I have been spending so much time writing, but not because it's NaNoWriMo. It's not even because I want to keep this blog alive again. I've been writing so much trying to convince myself that maybe I'll be able to write out all the sadness inside me. I've written poems (shitty ones), stories, one-shots, letters, and all the other forms I could think of. So, tell me, please tell me, why am I still sad?
Yesterday I somehow managed to burn popcorn in a microwave, forget to turn off a faucet for a full hour, and today skipped school because no matter how much my alarm blared this morning I just couldn't find the willpower to face the world.
This is a post about the things I wish you had said instead of "Sorry" when I was on the lowest point I have ever been.
My mom once told me that our lives and everything that happens on Earth are connected. I never really understood what she was trying to say. I mean, sure it's connected. We're people, people live on Earth, everything that happens on Earth is connected to the people living in it.
I think I understand her better now.
Hello, I've been MIA for too long and have decided to return, not sure about the staying part though. Anyway, I thought I'd start the comeback with a Life Update since I haven't been around for a while. Also, I haven't written anything in 3 months, so this might get weird.
I hate the color orange. It makes me puke. But I found 3 really cool orange things that made me pretty happy the past few days. As with every bad day/week, my solution is to keep my mind away from the things that make me sad and do things that make me happy such as binge watching, binge reading, and binge sleeping.
This week's solution was binge reading.
No, this is not my pug. Just putting that out there before anything else.
For those who've been here for a while, you guys will know how much I prefer dogs over cats. And how much I wanted one. But every time I pitch the idea to my parents, something always comes up; we don't have enough space, I'm not responsible enough, my mom hates the smell, I'm way too young, and the list goes on.
But on my 17th birthday, my dad got me a pup.
In the words of the great Edgar Allan Poe, "I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty."
I may have mentioned it a few times before, but poems never appealed to me as a way to express myself. I've never expounded on that, fearing that a mob of poets might come after me at night and write poems with my blood (okay, too much). But today, I want to expound on that and also share my surprisingly growing love.
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