Outlet

I'd write about my life, as I've done since the beginning of the year, but it seems as though there is nothing to say.  My life seems so empty now, so tasteless, so pointless, and any words I wrote about it would be the same.

I feel lost, like life can't go on, even though I know it will. Life always goes on the same. Always the same. Even though I don't want it to. I want everything to just stop for awhile, things to slow down, come to a stop, just for a bit, long enough for me to catch my breath. But it never does. Time goes racing on the same as ever, life goes on and I still have to keept trying to keep up with it because being left behind isn't even an option. If you're alive, you have to keep going. And I am alive, even if I don't feel that way sometimes. Sometimes my heart, my life, everything, feels so empty that I think I must have died. Or perhaps all happiness simply decided to leave me and when it did, left me only in possession of this hurt, this sadness, this emptiness. Oh, that it would all leave, all the emotion! The happiness is all gone anyway, why not just take away the rest and be done with it? At least then I would have peace. That at least could remain, because that is not an emotion, merely a state of being.

I have nothing left to say, at least not for the time being. Words seem so useless right now anyway, for there is no way they could ever express the way I feel. It seems they never can. So why do I like writing so much? Why is my passion for something that doesn't even begin to describe who I am or what I think or what I feel? And yet, what could describe all that? Nothing could ever truly show who anyone is or describe their deepest desires, or explain their most heartfelt emotions. And so I do the only thing I know how to. I try to fit what I feel into words that, though they will never do my heart justice, at least begin to make my heart seen. I write. I put the things that mean the most to me in words that barely scratch the surface of what those things really are. But they give my heart an outlet, and that is why I put forward this feeble attempt - to make my heart feel better.

7-1-12 10:38PM

Falling Apart

I feel as though my world is slowly falling apart,
   bit by bit, piece by piece.

The weight of sadness is tearing at my heart;
   the vultures gather to make me their feast.

There are too many things from which I must part.
   This changing will never cease.

I swear to God, it's been like this from the start;
   from the pain there's no release.

I will never be used to the way life treats my heart;
   there is no rest, no comfort, no peace.

Simply Nothing

Sometimes I don't even know how I feel. Right now is one of those moments. I feel like I should be upset, and maybe at some point I will be. But right now it's like there is nothing. Maybe because there is nothing. It's all gone. And so are all of my feelings. Maybe it's better that way. Maybe it's what was supposed to happen. Sometimes things are supposed to happen that we don't want to. But where is my feeling? Why can I not feel? Where did my emotion escape to? And yet I could probably feel if I wanted to. I could cry if I wanted to. Maybe it's because I'm so tired of crying over the same thing that I don't want to and therefore am choosing not to, or perhaps am even incapable because of this. Or perhaps I don't cry because I would never stop once I started. And yet I don't feel like that is the case. I can sometimes force myself not to cry, but I don't feel as though I am doing that, and most of the time I am unavoidably driven to tears by my inescapable emotions. But those emotions are not pushing me to tears. Indeed, my emotions seem no longer inescapable, and as if I have, in fact, escaped them. I don't know how I feel about that. I don't want to cry, and yet why should I not cry over this? Why should I not be sad over this? Has not my heart been broken? And yet there is nothing. Simply nothing.

Favorite Song :)

So I'm pretty sure I have a new favorite song. It's by Close Your Eyes (which is, by the way, one of my all time favorite bands). I've listened to them for awhile, but I just heard this song for the first time a week ago. It's called Heavy Hearts. My favorite part is when it says this:

It is Your hands that carry me; it is Your voice that spoke of a love I never knew. It is Your grace that fills me; it is Your love that sustains; if there is hope, it is You.

It sounds so amazing....the lyrics and the way it's sung. I feel like all of Close Your Eyes' lyrics are really powerful. I mean...how often do we really think of that - that God really is all we need? I know I don't much and it's probably the hardest thing in the world for me to remember. I'm always wanting something else it seems. Anything else, as though He's not enough. But how could I ever forget all He's done for me even in the short time I have been alive? And yet I do foget. So very often.

Painful to the Human Mind

I was writing a paper today on Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and was skimming through the book to refresh my memory, and I saw this:

"Nothing is more painful to the human mind than, after the feelings have been worked up by a quick succession of events, the dead calmness of inaction and certanity which follows and deprives the soul both of hope and fear."

I'm pretty sure this may be one of my favorite quotes now. Because it is so true. I mean, who wants to sit around and do nothing after something has happened that has upset them? And yet, somehow it seems as though that is exactly what always happens after something bad has happened. When I'm upset, I feel as though there is nothing to do and I simply sit around and think. And when you're upset, thinking is exactly what you should not do. Because of course you're going to think about what upset you and nothing is more painful. You have that certainty that Shelley speaks of, knowing that it really did take place. This really is the way things are. There is no hope for the situation, but there's also no fear, because it's over. And it's the worst feeling in the world.

Reality

Sometimes I alter my own reality in my mind, improving it as I want to, and I live there for awhile in this other place that, although I know it is not real, makes my emotions feel as though it is, giving me a reprieve from the real reality. This other reality sometimes feels so much better than the one I really live in that I wish I could stay there forever. For although everything does not always go right there, everything ends up okay, unlike the reality in which I am forced to live. What if each of us made our own realities as an author creates a book, forming many ideas and then including only what they want to and discarding the rest? That is how it is with my reality that is not reality. My other reality keeps me sane sometimes, it would seem: it can keep me from crying when I am sad, for I rewrite in my head what made me sad. However, I don't really think that living in another world in your head periodically is conducive to mental stability after all, so I wouldn't advise doing so.

Published

     "Today, which is Sunday, April 1, 2012, I received an email from MVNU's Penmarks, the literary journal, that read this way: 'We would like to publish your works "Incomplete," "The Confession" and "Understanding" in the 2012 edition of Penmarks. Thank you for your interest in the journal. Penamarks will be available the first week of May.'
     "I'm going to be published. I am a published author. This was my dream. It took so long to sink in that my dream came true - and it will be before my nineteenth birthday.  Something I wrote will be PUBLISHED. Do you have any idea what this means to me? I...I don't even know what to say.  When I first read the email, I screamed...a few times. Then I sat in shock for a while. I got up and danced and jumped up and down from sheer excitement. I cried. I danced some more. I returned to sitting in shock.  My emotions are in a whirl.  Is this the way all writers feel when they find out they're published for the first time? It's so hard to explain precisely how I feel in this moment. This may have been one of the best days of my life. This...this means so much to me. It gives me hope. It makes me think that maybe I'm not crazy for thinking I should spend my life writing. It makes me think that I may actually be good at it and that maybe my other dreams will come true some day - that I will publish my book and I don't know what else. Oh God. Thank you so much. I just keep telling Him that. Oh, you have no idea what this means to me...how happy it has made me feel...how excited I feel inside at times, and how numb I feel right now as I sit in utter shock writing this. I may be making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe what has happened is trivial to all others, meaningless and ordinary. But I don't care. Because to me - to me this is everything. This is what I've always wanted. My heart feels so different. I'm not sure I've ever been so happy in my entire life. My dream...one of my dreams has been realized this day. And oh how I will feel when I see it printed in ink! When I hold those papers in my hand - the magazine which will contain my words; yes, words composed by myself. How can I even begin to imagine how that will feel? One of my dreams came true tonight. It gives me hope that maybe other dreams will coem true as well. It is impossible to describe this feeling - it is one of accomplishment, of happiness, excitement, surprise and wonder. I can't describe it, but I know I want to hold on to it. This night is one I always want ot remember. I don't know how I could possibly forget. This is the night on which I learned that three things I wrote (three!) are to be published - the night I learned I was to be published for the very first time. It's not exactly something that will easily fade from memory. In fact, I'm certain that it never will."

4-2-12 12:40am