Oh · Adelina

We are the people who love relentlessly. Endlessly. Without boundaries and without fail. So why do we always, without fail, choose mates whose love fades? Are we broken? Is there something unconscious inside of us that searches out the other broken people, who we know will fail us, so at the end of it we can say, Look, I was right, no one in this world can be trusted?

I want to get married one day. While I'm still young. Have a kid, do something I love, experience life to the fullest. So why do I constantly get the nagging feeling that it's just never going to work out that way for me? That years from now I'll look back and wonder how dreams never worked out?

Recently, I told Travis I love him. He told me he loves me. It means everything and nothing. The future is still uncertain, he still doesn't know what he wants. So it goes. Such is life. The road leads where it's led.

How are you?
Because I am doing dandy. :)
Tomorrow is payday. All my bills will finally be paid, and I can get groceries and gas.
And Tuesday is Leonard Cohen!! YESSS!!
October is showing great promise. Upcoming:
Payday.
Kickball game.
Girls' night.
Pumpkin carving.
Leonard Cohen concert at the Fox.
Oktoberfest.
Hopefully taking Travis ice skating.
My Halloween party.
Woo!

I'm sick right now. But hopeful that all of the above are going to be awesome.
(knock on wood).

On another note. Does anyone have suggestions on how to change one's luck? Because honest to god, I have the worst fricking luck ever. Seriously. I don't even get it. If I didn't have bad luck, I'd have no luck at all. I can laugh it off all I want, but seriously, it's driving me crazy. It's like Murphy's Law was modeled after my life.


Cheers, darlings. ♥

Every day it gets a little bit harder to wake up. I haven't felt entirely like myself in months. I'm not happy, save for rare moments here and there. I feel like I'm disappearing. I can't figure out what's wrong. I can't figure out what's right. There isn't much left in my life. A home, a cat. A boy who dates and fucks me but doesn't let me matter very deeply, as far as I can tell. I feel like he's still caught up in his past. Which is unfortunate. I adore him and feel at peace when I'm with him, even when I'm angry. I fall asleep so easily beside him, and wake up feeling refreshed for once, even though I have to leave. I wish someone in this godforsaken world would take a chance on me, because I damn well know I am deserving of it. A best friend who cares but has her own busy life. A brother who's only friends when it's convenient. Everyone else is far away, almost a memory. I have friends out here, but they're all guys, they all confuse me, they send me mixed signals. I do not want to date them, and I do not want their mixed signals. I have trouble focusing on anything lately. My mind feels so scattered. Summer, where have you gone? What have you left me with? Fall is my favorite season, but this one feels so empty already.

I don't know why I love to talk like an LOL cat, or why I paint with my fingers, or why I believe that there's beauty in the world, and yet I'm distant and distrustful of every person. Or why I bottle pain up and pretend it's not there, instead of letting it go. I don't know why I fear sleep or why I still have nightmares left over from nearly a lifetime ago. I don't know why my eyes sparkle sometimes. I don't know why so many people have told me I'm emotionless and as cold as ice. I don't know where my innocence went (or if it'll ever return). I don't know why I love music so much. I don't know why I adore photography or why I hide behind my camera when I can't find the words to say. I don't know why I change my hair colour every year, or why I like the things I wear, or why I knit like an old lady. I don't know why people think I'm funny or cute. I don't know how I ended up with so many amazing friends. I don't know why I never feel like I'm "home". I don't know why my body isn't stronger. I don't know why I love turtles or mint chocolate chip ice cream or the German language. I don't know why writing is the only way I can say what's on my mind. I don't know why I need so badly to matter to someone.

I'm just me.
But I keep feeling like I'm someone else.
And I'm lonely.
And the pain I keep bottled up and stored away keeps spilling out.
It burns like acid.
This past year. The past few weeks.
I don't want to be around anybody anymore.
I don't want to feel right now.
I can feel again tomorrow.

"There are two types of girls in this world: those who are the perfect, timid matriarchs born only for marriage - the bread-and-butter kind of girls who carry family photos of distant cousins in their wallet and will do everything in their power to avoid an argument - the girls who sit crisscross applesauce on their twin-sized bed and daydream about wedding dresses and first kisses and plastic pink dollhouse homes. There are these small-town girls with their quiet smiles and television dreams, and then there are those who are wild.

While the small-town girls are daydreaming about Tupperware parties and joining the PTA, these concrete goddesses are taking off their heels and jumping carelessly into public fountains. They are dancing wildly to live music, whether it be pulsing trance or cafe jazz, and wearing hand-strung popcorn necklaces as crowns. These swinging cafe-au-lait kind of girls belt out karaoke standards without missing a beat and scribble little crumbs of encouragement on bathroom walls - they slip in and our of our world, cart-wheeling and backflipping through life, and the tragedy is that sometimes we only notice their presence when they’re gone. Sometimes they fall into our laps as best friends and curious strangers. Sometimes we are those wild girls.



We are the ones who will always sing, even when nobody’s listening. We are the ones who will never hesitate to ride loop-de-loop roller coasters, no matter how daunting they may seem. We are the ones who will never be afraid to speak our minds, and we will do whatever it takes to change the world. Others may never understand us - the simple girls will stare scornfully, scratching away our encouraging graffiti with a manicured nail, but these shortcomings never seems to faze us - until it comes to the matter of love. When beautiful boys are involved, boys who thrill us and chill us and yet could never begin to comprehend us, the whole world begins to slow.

These boys with their expensive watches and stunning punctuality, they are afraid. They see who we are and what we have, all of our madness wrapped up neatly in lace and tulle, and they realize that they could never tame us. They know that we, with our ever-changing nail polish, would never rear their perfect Oxford child - that we, with our dreams of baking cupcakes for notorious authors, could never settle to be part of a conventional family. In us they see instability and calamity - they fear the fact that we will never submit to their American dream. And so they run. Even those with love in their hearts still run, tumbling towards unwed sweethearts in Lily Pulitzer sweaters. And these silly boys settle down with sleepy girls that we will never understand. And we are left standing barefoot in pubic fountains. Or star-struck on that karaoke stage. Or staring blankly at a bathroom stall with pen in hand. We realize that love has eluded us, tricked us, shattered us with its fickle sense of humor, but maybe we are the ones who have been doing the eluding. Are we wrong in our slam-dancing ways? Have we become too much to handle? Somewhere along the highway of life, have we made a wrong turn and somehow forgotten to change lanes and become simple?

When did love begin to dictate who we are and not the other way around? No matter how lovely or sweet those dashing boys are, sometimes we just have to accept that we are too wild for them - too complicated and untamed. At the end of the day we have to ask ourselves, is it better to be loved or free?

We may be unconventional darlings, or gothic prom queens, or mysterious concrete conquistadors, but we know what we have, and we will always embrace it, no matter the heartache it may bring us. Because we are wild. We are free. And we are not afraid."

-Penelope Bat

I feel a little like a laboratory rat under the delusion of being cared for, but really nothing more than an experiment. And when the shock comes at the end of the maze, and the rat stares up at you hurt and confused, you will say without guilt, "This is not my fault, little rat. You went through that maze all on your own accord," though we both know it was what you had intended for the rat to do.