Sunday

Is just being pretty ever really enough?

Of course it's not. Since when has anyone been completely satisfied with their life? Does being pretty make you feel more satisfied with your life than having a cup of black coffee every morning? People who look at themselves in the mirror constantly probably feel better about themselves, but for me it just doesn't cut it. Where does the nitty gritty part of life start? That's just what I want to find. Stable routines that are performed every day and you always know they will be there for you. Has my new found coffee habit replaced stable relationships in my life? Has a sense of fashion dominated my passion for the environment? Sort-of. It scares me finally picking one venue for my life to slide on because I am interested in so many different things. It's wrong to tell a high schooler that he/she has to decide exactly what to do with his/her life. No one knows what they want to do right off the bat and someone who has only had say eighteen years of experience could end up making the worst mistake of his/her life by deciding to go or not to go to college. Unless if you're one of those freaks who has known they wanted to be a doctor since they were five. Do I know if fashion design is the right choice for me? At the moment. I believe I have to take my feelings just as they come because what else am I to do with my worn in life? No, I don't feel worn out, just worn in. It's a nice, cozy feeling I might add. Knowing a little more about yourself and how the world around you works is nice, too. It gets awfully lonely in my world sometimes, but I like to think of it as a meditation time. I try not to cling to anything or anyone and addictions scare me. So how am I to perform every day tasks like going to work? Even rituals scare me. I just HATE the thought of having to do the same exact thing every morning. It scares me more than I can say. Is it because I have relationship/commitment issues? Maybe. If I don't know then it's a sure bet no one else does. It's weird when you don't even really have yourself figured out. Eventually I will know why I feel a certain way when someone looks me in the eye. Some day I'll figure out why I can't form words and complete thoughts around new acquaintances. Eventually I'll stop writing down in this blog and get a real journal. Eventually I'll die. This leads me to a conclusion. What is it? Hrmpf. You don't have to be pretty in order to get somewhere in life. You don't have to be book smart. You have to be a person. You have to have individuality. Guts. You have to sacrifice a lot. In my version of my perfect life.. it would be me. Maybe a cat. Maybe a nice apartment with lavender walls and a freshly picked rose at the side of my bed. No, it doesn't include anyone else except for my friends and family. That scares me but I can't bring my mind to imagine myself under different circumstances. But I get so lonely sometimes..
love, polly

Tuesday

Without you today's emotions would be the scurf of yesterday's.

I often ask why I forced myself to love someone. For I was only a girl who thought she knew what she could control. Having been in love only once before I did not know quite how it happened when I was 15. I figured I could forge the recipe to relieve certain stresses the year had brought me after the break up. Did I really intend on forcing myself to act as in love with someone? Nothing else sparkled about it. Maybe he was a good person at heart, but sooner or later it tends and tended to show. I believe I forced myself to feel something for someone else who was otherwise unloveable due to the mere fact that I needed to move on with life. He was my means to an end and I didn't care much who got hurt. Unfortunately life isn't always what you wanted or expected it to be, and I've come to see that over the past couple years. I often wonder about the past and knowing everything that I know now, I would have changed many things. Then again, those things made me what I am today and I know I would be different even if a single person didn't or did step into my life at a certain time. People don't just come into your life for no reason. Everyone is pivotal whether they remain for a week or even years. You learn something about yourself every single day, right? At least that is the way I try to live. That might be the way to live for eternity. I forgive myself for past wronging and try to make each day count to the fullest. Every once in a while I get down on myself but I don't think anyone can truly know themselves or be an actual human being without being in a very low point at some time in their lives. It hit me, like a whirlwind, raging in all different directions. It would never stop and still hasn't. I can't bear to bring myself to brush lips with anyone except him. I find it sad in the highest degree but cannot seem to bring myself to closure. He knows it and I do. But life gets pretty surreal when your first love has moved on in a drastic way that you could never even begin to fathom. Gone are the days where I loved being alive and played amongst the trees. Gone are the days of the first taste of that love that was so vibrant. Gone are my feelings and believing that love would last forever. No, I do not think the right answer to dealing with a love lost is to bury yourself in other men's arms for the mere sake of trying to feel again. Whatever the answer is it lies deep beneath your breast. Then again, who even knows if it comes from your heart? When you feel like you cannot live anymore, take a step back and realize that your first is over. You must now join the real world and accept that other people have been used just like you, and are also there to use you as well... IF YOU LET THEM. There is a certain calming aspect to the view that everyone's fantasy is over, though, it's a common place where broken hearts collide and try to find real love. The kind that people don't have to acknowledge to each other, they just know. I intend to hold myself with a certain aspect of pride, I do. No one and nothing is going to get in my way of career goals and what I want. It's in the creases of my worn palms and I will not stop until my bloody finger nails are fixed around my prize.