Careless

Everyone masks their words.

Closes their eyes.

Hides tears behind their smiles.

But not you.

And I guess.

I like that.

I like that you're careless.

Worry

I've figured something out.

Worry is like the color of a half-bleached colored ribbon. The color of the ribbon really strong on one end and gets paler and paler as it goes on.

I know it's stupid to compare worry to the color of the ribbon. I mean if anything, worry should be the bleach (some would go so far as to say that worry is a bitch, but anyway). But just think about how much more difficult it would be if I said: "Worry is the bleach that bleached the colored ribbon. The white part of the ribbon slowly becomes colorful."

It's actually really confusing because when colorful and white are compared together, everyone associates colorful with good and white with bad. So when I say that the colorful part is becoming paler, it sounds like something good is becoming something bad. But if I say that the pale part is becoming colorful, it sounds like something bad is becoming something good. So even though I have associated worry with bleach, or the pale part of the ribbon which is also the bad part of the ribbon, when I explain it, it sounds like worry is a bad thing becoming good.

Confused yet? I am and I'm the one writing this shit.

Never mind, let's rephrase.

Worry in an average person's life is like the white of a colored ribbon bleached in the middle. The color becomes paler and paler then slowly becomes colorful again.

Sounds better?

Okay, I'll continue.

At the beginning of the person's life, they have little or no worries. That is the color of the ribbon. It's the best time of your life. You don't have to wonder about anything. Your needs are catered to. You don't worry, you just need.

Then more white seeps into the color. Worry about results, worry about friends, worry about popularity, worry about a relationship, about college, about everything.

After that, the white begins to disappear. It will never fully disappear, but it will fade. Less worry.

The end of the ribbon. No more white or color, worry or need.

Grown Up

You know what? All those people who said I haven't grown up are wrong.

I have grown up. I look different, think different, feel different. I know different things, loved different loves.

I've grown up.

So what if I collect soft toys and take childish joy in small things? That doesn't mean I haven't grown up. That only proves that not all of my innocence has faded away.

So what if I don't act like you guys? No offense, but I don't think you guys are grown up at all. I've seen you all quarrel and I've seen you guys not speaking to people.

Not a single person has the maturity to forgive or move on. Not a single person knows how to say sorry or never mind. You guys are like seven year olds.

You know what? If growing up means that I have to like contemporary music and give up toys and talk about superficial things, well I'm sorry. I'm not growing up. Your version of maturity doesn't sit well with me.

I don't think I'll ever be grown up enough for you.

Thank God for that.

Talent

Usually, something of this caliber would be in my phone, but I don't have my phone with me right now.

People dance, sing, dancing (dance+sing geddit?), play instruments...

Anyway, sometimes I feel these are the only talents that people appreciate.

Okay, there's also videography, photography, technology and art. People love things like that. They lap it up. I lap it up. I mean, it's so cool that they can sing, video, dance, draw, or photograph. I can't do any of them well enough or smoothly enough to, you know, be admired.

I know this sounds like all I want is to be admired, but no. It's not about that, not right now. I want admiration of the skill. The skill.

You hear things like, "Did you see that move?" or "She can sing so well!" or "That looks like it's gonna jump out, it looks so real." or "That picture is amazing. What edit did you use?"

But no one says, "I like the way you write. The style of writing you use, it's so quirky." No one says, "Did you see how he used that word? 'Bucketing.' I want to use that!" Or "Did you use spellcheck? You did? How the hell did you not manage to get an autocorrect on this word?" Or "Did you notice the way he subtly insinuated that the guy had an English accent through the words he uses?"

No one.

Nobody freaking bothers.

This is not about people ignoring my talent, people notice my talent just fine. People say I have a way with words, but I don't. I just like to write. Words flow easier for me, that's all. Business letters, essays - nope can't manage those. Just like dance, you like it but doesn't necessarily mean you'll like ballet. You only like certain types. But I digress.

The point is, people notice my skill. They comment on it. They do notice. But they don't think it's cool.

My friends: "No! Alicia, that's not true! Writing's cool. I like to read. I think being able to write like that is awesome."

Wanna bet? Look, I bet you a hundred bucks that if someone asks you, "What do you do to chill?" The reaction to "I write" would be less enthusiastic than, "I play (insert name of random instrument)/sing/dance/breakdance/draw." Chances are, the reaction to "I write" would be, "Cool. Do you play any instruments?" Whereas, the reaction to the other listed choices would be, "Hey can I see you do that sometime?"

Everybody likes the cool skills. I mean, any old bloke can write, but not just anybody can draw or play or dance. No one is ever gonna be all gung ho over my works of art because nobody thinks they are works of art. Well, at least not my peers.

I just want my skill to be more famous. More liked.

Sometimes I wish I were more like my mom. My mom can sing and draw and she takes to guitar like a fish to water.

Me? Sure I like guitar.

If only to give meaning to my prose.

The worst thing is, I like all the other famous talents just as much as everybody else does, but I can only think about how I could put it into words.

Book-ing

Recently, a friend of mine launched his first EP and for some reason, I feel really encouraged. Not to say that I'm going to start singing now, that's stupid. I mean seriously, I'd never get that good. But I can write.

Okay, so maybe that's mostly opinion. My friends say that I can write, I like writing, and therefore I guess I can write, but that's really not the point right now.

The point is, I wanna write a book. A short, thin little thing which I don't think is going to get me anywhere, but I'm actually just writing it for shits and giggles. Something for me and something for my happiness. I'll promote it on Facebook, don't sleep for three nights, bash myself for writing such a stupid piece of crap, and if it gets likes or something, write a sequel.

And, I got Facebook. Last I checked I had seventy over friends. I didn't even realize I knew so many people.

Oh and also for shits and giggles, here's a little short:

Angels weren't meant for Earth.

God gave me an angel. He let me know her, love her, and He had to take her away because she wasn't meant for this sad, pathetic place called Earth. She was always meant to leave and I'm the most blessed out of all blessed men because I knew her.

But though I knew this truth, though I knew that she was supposed to go, I couldn't just let her leave like that without saying my last goodbye. So, instead of leaving like she told me too, I watched her spirit float higher and higher. She smiled down at me, encouraging me to leave but I couldn't. I was frozen in place.

Right before she floated out of my reach, I grabbed her ankle, pulled her down and kissed her.

She disappeared in my arms.

...

If you liked it, comment!

Hey, Again

Okay, I know I've been doing it over and over, opening new blogs and then deleting them, but I'm not doing that with this one. I'm not. Maybe I might, but I'll try to remind myself not to.

Either way, blogs are to express yourself right? So I shall start now.

It's December already and Christmas + romance is in the air, like poisonous fog that makes everyone go blind with either aforementioned romance or jealousy.

Maybe not everyone.

But that's not the point. The point is that love is in the air  and everywhere around you, you can spot twitterpated people. And then some who just look like they played with superglue and forgot to wash their hands. And, okay, so I'm a little jealous.

Not of the superglue, silly, of the feeling.

I like feels. I like it when people feel happy, cause their happiness makes me feel happy. I don't like it when people are sad, cause their sadness makes me feel sad. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not blaming my feelings on others, I have my own feelings too, but I'm easily influenced by how other people feel. My friend says it's called empathy. I can get most feels, but there's this one feeling that when I'm near others who are feeling it (usually couples), I can't seem to grasp. It's like a fish. I can't get a tight hold of it. It makes me feel awkward or crazily happy. I sound nuts, but I'm serious. When I encounter this feeling, I either feel like I'm intruding or like I've found the moon and two stars in my sandwich.

My friend says it's called love.

I don't think so. I've felt love before. It's warm and comfortable, you never feel like you're intruding, you never feel so happy till you think you're on drugs. When one person loves another person, I've seen it, I've been there and I've felt it. It doesn't feel that way. My friend says that you can't tell how love feels from another person, cause it's not possible but that's bull because I have.

So, I don't think this feeling is love, I think that this feeling is called extreme like. Not really love, because love is not like that. One feeling is different from another feeling. There cannot be two versions of one feeling. Happiness is distinct from euphoria, sadness from despair, hate from anger, and love from like. They feel alike, but they're not.

Love lasts. Like falls apart. I've felt both.

Extreme like? Not yet, but I have reason to believe that I will. One day.

...

On a different note, I applied for uni today and I'm scared. Uni sounds like a daunting prospect. I know I said the same thing when I started college, but it was the truth then and it is the truth now. And don't anybody dare tell me that college went alright so Uni will go fine too. Uni and college are two different balls of wax. There's no mixing them together. It's like saying, the light bulb shines therefore the sun will shine.

I'm experiencing some age thingies too in applying for Uni. They have to ask people whether it's okay for me to go to Uni underage. It's not like I'm twelve. I can take care of myself. I'm not stupid. I got here early didn't I?

Yeesh, from the way they treat my application I might as well be six.

Right. So that's that.

Ciao, for now.