I must admit, I’m a bit embarrassed by how cliché this all is. Although, maybe the reason the expression of these feelings is so overused and overexposed is for the exact same reason people take photographs of pretty places and artists paint portraits of pleasing faces… All I know is through a stained glass window. I see a multitude of colors and when the light travels through, your brilliance is vivacious and lovely and takes on a life of its own. However, what my heart often fails to realize is that the patches of intricately arranged color through which I marvel at you are not the same patches that are stitched together in your actual design. I convince myself that even if the window were a magnifying glass, the answers I need would still be harbored in that meticulously meandering mind of yours, that underneath all those words burns a real, live spark with warmth that still ignites all the good things in myself, that I’d still wrap my arms around each of your flaws and nurture them as my own. If this window were a magnifying glass, I could scan every part of you at my own pace and discretion and I’m almost positive you’d still unknowingly have this inevitable, unexplainable hold on me… I should forget about all these silly windows though, because no matter the type, I’m aware that the desire does not lie on the other side, that while I’m gazing through my heart, you only gaze with your head. And no matter the miles between us or the nature of our exchanges, your heart will never be mine to take. But you will still enter my mind when those songs fill the room and I will still taste your name in my mouth when I am asked “who?” I guess you have made me into a fool… Yet I am so thankful for these windows. 8/22/11 - 2:29AM
August 22, 2011
Windows
August 17, 2011
Untitled
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I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or unhappy, but more than seldom I find myself wandering. Wandering the forests I’m too afraid to enter for fear of going off track, wandering the mountains I’m too cowardly to scale in case I lose sight of the ground, wandering the streets of what could be. It seems common and completely normal, but I just don’t feel right. How does one know for sure that they are where they should be? I thought I knew, but the places my mind has been taking me to keep saying otherwise.
What if I were to let go of my place in life at this moment and redefine it elsewhere? I’d always admired those who are able to pick up and move to mysterious places, leaving their old lives behind and starting anew. Of course, most of the times I’ve seen it happen have been through a television or movie screen as I’m sure it’s not the most practical way to go about things when you’re searching for something, but the uncertainty and possibility of it all intrigues me to no end.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I have great family and amazing friends, I go to a wonderful school and I’m studying to become a nurse – something I’ve always dreamed of doing, but I’m wondering if it’s really where I belong. How does one settle down when there are so many other paths that can be taken? Yes, I’m happy with what I’m doing, but I’m not sure if it’s right. I wish I could live a hundred lives and trek down different roads, but sadly, we humans are only granted one. So how do I know that I’m spending my time the right way?
What if I were to pack up and take myself elsewhere?
Is all this wondering an indication that I’m not where I need to be, or am I just doubting myself for other reasons entirely? I’m finding it hard to commit my mind to one direction. What will make me the happiest and where do I find it? More importantly, how do I find it?
I have this strange sensation of that something more. It’s killing me that whatever that something is lies somewhere entirely undiscovered and most likely out of reach. I feel like a huge, vital part of me is missing and without it, I feel stuck. All I know is that it is there and I need it. Soon. So what do I do?
October 24, 2010
what can i do?
so have you guys ever procrastinated sorting out your thoughts? that's what i've been doing for the past i-don't-even-know-how-long because i find it easier just repressing them. probably the only reason i'm doing this now is because it's probably the only time i will have a chance to. i apologize in advance for the length this post might turn out to be. and for even sharing these annoyingly dense thoughts because in all honesty, i wouldn't want to read this if i were you.
i could go on for pages and pages about all the awesome things here at UD, but alas, i'm using this blog as a form of diary tonight. as usual. among all the fun and friends and studying and having so many opportunities at my fingertips, i've been feeling pretty lame. you see, i made this decision not too long ago and then flaked out on myself. now, i never usually flake on other people. or myself. i do what i say i'll do. but in the case of joining the ROTC army nurse corps, i sadly have flaked. i'm not even a flake...i'm nothing but a crumb at this point.
the decision obviously took much thought, justification, rationalization, etc. i thought long and hard and very thoroughly about it and was certain that my decision to join was right for me. hell, it still might be right. but there's a part of me who thinks that cadet leah wouldn't be able to do it. so i made another decision- not to join. i was so close, too. spoke to the right people, took the right steps...but it didn't happen. i even wrote a letter (to whom? i don't know...myself?) explaining why i made the decision to join. for those of you who don't know, army nurses get a lot of great benefits for taking care of our nation's heroes and giving 8 years of their lives to the army. yupp, 8 years. that's another reason i decided against it eventually. i mean, only 4 years would be active duty (meaning they'd be able to send me anywhere) and 4 would be reserve (i'd work in an army hospital somewhere here in the US). but i feel like although i'd have tons of amazing benefits, i wouldn't be able to fulfill other dreams that i have.
but now i feel like an ass. i want to make a difference and that could be the perfect opportunity to do it, but my heart won't let me. and that leads me to wonder if i'll ever be good enough. for what? i'm not sure. good enough for myself, maybe...if that even makes sense. i'm wondering "what if" way too much also. so many thoughts are colliding into each other in my head...and naturally now that's reminding me of gas particles and electrons since my classes now own my soul hah. WHERE WAS I?
what kind of mark will i leave on this world? i want to do such big things but now i'm feeling a little lost...kind of like i've lost some of my passions. or maybe they're still there- just all jumbled up. if i'm too cowardly to be able to help heal our nation's heroes and give back when so many others have given SO MUCH MORE, what WILL i be able to do?
aaand that's where this blog is going to end since i keep getting disturbed and losing my train of thought.
August 15, 2010
i'm leah, and you?
ANYWAY, here's the poem. it's whatever.
I’m Leah, and you?
Just an everyday dreamer,
A million little sparks in my mind.
Buzzing and busy,
I don’t know how I’m not dizzy
From the wonders I’ve still yet to find.
Swirling and whirling in a wind that’s uncertain,
Paving my way as I go.
Miles are inspired on waves of desire,
And there’s so much I still long to know.
Emotions unspoken and tucked up my sleeve,
Erupt through a pen to a page.
Messy and perfect, this language of learning
I hope may teach others to see.
Embracing the hues,
From the yellows to blues,
On the canvas we know as the world.
Coloring lives amidst stormy skies,
Is what I was put here to do.
Mending by loving
The ill and the lost,
Caring for Earth’s best creations;
I will take part in everyday miracles
Without one ounce of hesitation.
I’m Leah, just me
This is who I’ll always be
Cruising this road to wherever
Loving and learning as the world keeps turning
In this maze of my forever.
^^^
that's me.
Posted via email from leah's blogasaurus rex
August 14, 2010
"and it's all fucked up but we carry on 'cause there's little else and there's nothing left to do."
there i go. of course i stopped in the middle of my thought process and distracted myself. for some reason lately i've been having a pretty hard time releasing all this clutter in my mind...and i'm really not sure why. usually i'm really good at justifying or even bullshitting reasons behind these things but as of now, i've got nothing. i'm beginning to think the enormous mess that unleashed itself a few nights ago was a result of that inability to relieve some of the pressure on my cluttered emotions. i'm sorry, my little emotions. here, i'm setting you free now.
so, back to the fight the other night. i don't like that word. the argument? no, it was more of an outburst. or a bunch of outbursts strung together to create a night that in itself was revealing, saddening, refreshing, terrifying, belittling, and frustrating. i won't go into great detail as it's useless to relive moments that are of no substance (in my opinion) and ultimately discomforting, but my dad and i got into an argument; words were said...and i wound up in my room crying. my father is and always has been my treasure. yes, i'm aware of how corny that is but there really is no other way to say it. making him upset is the last thing i'd ever want to do. unfortunately, things happen...and like i said, i was crying in my room over it. whenever my dad and i argue, like really argue, i absolutely cannot stand it. it's one of the worst feelings in the world to me because i feel like i let him down, you know?
now, my mother, is a different story. a long story with many chapters i'm not even aware about, and tons of chapters i know all too well. i feel sort of ashamed to say it, but we argue a lot. about the stupidest things. and i am not by any means being biased but they are 95% of the time, her fault. after seeing me crying the other night, my mother of course had to go into the kitchen and start yelling at my dad. as usual. she gets this strange pleasure when she suspects something is my dad's fault and not hers. she kept going on and on to him as she does EVERY SINGLE DAY...and i couldn't take it. i walked out of my room calmly, considering intervening but knowing it wouldn't end well. but i did. i pretty much brought a tirade of what i've always wanted to tell her as she puts everybody in a bad mood every day, yells at my dad, and yells at me. if you're someone who's actually reading this, you'll understand a bit more once in a second. after the tirade, which i did in the nicest possible way, if you can even imagine it, i proceeded back into my room. i felt bad for my mom and relieved and disgusted in myself all at once.
a little while later, my dad came into my room (as i hoped he eventually would) and we talked. it felt strangely like a jacked up episode of full house or a really screwed up episode of one tree hill but i put all of that aside and told my dad what it took me probably 13 years to say to him. i broke down and explained how it felt all those years to have my mother as my mom. i love her with all my heart and i know she tries to be the best mother she can be, but the addictions...were too too much. now if someone is actually reading this, please don't hold any of this against me or my wonderful mother and most of all, try not to judge her or think differently of her because of this because even through all of this, she's one of the most important people in my world. but my mom is an alcoholic. and on top of it, she's been on numerous medications ever since i can remember and the two mixed CONSTANTLY...no good. my mother was never who she's supposed to be. my father was always the responsible one and pretty much filled both roles. it was so good to finally talk to my dad about this after all the years of crying alone in my bedroom, after all the scribbled words of wonderings and wishing and hoping she wouldn't hurt herself as she's done many times while wasted. i can't tell you how many poems and stories that were inspired by my mother's acts…i had no other way to let it all out. my mom and i have never been close and we never will be. she's never really acted like she cares about the little things. like, as long as i'm healthy she thinks that's enough. she never asks me about my day, never asks how i'm feeling, and she doesn't listen to me when i talk…even about my dreams. she is oblivious to EVERYTHING. i think all that shit killed her brain cells...seriously. yet she told me not too long ago that she thought i hated her. i can never really tell if it's her or the pills/drinks talking, but that killed me. she makes me feel like the worst person ever when most of the time all i'm doing is trying to be chill and keep the smiles, you know? i feel like she is so clouded up that she doesn't even know me. those freaking pills and drinks that she loves so much took my real mom from me. i hate associating those things so greatly with her because she's such a beautiful person...more so without them but i know very little of how she is completely drug/alcohol-free...hasn't been that way in a very very long time.
my mother being this way has had a huge impact on who i am…i'm still not sure whether to be thankful or bitter about that. her failure to control herself and all the times she's caused the house - and her world - to be shattered i believe is one of the sole reasons i'm so responsible. i always felt like the mother. i've been cleaning up the messes, reassuring, and fixing what's broken ever since i can remember. i'll also probably never drink because of her. she's changed so many things in my eyes. i never ever want to be like her, and i pity myself on that because she's MY MOM...shouldn't it be the opposite? it's annoying and stupid and all wrong but i'm used to it. I'VE GOT THIS, YO.
i know this blog is all over the place but at this point, who even cares? what it all comes down to is the reality and the fact that my dad finally stopped pretending everything was okay when my mother broke glasses and cut her finger or fell down the stairs or slammed all the doors in the house because i didn't listen to her idiotic drunken slander…he admitted it. finally all the wondering was over and he told me flat out that my mom is pretty much a junkie. she is not who she is supposed to be and that's just how it is. it gave me a sense of clarity and everything finally made sense. it also made it more real. there is no changing all the things that led to this and there is no way to fix it. so i'm learning to accept it like my dad did. she is physically broken which led to the meds and she'll always be emotionally broken which leads to the alcohol. it's a really saddening truth and even after all this time i don't think i'll ever be 100% okay with it, but it is what it is. and yet again i have been reminded of how strong my father is and how lucky i am to have him…he truly is my hero.
there's so much still to say, but that's where i'm going to end this.
Posted via email from leah's blogasaurus rex
July 21, 2010
July 19, 2010
to lighten the mood...
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA. i'm pretty sure i have a picture just like that except trade the big bad wolf for chuck-e-cheese and subtract a few years from the little girl. i was TERRIFIED. still am, actually.
ps: the kid pointing is cruel!
