We All Lose in Games and Love

The game 'Say Uncle' reminds me of saying I love you for the first time. Don't know the game? Well, if you've never played Say Uncle as a kid, here's the gist; someone bends your arm behind your back harder and harder until you say Uncle. And the person who wins, who speaks first, holds all the power. It's sort of like saying I love you in a blossoming relationship. There's only silence until someone cracks. Like the end of phone calls and departures, when you don't really know what to say. I love you is too much, I like you sounds weird, I miss you sounds needy, so what do you say in the silent gaps? You also risk losing all the power if you say it first, if you mumble the three words. You lose the power because you're the one who needs them. You transform from the fun, relaxed girlfriend to the powerless girl unable to control her feelings. But should we control them? Should we pretend we don't feel what we do? The only solution would be to say it at the same time, and well, we all know that no one ever feels the exact same as another. That's the reality behind love, and that's the reality behind Say Uncle; you lose either way. You say it first, and you become powerless. You say it second, and you lost the chance to own up to your feelings. You say Uncle first, and you're weak. You're the one breaking someone's arm, well you lost a friend - and possibly your sanity. So what's next? If we're all losers, what's the next step? Do we fight the feelings and the urge to verbally spill everywhere or do we admit that we're all losers? We win some, we lose some. And I'd rather lose power than someone I love. Wouldn't you?

Alive

I'm never sure where to start these posts. Sometimes, in my head, I'm questioning everything. So where do I start? Well, recently, I've begun with my inspiration behind a lot of my writing: relationships. I'm not sure why this seems to be such a natural subject for me. Maybe all the TV shows, advertising, and the endless need to make women feel wanted in order to fulfill them bothers me. And maybe thats why I question relationships. But I think the real reason, as of now, is that I'm in a relationship I don't need to question, everything comes so naturally. Life never works like this for me and neither has any of my relationships. Usually I'm consciously picking out my next sentence and worrying about the placement of my hands - let alone all the intimate details. But I'm not like that this time and it feels exhilarating. But it also feels scary. Because the unknown, the different, the peculiar is scary. And that's what this is, and it's not a bad thing. So, naturally, I question it. But not the I'm-uncomfortable-with-its-existence sort of questioning, more like the I-cannot-believe-this-is-happening-to-me questioning. And so the questions flood. Where will this go? Is it as natural for him? Is there a future? Does he want me the way I want him? Will his smile ever turn sour? A part of me believes this is a trial run for him, because I was like that years ago. But, another part of me, the part that I don't let anyone see, hopes for something more. Something pure. But what we have is pure already, so shouldn't I be satisfied with that? And that's the thing: I AM. THAT is why I question it. Although, right now, I plan to continue the late night family talks and the drunken strolls and the stares while we move together. I plan to keep everything the same, because this is how everyone should feel. This is how things were meant to be felt. This is how I feel and I feel alive. 

Time is Love

When I was young, my parents used to tell me that the right to date was reserved for forty year-olds. As I got older they changed this rule; to date someone you have fun with on a day to day basis. I was lectured to not pick my partners based purely on the fact of envisioning a future with them.

"It never lasts."
"You're too young to make something work forever."
"It's too stressful."
"If I can't make it last, how could you?"

So I began dating people I had fun with. I didn't care if I saw a future together or not - it was never necessary. To be honest, I started my current relationship without the future in mind. But, as I'm reaching twenty and really taking a deep look at myself, I think: Do any of the guys I've dated mean anything to me now? Did they ever effect me in such a way that changed my life? Will I remember any of them on my last day? The answer? I won't remember them the way you're supposed to remember a past relationship. Because some things will always be toxic.

So I think my parents' philosophy was wrong. Dating, while blinded about the future, can destroy two people. How can you even date someone who doesn't have anything in common about future goals and lifestyles and living arrangements and the most daunting, kids? As I ponder the ruins of my previous relationships, I really wonder if none of them worked out because I never saw a future. Or maybe they didn't work because I didn't want a future. Sometimes I have moments where all I want is the present. All I want is the now. And the thing about guys, well, they can give me the now, just not a future. But I was the same way until recently; never discussing plans or dreaming about my wedding like other girls. I spent my time dreaming in the present.

But that's the thing. Love isn't about the now, it's about time. And although I run from love - when it happen upon me, without any warning - I know I'll want to envision a future. Why? Because love is seeing your
self with someone through the worst. Love is being there when no one else is. Love is being everywhere and nowhere. It's about knowing when to shut up and when to speak. It's about kissing them through their tears. It's about time. Because time is commitment.

I find that many people may equate what I believe love to be with marriage. The line is fine. But, marriage adds in the extra ropes of paperwork, symbols, and vows. But when I fall in love, and know that I'll spend my life with this individual, I won't need a contract to abide by. All I'll need is time. Because time is love.

Epic Decisions

Decisions. Every conscious second we make decisions. Some good. Some bad. But we make them and something causes us to make up our minds. Either our past or facts, but regardless something triggers our motion. Something triggers us to do something we've never done before. Every action is new, even if we've repeated it a hundred times. It's new because of our gained experience or the situation or our mind set - whatever it is - something is different and we create something new. And with all decisions, the repercussions follow. Some good. Some bad. But the thing about decisions is that the decisions that change our lives, the decisions that cause the entire domino effect to stop, they are the ones that are epically good and epically bad at the same time. You question yourself a million times. What led to this? What caused my choice? Why am I changing everything I know? But I think the only reason these epic decisions are seen as epically bad is because they're scary. The unknown is scary. The decision to leave your habits, your comfort, is scary. But fear only makes us grow. And that is another choice we make. We choose to grow from this epically 'bad' decision and we choose to see its epic-ness - in all its glory. Because life can be about the patterns, the endless cycles we make. Those decisions are made, and are new every time, but they are also habits. Don't you want to choose something for you? Pick a life you want? Pick the one you want? I've never been big on relationships because they scare me. But maybe it's time to see the epic-ness. Maybe it's time to break the patterns. It's time to grow. And if I listen to my heart and use my best judgement, I'll see my epic choice is wise. And in this, I'll avoid the worst regret of them all; that something amazing passed me by.

The Future of Tomorrow

Sometimes when you date there are worries. You worry about how much you like them. You worry about how much they like you. You even worry about peeing around them. But I think I've come across the most troubling worry; the future. Should you hope for a future together? Apart? Or should we just distract ourselves from thinking about it at all? I want to picture the future together, but what if he doesn't? What if he can't even see us together in a few months, let alone graduation? I grew up on a day by day life. Taking everything a step at a time in order to handle everything. Thinking about the future back then would've made me crazy, paranoid, and scared. But now, for the first time, this is a relationship I want to daydream about. I want to think about the stupid things that we're going to fight over if we lived together. I want enact a scene in my head of the tiny apartment we can't afford and how many pillows we need. But -as there is always a but when it comes to dating- I can't see him thinking about these things. Now I should explain; I'm not thinking about marriage or kids like most girls my age. I'm not dreaming about weddings and dresses. I'm just dreaming about the future and sometimes I even dream about the future of tomorrow. Will he kiss me like our first time? Will his eyes glue to me like I hope? Will he just hug me when things go wrong? And, thankfully, the answer to those questions is yes. And that is why I picture a future with him - even if it's too soon or childish. Sometimes having something stable in your life is all you need. And I never thought the stability in my life could ever come from someone else besides myself. But maybe it can. Maybe it's already started. And maybe it's okay to dream for now, as long as I keep my mouth shut.

Sandcastles

The water scares me. It always has. And it always will. But when I watch those children on the beach in the warm summer months, with the boiling sun on their backs in the blissful wind, I gain hope. I may never build a sandcastle like theirs again - the naive imagination of a child died with my youth. But, I now build sandcastles of a different kind. I create a collection of words, fit worthy of royalty. And I build and build until the castle is fit for living. But as I turn to my next castle, my next project, the fine gains of sand that built the old and wearing towers, melt away. Each piece slips back into my imaginary deposit of vivid images, scenes, and memories to be used again. Back into the water. Back into my mind.

Transacting Marriages

Thinking about the future hurts. It physically hurts - it's draining. You have things figured out in the present, but not at all for the future. I can't even decide what to add to my grocery list. You know what you want now, but shouldn't your wants now somewhat reflect what you want in the future? Does that mean our current relationships are formed on what we want later in life? Recently people have been telling me about their methodology behind dating; to date someone they can see themselves married to. I've always been one to go with the flow; I don't plan far ahead, I don't question - I just feel in the moment. But am I getting to the age where marriage is something to think about? In five years will I be married? Will I have kids? Should I start dating based on this belief, that my boyfriend has to be a potential husband? If so, how can we narrow down potential husbands? I could date someone for a month and not know nearly enough about them to decide whether or not they are it. But maybe there is a specific point where you know enough to make the decision; 6 months or a year? But imagine investing all that time for someone who isn't a good enough suitor. Imagine. To me, I don't see an investment. I see memories made, fun to be had. Relationships aren't transactions, they aren't business deals. Relationships are meant to be felt, so why does this timeline float in the back of our minds? We push ourselves into marriage, into children, into fights. I'd rather wake up one morning and just know - the feeling hits me. It won't be at first sight or our fight time - it'll will be random and unplanned; unexpected. But isn't that the beauty of love anyways? As I watch my friends plan their futures and contemplate their spouses-to-be, I'll smile at the wasted memories. Because maybe my way will end up in loneliness, but theres only one way to find out.

Who Gets You?

Sometimes all you need in life is that one person - the one person who gets you better than anyone. Someone who, through silence, war, and honesty will understand you. They get your reasons, they get your troubles, and they just get you. But what happens when you realize this person gets you too late? You're stuck with someone else, someone who's enlightening and bright - but they will never understand you. Sometimes in life, optimism isn't always the answer. Sometimes in life you need the passion, the excitement, the fierce thrill of real love. Sometimes you need it no matter the cost. Whether it be leaving the person you've begun to make a home with or disregarding the rules you grew up with. I think love, this real love, is worth anything. There is nothing more pure than the mutually intense feelings of passionate love. But how far would you go for it? There's always the saying "if it's meant to be it'll work out," so how much should you push for this purity? I used to think that nothing would stop me, but what if after the end of every battle, another war turned the corner? Maybe it's just a personal preference. And maybe some people don't mind settling, but why? Out of the 8 billion people how could not one be your fire? If I wait for the sparks, could you?

Paths

I stayed on my path
Looking for hopeful days
That was until I saw your face
The light, your eyes
Met mine
A moment in time
Stuck in the light

A glance in the kitchen
A smile in your room
Two fingers touch, no more
The spark, it tore
My wall cracked
Wanting you
But for you too?

I stopped this path
Aching from my past
Your light, drew me
But, theres always another she
I stopped
We're friends
And I hit send

Heart dropped fast
I wanted this to last
Your warmth so secure
So pure, your intent
But I turned away
In fear of pain
And then, the tears came

I took it back
Returned to your path
Captivated by your heart
Craved your light, your eyes
Strong arms and mind
Wise soul
A soul worth the fight
I will fight my past

Our clothes on the floor
Our bodies want more
My curves piece together with yours
We move, beat by beat
Your rhyme finds me
I fade into a reality worth the terror
I fade into our path

The Fight of The Run

I run. I run from feelings. I run from love. And now I feel like I'm running from life. I've fought so hard not to feel and now I do, but I don't think I should. Something in me feels as though I should give up on emotions. They're unstable, untrustworthy, and worthless to someone who has spend her whole life fighting them. I finally feel and I'm scared. I'm going to run again. I'm going to lose him. I'm going to be alone - like always. How can I feel for him when I feel nothing within? How do I tell him I need to slow things? How? I'm left in an angst of nerves and fears. I left his house running - but he didn't know. Maybe he'll never know. Will I go back? Will I go back just to run again? How can I fix my pattern? I wonder how he'll respond. Will he try to compromise for me or am I not worth the work? I race against time, hoping to rewind to the moments when I felt something with him; those lasting gazes, his hands sliding down my body, my hands gripping his hair. I want to be there. I want to repeat. But I'm flung back into an uncertainty that he has no idea exists. And if he did know my confusion, he'd pretend to ignore it. Who really wants to talk about a girl who can't feel? Maybe he would - maybe he is the answer. Maybe. Or maybe he's another bump along the journey of numbness. Despite my doubts, a glow grows from within and I see the hope he brings me. A hope that only comes from outside - from him. Will I run from him or will he run to me?

Nothing is Something

We live on a planet locked in space. But we're not locked in time. We are trapped on Earth, while time spins away. We are simply a speck in space. Everything that has happened, has happened on our speck. Our greats wars, loves, and our memories all take place here. We live in a world surrounded by mystery, yet we take our lives as the most prominent piece of existence. We are important, but only through our own eyes - only through our limited perspective. We live here thinking our days are special, that they amount to something. But the something they amount to is still on that speck. Our speck. Afar we are all just organisms creating an ecosystem that offers comfort and extra-curriculars. Our lives only matter if they contribute to the system we have created. If we function accordingly, we have importance. But how can anything we do, even if the action is big - saving lives, curing cancer, ending poverty - mean anything in the universe? How does my soul mean anything when there is so much around us? So why do we try to work hard, impress, and consume when out there, outside of our speck, is something greater? Even the nothingness which engulfs our galaxy could mean more than the thoughtful drain we place on ourselves. Even nothing is something.

Connect or Compromise?

Meshing. We all search for someone we mesh with, but is meshing even a real form of interaction? And can any two people connect in such a way, in which their entire personality clicks with someone else's. Is that what meshing means? Clicking? If so, how can two personalities adhere to one another when every single person is unique? - no two are the same. Perhaps we can deliberate over the dividing of souls, where each person is gifted with one half of a soul and is destined to find their missing piece. But then, the two individuals are brought up in different ways, altering who they are, even if its just on the surface level of identity. I think my issue is waiting for someone I mesh with, someone I click with. Don't get me wrong, the initial connection has been there before but it depletes as time goes on. Can a connection hold strong over time or are we doomed to it fading? A sunny day can only last so long, eventually the sky drapes in stars and clouds - the darkness upholds it's reigns. Can a relationship flee this cyclical nature or are we to abide the same fate? Maybe its time we update the definition of meshing? Maybe we don't need to click, maybe we need to combine two personalities into one, maybe we need to compromise? The sparks will fade, but learning to agree may actually secure a relationship. Maybe it can even form a foundation for future sparks. My soul may or may not be a half of someone else's, but does that mean I'll never mesh? Theres only one way to find out. But I think people need to remember that compromising is not the same as forcing something to work. I've connected, but have I compromised? 

You Don't Need Music to Dance

Sometimes you don't need music to dance. Sometimes you don't need words to express feelings. Sometimes you don't need to make the right decisions for the right outcomes. Sometimes you don't need to be loved to love. Sometimes. Sometimes things just happen. A lasting glance. A longing smile. I've said before that maybe one night is enough, but what if it isn't? What if you want that shoulder to cry on? I've grown up so fixated on hating love, but I recently remembered hate is so closely related to love. I think I've fallen in love with love. As for now, my heart doesn't have a person for which it desires. But if I happen to dance, express feelings, and tumble upon the right outcomes? What if I happen to fall in love? Will I revert to my old ways and push away the feeling? Will I build up the walls like I always do? Will I end a relationship because I've fallen in love? Again. How many hearts do I have to break to rebuild my own? I've been pretending I want something meaningless, "something casual." But all my heart wants is to finally be in love. I don't want to be afraid to fall anymore. I want to let things happen. I want to feel. I finally want to bask in the breeze and feel the freedom of admitting my emotions. I do not want to continue along this straight path. I do not want to hide. I will tear down my walls - brick by brick - and breathe. I wonder what the other side will feel like? Will the colours be more vibrate like everyone says? Will the birds chirp and the sky stain with harmonious hues? I may never end up with Prince Charming, but if I can dance without music, I know I've found love.

For Now

The world is full of possibilities. But not all of them are for the best. Sometimes the dream is better than reality, as much as we fight it - it just isn't worth it. The opportunity presents itself, right there - right in front of you - but something inside knows its wrong. Maybe going further than some smouldering eye contact and innocent flirting just won't be as good as what we have. And maybe I'm okay with that. Maybe. But I think this doesn't just apply to romance, it applies to life. We can fight for what we believe in, never take no as an answer, or we can forge another path. A road less taken by, they say. Some things are meant to happen and yes, life will always have struggles, but the energy it takes to battle could be put towards an innovate solution. When an impenetrable wall towers over us, what do we do? You find a way. Usually around, but a way none the less. So how do you find a way around someone who's taken? Theres always the obvious option of cheating, but I think for now I'll avoid the drama and spare the heartaches. What else? Maybe the crazy answer is settle for friendship? For now. Thats the beauty of possibilities, the less you plan and the more you live, life will hand you spontaneous gifts. Taking what you have and making it work is what happiness is about. It's not about breaking down the walls. Rawness has something to do with it, but knowing yourself and knowing its wrong, is right. Does it feel wrong when its right or does it feel right when its wrong?

Crumbling Chaos

Life is full of conformities. Blocks are ready - at every moment - to build around you. You're surrounded by rules, regulations, and restrictions. The world has set standards and specifications of what and who we are supposed to become. And most abide these guidelines, sticking to what they are taught, even when something from within is pulling in another direction. But what happens when one person stands against these walls? When one person tears them down and steps over the crumbling chaos? Do viewpoints change or does the world shun the different? Has the abstract even been accepted into our society or does our 'abstractness' simply mean slightly off-normal? When it comes to art, perhaps a piece which stands out, for its vulgarity or beauty, can be accepted. But what about people? When someone picks a different path than what has been set for us since day one, do we shame them? Are we shamed to even be associated with them? Life is said to be about choices, but why do we shun certain lifestyles? Sex before marriage. Not even wanting marriage. Not wanting kids, or a family at that. Wanting a divorce. Wanting to move away. Wanting to explore. I remember as a kid, I was told in Kindergarden that life is about family and in order to succeed that creating my own would be the most prized choice. Since day one we see our family, split or together, hold ties. But why are these ties so wondrous? Despite our technology, clothing, and architecture sometimes I feel as though we have been up-rooted back to the 50s. What happened to open-mindedness? What happened to honesty? What happened to pursuing your dreams? Live a life by your own definition, beyond tradition and the image of what is right. All I ask is that you wake up with a smile. A smile that is free. The blocks may be ready, but so are we.

Running Out of Ecstasy

Loneliness. Whether its on our walk home, out grocery shopping, or even in a crowd, we all experience it. Some enjoy the isolation, digging deep into our unconscious. Others use it as an excuse to descend the depths of depression and confusion. I lust after the idea of spending time alone; divulging the real me, diving further. Who am I? What am I made of? The ecstasy of self-exploration is a wondrous feeling, a wondrous feeling I will continue to crave. But what happens when this ecstasy runs out? When the high falls? Can the appeal of isolation sway? And if it does, what are we left with? Despite this longing when I see a woman with her lover, or two friends laughing, the high vanishes and I'm suddenly lusting after something else. I lust for togetherness. People believe its a choice to decide upon loneliness or intimacy; if you have one, you cannot have the other. But what if you love being alone? What if you crave it as I do? The thoughts and emotions come in swirls, ready for investigation. And what if you also love being with others? The wistful and witty exchange of comments or the silent glances are dream worthy. I think this is not a selection of one over the other, but a preference. Loneliness is tempting, but I prefer basking in the presence of others, where time disappears and conversation lasts a lifetime. I've come to realize that even though I like being alone, I don't always like being lonely.

Common Ground

Lately I've been thinking about what initiates our attraction to another. I used to believe appearances swayed your initial feelings towards someone, but I'm beginning to change my mind. I really think people are pulled to others when we have things in common. I'm still unsure of what I must have in common with the other person that draws upon this attraction, but from my most recent experiences I believe this idea holds. Maybe it's because we dream of being immersed in someone that understands us, someone we can intertwine with and come out knowing you're one. It reminds me of the relationship that water and earth share. Rain falls into the ground, the two separate entities combine providing on an even higher level. Alone, they both facilitate nourishment, but together they create life. Two completely different substances with varied cycles, appearances, and purpose can immerse into one another. Their common ground may stand to be mysterious and maybe it will never be known, but their relationship exists. Will our relationships ever exist or do they need to be built? Will two people ever be pulled together and have what they have or must we work through 'issues'? Can a relationship exist with a common ground and nothing more? Perhaps everything past common ground is worthless. Maybe this additive is what causes the complexities; thoughts, questions, emotions. Will I ever be able to just live in the moment on nothing more than common ground? And if I do, is he the one?

Stained Memories

We dream of fairytales. We dream of Prince Charming. We dream of kids and white picket fences and welcoming houses. We dream. But I find these dreams always have one thing in common; time. They all require a lifetime. We dream of endless weeks basking under sunsets with our one true love. We dream of growing old together. All these dreams lead to a timely commitment. But what happens when we have one perfect night? When we have seven hours of true happiness? Why don't we ever dream about that? Do humans crave commitment? Or are we scared by it? I used to beg for more of those perfect nights with the perfect guy - but every day afterward never lived up to the first time. The first night. Those first seven hours. The passion flashed lightning. The lust fell like rain. And the night cowered above, stars tangled in clouds. When everything feels so right should we just let the moment be and move on? Or should we try to repeat it? Can the flame last forever or is the night's gusting wind simply too powerful? Can the coals be ignited after they've already diminished? I believe its more realistic to dream of these perfect nights. We may never have a lifetime of love and dedication, but those spontaneous nights are worth it. He may never call again. He may never see me after. He may forget my name. But in both our minds that night is stained; the memory replaying. And sometimes thats enough.

Romantic Torture

Falling in love is exciting at first. The hyperactive emotions and passionate touches, it all starts beautifully. It can conquer any other feeling. It can wipe history clean. It can birth adventure. It can even turn moments into hours. Falling in love is precious, but whats overlooked is the fragility love embraces once the excitement ends. You realize love isn't a line connected by two dots, but the dots are multiplied and they spin a web. Each moment has led to where we are. Each moment brought you there - in front of the person you love - and left you wondering how. And why? Why me? Why pick me? Why love me? And these moments layer together, they are the triggers of all your questions. Our past determines our future, especially when it comes to relationships. But what determined our past? What caused our first love? Moments? Memories? Emotions? Falling in love is exhilarating at first. Even in the middle, the plot is electrifying. You share lightning, stars, sunsets, thunder. And you'll always share a hello and final goodbye. When your hands drift apart for the last time, you want those moments to be remembered. All the passion. I want to revisit the feeling of love, the conquering of emotions, the deletion of history, and the birth of adventure. I want to be remembered for my lightning, my stars, my sunsets, and my thunder; all the emotions conjoined. Love is exciting at first, but becomes beautifully tragic in the end. Despite all the webs that I've clung to, leaving was always the most romantic torture - you know you're in love, but you know there's better.

Outlines

We spend our whole lives planning and mapping how our future should be. I think organization holds importance in today's society. We tend to outline. But not just from an organizational standpoint - we outline everything. The floors are tiled, our pictures are squared, our houses are panelled. We confine things to elementary shapes; squares, circles, triangles. They float through life unnoticed, yet we have our lives to thank for their stability. Blind people rely on the touch of a figure for guidance, we trace the lines for stencils, and our very grip is determined by the outline of an object. But what if this changed? What if a side of the square was uplifted? We'd have three incomplete lines, awaiting closure. We'd be waiting. I think the reason we like to confine life into basic shapes is because the object's meaning can become obscure. A pillow, may appear as a soft support for your head during rest to some, but to others memories elaborate on this definition - making the rectangle a safer option. A bed can be welcoming to many individuals, however for myself, I dread getting in between the sheets, because I know what to expect. I know to expect about six relentless hours of staring at the ceiling and two hours waking up screaming with tears racing down my cheeks. With all these built up definitions, objects lose their meaning and even their purpose - they become imaginary. So what happens when physical existence isn't enough to provide an understanding? What happens when we just don't know? A name always helps, but a title doesn't offer an explanation. In a world of subjectivity, do we rely on shapes to confirm something's existence?

Floating Over Fences

You're always on one side of the fence. Whether its the brighter side or not, you're allied to a certain position. But what happens when that all changes? When suddenly, you're the one on the other side? You're looking over and its not all that nice. I've spent years dating guys who I've never been able to commit to. The reason always changed, but the feeling remained the same - I just didn't feel it. And I never saw it from their perspective - being with someone who wasn't fully into the relationship. Well now, as karma may have tempted, I'm currently the one laying on the other side of the bed, questioning his commitment. Will he ever be completely engulfed in me as I him? Will he ever be charmed by my smile as I am with his? Maybe I don't need to question this at all because I know exactly what the green grass looks like and I'm finally seeing things the way I should've before. I should have ended things before I tethered my past boyfriends to me. I should have ended things before I could break their hearts. But I didn't. And now I'm the one who's heart is aching. Have the zooming questions and hidden tears been laying right beside me all along? Have I lead astray so many? Am I the only one to blame for my current defeat? In a world of dividers, have I become a floater?

Quicksand - Guest Writer

Today we have a guest writer, Oliver Gillcrest! Enjoy his work below:

Quicksand - I’ve been thinking a lot recently about my fears, and how much influence they have over me. It reminded me of a speech from a movie I recently watched titled “the replacements,” in which the main character spoke of being afraid of quicksand. When asked about the element he never spoke of it in the traditional sense, but instead he said “It’s when you think everything is going fine. Then one thing goes wrong. And then another. And another. You try to fight back, but the harder you fight, the deeper you sink. Until you can't move, you can't breathe... because you're in over your head. Like quicksand.” Granted he was talking about football, but it made me think; aren’t we all afraid of quicksand, and if we aren’t, shouldn’t we be? What makes fear unique to each individual, yet at the same time universal in that it affects all of us? I know we’re not all afraid of spiders, snakes, or heights. But we all experience fear and it can cripple us, yet at the same time it is necessary for our survival. I always thought of how great it would be to be fearless, but is that really wise? Does fearlessness really make me more capable or more unaware? Is caution the way to go? In some situations fearlessness can be beneficial, for example not being afraid to tell someone you love them, right? Or does that fear make you less likely to be hurt in case they don’t feel the same way? Or to be more wary of who you say it to? It’s always impossible to tell, but are my fears there to help protect myself or to limit my potential?

"What Do They Know?"

Humans are creatures of habit, yet we transform. We wake up every day changed. A new beginning, a new us. But what happens when we aren't changing ourselves and others are? When all the outside forces pull us into the tide and wash us away to sand, are we wearing away our souls? Self-change is powerful, but does alien transformation offer the same benefits? Or is external alteration just adaption? Perhaps this force moulds us and shapes us into creatures of societal well-being. Or maybe the truth follows something like this; we embrace habit when we are constantly forced into change from outside, but we embrace change when it comes from within ourselves. Think about it. When you push yourself to accomplish something you're empowered - but when you're pushed by others to achieve the same thing it becomes painful. And as thisalways think, "Is this really me?" Or, "I'll could try something else?" And the most tragic of all, "What do they know?" Because when it comes to change all we know is what we feel and the path we want to abide by. But in a world of daily transformations and branching paths, how do we decide which pebbled road to follow? Do we stick to our predestined path or do we wake up and create our own?
habitual routine continues to develop, humans become more distanced from this outside transformation, we even begin to question our self-growth. So how do we prevent this alliance between external development and negativity? I think the answer lies within all the questions. We doubt change due to our habits, so we begin to question it. Think about the last time you dressed in clothes someone else picked out for you - how did it feel? I know I

Romantic Numbers

Why is there a double standard with phone numbers? It's appropriate for a man to offer his number, but it's not okay for a woman. It's sexy and romantic when a man does it, but when a woman participates in the same act it's aggressive and far too direct. We set these boundaries so early on in relationships that we prevent any sort of spontaneous act. We all lust after a fairytale story as seen on TV, but how would we ever be able to achieve that if we immediately put up expectations? And since this double standard exists against females, males have begun to jerk away from these actions too. Are we actually ruining our opportunities of any kind of relationship by placing these restraints on others? Have we blocked ourselves off so much that we seem cold and aloof? And when someone does step out on a limb how is it rewarded? Rejection, laughter, ignorance? Maybe all our relationships are supposed to form from some sort of foundation, but we should give up the ridiculous fantasies. Not because they're impossible, but because we doubt their existence, we question our actions to the point of distance. There used to be a time when giving out a number wasn't a big deal - in fact it was rewarded with high-fives and excitement. Now, this rare occurrence is judged and questioned. Have we just out-grown romance as a whole? Do we even expect it anymore? And the most pressing question; should I ever hand out my phone number again?

To Fight or Vanish?

Relationships are about the fight. The burning flame of desire and the foundation you've created cannot be built without fight. I'm not talking about arguments or even words really. I'm talking about the passionate need you have to keep a relationship alive. I find that when everything comes crashing down, people tend to vanish. I always hear the line "if it was meant to be, this wouldn't have happened." But when are things ever easy in any relationship? Do things just come naturally or are we ought to fight for these connections? I used to believe that if a relationship came naturally it was supposed to work out, but how do you get through those hard times without any practise? The only relationship I've experienced that managed to stay alive for so long was one that I woke up every morning fighting for. He moved to another country, his culture was completely different, and his family never accepted me, but all I had to do was see his face and everything felt okay. Now, I'm not saying we should enter relationships expecting to wear chain-mail and wave swords, but does easy outweigh the distraught? In a society where everyone takes the laziest option, can a foundation even be built? How can trust be earned if you're not fighting to show how you feel? I think to have a deep longing for someone is the only way I can explain this fight. You're stomach sets flight and you're nerves rise with the butterflies. It's not a negative fight. It's giving someone what they want, despite the repercussions. It's compromising. It's honesty. The fight is the survival. In a world of distrust, when did we become so trusting of vanishing as an answer?

A Tangled Mess

As we grow up we continue to learn. We'd like to think that the most we take in would be sitting in a lecture hall, memorizing psychological disorders and symptoms. We absorb and purge information so easily as we mature, but what does it even mean? In all reality, the most information we actually absorb is within the first few years of life. We learn to speak and communicate, from there we are simply adding complexities to the foundation already built. But when did the added complexities become overwhelming? When did they begin to mandate our minds, mesmerize our memories, and manipulate our morale? Our feelings grow, but as opposed to straight parallel lines, they become spider webs - catching our thoughts and wrapping them into a tangled mess. I may know the definition of Tardive Dyskinesia; A neurological disorder marked by chronic tremors and involuntary spastic movements, but that doesn't make me smart. You're smart if you can identify your own emotions. When I clench my teeth, I'm sad. When my hands shake, I'm nervous. When my mind wanders endlessly, I'm usually falling in or out of love. We learn at an early age, but we remember the latter. So when we are able to differentiate each emotion and separate the webs, which is rare, maybe thats what makes us intelligent. Although, I must admit when the feelings intertwine and each strand falls into place, sometimes the mess isn't so bad. Are the right messes worth the lack of intelligence? Are emotions worth losing our minds over?

Soaring Embers

My father, sister, and I rest beside the crackling fire and gaze at soaring embers. The flames dance. I sip my hot chocolate, grasping it in my hands, hopeful for my shivers to disappear. The marshmallows twirl around one another. 

Glancing outside, the winter has taken back it’s reigns as it does every year. Snow piles up two feet against the house and I watch snowflakes skate around the trees.  

We sit on a worn, ripped green sofa with a beige stain, which we dragged by the fireplace to stay warm. We don’t have heating.  

The kitchen is behind us. Apple pie and cinnamon cloud the room, reminding me of my mother. She left my father a few months ago. The three of us don’t talk about it much. We hope one day she’ll come back. 

I Need You And You And You

What happens when you don't know? You don't know what he wants. You don't know what you want. But all you do know is that you want him. Any version of him will suffice, whether it's the friendship you've always had, the flirtation he used to force on you, or the sex you currently have. I want him. Is it crazy when you want to define a relationship to the extent of exclusivity but not define it with a label? Why is exclusivity such an important role in modern relationships? Should we trust that the other person wants us enough that they don't need anyone else? How could one person ever be enough? It got me thinking; we have girlfriends for shoe advice, teachers for education, boyfriends for intimacy, and gay friends for, well more shoe advice. Why would we ever imagine a world where one person could possibly be everything? Maybe thats why people can never fully agree on what they want in a relationship - because they will always need someone else for something else. Which is okay. But when the line between your friendship and sex blurs, what are you needed for? We question our position in our partnerships because we're always wondering what it means to them. Do you want me? Wheres this going? What part am I playing? And last, but not least, are we exclusive? Because in a world that values monogamy, we never really seem monogamous.

Crowded Greys

Girls tend to think a relationship consists of three things: love, sex, and friendship. Men on the other hand, can separate these and create individual relationships based on one or the other, creating a mixture. But all this does to the girl, is create a mixture of emotions. Men can think in shades of grey, while women mostly perceive black and white. So how does this spectrum work? How many shades of grey can men actually see? And do men settle when they are placed into the triangle of female thought? I've tried segregating the different entities but honestly, all I end up with is emotional instability. Love can be just love… until you begin to want more. Sex can be just sex… in the moment, but after it becomes an attachment. And friendship can be just friendship… unless it's with the opposite sex - because we always mistake kindness with flirting. The funny thing is, men can achieve a life of separate functions; love with her, sex with another, and friendship with whomever. So why does the male brain continue to mystify women? What can their mind conquer that ours can't? Will women ever be able to live the spectrum of greys? If so, will we ever be fully satisfied? Like a sun caught mid set, with the moon towering over - the sky becomes crowded. The shades overlap and two different worlds collide. Relationships may be black or white but what happens when a relationship becomes just grey?

Judging Judgement

Somethings people don't admit because they don't always like the way it sounds. I'm lonely, but I'd never announce it. The funny this is, most of these things we are not ought to be ashamed of. 'I'm overweight,' 'I'm gay,' 'I'm lonely' - if you can be confident in your skin, who cares? Regardless of how others view us, we still feel vulnerable about certain qualities. And the worst part is, we are the ones who think it's okay to be rejected by these things. Just below the surface, we're all raw and exposed. We're all shaping ourselves to be who we should be, not who we are. These are not weakness, they define us. But is this definition that bad? When I see someone without a plus one, I don't judge, but are they judging themselves? Are they questioning their competence to date? Why does judgement play such a large role in our lives? Yes, it's not always the most flattering quality, but can judgement be positive? Why do we judge judgement? Am I just judging myself about judging myself? I think we should use these things that we don't admit and be proud of them - they make us us. We may never stop judging, but we can use it to our advantage. Will we, as a society, ever be comfortable in our own skin? And if so, how?

Stained Photographs

Why do we go all in when we know we'll lose? We invest so much time, which is priceless, into others. This isn't always bad, but when we know it's not in our best interest, why do we continue to offer this limited currency? Although time fades, our memories don't. They are stuck in photographs and our free-falling minds. Once an event is captured, it's there to stay. So why do we force ourselves to capture memories that aren't right for us? Why do we force ourselves to capture hearts that aren't right for us? It reminds me of a blind date; we put everything on the table and gamble. We hope that this is it. We hope that the people in our lives are worth it. Hope. But as time changes, so do we. Some things break apart, some come together. And we invest time because we're stuck in a ruthless age where change isn't wanted. Where everything seems good, but a shift lies upon the horizon. I think giving up all control and drifting with the current is the only way to become purely happy. Invest time, as much as it permits. Go on the blind dates. Be as hopeful as you are passionate. Because all we have at the end of the day are our memories; those photographs stained in our minds. And if we don't wake up in the morning, those stills will forever play.

The Cheaters And Cheat-ees

Some people cheat. Some people hurt. Some people isolate. And others surround themselves with lustrous individuals. Depending on what type of relationship we choose and how the course of the partnership developed, are we defined by our relationships? Once a cheater do you wear a scarlet letter? Once alone, will you always be 'the loner?' Are our past relationships a definitive piece of ourselves? And if they are, do they appear definitive from others looking in or us looking out? I strongly believe in karma, but will a cheater never change? Are second chances even an option? Do we make or break friendships because of someone's romantic history? We become the judges and the verdict is in; you are scorned forevermore. If the past continues to catch up, should be just display our mistakes for the world to see? Should we stay quiet until they're uncovered? Or do we hide our treacherous past? Now this doesn't just arise for the cheaters or the pain enforcers - this occurs for the cheat-ees, the people hurt from previous relationships. You're marked too. You're more vulnerable, less trusting, hardened. Should we all march around with signage, flaunting our flaws? Do we live in a society where we are only as dateable as our past relationships?

Silence: A Balanced Pattern

Silence must be well balanced. When everything aches, when our eyes tear, and when your throat swells, silence heals. In a society full of noise, I think we take this absence for granted. The whispers of a television, whimpers of neighbours, whisping of the wind - everything births sound. We try so hard, using words to figure things out. We're never happy with what we have until we understand it. Our feelings have taken the back seat to words, to noise. With the roars of life, why not leave things to the unspoken. Has our society given up on gestures? Do we question someone's intentions behind a smile? Can we even communicate without disrupting the silence? I find the times we do accept the silence are the most outlandish, adding to our lack of communication skills. We wander with our headphones glued to our skulls, missing the opportunities for 'hello.' We deeply gaze into someone's eyes - connecting - but walk away. We speak, but never listen. I believe silence must be balanced. There has to be a give and take. It reminds me of a shore. As the wave pushes onto the beach, it pulls sand back with it. There will always be sand or water, but the pattern exists. A pattern of swelling noise, or lulling silence.

Sexual Sabotage?

Orgasms. They have a pretty intricate way of inducing pleasure. I think most women don't discuss them, even with their partners, because of how weird it is to explain the 'just right' conditions. Demystifying how to achieve an orgasm is less than a turn on; 'move here, wait too far, try over there…' The commands never end. Sometimes I think to myself, orgasms are impossible to achieve during sex. Oral is a different story, but sex + orgasms = imaginary. Well, at least for the majority of my experience (not all, thankfully). So now, when we have sex, are we setting ourselves up for failure? Are we pressuring the guy into thinking we're a lost cause? Are we making the guy question his abilities just because we don't know our own? And if we are, does that mean we are sabotaging our own sexual experiences? When the lights flicker low and the groans grow are orgasm-hopeless women putting themselves into a flattened mind set? How do we get out of this rut? How do we even relax? How can we ever achieve pleasure when all we think about is the lack thereof?

Rescued: To Be Or Not To Be

White knights and princes. Whether we like it or not, girls just want to be rescued. Sometimes it's someone picking you up after a late night. But sometimes it's a simple 'hello' when all else fails. Forget the horses and chain-mail and substitute them for white houses and picket fences. I mean what would Sleeping Beauty do if Prince Charming never came for her? Maybe she would've awoken on her own or maybe she would be in a daze forever. Either way, her life was altered by his rescue. And all girls hope - to a certain extent - that their lives can be changed forever. Why do you think Officers and Firefighters are so highly publicized? Why do they make shirtless calendars to promote their services? Because they are the good guys - they are the modern day Prince Charmings - and we can't help but want to be saved. Maybe the drama of dragons and even house fires are not everyone's cup of tea, but a smile on a rainy day or "a your coffee's on me" could be the replacement. We may not need rescuing from dragons or even ourselves, we just want to be saved from life's hassles. And it's got me thinking; do they know we want to be saved? And if they do, can we even be saved in reality or is being rescued just a fairytale?

A Bedroom Education

We're graded on everything we do. And judgement is society's grading system. Our education, work, clothes, friends, family, and sex are all judged. When we have a special someone over and things end in the bedroom are we being graded? B-, A+, Fail, or worse - an incomplete? When we let down our most intimate barriers, are we being judged? And on the other side - are we the judges of them? Do we rank or sort our previous sexual relationships? I find myself imagining the better times, but have I ever demoted a partner because of their skills in bed? And how do we know if we're not the issue? I don't think I've ever ended something because their lack of, but I've probably compared. Actually, I know I've compared. I suppose we all rank because it's our nature to sought after a reliable and sexually promising mate. It's in our blood. But when did grading sex wind it's way into our blood. It still remains; What would be our own grade? Where do we sit on the scale? And how do we know if we're good in bed?

Growing Pains

Pain must co-exist with happiness. These emotions are tied to relationships, and some even say it isn't worth it without the pain. Maybe we think of this as a type of growing pain; necessary for development. But what happens when the line between 'growing pain' and real pain blurs? Will we know when enough is enough? Pain feels good, it draws excitement. The not-knowing of feelings and the craziness we exude when we're left in the dark is alluring. Although, eventually it becomes overwhelming and we end up consumed - either with rage or loneliness. In reality, we are all in S&M relationships, at least to a certain extent. And this line that blurs is what separates the rage from the excitement, it prevents the two from becoming intermingled. Crossing the line doesn't just lead to consummation, but it writes a path to self-harm. The late nights wondering what they're doing. Pulling your hair out at the lies. Worrying if you'll ever really be a part of their life. Now this doesn't just occur when a significant other defies your wishes once, this happens over years of distrust, years of pain. But when does this once grow-worthy pain become something truly painful? Is it the difference of six months to seven? Or was the pain never going to be out grown?

Lively Bombs

Exes are ticking time bombs. They scatter around the city and without warning you've stepped on an explosion. One second your world is inching by, until suddenly he appears. Time stops. Sound shatters. Sense fades. All your left with are memories. His warm touch and gentle eyes. His light lips and soft laugh; it swarms around you. Your lungs fill with smoke - smoke of a burned past. The funny thing is, you can never prepare for these attacks. These mines are sprinkled all over and the second you forget about their faces, the bomb diffuses. It's terrifying, but exhilarating. Maybe thats why we always wander back to our exes - the longing and terror mix - for a mystery we will never solve. Because we will never know where and when these collisions happen. We mostly hope to avoid them, but somewhere inside ourselves, in a place we won't admit, we hope to see them. Because an unexpected encounter that draws upon discord is a ticking time bomb. And although ticking time bombs are deadly, they revive memories. In a way, bombs are lively.

Annabelle

The wind wisps around my long, golden hair as I take a step out onto the frozen lake. It’s been awhile since I last visited this place, the place where my best friend, my sister passed away. Four years, two months, and six days since the call that changed everything.

 I take a step further onto the thick ice sheet, if only it was this thick four years ago. 

Her name was Annabelle. I always called her Annie, even though she resented the nickname, and in return I was titled Prune. When we were younger she couldn't pronounce June and I became Prune. 

As I stop myself from venturing out any farther, I take in the beautiful night sky. The moon is almost full, hanging amidst the stars and the bridge curving over the lake glows from it’s bright lights. I bend down and place my younger sister’s favorite flowers down on the freezing ice. Lilies always made her smile. I remember, as kids when we would go canoeing on our own, we would reach for the water lilies, almost tipping over the boat. After, we'd bring them home to our parents. Back then everything seemed so innocent and we never gave any second thought. Now, everything has changed, everything is different, and everything feels so lonely.

Fluctuating Wings

Love exists. I've felt it, we all have. Even if it's a little love for ourselves. The thing with love is that eventually it fluctuates; it grows and fades and possibly the cycle begins again - if you're lucky. It reminds me of a butterfly soaring through the wind, their wings flutter from side to side as they swoop up and down, but a flight can't last forever. I think the fight that butterflies put up with during their journey is real love. The love that pushes through into a new beginning. I think what prevents us from experiencing this flight is denial. We deny our love. We deny our need for affection. We deny that we can finally settle down because of doubts. We doubt, I doubt, that the person I'm with is it. Because who knows? Regardless of all the confusion, love can exist, as long as we stop denying or at least accept our denial. Doubts are natural, they show us how good things are. Even if it's from a quick look in the mirror that sets off a small flutter in our stomachs - even if we try to love ourselves, we will doubt it. Because everything fluctuates.

A Soul of Coal

Death happens. People are lost. Souls vanish. One second we take a breath, the next, we don't. Our memories slip from our minds, as the air slips from our lips. The hope that death conceives in our minds is a beautiful aspect of the dark mystery. The possibilities of afterworlds is such a wondrous faith. And what amazes me is how committed people are to this hope. There is no proof or evidence, yet millions of people believe that there is something bigger than this. Something magical. Yet as that final breath draws from our lungs we are pushed back from a world of optimism to one of distrust. Do we really think there is a better place? Or is this faith just a solid concept we grab onto when we don't know? When we're afraid we won't be remembered? Eventually our eyes will cloud and glaze over as we become cold and distant in the thoughts of others. But as for now, as for the living, the hope we carry is one of the most beautiful things about death. Or perhaps, its the ignorance of evidence that is beautiful. Regardless, life is given to us as a piece of coal that we forge into a diamond. Some people envision the diamond as death, an exquisite paradise. Others strive to fashion a bright future, but in the end all we have is coal.

Sing and Dance

Storms command attention. We'll never know the message they're trying to convey, we don't speak in flashes and booms. None the less, a message lingers. People are afraid of storms for some reason. They run and take cover, envelope themselves in the comfortable nest we've created. To be honest, I think to a certain extent we should be terrified, the power that swarms the skies isn't weak. In a second we have floods, without warning. Despite nature's shrill storm, the grace it brings is wondrous; the rebirth, new beginnings, and simply the rain. People may hide, but this is an offer to bask in the realness of the world. Take in the hardships and reward yourself with this cleanse. Sing - challenge the thunder's voice. Dance - twirl with the lightening's ballet. Immerse youself in the beauty, because there's nothing more captivating than two worlds becoming one.

Marked With a Code

Eyes are so intricate and unique. No one will ever have the same. An imprint of our own. I used to think that when I gazed into someone's eyes it didn't mean much, despite popular belief. But, after years of gazing, I think you find a tiny piece of that person in their eyes. Like a shap-shot taken years ago, the memory is distant but alive. Not only do you find them, you can feel them. Their warmth or passion. Their rage or worry. There is always a degree of rawness to eyes. They say things we don't mean to tell. They spill our secrets, even when we don't know how. I could fall in love with eyes, I really could. And each eye colour has it's own beauty. Brown are warm. Blue are fragile. Green are wistful. Hazel are sincere. But beneath the colour remains layers of identity. Whether it be the physical strands of colour interlacing with others or our emotions spilling through, the layers create who we are. They tag us, mark us, with a DNA code. When it comes down to it, we're all just a code. A code created of timeless hues.

Wander The Sky

Sometimes I watch the moon and its veil of clouds. Riding in and out of vision, like a thought surfacing in a foggy mind. I wonder what it would be like to wander the sky, shifting from sight. The stark, still moon contrasts the hazy, hovering clouds. I suppose the two simulate morals versus thoughts; we try to keep our ethics in order, while our minds whizz with hopes. The wind whispers possibilities and the ground restores balance. The trees ache outwards and the rain pushes inward. The constant strain and tension fill the natural world as it does our minds. Our external bodies expand outwards and our minds expand inwards, perhaps infinitely. Perhaps the rain is infinite. Each tear-shaped drop, another memory, hope, or will. Each shatters into the rough ground, insuring balance, insuring we don't lose ourselves and float towards the moon. Because no one can know what it is like to wander the sky, shifting from sight.

Brush Strokes

How we feel can be hidden by the mask we offer the world. An illusion portrays to others our emotions, like a reflection in stirred water, our mask flexes and bends. Despite the lack of connectivity within ourselves, our feelings can be mirrored onto the world around us. When we're upset we focus on the pattering rain or the whistling wind. When we're pissed we focus on the backlash or facial expressions of others. We exaggerate our world to fit how we feel. Someone may have appeared to shoot you a dirty look, when they could have been trying to sneeze or were in pain. We make our surroundings reflect our emotions, whether we realize it or not. When we're overly happy, we notice couples laughing and kids smiling. Although sometimes people feel as though they are disconnected from this realm, we are actually creating it. A subjective version, but none the less shaping it. It's sort of beautiful when you think about it. Like an artist painting to music, the outcome echos their mental state. A rough dry stroke for anger and a light, water-downed stroke for tranquility. We are literally painting our world. Paint it right.

Dissolving Snowflakes

Recently I've found it hard to write and I think that's because I want to write the truth. I don't want to put something into the world that isn't real, honest, and pure. But, in reality, we're all unpure to a certain extent; the white lies, makeup, the clothes, those smiles we pull our lips into. Still, I've always wanted my writing to feel honest to me and to you. I think that's just what all new writers want, but I've written about things I don't believe in, like true love. Maybe that's a lie, maybe I do believe in it but I'm trying to convince myself that I don't, because I haven't found it yet. This is where the line of honesty blurs. The once calm shoreline begins to wash in and out, following the tide. But what's the tide? Is it who we are? Who we think we are? What we want to be? It's like trying to grasp a snowflake; it dissolves before you can capture it's uniqueness, before you can see what it really is. Besides the degree of purity in my writing, I've been wondering what to write about. I have so many thoughts and ideas that it becomes so overwhelming, other days, not so much. All of this aside, I'm going to keep up with this site and embrace the words. However they come.

Storms

I think one of the most beautiful treasures in the world is the calm before the storm. The look in someone's eye before the battling words are spoken. The excited, pounded hearts before a treacherous journey. The warm breeze drifting softly over your skin before the sharp downpour. It's truly beautiful. A moment of hope, a softened state in which time idles and the future disintegrates, like ashes blowing in the wind. I suppose the storm may be substituted, used as a metaphor. Before you're boyfriend opens his mouth and reveals his betrayal, you become soft, vulnerable, hopeful, warm, but once the words hit you, it all sinks. The moment before everything is blown to pieces is beautiful, the distraught of tension. We force it upon ourselves. We hope he says everything is fine. We hope the adventure will follow according to plan. We hope the rain will wait until we reach the door. We hope. The calm before the storm is simply a state of hopefulness, a state in which we ponder the possibilities.