Lost in Txtlation

These are the cookie crumbs for my depreciating mind.

Month: July 2012

Just me 6

Just me 4

Just Me 3

Just me 2

Just me

White girl butt…

This is going to sound so fucking incredibly insensitive and shallow, but here goes anyway… I don’t care about boobies(I appreciate them haha). I care about your face, your lips, and your butt… is that too much to ask for? Not “black people like my ass” ass I mean STRAIGHT TEXTBOOK WHITE GIRL ASS. I get so much crap for this, “I am your average girl” “I am happy with my ass” “way to only think about physical” I don’t say this to make you insecure or weirded out. I say this in a, if we went shopping and I was gonna buy you something cute, I want to like it too way, I say this in a you should take care of your body way(as do I). I say this in a “there is a guy/girl for every other guy/girl out there” and that is something I REALLY LIKE. So yes this is a deal breaker. Take it as you want to. (Like I said previously, either you take me as we have known each other forever or you might be insulted) Physical is the easiest thing to know first, which then you can invest yourself 100% into the other person to see if you match every other way. (we can deny it all we like but it is the part of us that is RIGHT INFRONT OF US, I mean why else do we have PROFILE pictures)and with the different angles and photos you can take, this site has a tendency to be misleading. As a photographer it isn’t that hard to figure out WHY you picked a picture, I know why I picked mine. If you want to see me as a fat fuck, feel free to ask, I have been there, and I took care of it. But this isn’t about ANY of that, this is about me liking something, enough that it is important to me as your brain, intellect, humor, easy going attitude, and “insert adjective here” is…

I understand looks are not the #1 thing in life. I know how they fluctuate. I suppose I also know how people overlook them because of how touchy a subject they are. Well that was me a few years ago before I pulled my shit together. I was the skinny kid until I got my first job and learned what a desk job meant. Longer story with lots more pictures if you want it. But don’t be so quick to think I am judging you. Maybe what you see and hear is me gauging where your mind and mine are when it comes to a valuable process of my life?

P.S. I realize this is very generalized and body type, height, hips etc come into play on all of this. But I just wanted to get the idea out there.

Grasping it all, melding it with tears…

How does one admit they are lost and need help, if by the very act of doing this implies they know what kind of help they need when asked “What can I do to help?” from those willing to extend a hand. If only to stand here very alone, very scared, very secluded on an island filled with very sporadic ups and downs. Mortality creeping into every thought. The idea of blackness and nothing, unable to grasp it. Feeling like that could happen before ever getting to feel what it is to live.

To love.

To be happy…To be truly happy. To fullfil the childhood idea of happiness.

The funny part is the longer I go on, the more my mind begins to halt it’s ability to age with me. My eyes deceive me about those around me and my reality creeps up again, telling me, you waisted the days when you could have established better. Of course most is a facade and a dirty anxiety to getting older. I am not older than but a minute ago, yet my vision sees an age that is mixed with those, who to them, wonder why I am saying things like, “back in my day” as they see me not as I see myself. To be a little confused would be a great affliction. But instead it is a chaos storm of time.

I hesitate. That is the biggest problem, my hesitation. The hesitation to jump. I never hesitated, perhaps because I felt there was much more time ahead of me. So I jumped, jumped into left and right. I love so many things but can devote myself to nothing in particular. When you feel like you are running out of time, you tend to be more cautious with your leaps. “I envy your freedom” is a phrase I hear a lot, but with pure freedom comes, a feeling of falling. Without the ground and walls, you must be able to grasp to the metaphysical walls of your passions and love. So I pushed forward and pressed against all my passions and loves, yet nothing stuck after I began to slip again, falling slowly down to my knees then to my butt pressed against that wall, that felt comforting. Remembering what it felt like, knowing I did the right thing by letting it go, but afraid of the ground below again. Fear is where is gets scary, because fear can embody itself into your dreams, your life, your mind, and your happiness.

My mind now treats me as if I am weak, attacking at the happy moments where I can forget about the endless days and dreams of memories and futures never happened or half experienced.

So I go day to day, feeling more detached from myself than normal, wishing I could just grasp onto it all and ball my eyes out into it. Letting it understand with each drop, what my mind is thinking. Not having to say a damn word, write a word, think a thought. It would just be a perfect inception of who I can become.

Is it a location, did I jump the gun, did my fear take me to a place where I wasn’t ready for yet, will it help if I go back, will it make it worse, should I stay, should I give in, should I go even crazier. How do you take the giant steps when the little ones are so painfully excruciating on your mind that you need to dose yourself into the calming summer winds that blow near the strike of 2 am, which you normally sleep through, unlike the days prior where that was when it all began.

I want to die happy. And if I died today I would not be happy. I would not be anything but a shell of hopes, dreams, ambitions, and past achievements. I guess in your eyes, I may have done well, but in my eyes, I need to be more than what I have been.

I want to die first and foremost knowing I experienced loves embrace, the warmth of a light on at home when walking toward it. Even finding the perfect moment, is like a Greek tragedy, my eyes plunging the knife into my mind while I embrace the facts in-front of me. Feeling betrayed by my own ideas of what life should have been. Feeling as though I betrayed myself by not making life the way I wanted it to be.

I could continue to make examples and hidden messages, but that is all I wanted to share for now. The end.

Grasping it all, melding it with tears…

How does one admit they are lost and need help, if by the very act of doing this implies they know what kind of help they need when asked “What can I do to help?” from those willing to extend a hand. If only to stand here very alone, very scared, very secluded on an island filled with very sporadic ups and downs. Mortality creeping into every thought. The idea of blackness and nothing, unable to grasp it. Feeling like that could happen before ever getting to feel what it is to live.

To love.

To be happy…To be truly happy. To fullfil the childhood idea of happiness.

The funny part is the longer I go on, the more my mind begins to halt it’s ability to age with me. My eyes deceive me about those around me and my reality creeps up again, telling me, you waisted the days when you could have established better. Of course most is a facade and a dirty anxiety to getting older. I am not older than but a minute ago, yet my vision sees an age that is mixed with those, who to them, wonder why I am saying things like, “back in my day” as they see me not as I see myself. To be a little confused would be a great affliction. But instead it is a chaos storm of time.

I hesitate. That is the biggest problem, my hesitation. The hesitation to jump. I never hesitated, perhaps because I felt there was much more time ahead of me. So I jumped, jumped into left and right. I love so many things but can devote myself to nothing in particular. When you feel like you are running out of time, you tend to be more cautious with your leaps. “I envy your freedom” is a phrase I hear a lot, but with pure freedom comes, a feeling of falling. Without the ground and walls, you must be able to grasp to the metaphysical walls of your passions and love. So I pushed forward and pressed against all my passions and loves, yet nothing stuck after I began to slip again, falling slowly down to my knees then to my butt pressed against that wall, that felt comforting. Remembering what it felt like, knowing I did the right thing by letting it go, but afraid of the ground below again. Fear is where is gets scary, because fear can embody itself into your dreams, your life, your mind, and your happiness.

My mind now treats me as if I am weak, attacking at the happy moments where I can forget about the endless days and dreams of memories and futures never happened or half experienced.

So I go day to day, feeling more detached from myself than normal, wishing I could just grasp onto it all and ball my eyes out into it. Letting it understand with each drop, what my mind is thinking. Not having to say a damn word, write a word, think a thought. It would just be a perfect inception of who I can become.

Is it a location, did I jump the gun, did my fear take me to a place where I wasn’t ready for yet, will it help if I go back, will it make it worse, should I stay, should I give in, should I go even crazier. How do you take the giant steps when the little ones are so painfully excruciating on your mind that you need to dose yourself into the calming summer winds that blow near the strike of 2 am, which you normally sleep through, unlike the days prior where that was when it all began.

I want to die happy. And if I died today I would not be happy. I would not be anything but a shell of hopes, dreams, ambitions, and past achievements. I guess in your eyes, I may have done well, but in my eyes, I need to be more than what I have been.

I want to die first and foremost knowing I experienced loves embrace, the warmth of a light on at home when walking toward it. Even finding the perfect moment, is like a Greek tragedy, my eyes plunging the knife into my mind while I embrace the facts in-front of me. Feeling betrayed by my own ideas of what life should have been. Feeling as though I betrayed myself by not making life the way I wanted it to be.

I could continue to make examples and hidden messages, but that is all I wanted to share for now. The end.

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