Thursday, 2 November 2017

when bad boys finish last

November 02, 2017 0 Comments

I looked into his eyes for the very first time that night and all he could tell me was maybe. That maybe we'd get high on a New York City rooftop in July, and become each other's undercover lover. That maybe we'd fly to Paris, and get higher than the Eiffel Tower. Maybe this or maybe that. Maybe Friday or Sunday, but baby just know that I'm all yours to take and you're all mine. Then I thought to myself that maybe I'm just crazy, and maybe he's just another fucking liar, and that maybe 'maybe' is not an answer. Maybe 'maybe' is certainty and doubt mixed together in an unsolvable equation. Maybe 'maybe' is being told that he could care less about you the day after. Maybe 'maybe' means that you're quick fix and another shot to take. Maybe 'maybe' means that you're a forgettable presence, and the undecided prize. Maybe he loves you, but maybe you'll never know.

It could be that maybe this is meant to be a long game of chasing and waiting, but maybe this time if you're not going to make up your fucking mind I'm going to have to do it for you. Maybe we're sick of leather jackets and cigarettes, the predictable excitement of your sociopathic ways. Maybe all I want to do is live fast without feeling like I'm babysitting a fucking serial killer. Look at me now, and tell me who's freer. Look at me now, and to tell me whose living it faster. Maybe I'm just young and I don't know what I want, but maybe that's okay, because maybe one day I will. I looked into his eyes for the very first time that night, and all I could think was that maybe bad boys finish last because they take away every inch of control I've had to fight for my whole entire life as damned little girl. 

Wednesday, 1 November 2017

changing of the seasons

November 01, 2017 0 Comments

When you have been the cause of someone else's pain honesty no longer becomes a tiresome chore. There is nothing more self-destructive than having a lack of insight. We enjoy dwelling on our own pain to the point of neglecting the internal suffering of others. This degree of narcissism is magnified when we have been the perpetrators of someone else's misery. To let yourself feel what it is to be the cause of someone else's self-pity. You want to destroy yourself to forget everything about it. You want to light up to forget the old irony of the situation. It's hurtful. It's disgusting. It's toxic.

It feels like I never want to get close again. It feels like I never want to trust myself with anything again. It's only me. I'm on my own. I'm a messy person, and I bring all of it with me. I'm much better off not spreading the madness everywhere like i've been doing for the past few years that I've faked it till I've made it. Nobody should come to terms with putting up a facade. I care too much about what other people think of me it's disgusting.

But here I am. I've done all these terrible things, and I've almost ruined lives because of it. You don't see me giving up. For the very first time in my life, I'm no longer running away and avoiding the long, inevitable confrontation that leads to a strain in whatever relationship you have. And gladly, today I learned one of the most important lessons that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. To learn that I'm fucking free and no one can do anything about it. The worrisome nature of overthinking, the constant validation, it's an endless fight to insanity. I hope for no one to go to war against never-ending dissatisfaction.

One day you will shed the tears I've cried, say and do the things I've done, only to fall in love with how difficult life can be. No one belongs to you, and no one deserves to be hurt by you. You don't belong to anybody, and you don't deserve to be hurt by anybody. You choose when to ride and you choose when to die. It's stupid to care about what other people think when they could care less if you had been wiped off the face of the earth yesterday.

Tuesday, 31 October 2017

the theory of the young girl

October 31, 2017 0 Comments

I'm looking for someone who understands what it means to be a girl. Who understands the way we think and breathe and dream and love and prosper in all our beauty and youth. Who understands the way we are imprisoned by our own idealism and naivete. How we learn to suffer through a numbing silence when we are told to shut up and stay static.  How we can never truly know who we are, because in order to be a safe shot you would need to have your fate decided by a million other people. The way we learn to care by giving our all, and having to ask for nothing in return. The way our minds can explode into this tipping point of certainty to repressive doubt. Most especially, the way we are taught to love when we only want to love ourselves. 

I'm looking for someone who understand that there is no such thing as the mystery of the young girl.  That maybe you think of us as this cosmic enigma, when all we really learn to be are sirens simply at sea waiting to become an emotional baggage. It's hard to be a young girl, because you can't escape the fact that young girls are brought up to be a lost cause. We want to be heard. We want to be spoken to. We want to be someone else's focus of attention. We want all these things at once in order to survive, and the only cure to sustaining our enigmatic state is to know less about the way the world works. The more you know, the more you realize that a young girl should be her own object of desire.

Monday, 30 October 2017

you bring in the worst in me

October 30, 2017 0 Comments

These are words inspired by the beatnik adventures of Jack Kerouac, and the brooding nymphet tales of Vladimir Nabokov. An assuming vision of love written in 2015. Heaven knows what went through my mind as a high school freshman, and I would say that there are no such things as coincidences but it's the perfect time for me to believe. To my dearest friend Cathrine (hoping that you will find this and read this) this isn't about you nor is it inspired by you. The name haunts me for different reasons that it would for you. 
He should’ve seen from the look in my eyes what was missing, because the only thing that could set me free was the existence of his madness. His brilliant, burning madness that pushed me straight into a nomadic tipping point and spiraled into a frenzy of unconscious wandering.

If one day he felt that Brooklyn had nothing left for him – unsurprised by the ironic kitsch – he’d flee to Nevada in an instant. I’d follow him. I’d follow him to the farthest horizon reaching Michigan. I’d follow him from Michigan to Iowa and he’d tell me that I had gone too far this time. Too far from home, and too far from reality. Take me home. He’d cry to take me home, but I’d always respond by telling him that there was nothing to look back to because we had nothing much to lose, and maybe he’d respond by telling me that I was right and he was wrong. Elias never admitted he was wrong. Though when he did, I could remember falling in love with everything he had to say faster than reading the memoirs of road dogs and degenerates from the past. The failed, homeless poets, who never made a penny in and out of their existence, who had to forget about fading away into obscurity because there was nothing obscure to fade into in the first place. He was an embodiment of the many romantic souls before him, but he was no forgettable presence like the rest of them. Everything I did was for Elias. Everything I loved was for Elias.

Sunday, 29 October 2017

five reasons why i love jane birkin

October 29, 2017 0 Comments

1. "My mother was right: When you've got nothing left, all you can do is get into silk underwear and start reading Proust." 

I've never read anything written by Proust, so who am I to even allude to this? In my defense however, I can relate to using the mysterious powers of literature to alleviate the emptiness in your heart. Jane Birkin is right to state the importance of reading when you're in an unknown position in life. 

2. Mixing the masculine and the feminine as a means of staying true to yourself while kick starting a style revolution .  

Alexa Chung totally got it right. Jane Birkin pioneered this tomboy aesthetic that we currently refer to as the Parisian Chic style where as a woman dressing like a boy and acting like a girl - as Chung put it bluntly - is suddenly the definition of cool. Who says that comfort can't be stylish?

3. She has the quintessential designer bag named after her. Grace Kelly may have one too, but name me a "brand-whore" who has never aspired to own a Birkin bag of her own.

The birth of the Birkin bag is one of the most poetic and serendipitous moments of Birkin's biography. Imagine being so important and relevant to pop culture, that a creative director of a luxury brand decides to design a bag just for you and your inconveniences. If you don't know this story, search it up.

4. "But who wants an easy life? It's boring!"

Everything good in this life is all hard work. We spend most of our youth wasted on trying to look happy, as it is much easier than actually trying to be happy. Jane Birkin understands that you lose more tying to play it safe, and that you earn more trying to take a risk. We live in a world where lying to children about their imperfections and inability to distinguish themselves from the crowd is an okay thing. As my boomer dad often says, "This generation is soft, and somebody got to do something about it!".

5. There's a beautiful soul behind a beautiful face. She's a woman who chooses to be more than her youthful looks. 

I'm always let down by the fact that at one point in my life, I will never look as fresh as I did in between the ages of eighteen and twenty-seven. I admit defeat. I have succumbed to the superficial. Looks matter to me as they do to everyone else. I just need someone to tell me that feeling this way is inevitable, as I'm often told that youth overestimate the hours of their prime more often than they underestimate the timeline of their invincibility. But Jane Birkin shows me another side of looking at life, where you have many more years to set yourself apart from everyone else than just in your youth. Abandon the live fast, die young, and leave a beautiful corpse motto. 

Saturday, 28 October 2017

drowning in a sea of responsibilities

October 28, 2017 0 Comments

Growing up is overrated. The foolish, dishonest and disturbed can't see it, but we will never be any of those things. We are simply a lost cause of hustle and grind for nothing. We are stuck in the past while looking forward to a scarcely promising future. In all our self-loathing and self-loving, we hurt and tear the ones we love the most in the name of adolescence. Growing up brings in the worst of you, and it's a pity that everyone in life goes through it. When I have cheated, and lied and taken more than I can give. When I have struggled to see beyond myself. When you count together everything I have done to make this world a less better place, do I still deserve the sympathy of others? Name me a human who hasn't been a nuisance to someone else.



Friday, 27 October 2017

why falling in love with the past sucks

October 27, 2017 0 Comments

Anyone can think of the one thing they want but can't have, that itching thought in the back of their mind that has been pushed away by the compromises of reality. In my case, I've been caught under the allure of the sixties dream. The worst form of idealization - the impossible. The thought of replicating roadtrip novel cliches, and letting the art you love define you. Finding myself inspired by a generation I may not even understand, and the desire to look for something meaningful from the past has left me nowhere but daydreaming in dismal directions, letting my mind wonder when the time will come that I can have my sixties Parisian it-girl moment and become Jane Birkin 2.0 in the making. 

In the 21st century, there's madness behind the idealization of the unattainable. It's pitiful. Absolutely pitiful to want what you can't have. I guess everything comes down to living in an era fixated on the instantaneous consumption of everything. The modern era is all about taking and taking and no more giving and giving. When you're surrounded by so many options in your everyday life, it'll come to the point where you'll just keep wanting more of what you can't have. All because of this stupid mentality of the moment. Not living in the moment, but rather wanting everything all at once in the moment. Doesn't it suck to have a million options, when you can't even get what you want? When you have been fed the lie that you can do anything in life only to be led to the disappointment that is imagination. Which in other words, imagination is what keeps you alive from the truth. Imagination transcends the indulgences of reality, but imagination directs you towards the idle road.