you read me a love letter

which, though it wasn’t about me, still made me love you more.

you told me no one has ever written you a love letter

which is crazy, because

I’ve written you a thousand 

in my head.

I keep holding back, because

what if you don’t love me?

but I don’t care, anymore, if you love me.

because I love you.

I love the way you talk when you’re drunk, and

I love the music you play and the clothes you wear, and

I love the way my heart deflates when I see you smile.

I love the darkness you show me, and

I love the lightness you show me, and

most of all I just love the way I feel when I’m with you.

Like, I can finally be myself, and

love myself, 

for loving you.

so here’s your first love letter.

it may not be how you imagined it, and

it may not be as beautiful as the one you wrote to

whatever-her-name-was, but

it’s real.

It’s real, because

I love you.

today I picked up my birth control, which is free because it’s covered by my insurance, and I thought how much longer until this right is taken away from me?

this is the first year I will be voting, and I pray to god we don’t elect a single off-base, out of touch politician who doesn’t support ALL women’s rights, including access to free birth control and planned parenthood, and the right to choose. (not to mention the right to object when any government representative…cough todd akin cough…claims a women has the ability to “‘shut down’ an ‘illegitimate rape’.  WTF.)

"I miss being 20…I felt everything so strongly." -My Dad

As I approach the end of my teenhood, (I turn twenty in about a month) I think about what it really means to be young (a “young adult”).  Yes, I feel everything very strongly…it’s like all my senses (hearing, sight, smell, taste) are all the same, but my emotions are heightened.  When I’m sad I am so miserable I can’t stand to live, and when I’m happy I’m so elated it’s like time is frozen.  Being 20 is like being a raw piece of meat, and everything you feel you feel SO HARD.  Not to mention everything is a contradiction when you’re twenty.  I’m sensitive, but I have a thick skin.  I’m an easy going person, but I’m always feeling anxious.  I’m a free spirit who always needs a gameplan.  What’s wrong with me?!?!?!?!…..I’m twenty.

"I can’t relate to 99% of humanity" says Seymour to Enid in an iconic scene in an amazing movie ("Ghost World" for those who haven’t seen it, close your tumblr, go watch it NOW, and then come back and read the rest of this post.)  I relate to Seymour in this way…perhaps that puts me in the 1% of unrelatable weirdos…to be honest that’s how I’ve been feeling increasingly often lately.  When I’m in a group of people I feel like my mind is just…somewhere else.  Like I’m on a totally different plane from pretty much all my peers.  Because of this somewhat uncomfortable social barrier, I often opt to be alone.  Of course my loner tendencies only enhance the introspective behavior that causes the thoughts which separate me from mainstream society; the masses don’t spend enough alone time to think the deep dark thoughts that come when isolation and intelligence combine.  My Loneness self perpetuates my need for loneness.  And that is why I can’t relate to 99% of humanity.

"I can’t relate to 99% of humanity" says Seymour to Enid in an iconic scene in an amazing movie ("Ghost World" for those who haven’t seen it, close your tumblr, go watch it NOW, and then come back and read the rest of this post.)  I relate to Seymour in this way…perhaps that puts me in the 1% of unrelatable weirdos…to be honest that’s how I’ve been feeling increasingly often lately.  When I’m in a group of people I feel like my mind is just…somewhere else.  Like I’m on a totally different plane from pretty much all my peers.  Because of this somewhat uncomfortable social barrier, I often opt to be alone.  Of course my loner tendencies only enhance the introspective behavior that causes the thoughts which separate me from mainstream society; the masses don’t spend enough alone time to think the deep dark thoughts that come when isolation and intelligence combine.  My Loneness self perpetuates my need for loneness.  And that is why I can’t relate to 99% of humanity.

A Little Disclaimer: This is not a journal, I already have one.

This is not a space for me to write down my deepest of thoughts and most secret emotions, get them out into the open, and then let them grow old and dusty and untouched.  This is not a time capsule or a diary left in the attic to gather dust.  This is a blog: it is meant to be read.  If I wanted no one to read it, then it would be locked up under my mattress.  Here I write down, well, whatever I feel like writing down.  Everything here is honest and true, and for the most part anonymous.  You see, I have all these spectacles of thoughts unsuitable for twitter or facebook or any of my other tumblrs, or even that wordpress my dad set up for me that one time.  So here is where I spill my heart from behind the safe veil of the internet.  What you will come to know about me you will learn only through my writing.  So if you’ve ever had the urge to walk up to a stranger’s house and peer inside their window, watch their life and draw connections to your own, I urge you to stay and read.  I believe we are all a lot more alike than we know.