the end is near (heresy, heresy)

Finally... graduation is coming. I will be leaving this high school tripe behind. Because I've grown tremendously in my four years, but high school has only provided hardships. My best character growth and learning has been outside of it - from my good friends that are still with me, from youth symphony, from music, from all those things that I had to seek for myself. I know I've made a lot of mistakes, a lot of excuses. I've seriously fucked up and been fucked up before, but you know what? I'm leaving this behind, now. I'm moving on. And I think that's what matters.

Polyamory

We had a speaker today, on polyamory.
Poly = many
Amory = love
Or many loves. And to be honest, some of it made sense to me. I don't think I could be capable of having a physical relationship with someone else, knowing that they are involved sexually with someone else. But a different part of it made sense to me. The idea of having multiple intimate relationships. The idea that you do in fact, have other people that you are very emotionally and intimately tied to, because not one person can fulfill every single need that you have. Does that make me a poly person? I don't know. But I do know that I have friends of the same sex that I am very closely attached to. My relationship with them is an integral part of my heart, and who I am. No person I am romantically involved with is going to change that. Because I love them, with all of my heart and being. And I cannot date someone who has an issue with that. So what does that make me?

Oh Lord...

I want this to end. Not life, because I do love my life, but I want this craving, this inner starvation to somewhat cease. I want to stop craving touch, to stop craving adoration or presence of people. I want this to be sated. I want to feel loved, I want to feel beautiful and not quite so empty inside. What am I missing? What is it that has abandoned me? Do I need friendship? Company? Sex? Money? Compassion? I feel so empty and unsatisfied... and I don't know what to do. I'm missing something. A laying on of hands? Intimacy? Connections? Adoration? Something promised. I don't think I'm an attention whore. I don't think I'm a drama magnet, because all it does is make me sink into a deeper depression. I'm not stuck in a rut, physically. But emotionally, I feel taxed. I'm weary. I'm bone-fucking-weary and I can't do anything more about it. I realize that emotions give us our humanity, but sometimes it just doesn't seem worth it. I just feel as if I'm lacking. That I'm second-class. That I'm not enough to be worth someone's time, someone's thoughts. A call and a 'how are you doing?' would mean the world to me right now. Just the ability to set aside a small portion of time would mean the world to me. Fucking hell... Why do I just feel like something's gnawing away at me? I have so many questions that will never be answered but I seem to ask them anyway. Why can't I be beautiful. Why can't I really carry on to snare a lover, to catch someone's eyes, to feel powerful in that womanly way, to have confidence in my faith and body. To have faith in Faith. My support is crumbling to the ground. And I am not strong enough to hold myself up. My inner resolve has been worn down to the core and the only thing that remains is a bundle of very raw, very ultra-sensitive nerves that keep getting struck. I'm so tired, mama. I'm so tired, daddy. Anyone who's listening out there... could you help me?

I wish...

I could be in your eyes what you are to me. I'm tired of being shoved in the back of the opposite sex's mind. I know that I am not pretty. I know that I am not sexy or hot or easy or any of those things that seemed to be coveted in our society. But I'd like to think I have a good personality, and I would allow you the freedom to have fun without the serious committment. And maybe, just maybe, I would like to be considered beautiful by somebody. Maybe considered pretty, or sexy, or gorgeous. I would love to considered that. But I'm not, and while I've grown used to that somewhat, I still have this little part of me that is tired of being continuously downplayed as a friend or just a flirtatious funny girl with no real intention. Oh well. Such is life...

Disconnection

Connections aren't just lost, sometimes they can be severed or just broken from wear and tear and tugging. But it seems I can't communicate with anybody anymore. Some of it is my fault, some of it isn't. But seems like no one can hear me and no one even tries, and it gets painful. It gets hard for me to keep trying to be heard or to keep trying to be understood when it doesn't even get through. It's like constantly running into brick walls. It gets to the point where I've just gotta keep everything inside cause if I don't I'm just going to be upset and dissapointed and angry all over again. Operator, Operator... I'm dialing in and all I'm getting is silence. How can I speak your language? Help me understand, I've tried to tell you. I've tried to tell you all what I need and how I need it done. And as much as I'd like to help you understand what's going on with me, I need you to have an open mind and an open heart. Because I don't have the confidence to tell you how I feel without fear of retribution. When I tell you the inner workings of my mind... I'm really exposing myself. I'm revealing a large part of me and it is far too delicate to have thrown back at me. I can't handle it. I really can't.

Upside Down by Jack Johnson

Who's to say

What's impossible

Well they forgot

This world keeps spinning

And with each new day

I can feel a change in everything

And as the surface breaks reflections fade

But in some ways they remain the same

And as my mind begins to spread its wings

There's no stopping curiosity

I want to turn the whole thing upside down

I'll find the things they say just can't be found

I'll share this love I find with everyone

We'll sing and dance to Mother Nature's songs

I don't want this feeling to go away

Who's to say

I can't do everything

Well I can try

And as I roll along I begin to find

Things aren't always just what they seem

I want to turn the whole thing upside down

I'll find the things they say just can't be found

I'll share this love I find with everyone

We'll sing and dance to Mother Nature's songs

This world keeps spinning and there's no time to waste

Well it all keeps spinning spinning round and round and

Upside down

Who's to say what's impossible and can't be found

I don't want this feeling to go away

Please don't go away

Please don't go away

Please don't go away

Is this how it's supposed to be

Is this how it's supposed to be

rendezvous

Shhhhh - don't tell anyone, don't tell a soul. Tonight, you and I are going to sneak out. We're going to be lovers, of the most intimate sense. Our bodies probably won't touch but but our minds will, and you know it. Intimacy is so loose, so undefined at least to me. I feel like my soul is bared to you, and that is a far more powerful thing than something as trivial as breasts and stomachs and legs. My weaknesses are there for you to do what you wish. And so tonight, or maybe some other night, I'm going to meet you and we're going to have a rendezvous. Our own little world that we've created, that we thrive in, that gives us oxygen, is our meeting point. They all wish they could understand us. You survive better 'out there' than I do. But I think I do well enough. Sometimes I just need you to catch me, and you do a swell job of it whether or not you know that's what you're doing. You're like my secret lover. Every moment is a happy one and no one knows our mental intimacy except for us. And those who would like to aspire that same connection - family, friends, and mates, simply cannot.

I don't wanna talk

Because words haven't done me any damn good. I'm tired of words, because they are empty and meaningless, because you can just say them with no feeling, or no depth. If words were always necessary, then why did all those ancient humans survive for so many millions of years without it? I'm tired of talking, talking doesn't do me any good anymore. Why don't we dance? We gotta dance to keep from crying - we gotta dance to keep from dying. The touch of your arms mean more to me than a novel, and your lips on mine paint a prettier picture than all the fluffy analogies in the human race. I don't need explanations - I need movement, action, touch, kisses, hugs, or maybe just you sitting besides me, holding me as if we're all we've got left in this existence. I could drown in physical sensations, because they mean so much more than voice. Keep me from dying. Let's just forget about alla that sh*t and be.

No more

Because I deserve better than that

Stop it!

Stop taking away frome me. Give back. Give back a little, please? That's all I need - that's all I want you to do. Leave a little for me. Let me breathe, let me survive. I don't want to feel like I'm choking on unspoken words, when your fish-mouth moves up and down and up and down, making a meaningless noise that maybe I could care about if I got a breath in edgewise. Don't suffocate me, your burdens and your pains aren't mine unless you help me, I have to support myself because you can't help me, and how am I expected to lift you up while you take my strength? Stop it! Stop it! I shall scream! Not that you'd hear me anyways. No, you're too busy listening to the sound of your own tears falling on the bedspread and your own voice inside your head. I could scream all day long. Maybe you'd get around to hearing me but I don't think you'd even understand the words I'm saying. Nope. So I can't be there for you, not as much as you believe you're entitled to. No, because I gotta look out for myself now. Call me when you're ready to listen again.

"Hey old friend,
What d'ya say old friend?
Are you okay old friend?
Are we, are we unique?"

- Sondheim

Am I that selfish?

The answer is yes. Because the truth is, I want something so much that it is a part of me, that I can't imagine not doing it. Though I know it would negatively impact those around me, yes. I want it. Because for me, this is what I have been working years for, and little things like money aren't stopping me. It's horrible, I'm aware, but I need this. I crave this. And the thought of not having it makes me die a little bit inside, and feel as if a part of my soul is caving in. But I could never explain that physically. No, because the selfless thing to do would be to give it up. But I don't want to. There is no other deep reason. I DO NOT WANT TO. There are so many reasons why not to, I can't even say. But the truth of the matter is that I am selfish, and I don't want to give it up and I honestly believe that I shouldn't have to.

Sunshine

You are my sunshine
My only sunshine
You make me happy

when skies are gray

You’ll never know dear
How much I love you

Please don’t take

my sunshine away

Dizzy

Just thinking about it seems to make my head spin, to make me uproot myself. That before I know it, everything's going to be going going gone and I'll me moving on from my mom to whatever is waiting for me out in the world. That it's all coming so quickly, and that no matter what I tell people "oh don't worry, things won't be different," I know they will. And holy shit I'm scared. I'm really terrified, even though I'm excited. The unknown awaits me, and I've been too busy preparing for it to really sit back and realize that I have no clue what my future holds. I have things I want to happen in my future, but is it really what's in the stars? Am I slacking too much? Am I working myself to death? I don't know. I just want to grab your hand, and jump in.

Touch

Touch me, let me feel it, I don't care what. If it's friendly or sensual or passive. If it's the way we melt together when we sit side-by-side in a theatre seat, or seeing how warm your hands are to my chilly ones. I don't care, but like I said before I crave touch, because I'm so very human. A pat you on the back or to give you a hug, or to shake your hand after an interview. Humans were born to touch, or else we wouldn't have such sensitive skin, we'd just be DRY and CRACKLING like an iguana, tough like the reptiles and shielded like the other mammals. No, we need touch to survive, to just be. We have a need for reeling, heady, pleasure just like we have a need for comfort and are. Why else would the same muscles we use to strike a blow be used to soothe with a caress? Sometimes I have a desire to kiss, to simply hold on and never let go because the touch of skin makes my nerves leap and keeps me going. We need to feel, we need to have that. Or at least I do. It's all I can do to keep myself from reaching my hands out sometime. It's like I need to make sure you're really there, and that you're really real.

Don't apologize

I won't apologize anymore, not for just being me and for being human and fallible and curious. I won't apologize for being too passionate, for having too much feeling and for wanting to share my thoughts with the world. I am me, and I cannot ask myself to give up any more of myself than I already have, because I cannot love anyone else unless I love myself first, and I cannot love you if I do not love who I am around you. I am flawed, and I accept that. I do not want to be perfect, I want to just live and love and play music and make my own mistakes because I am done questioning the philosophy of life and my dependency on other human beings. If I love, I love fiercely. And though I have yet to love anyone more than as a very good friend, I'm sure I'll learn. Or maybe I'm already there and have yet to admit it to myself. I won't apologize for the fact that I crave physical contact, for touch and hugs and kisses and the brush of your finger on my face. Or that maybe I don't want to talk, that I just want to dance because nothing in the dictionary can explain the connection, or the feeling. Or maybe that I just want to play music because it completes me and it makes me whole. I will not apologize for letting myself be human - because even though I hurt and I yearn and I fall, i am still whole. I am myself, and I am coming to like her, and to accept it. Because I think that people believe that they need certain things to make them whole, maybe they need a lover, or maybe they need an material item, or a certain abode. And in a way, you do. But if you do not accept who you are anyways, none of those things matter. It's just a way to cover up the emptiness. And I've realized that I am a person, a whole person. And these things help to mold me and make me who I am, but I cannot apologize for all the millions of things that are wrong with me anymore. Because I don't want to. And I shouldn't have to.

Broken Railroad Tracks

They lead to nowhere, they lead to everywhere. I'd like you to be there too, but it seems that it wouldn't do any good since it has at least a little to do with you... maybe I'll have to find my way all by myself, but some companionship would be cool. The never-ending confusion gets a little dull, let's figure our way through this metaphysical dilemma together. That's what everything is - a series of speculations and interpretations and dilemmas. All we have to do is come out the other side, though nobody makes it out alive. And hopefully we can get through it with another person. I'd like you to be that person, if you're available to. Because the way I see it, as long as we're together we can laugh at all the paradoxes. The gods are letting us figure out things our damn selves, so we have the audacity to laugh at our stupidity, and to laugh at the fact we have a sheer reeling pleasure from things that cannot even speak or touch us physically. We have the audacity to be human. And we have the audacity to be human, and to take pleasure from simple human things, from being in a person's presence rather than from being earth-shaking. And in our complex simplicity we move mountains and drain oceans and come into our own, which is a bigger revelation than any godly thing we could ever think of. So let's forget about riding our way into the sunset, and let's just get out of the freaking car and walk. We got time.

Something Promised...

Excerpts from “For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enuf” that mean something to me.

“dark phrases of womanhood
of never havin been a girl
half-notes scattered
without rhythm / no tune
distraught laughter fallin
over a black girl’s shoulder
it’s funny / it’s hysterical
the melody-less-ness of her dance
don’t tell nobody don’t tell a soul
she’s dancing on beer cans & shingles

this must be the spook house
another song with no singers
lyrics / no voices & interrupted solos
unseen performances

are we ghouls?
children of horror?
the joke?
don’t tell nobody don’t tell a soul
are we animals? have we gone crazy?

I can’t hear anything
But maddening screams
& the soft strains of death
& you promised me
you promised me…
somebody / anybody
sing a black girl’s song
bring her out
to know yourself
to know you
but sing her rhythms
carin / struggle / hard times
sing her song of life
she’s been dead so long
closed in silence so long
she doesn’t know the sound
of her own voice
her infinite beauty
she’s half-notes scattered
without rhythm / no tune
sing her sighs
sing the song of her possibilities
sing a righteous gospel
let her be born
let her be born
& handled warmly”

“but you are of no assistance
I want you to know
this waz an experiment
to see if I was capable of debasing my self for the love of another
if I cd stand not being wanted
when I wanted to be wanted
& I cannot.”

“I don’t wanna write
in English or Spanish
i wanna sing / make you dance
like the bata dance scream
twitch hips wit me cuz
I done forgot all abt words
aint got no definitions
I wanna whirl with you”

“we deal wit emotion too much
so why don’t we go on ahead & be white then /
& make everythin dry & abstract wit no rhythm & no
reelin for sheer sensual pleasure / yes let’s go on
& be white / we’re right in the middle of it / no use
holdin out / holdin onto ourselves / lets think our
way outta feeling / lets abstract ourselves some families
& maybe maybe tonite / I’ll find a way to make myself
come witout you / no fingers or other objects just thot
which isn’t spiritual evolution cuz its empty & godliness
is plenty is ripe & fertile / thinking wont do me a bit of
good tonite / I need to be loved / & haven’t the audacity to say
where are you / & don’t know who to say it to…”

“i’ve lost it
touch wit reality / i don’t know who’s doin it
i thot i waz but i waz so stupid i waz able to be hurt
& that’s not real / not anymore / i shd be immune / if i’m
still alive & that’s what I waz discussin/ how I am still
alive & my dependency on other livin beins for love
I survive on intimacy & tomorrow / that’s all I’ve got goin
& the music waz like smack & you knew abt that
& still refused my dance waz not enuf / & it was all I had
but bein alive & bein a woman & bein colored is a metaphysical
dilemma / I haven’t conquered yet / do you see the point
my spirit is too ancient to understand the sepration of
soul & gender / my love is too delicate to have thrown back on my face”

"my love is too music to have thrown back on my face"

"I was missing something
Something important
Something promised"

“I found god in myself & I loved her / I loved her fiercely”