping. My eyes aren't glassy and there aren't puffy black circles under them. I ditched my old "friends", those ones who didn't give a shit if I overdosed, or got pregnant, or if they took every inch of myself that I had left. These days, they've been up to the top. Ever since we drove up that mountain and watched the sunset.
But remember, the top of the mountain only goes so far and the cliff comes far sooner then you'd guess. Three days ago was a repeat of last year. Two days ago I passed out cold in my kitchen when my mom asked me to dye the gray out of her hair. Yesterday I learned to shock people's hearts if they fail and in my head my dad was the dead one lying on the table. Today I crashed. The words streaming off a strangers lips, that song, that same song brought back the reality of one year ago. That crazy, fucked up reality. And my car followed those crazy, fucked up directions. And when the black faded out of my head, when I was sitting in my car, wedged against the guard rail, foot slammed on the clutch- then everything seemed still. The world stopped spinning but the horrors were sharp. They are sharp. My life is just as bent up, scratched up, and dented as my car no matter how much I patch and mend and sew. The past and the present and the future are one. And without one theres nothing. I'm seventeen today. One year ago I was sixteen. Yesterday I was sixteen. Tomorrow I'm seventeen. The past is the present is the future and the future is the present is the past.
I'm not being negative. This is a revelation, this is reality. The world around us works off suffering, it runs off hatred and anger, this world is fueled by war, hunger, murder, and rape. This isn't negativity, no, this is what makes us work. We want better, more, happier, prettier, richer, calmer, and bigger. We watch those suffer and realize how much we have. We watch ourselves suffer, we watch ourselves survive, and this struggle is what makes us strive for happiness. For this secret perfection that we will most likely never find.
I'm a car crash. I'm in a deep, dark pit. I'm completely lost. But the world is fucking beautiful. The stars in the sky, the sun that creeps through my blinds and hits the opposite wall every morning. The girl in the junker at the gas station with a toothless grin, a carefree smile and hair that would be gorgeous if it blew in the wind. The way my nose rests perfectly on his cheek and we can sit that way in silence for forever and ever. The way she draws her heart on paper, the pure childhood innocence. The smell of an orange lingering on my fingers. Waves crashing against the shore as I drift into sleep. Sunsets on mountains after absolutely horrible days. The times you say the exact same thing at the exact same time. The way the clouds can drift in a beautiful blue sky in the midst of winter. The yawn that you never could have made it out of that tiny little baby boy. The pride in her father's eyes when he knows she did better than he ever could. The way the man behind me gave me a quater, and then another when I just couldn't find the ones I left in my pocket. The way the world goes on and on forever, until we can't begin to fathom what the fuck that really means. The way stains seem to cling to her, but she just doesn't give a shit and in the end that makes her fucking awesome. Old friends with short notes that mean the world. Scrubing the floor on your hands and knees for hours but loving it because you're with him for longer than you planned. The way you can see the absolute affection as this old man gazes at his wife. The words that bring tears to your eyes and the pictures that you can talk about for hours. These little things, the ones you'll never realize until you fall, these are life.
I'm not being negative. This is reality. You probably just haven't realized it yet.
It's my birthday. And although its really fucked up if you look at it from above, I think that it's already absolutly perfect, perfect as perfect seems to come around here.
and that's all I have to say about that.
But remember, the top of the mountain only goes so far and the cliff comes far sooner then you'd guess. Three days ago was a repeat of last year. Two days ago I passed out cold in my kitchen when my mom asked me to dye the gray out of her hair. Yesterday I learned to shock people's hearts if they fail and in my head my dad was the dead one lying on the table. Today I crashed. The words streaming off a strangers lips, that song, that same song brought back the reality of one year ago. That crazy, fucked up reality. And my car followed those crazy, fucked up directions. And when the black faded out of my head, when I was sitting in my car, wedged against the guard rail, foot slammed on the clutch- then everything seemed still. The world stopped spinning but the horrors were sharp. They are sharp. My life is just as bent up, scratched up, and dented as my car no matter how much I patch and mend and sew. The past and the present and the future are one. And without one theres nothing. I'm seventeen today. One year ago I was sixteen. Yesterday I was sixteen. Tomorrow I'm seventeen. The past is the present is the future and the future is the present is the past.
I'm not being negative. This is a revelation, this is reality. The world around us works off suffering, it runs off hatred and anger, this world is fueled by war, hunger, murder, and rape. This isn't negativity, no, this is what makes us work. We want better, more, happier, prettier, richer, calmer, and bigger. We watch those suffer and realize how much we have. We watch ourselves suffer, we watch ourselves survive, and this struggle is what makes us strive for happiness. For this secret perfection that we will most likely never find.
I'm a car crash. I'm in a deep, dark pit. I'm completely lost. But the world is fucking beautiful. The stars in the sky, the sun that creeps through my blinds and hits the opposite wall every morning. The girl in the junker at the gas station with a toothless grin, a carefree smile and hair that would be gorgeous if it blew in the wind. The way my nose rests perfectly on his cheek and we can sit that way in silence for forever and ever. The way she draws her heart on paper, the pure childhood innocence. The smell of an orange lingering on my fingers. Waves crashing against the shore as I drift into sleep. Sunsets on mountains after absolutely horrible days. The times you say the exact same thing at the exact same time. The way the clouds can drift in a beautiful blue sky in the midst of winter. The yawn that you never could have made it out of that tiny little baby boy. The pride in her father's eyes when he knows she did better than he ever could. The way the man behind me gave me a quater, and then another when I just couldn't find the ones I left in my pocket. The way the world goes on and on forever, until we can't begin to fathom what the fuck that really means. The way stains seem to cling to her, but she just doesn't give a shit and in the end that makes her fucking awesome. Old friends with short notes that mean the world. Scrubing the floor on your hands and knees for hours but loving it because you're with him for longer than you planned. The way you can see the absolute affection as this old man gazes at his wife. The words that bring tears to your eyes and the pictures that you can talk about for hours. These little things, the ones you'll never realize until you fall, these are life.
I'm not being negative. This is reality. You probably just haven't realized it yet.
It's my birthday. And although its really fucked up if you look at it from above, I think that it's already absolutly perfect, perfect as perfect seems to come around here.
and that's all I have to say about that.