Sad thought from a happy day?


Today I went out with my Lilly, her boyfriend and her nephew(and boy, has he grown!!). We saw the new Spiderman movie. I wish I could’ve heard Michael Keaton’s real voice instead of the French dub, but what d’you want? We’re not in Lille. The €€€ fly but your 20170715_122537-1expectations can DIE. Not really kidding, but you can laugh! I do cos it’s saaaad 😦

Everything was fine until we sat in the cinema and they started chatting together and I was left with my thoughts and the darkness(not really at first but it already felt like it).

[ I will try and be as short as I can because I am tired right now and at home. Honestly, as much as I’d have lots to say and write, I can’t just spend my time on a computer/phone. I take pictures and post them when the internet allows it but even if it means not doing anything or simply staring at my mom all day, I’m spending as little time as needed on the internet. ]

And as I sat there, she started speaking; that voice that just knows not how to lift me up. I tried to fight it and keep busy, devour my popcorn before the screen is even turned on, stare at the ceiling, listen to my friends’ conversations… But nothing worked. She just talked and talked. She put me down. She did not hit where it hurts, on those swollen bits of me I’m used to pressing on whenever the challenges get a bit too heavy and I fall. She hit on one of the biggest insecurities of mine… And that is, the stupid storm.

That voice wasn’t telling me how bad a friend I am, how boring, nor how I’ve been looking fatter lately, how I might not be as strong as I thought. No, she did not mention any of those things, because they weren’t so important at that time. The storm was the real thorn on the sole of my foot which I had to push deeper in, jump on and torture myself with.

She was telling me how weak I was.

Just a moment of slight darkness and I was gone, gone with the winds of despair and self-loathe. All it told me was “Look at you, the movie’s not even started yet and you’ve already let your thoughts flood you and drown you. Just a minute in and you’ve been reduced to a quiet piece of shit, and nobody even notices.”

I wasn’t putting the blame on my friends for not noticing me getting quieter and slowly fading in the background, it was all on me.

And the worst part was that, with all this already heavy enough bullshit in me came a crippling guilt which glued me to my seat. How could I be feeling bad and having all these thoughts run through my head while I was with my best friend and expected to be all about the good time? How could I just start thinking of myself and let sadness fill me while sitting next to my best friend whom I love and whose presence just completes me? I just felt bad for feeling bad, which is a feeling I’m sure a lot of people can relate to. And it sucks.

I had all these racing dark thoughts, sad ones and those mean ones pressing on my other weaknesses. But this voice was the loudest, the narrator of that afternoon. Because that’s what it was doing, narrating with acid words the mayhem in me as I sat near my dear best friend and her close ones.

And maybe the reason why I couldn’t fight it is because I agreed with it. The voice was right. I was being assaulted by those razor-sharp thoughts while there was still light in the room and I wasn’t on my own.

I don’t think that I can enjoy going to the movies anymore.

And that’s how I came to this conclusion.

I used to enjoy this because it was a way to keep me completely distracted from the bullshit inside and outside but just like a lot of things, it seems it’s not enough anymore to anesthetize my restless self. So maybe I should just stop going. I can still watch movies at home and it’ll be just the same but with more food! 😛

But really though, it sucks to pay so much money to sit in a dark room full of strangers enjoying a movie while you’re just melting on your seat and having multiple life crises at once. I can still enjoy it but it leaves me so messed up. And I feel even more alone like this, because I’m trapped in myself and no one can possibly know and it physically hurts.

Is it worth it?

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“help i had a good time”

It took me about thirty to forty-five minutes to get somewhat focused on the movie rather than my thoughts and hands. Just like it did, back when I still went to class, for me to calm down from my anxiety fits. It’s not as much a torture, honeslty. But it’s just not enjoyable, I’m so uncomfortable when this happens and I can’t escape. It’s actually pretty horrible.

So, yeah, this happened; again. I had a good time. I had a good afternoon. I was with my best friend and on the ride back home, even though I wasn’t feeling so well and quiet as fuck, she managed to make me smile and laugh and speak.

It was good but it was also really bad. And as happy a day it was, all it leaves me with, sadly, is this thought: I don’t think I can enjoy simple things anymore because I’m a wreck. I’ll try to hold on to the light of this day and the smiles and the good. But I seem to have discovered that brains tend to focus on the bad memories, or maybe that’s just me.

Everything is exaggerated in this 5″2 factory and well, I’m tired; I don’t want to type anymore.

That’s gonna be it. Longer than I thought it’d be, but I’m a fast-typer! 😛

Until next post, just, breathe. ❤

 

The Joy Graveyard – unfinished and ??? story?


The only reason I am posting an unfinished and poorly written story is that I had the lovely idea of filming a video for my second channel where I read it, badly. So I figured I’d link to a written version of it because I didn’t do an awesome job at reading it mostly because I’m tired but really just because it’s me. So here we go! (You can click here to watch the video if you’re a brave soul)


The Joy Graveyard (?need a better title?)

This is the story of a girl who knew better. For inside her heart, where most would bury their rancor, she kept all that was dear to her. She knew better than to let hate devour the light and the love in her. Most people would bite their tongue and tell not where they hurt; they would swallow the rage and the poisonous fire but never mention how upset an event/a person left them. But not her for she knew better than to let the darkness destroy her like it did her forefathers. No, she wouldn’t trap the hate out of sight and let it consume her insides. When she’d bite her tongue, it’d be for a laugh or a smile.

She had seen, countless times, how slow and painful a death such a life brings. And she had witnessed the terrifying explosion that happens when too much has been shoved down the throat and all the burning poison, like a herd of suns, rushes out of a person’s mouth and attacks anything it lays eyes on. With her wide eyes, she had watched the decay, the destruction, the darkness reign over these people and replace them piece by piece, throwing the human away and leaving only rotten flesh and hollow bones; demons.

She knew better than. Or at least so she thought.

This is the story of a girl who never laughed and barely smiled but lived maybe to be the happiest of them all. She had figured out the key to happiness, or at least, how to shield oneself against the darkness and leave this world as human as we entered it. She took all the sparks, all the light and buried it deep inside her heart. She filled herself with blue skies and bird songs. She swallowed all her smiles before they even reached her lips, she choked on her laughter and packed them tightly in tiny jars and planted them in the soil of her heart, the deepest she could reach.

As years passed by, the joy kept stacking up inside. Her friends and family kept wondering why she was always so sad and not laughing, why did she never seem to be having a good time? And she never said anything to them because they were all fake happy and couldn’t understand. To pretend was their way of life. She was happier than they could ever have wished to be.

With all this happiness inside of her, she was all set for life; she didn’t have to worry about facing tragedies because she could always reach inside to get some light. Would some bad luck strike her, she’d just open one of those jars, dig up a few smiles and she’d make it out alright. And there was always something to smile or laugh about, so she’d keep harvesting and would never run out.

Only once in her whole lifetime had she been so full of happiness that she had a breakdown. And like she predicted it was nothing destructive. It was a moment of pure happiness where she contaminated everyone in the room. It was on her twenty fifth birthday, when her mom had flown all the way from the other side of the earth to surprise her and she stood there in the middle of her tiny apartment with her friends, her boyfriend and a new dog. She was just full to the brim and after a single tear ran down her cheek, she broke the concerned silence with a laughter. Her mother cried when she saw her smile and laugh like that, like she hadn’t in forever. And the whole day was cheerful and everybody was happy and having a good time; not pretending. But that was the only time.

After that, she just kept stacking and stacking. The light was a little harder to find as the tragedies finally found her. She lost her dog. Then her mom. Eventually, her job. And maybe bits of her mind too. But life still went on and she could still reach inside to drink from those tiny jars on those long nights she’d cry herself to sleep. The world grew darker around her as her hair also progressively lost their color, but she still sought the light. She kept looking for it, eventually it got to a point where there were only sparks to be found but she’d manage to catch them and bury them just the same. And on the day she finally went to visit the clouds, she had the biggest smile on her face. 🙂


You can chose a path of self-destruction and allow hate to enter your heart and eat away at your soul or you can chose to let the light, no matter how small a spark, how weak a flame it is be the one riding shotgun. I think that’s mostly the idea I had in mind when I wrote this.

I believe it was the day right after the a7x show when I was on my way back “home” after a sleepless night at the hotel. I was in the metro and I just had a lighting hit my head and try to write the idea as quick as I could with my eyes half open.

As per usual, my writing this idea into a story is taking it to an extreme. And I don’t think that this girl truly knew better nor had the key to happiness. But I think she was onto something! 😉

You really do have power over your life and how the story unrolls and the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can make the choice to actually take charge! It’s easy to let the darkness consume you, it’s really easy. And I know that it always seems like a good idea to just bury what’s bad inside and never mention it, never think about it, just look away. It feels safer and for a while you feel like you’re actually okay and you can lead a normal life. But it kills you slowly and silently, like a gas leak in your house while you’re asleep. It is not the solution.

I believe you have to face the darkness inside and outside and seek the light. Easier said than done, I know! But evil ways always seem so much more painless and easier at first sight, it’s on the long run that you truly see how destructive they are. You can run, but you’ll never escape because it’s all inside of you and all around you anyway, so looking away is actually a pretty silly thing to do. Build up walls and paint them the color of the rainbow but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s dark outside and it’s raining inside of you.

It can be hard and painful sometimes to face the darkness. And some things you really can’t deal with and have to bury as deep as you can because they are just too much. I know. I just think that you need to try your hardest to keep the dark out of you, and especially those silly things that can turn into bitter acid in the back of your throat after you’ve let them sit in here for too long. Hate is a big no-no to me.

My point is, you have the choice and the power and it’s you who decide what eats you and what you eat. So think twice or thrice before holding grudges over those people who didn’t take out the trash once when it was their turn to, those who never gave you back those twenty bucks they borrowed, those who broke you and those who taught you life a little too hard. Don’t let hate and darkness be the master of your life; you are not a puppet so stand up to yourself and keep your soul as safe as you can.

I’m done! Thanks for reading! I’ll leave you with a very fitting quote of Hayley (MY QUEEN) Williams. Until next post, don’t forget to sit down, breathe and think before choosing to go left or right. ❤

“I have the ability to build myself up or break myself down. Strength comes from within. […] “B.O.Y.” means “Beware Of You”. Be aware of your power. We have the choice to live positively or in our own destruction.”

Video

Positive bullets but in a VIDEO! :D


So, for my first video on my new channel, I decided to make positive bullets(click here to read the last one, which was only number 3 of the series!) into a video! Here it is:

P.S.: I still have to sort through my blog and you know, reorganize everything! But I guess that now that I have a new youtube channel, I’ll be more motivated and fueled to do it! 😛

Color Me Undead: a poem and a drawing


COLOR ME UNDEAD

Sunshine is a false friend.

The weather never stays the same inside this hurricane:

Sky’s grey, then blue, then white;

There’s sun and then it rains.

I just never know when it’s safe to rest.

I gotta keep on the move

Always, even when I lose my groove.

Paint me, pain,

For I am a canvas

And I’ve been blank for too long now.

The ground isn’t very stable.

I keep falling in these muddy puddles.

They take away my colors; leave me numb.

Mean cycle; recycle…

Mom, rock me back to my cradle.

Sunshine is a false friend,

The storm it never ends!

Paint me, pain.

Paint me again,

Over and over again.

Give me a face.

Give me hard times.

And, please, leave a trace.

Weather forecast calls for the peeling of my soul.

Layer by layer I melt away

Under the merciless waves

Of this self-perpetuated hell.

Acid rains devour my core.

I barely bleed as I lose my skin.

Colorless; colorblind; who am I?

Paint me, pain.

Help me be again.

Show me I’m alive,

Not living in vain!

Show me who I am!

Show me that I can

Be more than a stain…

There’s still blood in these veins

And strength in these legs.

And next time,

When it rains,

Come back faster to me, friend,

And paint me sane & chained!

Color me undead;

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The drawing was fueled by Halfnoise’s EP The Velvet Face and Paramore’s latest song(which I’m so asdfghjkl about). So I was really feeling that colorful but mournful vibe. Which was already pretty strong with my post Pain is a color and I’m a rainbowAnd the first draft of the poem was fueled by the drawing. And then the real thing was fueled by the storm and insomnia and also eating a green apple past midnight.

It’s 4AM, I’ll try to catch some Zs now. There’s so much I need to say; I’ll try to write a post and let it out, maybe this week, maybe later, I don’t even know anymore.

Until next post, don’t eat apples after midnight and get some sleep ❤

The Day I Forgot My Book (aka “yesterday”)


I have this book. It’s always with me, in my bag, no matter where I go. I’ve had it for a few months now but never actually started reading until a few weeks ago! And I still go very slowly about it. I’m barely four stories in. It is a book that I have always wanted to read, so you’d have expected me to devour it as soon as I’d lay my hands on it (like I did Red Dragon), but I didn’t. I barely touch it and when I do, I only take the smallest, slowest sips. But it is always with me.

In my bag. On my desk. On the chair covered in clothes near my bed. In my hands. Between my teeth. On the shelf. On the floor. I always have it around even though I’m usually not reading it. It’s just here. Like I need it to be.

Usually, when I pick it up and actually read a few words is when I’m outside waiting for something, sitting somewhere, and probably panicking inside and trying to keep it together. Or just trying to make time fly faster! (But I’m trying to bring back the habit of reading before bedtime, because it’s a healthy habit and it feels very good also!) And that’s about it. I’ve had it for over seven months now!

I never realized how important this book was to me until Monday afternoon when my “doctor” called me and told me it seemed I had forgotten my book on his desk. I had forgotten my book. I left my book on his desk. I forgot my book…

I was suddenly assaulted by a wave of “HOW?”s and got very anxious. How could I have forgotten it? I always check behind me when I leave somewhere to make sure I didn’t forget anything. But…

I remember putting on the desk when I arrived. And, then… I didn’t pick it back up when I left. I took my jacket and back on the chair and I just left. I didn’t look back to make sure I had everything with me. I just walked out the door and left. But, how?? Right? Well, I was already having a hard time getting through that day, I was exhausted and the talk we had just left me slightly weakened I guess. So I forgot.

I forgot my book! The worst part is that I didn’t even realize it! I was so caught up in thoughts and blurriness. And then I was thinking about my painting and… Never once did I realize that something was missing until that phone call. But once I did, I just collapsed. I didn’t know it before, but this book actually contributes greatly to my well being by just being around. And without it, my room seemed emptier and I just felt lost and terribly anxious.

When was I going to have enough courage to go back there and get it back? Was I going to wait until my next appointment in 600 years? How was I supposed to live in that room devoid of guitar and now missing that tiny little bundle of dead trees and ink? I was terribly sad. Sadder than this day had already made me.

And well, I sat down and let it sink in. And I realized.

This book was my thing to look forward to, in a way. I had all these stories which I yearned to read with me, all the time, and the possibility to read any at any time. I knew that I could always turn to my book if I ever felt anxious in the bus, alone in my room, or just feeling like everything outside and inside of me was assaulting me. I hold all these stories greatly to my heart even though I have never read most of them because I don’t doubt their perfection, and I could just pick one and drown in it anytime I’d feel like it. It was always there and that felt good knowing it.

Also, I guess, always having it around had some sense of familiarity to it. I was used to seeing it, touching it, feeling its weight in my backpack. And that’s very important to me. Things that are constant, that don’t change, that are always with me. They keep me grounded and make me feel safe and not like a blurry bubble of darkness floating away.

And there’s that ritual of always putting it in my backpack, then taking it back out once I’m home and putting it on my desk and eventually moving it on my bed. (But never reading it! haha) That’s also important. It gives me the tiniest sense of purpose and like I’m in control.

All in all, it was an anxiety reliever and a best friend. And having it snatched from my shaky hands made it clear how it was a vital part of my days and contributed greatly to my getting through the waves. Well, I forgot it, so it was all my fault. Nobody snatched it from me. My carelessness did… I still can’t believe it that I just forgot about it like that. I took it for granted that’s what I did.

Anyways, worry not! Today, with the great help of my best friend who stayed on the phone with me all afternoon, I went and got my baby back. The doctor had left it in an envelop with the lady at the front desk and I honestly thought that having it back would involve more conversation but it didn’t. Phew! I was so happy to have it in my hands again. Ripped the silly envelop off and threw it away (in a TRASH CAN!, of course, because I care about Mother Earth ❤ ) and there it was…

Back in my hands again, my long lost friend.

I had a horrible night last night. I worried about what I could do before sleeping now that the book I never read wasn’t here for me to read anymore? Nothing felt right. Then, I had the weirdest dreams because I’m so tired lately and mostly dream about food, conversations I am going to have the next day, taking out the trash, the a7x concert, or just doing the dishes. Life without this book is unbearable.

As soon as I got back home, I did what one does when being reunited with such a good friend after sooooooo long and I took a thousand pictures with my laptop. I had a photoshoot with my book to celebrate our reunion. I love it so much! 😀

Quite an adventure, huh?! Got my book back and, luckily, it hasn’t lost any of its comforting powers and the safety waves are still a-flowin’! Now, I can go outside again and not feel so naked. 😛

This books provides solid ground to stand on when my vision blurs and I start to quake. I need it around, just to look at it and acknowledge it as a fixed point that keeps me chained to reality.

And I also love knowing that this compact little thing holds so many worlds inside of it, each filled with different shades of gloom and strange characters, and knowing that I can just dive in, no matter where I am, to escape whatever it is I’m running from. The stories are really great, so well-written and I just love everything about this book (and more). 100% would recommend to anyone that hasn’t read it or just remind those that have to maybe go back and re-read it because it’s such a piece of art!

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Reunited at last… ❤