Sometimes when I write on this blog, I cite a problem or frustration in my life, then sort of summarize how I plan to handle my frustration. But there comes a time when all you can do is recognize that a problem exists; there’s not always a clear solution or way for individuals to handle it, and now is one of those times.
No.Stal.Gia. Nostalgia. A beautiful word really, even if I initially didn’t think so. It’s meaning is even more beautiful: a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations.
17 years old, and I’ve got nostalgia intertwined in my hair, in the spaces between my fingers, and balancing awkwardly on the bridge of my nose. It will creep up on me when I’m not looking for it, when I’m instead absentmindedly running my fingers through my hair or pushing up my glasses or clasping my hands together. Continue reading
Intense, like running a burned finger under cold tap water
Intense, like debating for 3 days straight
Intense, like the way you devote your life to something unconventional
knowing there are so many reasons for which it could fail, but holding on because of the one reason it might work out
Intense…is the way I feel about you. Continue reading
In your English class, you’re motivated by grades. There, it is essential to present a perfect canvas, concealing grammar errors and run-on sentences.
“Perfecting the personal essay is an art.”
Butt free writing constitutes a form of art in and of itself; I see nothing wrong with its public display. Spelling errors and skips in logic are flaws that serve a purpose in writing: they demonstrate authenticity.
If your goal with writing is raw emotion, there’s no reason to write your heart out and then cut all of the juicy portions away. Unless you’ve got a target audience, we shouldn’t try to restrict what is worth saying. Here on the internet, with a blog like mine, there are no academic or creative restraints. We primarily pursue innovation.
Accepting flaws is something that we should all attempt; there comes a time when your heart is saran-wrapped and perfectly packaged, but at the same time suffocating and refusing to be concealed. If our hearts are inherently scarred, a bit cracked, and fragile, why do we need to hide that?
It’s the same concept as consistently presenting yourself in a dress suit. Why not sweats? Why not ditch the earrings and pull on some fugly Ugg booties?
Or maybe I’m just being lazy today.
I won’t bother speaking about the color of her eyes, as they are irrelevant. I won’t bore you with the typical blue oceans or pools of chocolate brown, as she can’t control her eye color. I won’t bother telling you how her eyelashes are unnaturally long, or how they bat and flutter little Eskimo kisses. No, I won’t enlighten you with any of that.
Her eyes widen when you speak to her. She can look you at you straight, without breaking eye contact for over eleven seconds, as most lawyers do with their jury to establish a personal connection. Some people let their guard down in the first few moments, but quickly resume passiveness as they fight the insecurities and vulnerabilities inherent in human nature.
When she’s struggling to find the perfect word, she’ll look up and slightly to the right, sifting through her brain. When she’s skeptical, she’ll grimace with the right cheek, and there will be a crease in the eyelid as it scrunches up with incredulity.
She doesn’t like to look down when she talks with people, and she despises looking away from them as they walk towards her in the street. She hates the way people turn their faces into masks, devoid of emotion. She hates how some are utterly unable to maintain eye contact, as if the glare were so intense it burned their retinas.
She is the literal embodiment of the sun, and it’s pretty clear once you look into her endless eyes.
In the midst of all there is to feel,
are you going to let sorrow dominate?
There are dishes to wash, molars to floss,
people to hug, and movies to pause.
You’ve got emails to send, letters to write,
i want to write poetry just to verbally deliver it
i want to go to some random coffeeshop and listen to other people be really passionate about what they care about