Where you are somehow interested in looking through your old email and remember someone you haven’t spoken to in forever (5+ years), whom you manage to find again on LJ and subsequently on facebook, wondering if you should hit the “Add as friend” button.
Such a hard decision to take. (Of course I would send a message along with it. Not really sure she’d remember me xD)
I wished I had green eyes and those freckles on the bridge of my nose. That my eyebrows would arch up in that particular way that makes these gals look like blooming flowers in a spring sunset.
Sometimes I look at the horizon and wonder what my life would be like if I was pretty. If I was different. If I wasn’t just my boring old self, perhaps.
I sometimes find myself looking out and crossing my fingers that it will start pouring. I want to step out into the cold rain and let myself be soaked. Have my hair, as short as it may be, just drip into my face, stick to the sides. I want to see my face in the mirror when I come back inside and think “Hey, I look kinda good, don’t I?”.
I don’t have the freckles, but just the right amount of peroxide has actually made me into a redhead. Yet today, when I look at myself in the mirror all I see is shades of failure.
It doesn’t help that, as many things I can actually accomplish, I have no definite talent in anything. And little self confidence.
I come forward tonight, not with a burden to unleash, but more like a prophecy to read out. That the one who dies the way I am, digging herself this hole in the mud because there seems to be no other solution but slip through anyway, will rebirth.
Like a phoenix in the rising dawn, with the breeze flowing through this very hair I spend all of 30 seconds every morning spiking up because I think I look like a dork when it’s left to its own. The light will soon reflect in the spark of those lively eyes I’ve actually received compliments on in the past. Probably the only thing I’ve ever really been complimented on physically. Unless you consider being called cute a “physical compliment”…
Sometimes, at the break of a mental breakdown, no matter how hard you’re used to fighting, and how much you strive to prove people and prophecies wrong…. sometimes you just gotta lay down the arms and admit defeat.
I have but an old branch to lay down as my sword, but may it serve the purpose well. Whatever said purpose is.
Some people deal with this kind of stuff by downing pills.
Some people freak out.
Some might hide in their cave until the storm passes.
I am the one who will deny anything’s wrong and seek for help without really asking for it. Truth is, it brings me more harm than good because most of the time I just get shut down. I wish I’d been born with the courage to just up and face this fear.
I wish I’d been born with some sort of particular thing that would make me special enough to not be alone. Could only make it to special enough to be on the verge of declaring myself a loner. I take things up on my shoulders too much and when I can’t deal I just sink in deeper.
I wish I could understand myself. I seem to be cursed with both the male simplicity and the female complexity of it all. What I claim as simple comes back to haunt me in the most gruesome brain melters. I can’t sleep well because a part of me remains awake at night wondering why, what ifs, when even I have said myself and come to terms with the facts. I feel like I’m one big mess of a living contradiction. How can I expect anyone to agree with me when I most often don’t even agree with myself?
It’s always a uphill battle in these parts, and right now I don,t feel like I matter to anyone. I can’t find much of a purpose in me being here pulling my hair out over work, or sweating my brains out on a workout. Sure, it’s downright easy to tell me to do things for myself. And believe me, I’m trying. Truth is, it’s just not enough. I feel like I could just slip away. Disappear here and nobody would even notice.
And that. That scares me so damn much.
And this was supposed to be a random writing effort where the redhead wannabe was a fictive narrator. Didn’t expect it to turn into an introspective blubber but guess what? It did. So now I’m off to go try and get some actual genuine shuteye. Hoping that I can find the strength to make yet another attempt at making some sort of difference tomorrow, so I can feel like I belong a little.
Figured I’d start including random tunes from the soundtrack here. Because, let’s face it, the music from these games is awesome.
Hearing this on my computer speakers gives me chills (I have an abysmal cheap old mono TV xD). It IS an awesome soundtrack. Do they sell it anywhere? (Bit reluctant to go about pirating one of my favorite games)
So, today I went to get my summer tires and oil changed on my car. In the mean time I went on a shopping spree:
Then I went bowling and played okayish, I guess… And then I picked up my old friend Krash Minelli from the shed behind my dad’s house.
What’s so special about Krash?
Well, about 5 years ago (I was 19), me and Krash were best buddies. He’d help me get to and from work on nights I closed at the Subway. He and I had the most awesome downhill races at 1:30 in the morning. The adrenaline rushed and I spent a straight 10 minutes or so in constant downhill on my way home without ever hitting the brakes. It was awesome.
I was not wearing a helmet.
One faithful night, there had been repairs somewhere around the street and gravel was splayed across a turn about midway through my downward run. I was going close to 25mph if not more. The bike slipped and my reflexes were wrong. I tried to get my turning line back instead of straightening towards the grass. It happened in a split second, and then I saw my entire life pass in front of my eyes (no joke). I was sure this was it and calmly accepted the fact that it was over, right then.
My head hit the ground and I tumbled. A lot. No idea just how much though because for a few moments I passed out. I then woke up in the middle of the street, tangled up on my bike. My first instinct was to rush up and get my ass out of the middle of the road. 1am or not, y’know. Then I noticed something dripping. It was my face. I went back about a week after the accident to find out even the rain hadn’t washed out the blood stain entirely yet. I still wear the scars to this day.
I was lucky. I guess. Spent the night in the ER and got out with a bunch of scars and scratches (couldn’t feel a thing on my arms for MONTHS), along with a mild concussion. Here’s a tasty pic of about a week after the crash:
I had a hard time getting back on a bike after this but had to. I used Krash’s bro, Bill, my dad’s mountain bike for the remaining of my closing runs. Never got Krash fixed. My hand was very brake happy and I now always wear my helmet. I’m scared of pretty much any downhill to this day.
And now I decided I was going to overcome that fear. I will try to get Krash fixed up like new and ride him to work eventually.
I just wish none of you ever have to through this. To this day I still get random moments where I feel the ghostly pain of my concussion / hit to the head. It’s a painful reminder that I shouldn’t get careless with anything. It’s the kind of mistake you don’t have to make. If you’re gonna go crazy, guys, wear protective gear. Even if your nickname isn’t Krash or Klumsy.
Back to the monday fun! Castle and HIMYM are tonight! =D But I’ll only see them tomorrow haha ah well… more Angel!