halcyonic, quiescent acosmist

You made my friend feel useless because he loves you, and you just want his words to wrap around your little finger.

Why would anyone want to be useful? Uselessness means that nobody can use you; you aren’t a tool that can be used, then neglected. You aren’t disposable, because you are not something that can be tired of. If you are useful, you are setting yourself up for something terrible. People shouldn’t love you because you are useful; they might as well have been saying that they love you because you make their lives easier, as a thing. The biggest compliment is not being useful: it is being useless. You are not loved nor liked for anything, but yourself. People have to like you for who you are, rather than for what you can do, because you are useless. So be it; be useless, and don’t think much of it as an insult when people describe you as it.

I hate how possessive humans are. Everything we do looks and feels so natural- but it’s not. If you neglect all of the logical reasons why we do these things, you’ll see how blindly awkward it really is. For instance, locking your door after you leave your house. You’re saying to everyone that this is your house. This is your possession. All of the things trapped inside of that box is yours, and nobody else can have it. When you give someone the key to your house, you’re sharing your possessions, but again… it’s yours. Even in our language. Everything is so possessive. Of course it has to be, but when you read blindly and just feel all of the possessive words and greediness in a sentence, it’s almost revolting. Humans have taken it a step too far, saying that possessiveness is relative to passion and emotion and affection. We say we give hugs, but the very motion of a hug is holding somebody in one’s arms. You are holding and protecting that person. You are saying, you are mine. You are taking that person, and sheltering them- trapping them in the imaginary box of what is yours and what is not. 

Why I think this birthday has been amazing.

I have never felt so cared for in my entire life.

Not even when I wanted to kill myself, not when I was held by somebody for the first time and so earnestly, not even when I was smothered in attention by my superiors.

It broke my heart, at first, the other night, when I realized that so few people were coming to my birthday celebrations. I thought that I was truly unloved, and that little things could come in between my friendships so easily- I felt as though… I just wasn’t worth it. It didn’t matter that I survived.

Anyway, the turn of events made me cry for an entirely different reason.

I have never gotten many gifts before. I have hardly ever received actual presents for anything. It made me shocked when I first saw that somebody had put in the effort to get me something. This is not exaggerated. I was honestly stunned when I thought to myself; wait, those are for me? I felt very hesitant to take them, because I felt as though my mother would have hit me for it. I was being smothered by gifts of not only material things, but love.

That of all presents, was the best. 
Knowing that my best friends came down out of their way, just for me… Made me tear up. Knowing that people cared for me enough to spare me the hours, give me the things, and show me their love… it made me very emotional.

I don’t think anybody could possibly understand what I feel like right now. I feel happy to know that people are here. It scares me, but I know that this is.. supposed to be normal.

I never had something like this before, and now that it’s in a whole new light, dustless, I’m in tears.

Thank you, all, for everything you have done for me.
You are extremely appreciated. 

I close my eyes and I see somebody I want, but I don’t know who it is. I stop saying what I need to say and listen, and I hear the things that break my heart and I hear the people who want to kiss my heart better, but never will. I open my mouth and burnt crows seem to migrate away. I open my hands, and I see the maroon stained crevices and feel the promises I made.

I’m satisfied with knowing that my nice words went to waste so easily and efficiently. A few of the people I have written about have wasted away into somebody less than the dust in between the cracks and crevices of the cement. I poured my heart out for you, and if you decide to take it and run away with it- so be it. Somebody already stole it, and I don’t have it. You’re not getting anything back, however. I will not see you the way you wanted me to see you, and I will no longer love you. Why would you want the thoughts and attachment of me, when obviously, I’m just a stupid girl who cuts herself? To think, that I had the mind to give you my Gunnery shirt.

Give me a reason, and you will be out of my life.

Allow me time, and my judgement will decide.

But speak to me in words like those, and I won’t want you back.

You are dead to me.

I think it’s nice to care about people too much. I hate how I care about so many things, but I don’t plan on regretting to care about others. It terrifies me, knowing other people could slip into a depression and cut, or want to suicide. I always feel like crying when I know that I’m so helpless. I hate knowing that I’m unable to tell who needs it, and when. I cried on several occasions before, simply on the fact that I found out that a few of the people I knew, cut for their first times. I cried for them, and I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell them how I absolutely hated myself for not having been there for them.

I can’t do much. Nobody can ever help entirely. I know I can’t.

But I’ll listen. And on my side of the phone, of the computer screen, I’ll cry for you- with you. I’ll cry, and tell you what I think of you. 

If I care about you, I’ll tell you.
If I love you in some way, I’ll tell you.
If I admire you, I’ll tell you.

Please, just don’t do the things I have done, thinking I was exaggerating everything… It’s terrifying to know that such things even exist.

If you want to do something you know I would cry for,
Remember that I love you, and will not stop loving you, so as long as you and I know each other or are connected. 

Once in a few years,  you meet somebody who appears to be near perfection- with all their flaws and faults, they maintain a different sense of perfection.

Angelina Ko is one of those girls who I believe truly have what is required to be perfect. Athletic, intelligent, cunning, creative, humorous, sweet, kind, logical- I could go on in a much longer list concerning all the positive things she is. She’s an optimist. It’s almost as if she’s physically unable to slip into any pessimistic mind- her heart is golden, and her eyes will always twinkle so chinkily with a secret, or perhaps a plan that is deviated behind your back. Her kindness could never purposely hurt somebody who didn’t deserve it- so if for some reason, you are a victim of such thing, or if you are a culprit of somebody complaining to you about her actions…

Think twice, and please read this post.

I wouldn’t lie to my followers, let alone my own personal blog.

There’s not much to be said. I have hardly seen her without a smile.

She’s so loved, you know? She’s so loving, and caring- that she’s unconditionally loved and irrevocably adored back. She would try her hardest to prevent any harm to those she can defend- and we would do the same.  ”O fair beauty, such love and power that is Aphrodite, protected.”

Anybody would always be here, there, anywhere so her.

It’s true that Leadership class brings people together. 

Otherwise, I would never have really spoken to Emily (.. besides planning, but still.) and realized that her absolute beauty and loveliness reflects from the inside. 

She’s a beautiful person. She’s drop dead gorgeous. She’s sweet, funny, smart, logical, and extremely determined. Her athletic performance and participation makes for a great opportunistic optimist. I know that people can always count on her to pull her side of the weight. She’s brilliant and it’s almost as if she gives off energy, and never tires of it. Her busy schedule and independence shines through so much of the usual high school drama, that… She’s the kind of girl you’d learn to love and never stop loving.

I don’t have much to really say about her, but I know that she’s strong.
She’s so strong, it’s wonderful.
If she ever needs somebody, many people are here for her.

Emily is an extremely lovable person, and she always will be.

That’s exactly what we want- isn’t it?

To be loved? Rather than to love, we want more so to be loved. We want to be told that we’re beautiful. We want to be held in someone’s arms comfortably, and whispered to so innocently that we’re something to someone. We all want to be told that we’re lovely, cute, beautiful, gorgeous, handsome- anything. We all want to be told that somebody likes us, and we all want to believe that it’s true. We want to believe that somebody’s out there… That somebody, if not some people, love us for who we are- when who are we to find that? We’re all hiding figures. There was this poem I read once, regarding how there was a little boy and a little girl who each grew up with the same deformation. They grew up wanting to find somebody exactly like themselves- to find somebody who also had that deformation. One day, the boy and girl walked right past each other. They didn’t even look back. They didn’t even notice each other because they were both wearing masks, as though the world were a ball and each person was a part of the masquerade.   We all want to think about love and how it’s such a possibility for everybody, when… what is love?

Love is.. an illusion. Love is just another word for attention. Love isn’t.. real, the way we think of it. The way we want love to be isn’t adequate enough for our chaotic lives. We all just want to be fed attention, and in turn, maybe feed attention, too. That’s what love really is… Attention given, and returned, and recycled. Really, you’re just looking for somebody who’s willing to give you a certain amount of this ‘love’, and if they’re willing to take yours, too.

I’ve known many people since Kindergarten at Samuel Brighouse Elementary, and yet, I happen to have detached from them, really. It’s nice to be waved to once in a while, or included in some small chat that reminds us that we’re both still alive.

There’s this absolutely lovely, underestimated, and strong lady whom I happen to adore and love very much, from the bottom of my heart. I swear to you that she’s somebody that won’t judge you easily. She’s funny, and I don’t think she has ever failed at making somebody smile or laugh. She’s cute,- but beyond that, she is gorgeous. She is beautiful, and she is courageous and strong. She has bravery weaved into her blood and each heart string she carries is contaminated with her confidence- that of which comes useful in her powerful skills in basketball. She’s smart, and cunning- she’s tricky,  but that adds onto her kindness and entertainment factor.

I mean, really, I always see her smiling, and I sometimes get scared when she’s not- because it feels as though that means that there’s something wrong. If only she knew that I would always be here for her, because she’s a lovely person who deserves so much… and hey, prince charming will come- it’s just that he’s too busy on his band tour with the guys right now. DW, he’s on his way to Vancouver later, I bet. 

If you ever need me, I’m here… and I swear to God that I’ll fucking stab anybody who hurts you. I’m not fucking kidding.

Okay, I love you Pauline.

<3

My sister once asked me why I loved the ocean, the sea- just water, so much, even though I couldn’t swim. She asked me why I would dunk my head under the water and stay under for as long as I could, and why I would always dip my fingers into the water.

I told her it was because water’s beautiful. It’s always moving, and it’s never quite the same as before. I loved the way it ripples in and out, how it kisses the shore of sandy beaches or rough rocks, how the crests could grow so tall and shrink so small, how the rhythm is steady and the lapping of each kiss is sound like music. I loved the frothing and bubbles and all the wonders that lived in the ocean, and how I still find it amazing that a photograph can take such a simple picture of water, and you’re capturing a moment that won’t quite be the same ever again. I loved the way water is so mysterious, yet common. I loved how it can hold up a boat, but slip through your fingers.

People act the way they want to others.

Just because one person is completely terrible to you doesn’t mean that they are terrible as a whole. It’s the exact same thing with when somebody is nice to you- someone, somewhere, believes that they are a mean person.

It’s always up to us to figure out how we want to portray ourselves to others and ultimately, to ourselves. Do you like the kind of person you are? Think about all the mistakes you’ve made. Think of all the rumors you’ve heard and haven’t stopped. Think of all the people you’ve broken down without shame or reason. 

Would you like yourself if you weren’t you?

It’s not as though you treat me fairly. I’m offering everything to you, and you don’t really care, do you? Yeah, you don’t.

I can’t assume that you’ll take up all the offers you’re given in life, but it makes my head ache and my heart throb as I learn about the inability to love and be loved the way I require, - my curses strewn across and left for me to count them side by side, so many more, yet, too few days in life to spend meandering along such painful things.