I guess I’ve got to start somewhere, so I’ll introduce myself. My name is Rachel, I’m from Dallas, Texas and I am 19 years old. I am doing everything I can to fulfill taking my writing to another level, so I thought this would be a good beginning. However, I will be posting tons of my photography, where you’ll see some cool finds from my travels! Yeah, I know, average and lame. Although, I hope to share thought provoking content, and occasionally send chills down your spine with some writing (if I work hard enough nit-picking until it’s feasible) It’s also helpful putting to use my seemingly endless photos of what I see through my camera lens! This should be an interesting little project, and I hope to come across some like-minded users, as well as contrasting.
You insist that I am capable of great magic, challenge me to demonstrate. “Oh, you preform quite grand, anyone could see that you know how to put on a show.” Frightened by the sound of her voice, I exclaim “where are you and why are you here?!” You respond, “to listen to the best thing that I could ever hear.” I ask, “but do you feel as though I am special, or do you listen solely for the thought?” she says, “well, the clock stops ticking when you speak as I am also struck with awe, so I believe that you mimic God.” You continue to tell me that I remind you exactly of how to accomplish all great things. “Pay attention to no demise, the banter they will place on you is only lies. Understand that your every breath is sacrificed and timed. When they instruct you to put the pen down, declare your talents once more. Let them know that such delicate craft is not meant to pose any war. Lastly, If they ask who it is for, you remind them that it is your own, for you are the only person you have learned to call home.” she says.
It always took me some time to summon up thought, yet when it began to flow I’d leave zero inspiration behind to rot. Speak of inspiration, we are reminded to better acknowledge original thought. So if you start to forget me someday, I will not plead that you forget me not. You may do either, however I can ensure my work shall be remembered as worthwhile. The ink left behind will serve as a forever reminder that words may be beautiful and versatile.
She then asked, “So, who has taught you your craft?” I looked up and said, “a pen and a map.” This ink made with hidden guidelines, I’d studied from that. Maybe what I create is rarely complete, maybe it always seems somehow short of enough, however, at least my hands may know that they are critical, praised, and loved.
A girl with a golden pen, both abandoned at a thrift store. Tell me how that is everything, and why I could never want for more.
She asks me, “Is it as if you are speaking to yourself?” And I tell her, “I suppose, it gets quite lonely in hell.” Then she tries to get a point across, “well pull yourself out! you’ve got a pen and a map, a perfect recipe for letting your pain go, just like that! Forget you require healing, forget all has gone wrong. When they tell you to tell your tale, you may now tell them of how you are so strong.” I reply back how I could only dream of being so strong, that maybe someday the weight of it all would not feel too heavy for my own two feet. When I would no longer break, crumbling at the seams. To dust, I’d always gone, into the sea.
She looks at me, and with no hesitation she exclaims, “stop it right there! you must pick up your feet and beg yourself to face the day.” I respond, “I suppose, although it gets too dark at night when you’ve unscrewed the light. What am I left with then? Only new subject matter in which I begin to write.” I discard the feelings inevitably at bay. I try to keep these emotions in hindsight, which I swear I will work on in may. Yet, at the end of the day, it becomes springtime, so then I must confront and translate my apologies onto page for the lack thereof in the way I was not necessarily raised.
I feel as if she begins to understand me, nodding her head, a great deal of grief and dismay. She faces me and says, “I look up to you to know what to do, your hands hold an honorary glow that I wish I was capable of, too.” and I am shocked. “How dare you look towards me, for I am just as big as you, therefore you are me.” She then, lastly proclaims, “Yes, however, only one of us shall tame the sea.” So then there made a sure woman of me.
We say we’re empty, but it is because you cannot see the glass half full, only the lack of contents no longer occupying the other half. Tell me why, for the majority of us, our first perception consists of pessimism? You find out all along that the glass was not knocked over, the contents have been consumed, replenishing you as the rest of it will do.
Do our bones really ache because we are sad? There is a severity we must address when mentality becomes physicality. Just as a fracture, an abrasion on our heart is as good of a reason to take the day off and rest. Don’t let them tell you to ‘suck it up’, just as happiness will last until it mixes into your next mood, grief and turmoil do not have a deadline. Your feelings do not expire.
I know that with your knees folded up, fists balled, your throat will feel itself seemingly closing, so tight it becomes hard to swallow and hard to let air pass through. You swear your lungs are being crushed, and it feels just as bad as being paralyzed because you’re certain you cannot move out from under the desk. Your mother knocks, or someone is calling your name from the next room, or you receive a text asking “are you okay?”, instinct response is do not speak to me. I know you want them all to go away, I know the questions sound like sirens, but imagine if there wasn’t anyone? Maybe there isn’t. We wonder why they care, or we wonder why no one seems to care. If they are there, we’d almost rather be alone in the moment, and if no one has their hand extended to you, you almost cry begging for anyone to be there. Midnight conversations, meanwhile, I know your pillow is soaked. The soothing, calm relief of fresh air when you finally go outside, and the familiar way you get yourself up off the floor and clean your face off. I learned that it’s best to pour a glass of water for yourself afterwards, it almost always washes down the last fragments of hurt still clinging to your throat. Go to sleep for that pounding headache you have, it’s almost beneficial to finally be so exhausted that you will sleep without the usual thoughts bombarding your awaiting R.E.M.
In my opinion, we could not truly understand the depth of our endurance in facing such pain if we did not experience these things along with it. When the rest of the world is asleep, or you’ve had a bad day, the alone time you spend in transit on the back of a bus, what we think about when looking out of a car window on a drive, why the shower always runs a little too long, where our mind drifts off in class, what does where our mind goes really say about what we’re facing? In these moments, you are confronted by reality, challenged with perception. Ultimately, how you will wake up that morning, and what you will do with what you went through when you were supposed to be sleeping is a total game changer.
I know the shaky hands become another task you don’t think you’ll get through, because in that moment, the world seems to be collapsing in front of you. Subconsciously, I believe we take preventative measures for the preoccupation required to distract from acknowledging these emotions. Although inevitably, and especially when alone and serene, we are all faced with our own emotional trials. Whether you’ve got a chemical imbalance, causing these emotions to be numbed and/or amplified to either extremity on a regular basis, or you are neurologically typical, subject to these feelings at random or at cause, your emotional trial is a reflection of self. We know something is wrong with our body when something hurts, just as our ‘gut feeling’ mimics our pain receptors. We know when we are facing conflict, and it is as hard to ignore as a wound, getting worse if not tended to. This is where stress plays its role, rather than feel and contemplate, we wonder what to do, almost as a defense to prevent working through an issue in order to find a solution. Although I find that with the glass half full; when you posses a positive, ambitious mindset, resolution is more attainable than we’d ever thought.
The chatter gets overwhelming in there at times, but remember who owns this vacancy. They are occupant, loud, but you are much louder.
Sometimes the bus is late for a reason. You’ve gotten stopped on the way to work, universally preventing you from being in that crash on the highway moments later. I know you’re upset, angry, inconvenienced, but things genuinely happen for a reason. You didn’t get that job opportunity because the right one was just around the corner, even if that meant ducking and missing rent for another month. He never proposed because soon enough, the longest relationship you had would end, only allowing you, 7 months later, to bump into the guy you’d love for the rest of your life at that coffee shop. Do not speed to school, drive slowly and be late, or that family of 4 will be victim to your carelessness. You can afford to be late, but the nine year old in the car you rear ended at 70 mph can not afford to surrender his life in a traffic accident you caused. Pick up when your mom calls, that could easily and unknowingly be the last time you’ll speak with her, our time isn’t guaranteed. See your doctor for that yearly check up, maybe you’re stubborn, but so is discovering cancer when it’s too late to treat. Just finish the book, somebody else is waiting to check it out. Lastly, do not be rude to employees. You may frown and complain to the lady at the cash register, calling her an idiot, but her and her spouse had a fight this morning, and you’re making her day much worse. Setbacks are usually for a reason, they say what is meant for you will never miss you, so I don’t know why we get so upset. I know you miss her, but you deserved better anyways. Why would you force it be, when what will be will be?
Of course, we don’t know what will happen during the events of tomorrow, unable to prepare for the unknown. Yet, here we are, planning a day-by-day as if this week is promised. As if man-made numerals define fragments of time, creating something called ‘routine’, a safety net for how we can spend an existence. We don’t know, so we just hope that we do, a long shot of a guess, aiming to miss death, every second that we shoot. Wake up, do it all again, I hope we are certain that this is how we want it to go, until there’s no more going.
So here is my three a.m; I’m terrified to become another soldier in line going off to fight the war. The battle of, “how can I make the wage required to put food on the table today?” And the battle of when it isn’t enough. We spend our earnings paying off, and funding a survival part of a cycle, crucial to surviving to make more, in order to survive. Why is this a fundamental? I cannot grasp how this society operates, and frankly it terrifies me to observe. My time is up for being a dependent, now I’ve got to fend for myself. This being said, with my feelings and beliefs, arises challenge. Personally, my ideal survival is a more minimalist lifestyle. I am more nomadic than I am ‘big dream house’, and I do not require the luxury of excessive indulgences, when I swear by survival from the basics. It is confusing to some, but I respect the differences in our choices, although I cannot fathom how most have the strength to devote their existence to working to exist.
If it is not apparent by now, my blog, in my opinion, is a prolonged existential crisis publicized and neatly formatted, so I do apologize for the intensity of my content. However, I hope to find feedback, criticism, and challenge through the comment section as my blog eventually grows. I have too much circulating within my mind, so to openly and honestly dive in to that, putting it into the universe, is my intention.
You have the urge to get up and leave, so what are you going to do? Is your desk job enough? Or do you have that off-sense of lack of fulfillment? Is he/she enough, or do you dream about somebody else — someone you may have never met, unidentifiable yet present. Are you smoking your cigarettes and/or consistently found with that damn drink in your hand because you’re ‘addicted’? or are you addicted to lack of self care? Does McDonald’s fill you up? You know it doesn’t, but it tastes good as hell; better than the kind of nutrients your body lacks and begs to be fed. Tell me why you do this to yourself. Better yet, I dare you to confront this question with yourself.
It’s you. It’s been you. You’re forgetting who is in control here, you run the game, you ARE the console. When you feel the overwhelming lack thereof, and it’s 3 a.m with a brain unable to find a dead end for its thoughts, what are you really doing? Is this what you want, or what you’ve gotten yourself into? Are you comfortable living with what you’ve chosen, or are you dying with the idea that you can’t go back? It’s not as difficult as you think. Taking the wrong exit on the highway requires a simple loop back around, a little extra travel time. Nevertheless, we reach our destination safe and satisfied, after the intensity of focus, a little fuel, and following the directions. Unfortunately, this gig doesn’t come with a map, and the closest navigation we have is prayer as well as our best guess, stemming from instinct.
I believe my intention behind this post is that, I hope your contentment is genuine. I hope you smile when you look in the mirror, noticing what’s around you. I hope everyday isn’t just another grey patch you run through to get to the next day filled of grey. We are all understandably lonely, but my belief is that to a certain degree, we have some power over our reality and sense of fulfillment. If a picture frame is crooked, why leave it? Only Irking you every time you walk past it, serving as a reminder of imperfection. The smallest adjustments, the most minor correction, the satisfaction of stepping back to see the final result, “ah, much better.” Just as we shed dead skin and shower when we feel dirty; come clean of your misery, shed your pain, leave it behind, start again clean and fresh. I dare you. My challenge to you is to change your outlook on how it is going if you feel as if you cannot create a different outcome. Maybe the bad day wasn’t so bad, maybe that bad occurrence was bad, yet only a passing factor in a day.
Get up and go. Don’t be afraid to make change, don’t be afraid to pack your bags and catch a train to nowhere. When my skin crawls and my body aches at the lack of change and constant stagnancy, I change routine, abandoning an old one. Don’t be afraid. If he doesn’t captivate you still to this day, if her voice doesn’t make you feel the same anymore, if the thought of going in to work makes you wish you had another life, why wouldn’t you do something about it? I’ll take a bus to a new state, and I’ll never turn around, then if I decide to come back, I decide to come back. Simply put, you may die crossing the street as equally as you may die battling disease. The uncertainty is unweighted, and definitely not worth staggering around, waiting for difference to meet you. ‘You want it, go get it’ mentality can save your life, as it does mine, continually everyday.