She flies with her own wings.

Ranting//

I remember being in elementary school and having a mock election paralleled to the one that was going on in the adult world. I remember anticipating the day that I could vote, the day that I could make a difference. I couldn’t wait to be older, because being older meant being more educated, and being more educated meant being smart and opinionated, and being that meant that my voice would finally matter to the world. 
Now I find my eighteenth birthday just around the corner and nothing is how I imagined it would be. I feel small, insignificant, and unimportant. As a young person I feel disconnected from the political arena. I’m simply an ignorant speck of dust, swirling around, bathing in the sun. But I feel the need to not only stand for something, but to do something.
I’ve become disillusioned, and what I see and hear sickens me. I hate this country. I hate the corruption, and the greed, and the injustice, and the insolence. We are surrounded by inequalities and problems that we feel passionately about, not unlike the generations before us, and yet we do nothing. How can our generation stand to live in this blissful ignorance? How much longer are we going to sit here?
I’m guilty, I know, but I refuse to be any longer. I can’t shake this terrible feeling that we’re passing up battles that should be defining us as a generation. When threatened, we’ve proven that we can say no, but when will we take the offensive?

Thinking is never a clear process. I need drugs for that.
Suppression, suppression. All I do is feel.
I feel through the day, and I feel through the darkness,
and I search for the words to describe how I feel but seldom do they turn up. 

Maybe it was just the narcotics.

I drove my dad around to run some errands the other night. While we were at Walmart he admitted to me that he’ll miss me a lot when I leave next fall and that he and my mother had always thought I’d stay close to home and go to the community college. I was a bit surprised. Never before had he expressed this to me, and never had I been aware of their ‘plan’ for me. He was quite bitter about it actually. When I asked why he had never objected to or tried to persuade me out of my decision to go to Arizona for my studies he simply said, “I want you to be happy”. 

I was a bit struck by this. But I guess he and I have always shared a special bond unlike any other between the members of our family.

Requiem: it was only just a dream.

Speak softly, speak softly,
those treasures dripping from your mouth. 
Impossible to be thieved, and tough to be replicated.
You could steal my soul with those sweet words. And when those eyes
happen to glance my way, I feel your entire being reaching out to me. 
One moment, one immaculate moment, I swear, I swear, I will never forget when we climbed that mountain and turned our backs on the world.
Folding into one an other, seamless; for a moment time was endless, 
and I knew everything about you.

I wish I would meet some one who is very similar to myself.

I like the person that I am, quite immensely.

Side note: I actually feel quite fortunate to have such a highly positive self-esteem. I feel like that’s hard to come by among those my age. 

I know this might be perceived as conceited, but I’ve never known an other like myself. I just want a companion who possesses attributes that I possess; attributes which I greatly revere. I really just want some one to relate to. I want to know some one who will understand the way my mind works and who will talk with me about everything. We would have this constant relay of uncovered information with each other; constantly learning, and teaching one an other. I want to know some one who won’t give me weird looks, or respond with utter confusion to the things I say. It’s just frustrating sometimes, when I try to convey to others the things I perceive and the way I feel the world, and they just don’t get it. I just want to share and experience the awe, the beauty, and the magic that this incredible existence holds, that’s all.

The silver pane.

You can’t ever really observe yourself, or see yourself like the world sees you; not in real time, not even looking in a mirror. Too much information is left out. You lose a dimension. You’re only given one focus point. Two eyes aren’t enough.
And then there’s the factor of your consciousness being aware of your self-observation. You’ll only ever see what you show yourself, and what you show yourself is what you want to see. You can only ever see a copy, or a reproduction of yourself. And it’s never what you expect. It feels foreign, unfamiliar, and strange. You become self-conscious, and others reassure you that you have nothing to be self-conscious about. Their reassurance is never enough, there’s still the doubt, but you take their word because there’s nothing else to take.

When I don’t look into a mirror, I feel beautiful. I feel strong, and happy, and perfect. I constantly hope I’m who I think I am. But I’m always seeking the opinions and observations of others. I’m just trying to get to know myself, from a different perspective. I think it’s this outside perception that matters more, because there’s more of it. So, sometimes I ask people what they think of me, and when I hear the same description enough, I can almost feel it coming true. But no matter what they say, nothing ever feels real.
All it takes is one glance into that silver pane and my fantasy comes crashing down.