hello little blog.

It's funny now, but it's really comforting to still have this collection of rants and woes hidden on the internet...perfectly intact and waiting for whenever I choose to come back.

When I was a kid, a sad kid but still full of wonder and adventure, I would wish to be older and an adult. I looked at my uncle and how I saw him on the train one day while on a school trip on his way to work sipping his coffee and reading a newspaper in a familiar shirt and I remember saying "how cool. He's going to work with coffee". I remember things like paper clips being so creative and inventive. I remember how paper seemed like a ray of infinite possibilities. Marriage was simple and something everyone just inevitably did and growing old with someone was as simple as it sounds. There were no worries of fading feelings, divorce, affairs, and the like on the horizon. It just seems so laughably stupid looking back on it now but that sheer simplicity is what drove us to be excited and child like. It drove me to want to be whatever I thought was cool at the time and it made me feel like life simply was not that hard.

But what I've learned is that life, in itself, is the hardest fucking thing anyone will ever do. It is a struggle and a challenge and a myriad of all these feelings and changes. It can be quite wonderful at times but for the most part it's either passable or downright oppressing. For some of us it's harder than others. For a lot of us it's not worth living for. It's almost crazy to think about all the fucking sadness that a person can come across. How quickly and randomly someone's life can go to shit and leave them questioning everything. It's funny to think that when you pass someone on the street they might have just pulled themselves up from a nervous breakdown or just got out of the hospital or just lost a parent. But in that same way that it's sad it's also curious. I'm not saying that I'm an optimist all of a sudden I just feel that my view on life has gone from bleak to tired. Tired of staring down this long road full of questions and responsibility in my old but still relatively new 18 year old feet but still I try and persist and I feel that that is enough for now.

Life is many things and easy is not one of them. Simple isn't one either. They don't really prepare us for what's to come or what to feel. The depressives don't tell their children on the realities of finding a glass to be half full. The mother holds back from relenting on the trials of her youth. The father withholds the story of the time he came too close to the edge.

They hold it all in because in many ways we hope they won't ever have to face them. We pat them on the head and say nothing will ever harm them and I'll provide. They never think of their kids mapping out their funerals, or hiding in a bathroom stall. You never picture coming in to visit them in a place like Holliswood.

So here I am again typing on this blog like I've done for some years now. Not to go on about how bad I feel or about whatever is going on in my wormy brain. It's just to say that sometimes we take for granted our childhood. As a kid I was always sighing and crying and lonely. Just a tad but enough to merge into my collection of cliches. And although I wasn't really the happiest kid in the world I was oblivious to so much and ignorance is indeed bliss. I look into the eyes of kids and wish to be them...temporarily stuck in this time bomb of the here and now. Instead I wonder about the day to day and year to year.

the update.

when you spend enough time on your own just walking through life not believing in friendships or bonds and when you start to CHOOSE being alone over companionship something goes wrong and when you multiply that by years you get sick.

Sick in a way that all the things you desire and all the the things you strive for become unreal. I've always watched the movies and I always smiled as people I knew told stories about who they were dating. I assumed it would come to me but now I neither care or believe. I'm 18 and I know I'm young but sometimes it's hard to see any sort of change in the routine way things go. I always think about what being truthful means. I remember when I had a friend that actually knew me and I could trust with myself. But I don't feel that way any longer. I feel as if there are things I would never tell a person anymore and not because they don't deserve it but because I fear they wouldn't care. So I keep to myself, I cry in my bed, and then I wake up and act like everything is fine.

This isn't a sad post. It's a dose of reality and an update on the now college going girl that I am. The thing is that when someone commits suicide ESPECIALLY a parent that shit affects you for your entire life. I'll be packing the groceries and I'll think of him or I'll be in the train and I'll think of what once was. It's hard for me because I struggle with so much of what he's given me in my blood and in my brain. He's given me this heaviness of which will lessen but no doubt continue to haunt me for the rest of my days. No it is not temporary depression or sadness it is sickness in the fact that I'm almost afraid to leave my house, it is loneliness so bad I'm ashamed to admit it but to prideful to believe it, it is feeling unhappy and trapped in even the most delightful events. It's laughing but thinking of the fact that I'm not entirely amused. It's LYING. It's BURDEN. That's my life....everyday and it's okay because it's not debilitating and it's not neccesarily sadness it's just feeling off. But every couple of months the sadness returns almost like it's been building up and it explodes and there I am with my Mother crying in the kitchen as she struggles to understand. I feel so bad for my Mom. I can't even express how much of a burden I feel I am to her. She doesn't know what to do with me. She didn't know what to do with my dad.

My dad. Same personality. Same phobia. Same feelings. Same passions. I don't think anyone understands how much I feel like I'm going to follow in this mans footsteps. Like it's inevitable or something. I can't imagine being 50+ and feeling like this. So I can only imagine how he must have felt at that point. It's all just sad and almost mind numbingly so.

And with that I go off for another round of psychiatry where I will no doubt be put on some medication that makes me gain more weight and numbs me out. Here I go to talk to another person like I probably will for the rest of my life. Because now that I think about it I have been seeing therapists since I was about 7.

It's not sad it's just tiring.........so tiring. I just feel like this actress on this stage with no audience that keeps playing the same fucking scene.

I'm tired. I just feel like no one is ever going to know me and even if they do I'll always hide these bits of myself and in the end I'll always be a burden not only to them but to my passions.

I feel as if I was born with too much passion in my soul. To the point that my bones are temporary and dead and only my soul is living and on fire. To the point that I get sick and mental and depressed if I'm not living in it....if I'm not making the best of this. It will never be enough, I realize this. I realize it will never be enough until I'm living the life of those I admire. Everything is secondary to me living out this crazy idea in my head. I'm obsessed with it. I will not stop until I'm the one watching from side stage as a band that I've advised stands there and plays to a sold out crowd. I won't stop until I get to Artery Foundation to intern at a company I greatly admire. I won't stop until I'm no longer just a listener. I won't stop until I'm apart of the mechanics and the bells and whistles and I won't stop until I'm out there on the road selling merch.

let's be happy, just this once.

just this once.

sometimes you just want time to stop and freeze. It can be because you're happy, so much that you think you will never be sad again. You can want time to freeze because you finally got that one person to love you and say it. You can also want time to freeze because it's all gone too bloody fast and you're head can't take in everything that's happening.

I know now that even if you bottle the good times the reality will find a way to take out the spark but that realization has left me scared...

here I am. 18 and graduating in a number of days. This is what I waited for right? The fifteen year old girl that wrote on this exact blog wanted to escape and couldn't wait for this day but right now I don't feel like I thought I would. On that ship out on the New York harbor something began to shift in me. It wasn't a sudden sadness or a thought of "oh shit, this is it. I better cry about the good times", it was more of awareness. I didn't feel the same way on there because I realized that people could change and grow. I'm on that boat and I'm learning to dance to Spanish music and talking to a guy that I never thought even cared. I'm watching this evolution right before my eyes. I no longer feel resentment for people. I only wish that I had just let them be what they were and not tried to fit an empty spot in my heart labeled "BFF". I feel different. Then fast forward and it's the night before the official last day of school and I'm here freaking out in my head about it and then freaking out because I'm freaking out in the first place.

It's just so scary because I know that the comfort zone is about to leave my side and try as I might I know that I am NOT the "take risks" kind of girl. I'm the "talk to myself in front of a mirror, breathe calmly, give myself a pep talk and then take 1/566 of a risk" kind of girl.

So here's to time rushing by and you just standing there fucking questioning where it all went and who you even are.

I don't think this whole love thing will ever occur for me. It's all on me, the weight of it. the trouble. I want to be in love; to be loved and to love with no regrets or fears. Pure love. The kind of love that attracts endearing nicknames and labels. The kind that includes hand holding and first times. However there's no better evidence of a complicated soul than the one sitting in my chest at this very moment. It is a paradox and a liar. One that begs for love but is scared to pieces of it. I don't want to be someone's girlfriend, I like my freedom, I like my space, I like my loneliness. I'm deathly afraid of feeling trapped, of opening up, and giving in. I could date the 20 plus dudes calling out my name on the street, the ex-boyfriend that remembers my birthday every year, or the old man by the bodega....it would be convenient. It would get the whole issue of my virginity out of the way. Maybe it would cure the loneliness. Maybe I'd feel better. But I don't want that at all and that's exactly what I get. Truth is, I'm holding out for this guy that makes me nervous that makes that sheer connecting force, that attraction so strong that I can't deny it. Without that burst, that spark, I believe that we cannot go past a hello. I'm waiting for this dude to just love music and acknowledge one of my favorites. Maybe he doesn't love La Dispute but he likes Circa Survive. Maybe he doesn't enjoy Death Cab For Cutie but he respects Paramore. I'm looking for a guy that makes me want to tell him all the good things I have to tell. I want someone to know that I lived with my grandmother till the 6th grade, that I don't like cake, that I have demons. I want someone to know that the red dot on my arm is from a pretty shitty injection I got in the looney bin. I want someone to know that I never EVER like my nails to be all natural with no polish or sheer. I want someone to know that underneath all that distance and ice is me and I want them to love me.

I just hope it all happens. I just hope someone will love this faulty soul one day. I don't think I have the heart to fix it myself.

We are the lovers,

B

for sylvia.

My heart is too big and my brain is far too vast.

this is indeed the source of my problems. this is the root.

I fear that no one will know me and that I will never open. That I will shut quite beautifully.I am the late bloomer and the bitch in a fancy suit. My red hair tangled up worries and preconceptions, it whips with vigor and distress. Big heart flowing out wants and needs. Big heart with no where to put any of it. Useless love that no one sees but the mind in my head. No one sees the daydreams.

I am lonely.

I fear that I am stilted. Sick. That I may never function quite right. That satisfaction will leave me naked in bed as it slips out the door. I am afraid. I fear failure and weakness. I hunt tears and pull them from my bones. I cannot stand idle hands and futile thoughts. Without work I am weak. Mile fast thoughts colliding and pumping blood into my head, causing me to breathe like one in labor, causing me to flee the scene. Sever the ties, leave out the noise. Bring in muddled waters, bring in fucked up pasts.

I am sick. Believe me I am dead.

I fear that I may never love a soul and be happy with it. That my mind will constantly chat as I helplessly watch from two stolen lenses. I watch as it shuts my ears off and brings in whispers. Will I ever want to be? I fear that I may never be in love or want to be touched. I fear I will always be the object and the queen of locusts. I fear my arms will never feel anything but the body it is attached to. I'm burrowing in my hole.

I lust for the recognition of a person who is long dead. I peer over my shoulder for his face. I wait to be taught things. I wait to be talked to. I know not one man in a personal manner. I wish to view it in it's pure state....I want to be there in that room. I hate him yet I am him. Guess that's a problem. A minor inconvenience like the one in my head every day.

i fear the words on this very page, out in the open.

I fear, I fear, I fear.

"I am, I am , I am"

I am sick.

"things are looking up"....fucking finally.

My life has been changing. I think that I'm changing as well. I'm adapting and growing.

I remember when I used to look at merch people and think of them as people who were lucky or priveleged. Someone supremely cool and then there I am in a tour van with a tour manager talking Circa Survive and Anthony Green. She's smoking an electric cig...I'm drinking an iced coffee and we're both just relating.

We're hanging out with the very best friends and tour fam for We The Kings, Chelsea Grin, and Valencia....just being friendly. I'm riding in the back of a golf cart now through the Meadowlands holding onto nothing but a box of EPS.....is this my life? I am the street team coordinator making sure things get done. I am loved and have infected people twice my age with my work and now they want me for more. I don't feel useless at all.

So here I fucking am shaking hands with countless people....wearing my laminate on my carabiner with pride. Exchanging numbers with Jason...shaking hands with Jared and laughing at hardcore kids. I am talking music with Gino....i'm realizing how easy it is to talk about music. I feel accepted and proud of myself. Fuck I am only 17.

it's just nice when after 3 and a half years of being miserable, debating suicide on the most routine schedule, sighing countless times, wishing to be someone/somewhere else, and feeling like life was just fucking oppressive to feel reborn. And yeah, I know maybe it was just a good week at Bamboozle but I don't think it is. It just felt right. I'm home.

Next stop love.

Acceptances. N u i s a n c e

I remember feeling like this.

like I hated nearly everyone.

like I hated myself as well in many ways.

I haven't felt this way for longer than a day since I was 15/16 and it's a terrible feeling, to be so fucking annoyed all the time.

To realize that in reality you loathe the people you hang out with for so many reasons. You hate girl 1 for being so goddamn abrasive, loud, and just fucking out there. un-private and harsh. Sometimes it's like I wish I could say "good bye" let's just fucking move on and stop pretending but then you realize that you must sit next to girl 1 until June so you shut the fuck up and bear it.

To everyone else for being so unrelatable.

To the entire fucking facebook community......I can hardly log on before being bombarded with shit that really boggles my mind. To people complaining, venting about shit I don't care about, so on and so forth. Sometimes I seriously have no love towards this generation of spoiled pricks. Where are the music lovers and the believers? I used to be so loving and now I really am not at all. I'm under layers of fucking hurt and betrayal and anxiety and I don't think I'll come back.

I don't want to share with these people. I don't want to do normal things with them. I seriously want to hang out with no one in the New York City area on my birthday. I am going to my favorite spot and just sitting there.... I am sorry. I cannot.

And I hate it. I loathe it. I crave for the days when I had a sister. I miss sleeping over and laughing and eating way to much. I miss sitting on those steps and just loved and being loved by a friend. I miss being free and uninhibited. Uncaged....free to hug and share experiances.

But that's over now and i have yet to find one person I wish to get to know me. REALLY know me. To know all the things in this blog and to know that I even have a blog. Someone I want to spend time with.

It sickens me how goddamn bitter I am sometimes. I am the unloving.

Castle Builders // La Dispute

There are good things.

Like when I have a ticket to one of my favorite bands and not a thing on this fucking earth, not a demon, or an insult or a fire bred assault can hurt me. Tarnish me, lower my stride in anyway because I have a purpose. I buy my music and I support my New York City scene.

Music is ultimately everything. It is the reason why a band from Grand Rapids, Michigan can literally penetrate my mind until I know every song and beg for more. It is the reason I am able to sit and listen to them everyday forever for two months straight and NEVER think about moving away. It is the reason I tip that merch dude and why I always tell a band that they played well even when they sucked because they care. It is the reason I made those girls stand up and not sit down at the show. It's why I spent my last $5 to my name on a cd for a band I know nothing about because I know it could mean the difference between them getting gas or eating for the day. It's the reason why my friend fainted and I cried not for her but for the band's I missed. It's the reason why I said "we're home" as we pulled up to Warped Tour.

I am nothing but flaws. I hate socializing, I'm not the "lets get fucked up just because it's fun and I'm young kind of girl". I am the "well these are the pros and negatives, am I doing myself a disservice? I wonder where I'll be in the future" kind of gal. But none of that really matters. My brain moves so fast sometimes my head aches from all the thoughts and worries. I run away....both literally and physically from conflict. I am the anti-christ of a band manager, someone who HAS to be the shell, the backbone, the cool kid for a band. But it's what I want to do. I hate the idea of going to a venue and talking to some hugely inspirational dude with a cool face on about their latest album.....my nerves fucking shred. But I do it. And in that same way that I hate it I adore it because I know it makes me better and I know that NOTHING and no one can make me feel as good as "insert band name here" does.

I am failures// I am the strongest

No one buys their music but I do. I know more about bands than anything else. I find myself telling people what band's a singer was in before he got on stage or where they're from. I absolutely adore it. My god, I feel bad for people without passion.

Sometimes it hurts to walk on the sand in the sun. Every step burns and it's funny at first because you're jumping and laughing with your friends but then it just burns and you feel so fucking low and desperate. But that fucking idea of an ocean and water pulls you through even though you can't see it. You KNOW it will be there as sure as you know that you're shoe will be in the floor of your room when you get home. Finally you reach it and you remember the pain but it's so small and tedious of an idea now. Music is just like that for me. Only the sand is my life and flaws, my father, my hurts, and just me in all my ugly truths and I think you already know what the ocean is.

And on a side note, in some WEIRD way I got into Baruch College. Which is like my #1 school behind NYU in the city that has a major for music business. So in that respect things worked out. I was shocked at first but I refuse to believe that I have this much passion and vigor in my soul for nothing. I can't possibly do as much as I fucking so with a smile, unpaid, and unrespected for nothing. Karma matters. A lot of people say it's a dumb major...the TM's, the industry people, and even the fucking band's say that it's useless. You should get a communications, or a business degree, fucking LAW! (the death of me) but I don't believe it for a second. I know exactly what I want, what I am capable of, and where I will be. I am not undecided or flimsy. I will NOT change my major and I will always want this. I cannot fucking wait to be happy, and meet people who fucking care about music as whole in my own city. I cannot wait to fall in love with someone who is in love with the same thing I am in love with.

I cannot wait to be happy.

The Last Lost Continent // La Dispute

I has a dream a couple weeks ago that I never recovered from....

I am on a rooftop talking and chatting. Laughing with two girls.

A women climbs up the ladder. She's wearing these purple roller skates....the kids kind with the straps.

I'm thinking that this women is dumb and she asks me something that I can't remember.

I think I am laughing..."who on earth would do that on a roof. She better stay away from the edge.

She leaves, climbing down those same steps from which she came.

We are talking more and the entertainment has passed.

I look to the right at the sole building next to us that is taller and a weird beige color.

There stands the women sans-skates at the edge, arms spread like wings.

No fear, no hesitation, a great deal of ease.

She slowly tilts over the edge before falling to her death.

I dare not look over the edge.

Why did i laugh? Why didn't I stop? I wake up petrified. Dream embedded in my brain among fragments of broken ones.

Is this a sign to save someone? // is there grace in a steeple collapsing?

The thing about life is that it never stops and I think this is why suffering is so painful and why people can be so cruel. You cry and you burn on the inside but there's still school, and work, and friendships, and people smiling in your face when you don't even want to be breathing. I feel like crying but I have shit to mail or I have a project due. That's what life is really. Some see it as a good thing as in "there's always another day". But more than anything in my low points I wish for things to stop for a bit....for time to stop and let me cry. I want to feel my failure and I don't want the minutes to pass, I don't want people to continue walking down the street, and I don't want the motion of life to keep on moving. I just want to feel for a second.

I'm terrified. Rejection, rejection, rejection. I keep getting rejected from these schools and it makes me want to cry and I have. A girl who can barely squeeze out any tears is now indulging and dry heaving and rubbing her puffy eyes. Because I failed myself. I'm ashamed.

I'm tired of feeling this way and opening up this blog and pouring in the same recycled thoughts with new dates. I hate talking and at this moment I hate myself.

And I want time to just fucking stop for a second. I want no inch of optimism. I just want to lay here for a second.

Till next time.