My kind of forever
I want to travel with you and we’ll have a picnic under the stars. We’ll stay up late in our tent cuddled together reading our favorite novels with the flashlight as our only source of light and we won’t stop reading until our eyes are sore and we’ll look at each other and still feel the same way. Then we’ll drive up north, far north and stop at the nearest Starbucks and stay there for half an hour until we travel again. We’ll stop at music shops and buy the albums our parents told us about and we’ll listen to them endlessly. We’ll take pictures of the places we’ve been to and we’ll write our own love story about how we met and what we used to do under the stars and we’ll pass it on to generations together with the albums we bought and even though a part of our memories are already shared to different people, we won’t mind because we’ll grow old together and our memories will stay young forever.
the artist and her lover
She put down her pencil and looked up at the clock, it said:
12:01. The moonlight that used to hit a faction of her artwork and her face was slowly dimming out. She was tired now, trying to brandish a new design for a week old commission that she agreed on doing. Her schedule has been full ever since people from all over the world wanted her. If only she can accommodate all of them, she would but being a free-lance artist still wasn’t enough to satisfy every company’s request.
12:03. She wanted to stand and turn off her desk light but her phone hasn’t stopped ringing and vibrating from all the messages and calls she’s been receiving, asking her when everything is going to be made and sent to their emails. The weight of the modern world was on her back.
What is perfection, really? Don’t you guys find it ironic how nothing is perfect but still, we keep on trying to be?
Here’s what I have to say. It isn’t perfection we look for. Most of the time we mistake our own definition of perfection from acceptance in the society and pride in our reputation. It is the idea of being perfect that we look up to.
Take these situations for example.
1.) Materialism. This isn’t perfection. It is simply jealousy and hunger for something we do not have…it is yearning for perfection in terms of having something to show off to the society.
2.) Acceptance. Okay, so most of us aren’t accepted. Well, that I can say. Most of us or maybe even all of us have experienced rejection once in our lives. As simple as not being able to belong in the group of your so-called friends is already a form of rejection. You want to be accepted in this petty world therefore you try to change and you try to be someone you’re not which is being desperate or at light cases, just being bullied by the other side of society.
3.) Reputation and Pride. As artists, as bloggers, teachers, scientists and whatnot, we have tried so hard to build our name and let it grow for people to remember. For years and decades we have been sitting straightly, speaking with dignity and doing our best not to trip, fall or look crooked on our stolen pictures. But sometimes we cross the boundaries too much, we tend not only to keep up with what we started but we are already abusing ourselves. Too.much.requirements.to.be.myself.
4.) Criticism. This is somehow related to numbers 2 and 3. We try to be perfect that the moment we receive criticisms or corrections, we become too proud to accept them. Therefore we insist on what we really want but still, that single criticism keeps us busy all day. Ayt? Most of the time, this leads to insecurity.
5. Insecurity. From the range of 1-10, 10 being the highest, I think being insecure is the highest form of depression. I’m not being over-reactive here, I’m trying to be realistic about how serious insecurity is. We look at her, at him, I definitely need those pants, that phone, that ombre hair, that girlfriend that anything. I want to be blemish free, I want to talk like her, so full of confidence, I want to be her. I don’t need your small talk. Just tell me this work of mine is cool and I’ll be cool with you. Seriously? I understand how we have our own insecurities but I’m also trying my best not to be too attached with mine because the more I see how imperfect I am, the more I kind of love myself.
The more people make mistakes, the more I realize I have even more. The more I see how people judge me, the more I don’t want to judge them, because I’m not one to judge. Let’s all work hand-in-hand to stop the crave of various perfections and the negativity it brings that captivates us for the rest of our lives.
The Pain that Changes Us
At times we wonder how the person we are today is like this, a crooked and insecure human-being who is trying to contain ourselves of what’s left in the so called facets of our torn up hearts and when we go back to what seemed like the memories written on our daily journals, we see that the things that hurt us most are the ones that change us completely. Sometimes, the people that care for us are the ones that are being choked in misery and we could have done something but we didn’t because we are that selfish and imprudent. So for a second, we think we are strong enough to endure all these but no, we are not and if we try to be repulsive, things may go out of control and we may never put the pieces back together.
After all that’s been done and said, we still go back to the people who were there for us, to the people that have been dragged in our problems and how funny to think of this but they still forgive us. So we learn our lesson, we feel guilty but the pain that has been the reason for everything else is still there to haunt us for the rest of our lives. It sticks to us like daggers and knives in the hearts of men.
It is inseparable from us. It is what defines us.
You accept the love you think you deserve
You say you are not loved but look around you, dozens of people care for you and that… that is love. Maybe you’re just too blinded by your desires of the wrong love only because you’re partly too innocent and partly too hungry. So start to wake up—face reality. Get up—go and be open to any love because the love you think you deserve maybe isn’t the right one yet.
Taylor Swift and Changing
- Me: *While watching the official I Knew You Were Trouble music video* Dad, I really think she's changed. I mean look at the way she dresses now. Bits of who she was is tearing apart.
- Dad: She's growing. She's maturing. You're not the only one who's aging, Meg. Taylor learns too and that's a process. Everything she has become and everything she was is who she is no matter how much you think she's changed.
- Me: But her genre has always been country. It's her name, her image, her self! And this! Look at this. Really. Those kissing scenes again, those make-outs, those hugging and oh gah.
- Dad: Country is not just those good-girl-barbie-dress-up play-dates and those fantasies and whatever you want to imagine as all innocent and colorful. Country is also about love, growing old, having sex, knowing who you are and being what you are.
- Me: (I should've just kept my mouth shut. . .but the man made a pretty good point) *shuts up and continues to watch the video*
"I’m not good" is a terribly hard thing to say because people would care and you won’t be alone with the decisions that you make and people will get their hands on your problems. "I’m not good." There’s simply nothing more to say. Lying isn’t an option and neither is smiling. "I’m not good." And I mean this in its most metaphorical and literal sense. Honestly though. I really am not doing good or fine or even just okay in its most cliche term. I’m clueless, I’m lost and I’m in the middle of nowhere but if nowhere was having you by my side then I’d take that risk. You just have to find me first in the hourglass that turns each second where grains fly off and I do too. There may be millions of sand flowing in that little glass case but I’d be one of them and if you’d look for me even though it would take you more than an hour well then maybe I can and maybe I will hold on to your hand… And maybe I can say that "I’m good, now that you’re here."