The Start to a Wonderful Christmas

There is little in life more comforting and lovely than slipping into soft, warm, and safe sheets knowing two of your favorite people are staying in the guest room right down the hall. It's even more rare to enjoy this with the added knowledge that you have absolutely no school duties for the next two weeks, and as you hear your adored guest's light chatter slip under your closed doorway, find yourself greeting a sense of complete ease.

Somehow, miraculously, I have made it to this moment.  My amazing friend and her mom (who my family has been close with forever) moved across the country this past summer, to the intruiging and wondrous state of California, leaving us behind in the dim and dreary Detroit. Yet finally they've returned to us, and are staying with us for an amazing two days, pleasantly tucked away in our guest room. As I write I can hear them down in the hallway, and I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be at right this moment. My lamp is casting a reassuring glow on my room and along my wall of pictures, upon all these graphic memories that seem inviting for once rather than daunting and melancholy. My Kurt Cobain poster is not staring down ominously but cheering for me on this relieving night. My toes are toasty and relaxed, and my mind is filled with the anticipation of Christmas and an oversell sense of well-being. Afterall, it's a rare occurrence that I don’t get the 'lonely' feeling at night. For once that stealthy intruder is kept at bay, replaced by the safety and comfort of old and beloved friends. I will remember this moment forever. It's wondrous enough to be put in a book.

All today I’ve been looking forward to tonight. Slogging through school was actually not so horrendous since I knew freedom awaited me at precisely 2:33. Freedom, and our coming friends. When all the other poor suckers are getting up bright and early tomorrow morning for another day of hell, I’ll be relaxing, reading poetry, listening to my favorite music, and then traipsing down the stairs to be greeted by the aroma of French toast and scrambled eggs. Maybe even some scrumptious orange rolls with frosting, too. And of course, the company of two of the few remaining people that I absolutely love and cherish in this world.  I may be pretty confused lately, but I’m content, no, beyond content at this exact moment. I am absolutely filled with delight. The saying “bursting with happiness” is not so foreign to me in this instant. Christmas is right around the corner, and yet I’m pleased to be right where I am as well. No one can take this from me, and it feels great.

See you later, loneliness. Your stay is over. 

Confusion is Wonderous

I read the line, "The Mind is it's own beautiful prisoner," thought I should post it on my tumblr, and realized I am a hypocrite. A mindless drone, a brick in the same exact superficial society I so like to complain about, a scumbag of the teenage world, worse even then those not self aware enough to realize it. Which further convinced me of my own confusion.

I mean, basically and fundamentally and breaking-it-down-process-analysis, I am so confused. Plain, stale, old rotting bread, typical confused. I am drowning in my waves of confusion. About what? Everything. My state of mind alternates between utter happiness and dungeon-like morale. I can't even branch into a new paragraph because I don't know what my point is.

Hey wait!

Maybe that's my issue.

Where is the fucking point  to anything in this dreary world?

Why should I get a job and study for my math test and write my spanish homework?

In the words of my spoiled, babied self, I don't want to. Truly, I don't. Yet everyone and everything tells me I need to. I absolutely must learn to live in this fucking "real world" they talk about, and it confuses me. Am I not living in the REAL WORLD? What is the RealWorld? According to Them, I must stop using my brain right this instant and study for my test. Afterall, memorization trumps free thought. Right? That's what everyone says.

Bullshit is what I say. Or at least I think I say. Or hope I say. Or well.. would say if I possessed an actual backbone.

I had this awful dream a few nights past in which I was dead. I woke up with this horrible, seemingly obvious (yet is it really?) realization that one day I will be dead.

Lifeless, white, unmoving, dead. I will cease to exist and no one in the fucking world will care rather I studied for a calculus test in 2011 as I sat on my bed reading e.e. Cummings and coming to the unfortunate conclusion that I am entirely confused.

No one will fucking care. (Unless I become famous. In which case, hi everyone! I wonder what the hell my future self did for you to be interested in reading this).

Anyway, if no one will fucking care, then shouldn't I simply do whatever I want to do? Whatever spontaneous, silly, utterly ridiculous thing I want to do? Shouldn't I be "allowed" to travel and eat like a whale (without constantly feeling fat even though I AM NOT- yes brain, you better stop harassing me) and watch Seinfeld instead of doing homework and ponder life until I've sucked all the sweet juice out of it?

Shouldn't I?

Or is that wrong? Because it sure makes me feel guilty. I just don't know if that guilt comes from inside my little heart or if society is trying to probe my conscience.

Oh goodness, I'm not only confused... I'm lost as well. I need someone to candidly tell me the facts of life before I go screw myself up. I think I'll try writing again. I feel better about myself when I do. My thoughts aren't lost to eternity when I write them down. And I (we) live in a society obsessed with mortality.

Excuse my ramblings, I must return to integration, velocity, spanish terms, and anxiety. Have a nice night, nobody.