I don't particulary want to exist right now. And I think about my suicide (future or now or non existance), about how I'll probably fuck it up how I've done before. I just don't think it woul work, because it's my life and that's how things fuck up and everything would be wrong and everyone would hate me and no one would understand. Because no one ever will. And they'll resent me; attention whore, selfish, cowardly.
All I am is a bossy voice and a rough attitude. All I am are pieces for you to take, here have some, here take that. And never give me a piece of my own, because, stop it keshia you're being crazy, stop it keshia, stop apologzing, stop it keshia, stop being selfish.
And oh I'm loved, I'm so well loved. Only it's not about being loved, though, it's about me, because I'm the selfish one, aren't I?
I don't want to live right now because what's the use of living if everything is going to be so hard. You wouldn't anything else that was hurting you so hard, would you?
The answer is, you wouldn't.
Fin.
-Keshia.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Sunday, June 22, 2014
Mine but not Mine.
I've always thought, since I was young, that no one loved books as much as me. No one had the passion for reading that I had. When I was a kid my mom used the library as sort of a free babysitter, she dropped me off and the morning and I ran around, reading books of all kind until she would pick me up in the afternoon.
Before Hurricane Ivan destroyed the library in our town, it was a thing of wonder. It was built in an old log cabin with dark walls and dark corners, there was a back room with beams everywhere and soft plush chairs settled in every corner for reading. In the front lobby there was the spinning round desk for computer with about twenty of them on there. And all the shelves, they were taller than me. When you needed it a librarian would give you a little stool to stand up on, because nothing is better than reaching up and grasping a book you wanted for the first time. It was beautiful. And one thing I noticed, no one was ever in there with me. There was the librarian, sitting at her desk and filing stuff away, sticking her head in the room where I sat to check on me every now and then. There was the occassional person, maybe turning something in, or checking one or two things out, or researching on the computer a little bit (this was still during an age where internet in every home just wasn't that common). But no one, I noticed, dwelled in there like me. No one found the right corners to hide in, no one found the oldest books in the library. No one ran their fingers over the books feeling the age, the texture, the pages, and told them they loved them before they had to leave. And so that's when I decided, no one loves books as much as I do.
Today I am so particular about libraries. Some I love and some I hate and not one could ever feel like the library of my child hood. To me a good library is like a long, warm hug. It's the type of hug after you've come home from a tiring trip, and everythign and terrible and sore and most of you just wants to curl up in a ball to cry. And someone is there to hug you, someone is there to take you in their soft arms and hold you ad stoke you hair and all the bad is gone and resting is in order. That's what a good library is like, and you can keep that hug going for as long as you want.
A good book is like a human. New books are wonderful, nothing beats that magic. But there is so much more special to a book that has lived, to a book that has become human. I like dog eared pages and stains, maybe some highlights and maybe some notes. I like books that you could tell have lived, you could tell have traveled, the edges are worn and the pages are so soft, just like a hand to touch. The beauty to an old book is that you get to feel it, to get feelt he weight of it and all the life it had before you, all the people whose hands it went through. And maybe its a library book, you'll return it, and someone else will sense the life you put in it. Maybe it's yours, you bought it, new or old. Its either your job to give it life or explore the life it once had, and both are just as rewarding. There is so much more to books than just the words written in them. Books are ageless and hold lifetimes against us.
The thing is, I say things like the above, I think them so casually without anything grand or trifling. It just happens. I love libraries and books so much, that how else could I expres other than just by saying why I love them all the time. And here's the thing, I know there are people out there who love books just as much as me or books more than me, but I know I'll never stop believing I love books and reading more than anyone else.
Because I feel it. Really feel it more than anything and anyone else in the world.
I'd never live my life without them.
Fin.
-Keshia
Before Hurricane Ivan destroyed the library in our town, it was a thing of wonder. It was built in an old log cabin with dark walls and dark corners, there was a back room with beams everywhere and soft plush chairs settled in every corner for reading. In the front lobby there was the spinning round desk for computer with about twenty of them on there. And all the shelves, they were taller than me. When you needed it a librarian would give you a little stool to stand up on, because nothing is better than reaching up and grasping a book you wanted for the first time. It was beautiful. And one thing I noticed, no one was ever in there with me. There was the librarian, sitting at her desk and filing stuff away, sticking her head in the room where I sat to check on me every now and then. There was the occassional person, maybe turning something in, or checking one or two things out, or researching on the computer a little bit (this was still during an age where internet in every home just wasn't that common). But no one, I noticed, dwelled in there like me. No one found the right corners to hide in, no one found the oldest books in the library. No one ran their fingers over the books feeling the age, the texture, the pages, and told them they loved them before they had to leave. And so that's when I decided, no one loves books as much as I do.
Today I am so particular about libraries. Some I love and some I hate and not one could ever feel like the library of my child hood. To me a good library is like a long, warm hug. It's the type of hug after you've come home from a tiring trip, and everythign and terrible and sore and most of you just wants to curl up in a ball to cry. And someone is there to hug you, someone is there to take you in their soft arms and hold you ad stoke you hair and all the bad is gone and resting is in order. That's what a good library is like, and you can keep that hug going for as long as you want.
A good book is like a human. New books are wonderful, nothing beats that magic. But there is so much more special to a book that has lived, to a book that has become human. I like dog eared pages and stains, maybe some highlights and maybe some notes. I like books that you could tell have lived, you could tell have traveled, the edges are worn and the pages are so soft, just like a hand to touch. The beauty to an old book is that you get to feel it, to get feelt he weight of it and all the life it had before you, all the people whose hands it went through. And maybe its a library book, you'll return it, and someone else will sense the life you put in it. Maybe it's yours, you bought it, new or old. Its either your job to give it life or explore the life it once had, and both are just as rewarding. There is so much more to books than just the words written in them. Books are ageless and hold lifetimes against us.
The thing is, I say things like the above, I think them so casually without anything grand or trifling. It just happens. I love libraries and books so much, that how else could I expres other than just by saying why I love them all the time. And here's the thing, I know there are people out there who love books just as much as me or books more than me, but I know I'll never stop believing I love books and reading more than anyone else.
Because I feel it. Really feel it more than anything and anyone else in the world.
I'd never live my life without them.
Fin.
-Keshia
Saturday, May 31, 2014
Panic Mode.
I am receding right now. Waning instead of waxing, or maybe the other way around.
I have this problem where if difficult things crop up I tend to panic. My panic can be anything toward screaming/crying/generally feeling the need to be outside or sometimes a combination of all three. Mostly the latest, because nothing can offset my panic more than just places. I feel so trapped, like one of those moths endlessy throwing itself in frenzied leaps at the light. I always need to get out, because if I don't, I'll become a moth. I always, in general, need to panic. To be honest a lot of my panic ensues because of money issues, then the next being friends/family situations, and the next probably being school. There's usually not much more I panic over, and just fyi, the family situations usually always come paired along with the money issues. Regardless of the situation, what combination of issues, what type of day it is, I always panic. I can count all the people who have caught me in these situations of panic on my hands, because I often panic and I mostly do it alone. I feel bad for these people, I feel bad for when I put them into situations, when they have to deal with a sobbing, often yelling, and itching to get outide Keshia. And it's strange how everyone reacts to my panic. I think, when you witness someone panic, you see a little bit more about them because of course they are vunarable. But I think what really shows who a person is how they react to panicking people, and while not a frequent public panicker, I have had some situations.
There are the talkers, who try to calm you down by working their way through the situaitons, offering you solutions of back alleys, they draw you out of the panic by giving you choices and trying to crank at the logical part of the brain rather than the emotional ones. There are the listeners, the one who are quiet, nod maybe, and just let all of your panic stream out and drown them. I've had these both.
I've had someone chase me outside and down the street when I was panicking and needed to be alone. I've had a perfect stranger rescue me from a mental breakdown outside the history building last year. I've had someone start panicking themselves when I panicked. I've had someone hit me when I panicked, shouted at me to calm down, because they can't handle it. I've had people tell me I'm immature, I'm too emotional, I'm terrible when I'm panicking....and somehow they're surprised when it only ensues more panic.
As hard as it is to believe as hard as it to see, I actually like my panic mode. Of course I don't like it as I'm doing it, but in the long run it really helps. Because the feeling I get afterwards, it helps that I was able to panic. And what I've learned is not matter who the people or how they choose to handle it, they never really effect it. It will happen regardless of them, it will happen no matter what they say to me, because otherwise I would just be a suicidal moth.
In short, what I'm trying to say is that I have feelings, and I feel like majority of my feelings are valid, including the panic. And unless I let it out, I'll never be able to recede.
Fin.
I have this problem where if difficult things crop up I tend to panic. My panic can be anything toward screaming/crying/generally feeling the need to be outside or sometimes a combination of all three. Mostly the latest, because nothing can offset my panic more than just places. I feel so trapped, like one of those moths endlessy throwing itself in frenzied leaps at the light. I always need to get out, because if I don't, I'll become a moth. I always, in general, need to panic. To be honest a lot of my panic ensues because of money issues, then the next being friends/family situations, and the next probably being school. There's usually not much more I panic over, and just fyi, the family situations usually always come paired along with the money issues. Regardless of the situation, what combination of issues, what type of day it is, I always panic. I can count all the people who have caught me in these situations of panic on my hands, because I often panic and I mostly do it alone. I feel bad for these people, I feel bad for when I put them into situations, when they have to deal with a sobbing, often yelling, and itching to get outide Keshia. And it's strange how everyone reacts to my panic. I think, when you witness someone panic, you see a little bit more about them because of course they are vunarable. But I think what really shows who a person is how they react to panicking people, and while not a frequent public panicker, I have had some situations.
There are the talkers, who try to calm you down by working their way through the situaitons, offering you solutions of back alleys, they draw you out of the panic by giving you choices and trying to crank at the logical part of the brain rather than the emotional ones. There are the listeners, the one who are quiet, nod maybe, and just let all of your panic stream out and drown them. I've had these both.
I've had someone chase me outside and down the street when I was panicking and needed to be alone. I've had a perfect stranger rescue me from a mental breakdown outside the history building last year. I've had someone start panicking themselves when I panicked. I've had someone hit me when I panicked, shouted at me to calm down, because they can't handle it. I've had people tell me I'm immature, I'm too emotional, I'm terrible when I'm panicking....and somehow they're surprised when it only ensues more panic.
As hard as it is to believe as hard as it to see, I actually like my panic mode. Of course I don't like it as I'm doing it, but in the long run it really helps. Because the feeling I get afterwards, it helps that I was able to panic. And what I've learned is not matter who the people or how they choose to handle it, they never really effect it. It will happen regardless of them, it will happen no matter what they say to me, because otherwise I would just be a suicidal moth.
In short, what I'm trying to say is that I have feelings, and I feel like majority of my feelings are valid, including the panic. And unless I let it out, I'll never be able to recede.
Fin.
Monday, May 26, 2014
Crutches.
Taken from Lena Chronicles #31
May 26, 2014
(8:19pm)
A 22 year old boy named Elliot Rogers killed seven people and injured many more because he was "constantly rejected and still a virgin". It is terrible and stupid. Here's the thing, I am a feminist. But not a feminist in the old sense, in the way where women are better than men. I am a feminist in what feminism is becoming. It's in the way that everyone is equal despite gender, race, or sexuality. It's horrible that things like the shootings in California still happen in the world. A lot of it is just ignorance, its people blinded in some way of seeing how the world actually works, to seeing the mistreatment of certain groups. I used to be like that. I am so different than what I used to be. I used to use religion as a crutch for bigotry. I used to be a horrible person; I used to care more about a the words written in a thousands of years old unscourced book more than the lives of real people. Give me the chance and I would have called a girl a slut, I would have judged her for dressing provactively. I used to abuse my own gender so much, placing expectations on others and on myself that were crippling. And I'm so glad I changed and I can now say things like "I'm pro-choice, I believe love is for everyone, I think the death penality is hypocritical, and I'm a feminist" without being weighed down by the guilt and wretchedness that some religion puts upon my beliefs. And I know I have so much more to learn and I can only hope I become better throughout it.
Fin.
May 26, 2014
(8:19pm)
A 22 year old boy named Elliot Rogers killed seven people and injured many more because he was "constantly rejected and still a virgin". It is terrible and stupid. Here's the thing, I am a feminist. But not a feminist in the old sense, in the way where women are better than men. I am a feminist in what feminism is becoming. It's in the way that everyone is equal despite gender, race, or sexuality. It's horrible that things like the shootings in California still happen in the world. A lot of it is just ignorance, its people blinded in some way of seeing how the world actually works, to seeing the mistreatment of certain groups. I used to be like that. I am so different than what I used to be. I used to use religion as a crutch for bigotry. I used to be a horrible person; I used to care more about a the words written in a thousands of years old unscourced book more than the lives of real people. Give me the chance and I would have called a girl a slut, I would have judged her for dressing provactively. I used to abuse my own gender so much, placing expectations on others and on myself that were crippling. And I'm so glad I changed and I can now say things like "I'm pro-choice, I believe love is for everyone, I think the death penality is hypocritical, and I'm a feminist" without being weighed down by the guilt and wretchedness that some religion puts upon my beliefs. And I know I have so much more to learn and I can only hope I become better throughout it.
Fin.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Fifty Things.
The last time I wrote in this blog, in fact, even touched it, was in October. I think in maybe the four years of history of this thing, seven months is about the longest gap I've ever taken in between writing. My life as of late has been something along the lines of these two photos, but not in bad sort of way, just in an "oh look at that" sort of way. Alot has changed for me in the past seven months, and I'd like to imagine I'm doing much better than when I last wrote in here. And I learned alot in that time too, so yeah, here's a list of things. And then maybe, just maybe, I'll start writing in here again like I used to.
1. I cannot climb trees like I used to.
2. Alabama parking lots are the bane of my existance. People in parking lots make me murderous and honestly I should be proud I haven't killed anyone yet.
3. Snow is powdery, and less cold than the coldest days, and brilliant and beautiful, and should happen every year. Also, snowcream is the most wonderful stuff in all of existance.
4. There will always be one song in every musical that I hate.
5. My life is so much better now that I don't work at Panera Bread and I never wanna put myself in an opressive workplace like that again.
6. I will always, inevietably, tell my mother everything.
7. Taking care of the people I care about will always be worth it.
8. Christmas has stopped being magical.
9. Halloween gets more magical.
10. I love sex and I am okay with admitting that because it is wonderful and great and a way to connect to people. And people who deny themselves that really are missing out.
11. And on that note, it's honestly not that hard to convince people to have sex. Either that or I'm more attractive than I imagine myself to be.
12. It is okay to be average, and okay to know that even if I try my hardest I will not always do my best.
13. I will never be able to vlog everyday of the year.
14. I have charm, and no matter how much I like to deny this, I know how to use it.
15. My fandoms will always take care of me.
16. A group of strangers who I met on the internet and have never seen in real life can comfort me better than most people in real life.
17. Nothing is more exciting than a new tattoo.
18. I only have the capacity for so much and so many connections and as much as I would love to befriend all the wonderful people I could possibly befriend, it is impossible.
19. Strangers are nicer than I think.
20. Every year kids will seem shittier and shittier than I thought they were before. Every year just adds more incentive not to have them.
21. In the end, Rickel Pickle will always save me.
22. I want nothing more than to get to know Bryn Chancellor as much as I possibly can.
23. As much as I can explain things to people I cannot understand it for them. And that is not my fault.
24. And in remembering that, I cannot blame another person when I do not understand them.
25. I have to stop forcing myself to feel guilty about the people it is nesscary to be a bitch to.
26. And on that note, being bitchier to those I don't care about and nicer to those I do care about it needed.
27. If I ever had doubts about whether I was a feminist before, I certainly have none now.
28. Having my opinions and telling them to people isn't that bad.
29. It probably would have been better had I been born in the 70's (for reasons, I would like to point out, NOT related to feminism).
30. People are easy until you start to love them.
31. I save people, or so they tell me.
32. I am more self involved than anyone will ever know.
33. I have always been lazy, just now it's more dissapointing.
34. I dissallussion myself a lot because I like my fantasies of things better than I like the reality of them.
35. Nothing feels better than standing on Palmer stage during College Night season. And nothing in the world makes me feel more connected to friends, strangers, and history than knowing that Purple Side won.
36. Don't deny my anger.
37. I am better than some people but I have to judge when and when not to let them know.
38. A game called Ingress is very important in my life.
39. Caitie White is sincerely one of the best human beings I have ever met in my life.
40. I want to write a memoir before I die.
41. I want someone else to write a memoir for me after I die.
42. I can probably analyze everything, find metaphors from nothing.
43. My past self was smarter than I remember her to be in some ways better than I am now.
44. Nothing will ever be harder than writing everything over again.
45. I've gone two months without certain things and I can probably go longer.
46. I will take all the time I've been given and probably more.
47. I can write essays worthy of A's in the shortest amounts of time.
48. It will probably keep getting harder. I will wake up everyday and be heavier with something than I was before.
49. Despite how unreal it all feels before, know that it did happen.
50. I am not the same person I was seven months ago. I was not the same person I was even seven weeks, seven days, or seven seconds ago and no one can expect me to be.
Fin.
-Keshia
Monday, October 7, 2013
Half Past Midnight
From Lena, entry October 7th, 12:41am
I'm about how I get uglier and uglier everyday. About how I take all these damn photos for no real reason. I'm thinking about much prettier I was last year than I am right now. And how the year before that, even better. I'm thinking about how I can see it, how it creeps its way into the pictures. And how I can only see what I am now, which is ugly.
I'm thinking about I've had two relationships in the past two years and how those people are not even relevent to me anymore. How is it that something that seemed knit together before it nothing but frays?
I'm thinking about how I haven't made any lasting friendships in the last two years (in real life). About how I have met no one new and actually been able to catch them. No one wants to be and stay my friend.
I'm thinkign about how people tell me my anxiety and depression doesn't define me but that actually is it. That's why there is so much running away. That's why I'm uglier everyday. That's why no one wants to be with me. That's why no only wants to stay my friend. It's not you, Keshia, and it's not even me. It's your anxiety. It repels me.
I'm thinking about how much I hate myself and how no one can really tell how much I do and how no one would believe me even if I tried to tell them.
Fin.
-Keshia
I'm about how I get uglier and uglier everyday. About how I take all these damn photos for no real reason. I'm thinking about much prettier I was last year than I am right now. And how the year before that, even better. I'm thinking about how I can see it, how it creeps its way into the pictures. And how I can only see what I am now, which is ugly.
I'm thinking about I've had two relationships in the past two years and how those people are not even relevent to me anymore. How is it that something that seemed knit together before it nothing but frays?
I'm thinking about how I haven't made any lasting friendships in the last two years (in real life). About how I have met no one new and actually been able to catch them. No one wants to be and stay my friend.
I'm thinkign about how people tell me my anxiety and depression doesn't define me but that actually is it. That's why there is so much running away. That's why I'm uglier everyday. That's why no one wants to be with me. That's why no only wants to stay my friend. It's not you, Keshia, and it's not even me. It's your anxiety. It repels me.
I'm thinking about how much I hate myself and how no one can really tell how much I do and how no one would believe me even if I tried to tell them.
Fin.
-Keshia
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Life in Metaphors.
For as long as I've know myself I've never been good at expressing myself, particulary my feelings and particulary in words. And yes, that sounds so silly, right? I want to be a writer and yet I can't express myself in words. But here's the thing. Words are one of those things that hold a lot of meaning, you have to be careful with them. And even then, you there are different forums in which words can be expressed.
Take speaking, for instance. Speaking is terrifying. Trying to properly convey thoughts or emotions through the spoken word and doing a good job of it is truely a gift. I can't do it. Speaking is weak to me. The thing about speaking my thoughts and feelings is that I get flustered. I stutter and I'm usually under so much pressure that I just can't physically find the words that I want to speak and everything I say comes out into some utter garbage. And so I can't speak words. I can't tell people how I feel when speaking. And so that's why, most of the time, I choose to write. But even in writing there are tricky parts to it. It's hard to tell people straightly, "I am depressed, I do not like my life right now and I'm beggining to realize that I don't think I ever did." People have such a sense of justification, and are so suspicious of everything. One thing that I have a love hate relationship with in writing is the fact that you can't just tell people something, you have to show them or they won't believe you otherwise. And even then, even when you show them in the best possible way you can people will still say, "Whate are you talking about? You're perfectly alright, you're not feeling that." There is too much disbelief in the human race for people to be honest sometimes. The problem is that people whipser the lies and everyone clings unto that, but when they're shouting the truth they are told to shut up.
For me the solution I have always found when expressing myself, particulary in writing, are metaphors. From the time I learned what a metaphor was I have been using them. And even before then, I realized, even before I knew their proper definition. Because I surrounded myself with books when I was a child, I engrossed myself in literature that was overflowing with metaphors. I remember, distinctly one of the first metaphors I made. I was five, I had hurt myself, a bruise on my leg from running into something. Instead of telling my Mom I hurt myself I told her I felt like a horse kicked me in my leg. I may have had metaphors before that. I probably did. I had read the horse kicking in relation to pain one in a book. A lot of my life came from books back then. A lot of my life still does. And so even today I use metaphors to describe my feelings. The thing about metaphors, it's like wearing a mask while telling the truth. And in some simple way, that makes it seem a little better. Because I paint my pain or happiness or wonderous nature behind these words, behind the connatations of like or as. They seem prettier somehow, not so raw and terrifying. And they seem more relatable, because I think that's what metaphors were meant for. You take something that not everyone is feeling and compare it something that everyone has felt or can at least imagine what it feels like. But even then, even in metaphors, they have their faults. Because not everyone understands metaphors, not everyone understands the sometimes fault of speaking the plain truth. I've actually had someone tell me once how bullshit my metaphors were and that I should just say my feelings. And then I did, and then I was told I wasn't. Shut up, Keshia, you don't know what you're talking about.
Do you wanna know a metaphor now? Do you want to know how I feel?
There's a difference to everything. It's like I'm stuck in these waves and they're just beating along. And I just let them hit me, over and over. But sometimes, I catch myself. I get surprised because I thought I was on shore and I'm not. I'm not nesscarily sure how to get back there or why I even want to get back there. I just know, really, that I'm tired of the waves.
Fin.
-Keshia
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