Excuse me

For being 'selfish.'

Besides the fact that I made a huge mistake dating this total doucher, I really haven't gone out much in the past few years. Excuse me for wanting to come out of my cave and learn to trust people again. I call it socializing, others may call it partying, and then point the finger at me (during a break up, where I am already down and humbled) for not doing something more "constructive" with my life. I'm proud of how far I've come. It's okay for me to have a good time with friends. It's healthy.

I have to take on more and more responsibilities, at a slow pace. I attend class. I have my own personal issues that almost resulted in my failing, once again, to complete something. Yet, I am still there. I'm not giving up on myself.

I'm going to do what I feel is right for me. It's completely unfair that I have to deal with someone I love telling me that I should be doing something else, something more; That if I can go out and "party," I should be giving back to this world that, so far, has taken everything from me.

I respect the concept that pulling myself out of my own self may ultimately benefit me, but that didn't seem to be the intention of the conversation I just had. I feel I owe it to myself to build myself up and learn to live my life, and to discover what that is for me.

Freight Train

When I think back for one second, I understand how I ended up here. All I have to do is let myself feel the pain for a moment, just remember, and I can forgive myself for wasting time. I did it on purpose. I didn't want to think, I didn't want to feel, I just wanted to be left alone in my room with all of my distractions. I was afraid of moving forward, of being with myself in silence to even think about where or who I wanted to be. I had to hide for a while from myself, from my past, for a long, long while. I peek my head up for air and try to gauge my surroundings, and the past hits me like a freight train. I hold strong. I brace for the impact, lest I spend the rest of my life in this room. Life is beautiful and I want to experience it. Fear is paralyzing. I refuse to be afraid anymore. I choose strength. I choose courage. I choose to leave the past behind me and move forward, weeping not for roads untraveled, but gearing for the course ahead. I have no ridiculous notions of things working out perfectly for me. That being said, I have hope and determination and the will to drive me onwards.
My life has been some sad poet's inspiration. I will harness the lessons I've learned and the wisdom I've acquired through my journey to manifest a beautiful life. I open myself to the gifts life has to offer. I open my heart to be cherished by another. I open my mind to be heard or be misunderstood, so long as I speak my truth it doesn't matter. The point is, really, that I may never be more ready than I am right now. So be it. If I fall, I will brush myself off and start off again like a hunter going after her prey, to survive.
It wasn't all for naught, for I've metamorphosed. The girl I was three years ago nearly died, so she shrouded herself in a cocoon and emerged as myself. I am reborn. I have the power to prevail. I am a realist now. I am innately talented, bitingly intelligent, and strangely beautiful. I have so much to offer this world and I will be the one hitting it like a freight train.

Strength

I'm not afraid to fail. I'm not afraid to fight.
It's as if I've come alive from the inside.
I feel the ground beneath my feet and my story written in the sky.
I am the wind within the leaves reaching far and fast and high.
I just have to be. I don't have to try.
Who I am is well enough and where I am is fine.
I feel my strength within my veins and courage in my eyes.
I am the song only I can sing and my heart is where it lies.

The End

If the world ends
And there's no legacy to conceive
With no one left to hear
The mark I leave
Then what does my purpose become?

If the sky falls
And there's nothing left to see
Does it matter then
What I used to believe
That I could be someone?

If the ground opens up
And swallows my dreams
Would I even give up
The destiny I've seen
Lord knows you only live once

If the oceans collide
Would I be set free
Washing aside
Everything I wanted to be
Would I truly live for the moment,
Knowing the end has come?

Quietude

I have nothing of impact to say
Though I should
I have thrown enough moments away
Wish I could
Find the impulse to steal the day
I'm a fool
I'm ready to strike but afraid
I will lose
I don't want to take all these pills
But I do
My feelings become numb and nil
So I choose
Rather than bleed seethe and spill
I refuse
To be anyone if and until
I'm confused
No longer and summon my strength
It will be
An indeterminate length
Once I speak
I will know what I wanted to say
Without reach
Until then in my quietude stay

Sensitive?

I think the word sensitive best describes me. I don't like the words psychic or medium, as they have negative connotations to a lot of scam artists. I really haven't attempted to tap into my abilities, and I really can't confirm that what little experiences I have to be anything more than coincidence.
The things that happen frequently are so minuscule that they would barely be worth mentioning if they didn't happen so often. Silly things like knowing when something is done cooking before an alarm goes off, or picking up my phone just before I get a text or a call. It isn't always consistent, but it happens about half the time. I tend to watch a lot of shows on my computer and if something happens and I need to restart my browser, I can usually find my place in the program with a single click.
I have to say the most impressive event happened several years ago. I was sitting at a paneras and I was on my cel, talking to a friend and swearing rather profusely. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blonde little girl at a nearby table. I PGed my conversation and when I hung up, I looked over and there were only two women seated at that table. I had a very strong urge to confirm my suspicions. So I mustered up the courage to go talk to them. I said to them, "Excuse me, but would one of you happen to be pregnant?" In fact one of them confirmed this. "Is there a possibility that it would be a girl?" Again, this was confirmed. "Could she be blonde?" No. I was wrong there, but you never know. I told her the child was going to be okay, and feeling like a weirdo I thanked them and left.
I was pretty stoked at that point. I wanted to test my ability further. I walked into the nearest Borders bookstore (which I was not at familiar with) and to see if I could hone in on a book about psychics. I didn't read the genres or categories of the aisles, I simply walked down the center aisle and took a right. Without scanning the titles, I put out my hand and touched a book. And it was the only book about psychics in the store.
Thoroughly freaked out, I walked right out and never tried anything like this again.

Thinspiration? Are you kidding me?

Thinspiration has got to be the dumbest trend I have ever encountered. There's also something called Ana, short for anorexia, as if it were a beautiful thing for women and girls to aspire to. This kind of thing really irks me because I was anorexic completely from past trauma. Food was disgusting to me. I still take medication to make me hungry. I used to weigh 105 pounds at 5'4" and I never felt pretty. Girls that glorify starving themselves are just sick. It's a sad obsession, but having been anorexic having nothing to do with vanity, I don't have to imagine what these girls are going through. Being hungry and weak, having bone and skin problems, aging prematurely, feeling awful every waking second-- and for what? So they can see their bones? So their stomachs eat themselves flat? So they can look like Nicole Richie or Posh Spice? So their legs will look like sticks and their arms like twigs? How is being sick beautiful? I just don't understand. When I looked like that, I hated my body. I hated that everything just hung on my bones and that I had no curves. I wasn't in control of my eating habits... and these girls do it by choice. It's an epidemic, and I hope one day these girls realize that they are killing themselves and they look like shit.