Your writing is amazing, and those who know you in real life are very, very lucky people. If you don't mind me asking, what is it that inspires you to write, and do you personally follow any blogs yourself?
When I was nine years old, I moved away from the fresh country air, to a bigger, combusted, more polluted city. For five years my peers led me to believe I was nothing. Like a hammer chipping away at my very essence, every vindictive remark, every stick or stone thrown my way, every lunch I spent alone in the library, pushed me deeper and deeper into the ground. I was eleven years old the first time I held a knife against my chest, slowly digging it deeper into my flesh, believing I had no reason to keep on struggling through this thing called life. By some stroke of luck, fate, whatever it was my guardian angel threw my way that afternoon, my sister came home from school earlier than expected. I heard her key in the door, placed that tempting silver back in it’s rightful place, and hid away in my bedroom the rest of the afternoon. Until now, I have not spoken of that day. I remember it with crystal clear clarity; it was the day I promised myself I wouldn’t let my life waste away at the expense of others. During my primary school days, all I had was pad and pen. The other kids would try and humiliate me on a daily basis, sometimes one of the girls would steal my writing and run off with it, mocking me. It didn’t stop me from expressing myself in words. It became a natural way for me to deal with any kind of overwhelming emotion. To this day, I let that trusty pen do the talking - the one thats never let me down, even if the world has.
I wish for no person to feel the way I once did. Alone, in the dark with no hope or faith or love. Every ounce of happiness, fulfillment, inspiration, stolen away, for whatever reason. If I can give that back to someone, remind them how it feels to be alive - show someone the stars hiding behind the clouds, on a dark, stormy night, my soul will rest well tonight.
I have a handful of close friends, who like me, express themselves through writing. I follow their blogs, to understand their pain, and to know when to sweep them back to their feet, and remind them who they really are.
Im comeing towards the end of my hairdressing corse and theres still alot of stuff i dont know should i be worried about this? help urgently needed
Of course not. What fun would it be if we knew the answers to everything? Half the fun in life is making mistakes, learning lessons and collecting memories of all sorts along the way. If you truly are worried, ask someone who knows. It shows your interest in your art and eagerness to perfect.
I went searching for a letter challenge & it brought me to your page. I read your intro & heard part of me. I am struggling with lack or purpose & drive. I don't know what to look for anymore. I read your bucket list & it inspired me. I didn't really think I wanted to do anything with my life, now I think I'll make some goals. Thank you, I really hope you find what your looking for in life.
Write a bucket list, print it out, and stick it somewhere you see it on a daily basis. Even if you don’t instantaneously gain purpose or drive, your subconscious will start to picture the little things you can do that will bring you joy. Make someone else smile, it’s good karma. Start small, grow from there. I hope you find what you’re looking for and have a lively journey along the way.
I’ve nearly finished reading “Scar Tissue”, by Anthony Kiedis, and from it I have learned the struggle of his magic. I guess it’s like they say, an artists beauty always comes from a tortured soul… which makes me think of a close friend of mine. Her art would astound you, absorb you, awake your soul. She, is true inspiration.
Once you’ve seen a solution to the disease that’s tearing you apart, relapsing is never fun. You know there’s an alternative to the way you’re living and that you’re going against something you’ve been given for free by the universe, this key to the kingdom. Drug addiction is a progressive disease, so every time you go out, it gets a little uglier than it was before; it’s not like you go back to the early days of using, when there was less of a price to pay. It isn’t fun anymore, but it’s still desperately exciting. Once you put that first drug or drink in your body, you don’t have to worry about the girlfriend or the career or the family or the bills. All those mundane aspects of life disappear. Now you have one job, and that’s to keep chucking the coal in the engine, because you don’t want this train to stop. If it stops, then you’re going to have to feel all that other shit.
That chase is always exciting. There are cops and bad guys and freaks and hookers. You’re diving into a big insidious video game, but again, you’re being tricked into thinking that you’re doing something cool, since the price is always bigger than the payoff. You immediately give up your love and your light and your beauty, and you become a dark black hole in the universe, sucking up bad energy and not walking around putting a smile on someone’s face or helping someone out or teaching someone something that’s going to help his or her life. I want to describe both side of how I felt, but it’s important to know that in the end of all the romantic glorification of dope fiendery amounts to nothing but a hold of shit. It has to appear enticing, because that’s why God or the universe, creative intelligence or whatever you want to call it, put that energy here. It’s a learning tool, and you can either kill yourself with it or you can turn yourself into a free person with it. I don’t think drug addiction is inherently useless, but it’s a rough row to hoe.
Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis (cannot put this down!!) Flipnosis by Kevin Dutton (extremely interesting but hard to get through) Women of Letters Spanish Phrase Book Finished Gary Chapman’s The 5 Love Languages yesterday
The sun shines freely today. No clouds blocking it’s warmth, no grey dulling it’s light. There is a faint breeze rustling through my hair, swaying back and forth around me, drifting my thoughts away. There is no chaos around me, and I feel content. I look through my window and appreciate the serenity of the waves kissing the shoreline, the people walking their puppies in the sunshine, the calmness of it all, that somehow radiates back to me, the silent observer.
I lost my smile for a while there. The real one, the sincere one that shines and radiates the light from somewhere inside me. Distance finally got to me, the lump in my throat grew. the more I tried to swallow it, the more my thoughts tried to choke me. I succumbed to it. I let myself see the darkness, instead of realizing the sun never leaves, even if it hides sometimes, behind the stormy weather.
But it’s okay to have these days. They remind me I’m alive. And while I may not agree with what I type in the times I lose myself in the bedlam, I wouldn’t have it any other way. How else could I look back and learn a lesson. Stop being so damn pessimistic. Of course the suns not going to shine if I don’t allow myself to see it. All I’m going to see is the rain, and forget about the rainbow.
I pull through, every time. There will be better days, and if I want it enough, today can be the day I put an end to all the grey. Change doesn’t always happen instantly. Sometimes it knocks us off our thrones, reminds us that we cannot always control what happens to us, we can never successfully predict what life will throw our way, and as much as I’d like to, no, we can’t stop that impatient bastard from tail gating us the whole journey home.
I tell it to my friends constantly, I write about it regularly, I know the words a hundred different ways, by heart, up side down, yet I still have trouble taking my own medicine and swallowing it. You cannot control what happens to you, you can only control how you react about it. Wallow in self pity, learn a lesson, it all comes down to how YOU decide to go about it. Own your feelings, the grey, the colourful, and the inbetween. Own it all, every inch of you (pun not intended), because wanting to be anything but you is such a waste of who you already are.
The storm passes, the rain ends and the sunshine prevails. Enjoy the rainbow while it lasts.
So please, please, please don't ever shut this down. Your words are priceless and if you write a book I'll gladly be the first one to buy it and read it in one breath. Don't ever give up from writing. Your words give me strength and hope and I find myself in them. Thank you for everything. Love, Mia.
I don't want to ask you anything, I'm just here to say thank you. You are truly amazing and I think you need to know that. First time I've stumbled upon your blog was over one year ago when I've been completely lost and you saved me with your words. Since then you've been inspiring me and I just can't express my gratitude. I am 19-year old girl and I live on the other side of the world in small beautiful country Croatia and this blog has been my very close friend when I needed it the most.
I would love to travel the Croatian coastline! I’ve heard it’s absolutely beautiful.
Thanks for making me feel not so alone in my thoughts by nothing but the power of your words in your blog. There's a lot of life in your posts, both heartbreak and happiness. You have a gift, the ability to paint feelings and emotions with the construct of your written thoughts. To connect with people through shared sentiments even in very different situations. Write on. Your words are powerful and your views inspirational. You possess unbelievable talent. All the best, -lifeslittleinnuendos
This world is broken, but beautiful. It gets shivery and somber, we find ourselves cramped and crooked, and unable to know which path to walk down and which one to leave. But sometimes, these forgotten fog-rimmed feelings are the most important, you know? It may all feel too real and raw and hard to deal with… but life is what we make it, whichever perspective we choose to see through, and really, it’s all we’ve got.
And yeah, I know being happy is hard. It’s temperamental. It’s exhausting. But you have to do things that scare the hell out of you sometimes. Have to kiss people that might not kiss you back. Have to get your hands a little dirty. Have to build things only to tear them down - only to burn them down and start all over. Think about what it means to change, what it means to start over, what it means to live. What it means to feel your knees buckling beneath the weight of all these beautiful things. Because it’s okay to be lonely. As long as you know that you’re not alone. And let me tell you, from one stranger to another, you are not alone.
“Why should you think that beauty, which is the most precious thing in the world, lies like a stone on the beach for the careless passer-by to pick up idly? Beauty is something wonderful and strange that the artist fashions out of the chaos of the world in the torment of his soul. And when he has made it, it is not given to all to know it. To recognize it you must repeat the adventure of the artist. It is a melody that he sings to you, and to hear it again in your own heart you want knowledge and sensitiveness and imagination.”—The Moon and Sixpence
I found my smile again at the place that once felt like home found my heart where I left a piece of it, a long time ago here I was again, same place different person surrounded by love from those that still hold that piece of my heart kept safe in the palm of their hands squeezing the life back into me. I look to my right there she is older wiser more beautiful a smile radiating from her bigger and brighter than I remember I look to my left there they are happy drunk toothless and in some strange way family to each other that chapter of my life I look back on and smile back when the days didn’t tie themselves together and blend into one big mound of days and weeks and months. yet the clock keeps ticking on in some strange way I can feel it slipping through me it’s nearly closing time I’m collecting silver from the floor fallen and forgotten placing them in her jar the jar that was once mine my minds still going round in circles gradually slowing down from the chaos that I let exist just one hour ago I’m thinking of you and her and him and them. that’s when I see it the whirlwind of thoughts abruptly disappearing an inch from my feet glistening and glowing against the dirty pub floor the black and white, the darkness and light, the moon and sun, fire and water, male and female, heaven and earth, you and I opposite, but unable to exist without the other complementary, not opposing. And amongst all the darkness I let consume me, I remember the light shining from within me the same one that lead me here on a night like this to remind me who I really am.
I searched "tumblr fear" and stumbled here. Me: ...You are so real and beautiful with your words that just seem so... effortless. Thank you. "The more I know, the more I know I don't know." You are so right. & I gotta say fear is such a monster, isn't it. It is for me now. Your words hit all those nails and funny bones so you gotta keep writing kay? Love, someone watching from the shadows
It’s the only way I know how… Every now and then, when life throws a shitty time at you, it’s the only way I know how to deal. I can’t talk to people, they fuck up too often. Paper will always keep my secrets. That fear thing? "It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare, it is because we do not dare that things are difficult." Thank you for your kind words. I understand you could have read this, then navigated off this page. Yet strangely, you’ve turned my morning around, and it’s only 7am.
“Now I know a disease that these doctors can’t treat. You contract it the day you accept all you see is a mirror, and a mirror is all it can be.
A reflection of something we’re missing.
And language just happened. It was never planned. And it’s inadequate to describe where I am, in the room of my house where the light has never been. Waiting for this day to end, and these clocks keep unwinding. And completely ignore everything that we hate, or adore. Once the page of a calendar is turned, it’s no more. So tell me, then, what was it for?
Oh, tell me, what was it for?”—Bright Eyes - A Scale, A Mirror, And Those Indifferent Clocks
I started following you here recently and tonight I finally got a chance to really take a look at your blog. It's truly great. I love traveling too, but haven't made it out of the country yet. What got you started on going everywhere that you have?
I was born in Hong Kong, so the aspect of knowing how different every part of the world is has been embedded in me since a young age. For a while there I was working four jobs, when I decided I’d had enough of the city I used to live in, and fucked off to Europe solo. Since then the travel bug has never left. I never want that feeling of escapism, mystery and wonder to leave. Traveling opens up your mind, your soul, your heart. The people you meet, the places you experience, and the stories that unfold are what makes it all as magical as it is. Good luck with your travels. Keep that mind of yours open.
Your Blog is amazing, your words are so inspirational. The way you use your emotions to write is the best. I recently read your bucket list (which is a lot like mine) and loved it, also your unsent letters, if you don't mind me asking, what happened on the night you wrote about the person who caused you a lot of pain? I appologise if it's to personal to answer. :-)
I felt free again. A heavy weight was lifted off my shoulders. I could see with clarity again, my eyes were no longer wet with memories and that which I cannot change.
Your words are amazing! Please never stop. You bring me hope. I have shown your blog to a few friends and family members and it is so hard to getthemto turn away from that computer once they have began reading. Your words are mesmerising! Please never ever ever stop. Your blog, your words and your mind are amazing. Sometimes your posts are the thing that helps me get on with my day! <3 love, a very greatful follower :)
Aren’t you just a big ray of sunshine!! Isn’t it funny, just when we begin to give up on our passion, someone like you comes along. Don’t change. Thank you.
“People are so fucking dumb. Nobody reads anymore, nobody goes out and looks and explores the society and culture that they were brought up in. People have attention spans of 5 seconds and as much depth as a glass of water.”—David Bowie
used to hold my head in my own loose grip, reciting ammonio methacrylate copolymer, hypromellose, lactose, magnesium stearate…
at night, when the candles in our room blew out and you wouldn’t let me relight them, when i stopped in the middle of the good part of every book i ever read, your fingers trailing down my sides in the half-sleep of the sin we shared together, the nights we sweat through relentlessly, the ache we felt insistently - i used to think, quietly - polyethylene glycol 400, povidone, sodium hydroxide, sorbic acid, stearyl alcohol…
and in the cold breath of morning, with the dewy coming of dawn, days after they have lowered you into the ground, after your mother has struggled silently to take in the fresh tracks dotting your arm, after your sister asks me loudly to look at what i’ve done, i sit with the last cigarette i will ever smoke, thinking - talc, titanium dioxide, and triacetin.
how good these words taste - all the chemicals i need to sleep away a memory, syllables as sweet as the drug they make up - as beautiful as the sound of my breaths, as painless as the shock of your passing, as gripping as the days without you, now; every one of them slow, and dark, and sad.