Amends - ''Goodbye'' Khelani x Bryson Tiller Type Beat Prod. Eibyondatrack x Thomas Crager

Pushing me under, tearing me up;

sometimes I wonder if guilty's enough.

Stop all the bullshit, it's wearing me down.

Pressing the charges, push accusations.

Being in charge, such a sensation;

emotion's off-shift, blinded her conscience.

No damn to give, cannot see grievance.

Walk on right past it(walk on right by).

Why waste her time with all my nonsense.

String them all along, wear them all out.

Cause after all, that's what she's about.

I'll take the fault for not having the doubt,

but years on the fall, I won't take it now.

So off her shit, so gone with power.

Won't see me trip, won't see me cower.

Won't do that no more, she had her chance.

I gave her that chance--
Gave her another--
And yet another--
Benefits from my doubt--
So still another--
And fucking still--
She got another--
Holy damn.

Catch me in her hands right after last month?

 I'm dead or diseased cause I've had enough

whining and wailing about how I'm too much.

How I screwed her up, how I messed her up.

How I am the reason she had to go silent.

Why be so heartless? So brute and so violent?

I guess you've gone blind, making so-called "amends."

Alright, okay then, you'll see how this ends.

Beat which inspired this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qY0Io9aeJQw (0:38-1:55)

Poem Prompts: Halcyon

The vibrant colors shift

from every part of the rainbow

to golds and pinks.

The yearly sun slowly sinks,

giving in to the aches of time seeping in.

The radiant light gives out

and starts to gradually thin.

Animals slow down,

plants shrivel up,

humans layer up.

The lack of life sucks up the last of the color.

The golds and pinks fade away

on the passing autumn winds,

leaving us with shivering blues and whites.

Nothing is left,

nothing left to calm the sky.

It gets rougher;

howling and beating against tree barks.

It sends snowflakes down in whirring winds,

destroying the earth with beauty.

In the midst of all of this,

only the halcyon is brave enough.

Through it all, the small bird holds steadfast.

Its fragile blue body and reddened face

continue to fly through these winds

and past the woods.

It hovers over the ocean blue,

already frozen over by the night the halcyon arrives.

There, you could find dozens of halcyons ready to mate.

At midnight of the winter solstice, they pair off.

And each pair will create their own nests

and lay their own batch of eggs.

These pairs' love for one another

is enough to calm the winds

and thaw the sea.

The laying of the eggs is enough motivation

for the sun to stay up a little bit longer,

just to watch over the future hatchlings.

Even the air protects them--

it lifts their nests into the sky,

shielding them from the thawing ocean and predators.

And when a halcyon does hatch,

the love it was created with energizes the earth once more.

Mother Earth harmonizes with it and its siblings

and this is enough to bring about Spring once more.

Halcyon - a mythical bird said by ancient writers to breed in a nest floating at sea at the winter solstice, charming the wind and waves into calm

Fear

Today, I should've been back in school. According to the second board announcement, Distance Learning should have been over by now. But it's not. It was the extension that made me realize just how serious coronavirus is. And, by proxy, how idiotic protesting it is. It was the second, most recent extension that made me sit and think about just how much the entire world is being affected. It made me think about how many people are dying from this. Just two months ago I hadn't even heard the word "coronavirus" and now, there's over a million cases and 98,000 deaths in this country alone. Worldwide, there are five million cases in our 7.8-billion-person planet. That's insanity. And it's scary.
At first, it was over on the other side of the world. And then it crept over. Put entire countries on lockdown, killed thousands, and slowly closed in. Watching it reach my state, then my city, then my county--has been scary. I've had thoughts about it infecting someone I know and then I spiral into a pit of fear. People make jokes about it and I try to laugh along but honestly, most of the time, I'm too tense about the whole subject to really do jokes. I'll make a comment here or there since corona essentially is 2020 right now, but I can't see it as something to be taken lightly at all.
Unlike most Turtle Thoughts, I didn't really talk about any revelations I've made. Unless realizing coronavirus is dangerous counts as a realization, but I knew that already. I can't recall, but I've probably mentioned it here. I just felt a little overwhelmed. So, I decided to talk a little bit in a short post and see what that does for my nerves.
Thank you for listening as always. :)

Imagine - 'Berry' Pink Sweat$ ft. Daniel Ceasar Type Beat Prod. GC

I sat there watching me tear up myself.

For some stupid reason, I denied my help.

My attempt--rejected--by a deluded process

of dangerous thoughts.

They minimized sleepless nights asking myself

why I chose to continue to ignore this girl.

Why won't I just...

...leave all the guilt behind?

Find something I might like?

Go ahead, take some time.

Please...for my sanity,

won't I try?

This anxiety life isn't doing me right.

The exhaustion's always stopping intentions to fight.

Just stop apologizing, and start my realizing of who I am.

Just...imagine the feeling--

imagine the healing--

imagine being...

Don't...you want that for us?

Don't...you want that for me?

You'll get off our feet, 

I'll spread our wings.

Let's step outside...this spiral mind

and find...some therapy.

We could start feeling better when talking things through.

No more bottling down when the blame ain't on you.

I'm begging me--

Leave all my guilt behind.

Find something I might like.

Go ahead, take some time.

Please, for stability,

can't we try?

This anxiety life isn't doing me right.

The exhaustion's always stopping intentions to fight.

Just stop apologizing, and start my realizing of who I am.

Just...imagine the feeling--

imagine the healing--

imagine being...

free.

Please...for serenity.

Just...imagine.

Beat Which Inspired This: Pink Sweat$ ft. Daniel Ceasar Type Beat Prod. GC 'Berry' (0:46-3:28)

Poem Prompts: Dear Sixteenth

Dear Sixteenth,

You’re fast approaching, and I don't know

if I'm ready.

I want you to know that I'm doing my best

to prepare for you.

I'm studying hard for that permit test,

planning intensely for that big party,

preparing to jump into the most rigorous year of high school.

My only fear is once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Dear Eighteenth,

You mark the end and start of it all.

No longer a minor or underage.

We're free to adult, rule it all,

mess it up, independently fall.

I imagine myself taller, fuller, more like our mom.

A young adult coming into the world

with her hands ready to grasp it all.

My only fears are that if I make a mistake,

it could end up bigger than me,

and that once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Dear Twenty-Third,

Will you look like

what I’ve imagined.

A fully grown and graduating,

colorful, expressive African American.

Watch out world, a hard-working woman,

young and free and left on her own

to really rule it all.

No more college nonsense.

No more classes, no more drama, no more childhood.

You are in total control of yourself.

Time to sit down and work,

and prove to those who doubted you

that you're more than a broke, barista blogger.

My only fears are that if I never truly make it out there,

I'll get stuck in a devastating cycle,

and that once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Dear Thirtieth,

I’ve heard rumors

that this is where stability starts.

The crazy twenties finally close the curtains

and you begin to know who and what you are.

Peace of mind is easier and budgets are less tight.

Would I have found my own and where to go?

Will adventure entice me and lead me off?

I'm thinking now to hold kids off until you,

would I have held fast with this?

I want to say I'll be happy and fulfilled,

but this is where my future is pretty hazy.

My only fears are how I will hold onto my youth

and never forget my childhood friends, family, or home,

and that once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Dear Fiftieth,

I can’t process reaching you.

You’re still so far yet fast approaching.

What would I have by you?

My own family? Would I start one?

Am I married? Am I happy?

I hope the mid-life crisis treated you right,

assuming it's already ended.

Watch the possible kids pass sixteen

and pray for them.

Pray life treats them right.

I pray it does them as I hope it does to me.

I may not ever even have them,

but I already love them dearly.

I hope as my body slows down

and my mortality sets in,

I have someone there to bring me smiles

day after day.

My only fears are how I will deal with everything and everyone

that I must have lost by now,

and that once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Dear Seventieth,

Please be careful.

That many years on your bones can’t be easy.

Your possible kids could possibly be having kids--

it’s so crazy.

I don't know which boggles my mind more--

the uncertainty of it all or the possible grandparenthood.

You’re losing touch,

the current kids seem a million miles away.

They've developed their own culture

that's vastly different than the early 21st century.

But it’s okay.

Just sit back and watch.

Ask questions if you will,

the grandkids will answer you every day.

They’ll laugh with you and guide you the whole way.

My only fears are how I will deal with my body shutting itself down,

year by year,

and that once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Dear Ninetieth,

Will I even reach?

Mortality’s something I’d always avoid.

But there’s no denying at this point.

I'm at death's door.

But it's okay.

Ninety years is a good run,

an outstanding run.

My only fear is that once you come,

you'll be gone just like that.

Let's hope there's still someone there

to hold my hand.

Older

A little under a month from now, my blog will be a year old. And, I should be hitting 200 posts soon. I didn't celebrate or even mention the first 100, simply because it came around during a very hectic time for my blog. Since I'm in a similar spot now, I likely won't emphasize 200 either. We'll see.
All this to say, I'm growing up. I'm seeing differences in my blog from back then and now. There's a difference in my interests, the way I express myself, and what I'm willing to do. I've grown a bit and have noticed a few dedicated readers and even received my first ever comment a while back.
Before I know it, I'll hit sixteen. The same age as the princess and teenage characters I grew up watching on T.V. It's so weird to think that these characters, who I once thought were so cool and so old, are now in the same life stage as I am. It's no secret that I live a wildly different life than the fictional teenagers I see on television, but someone, somewhere, is living that life. And sometimes I think about how differently everyone grows up, and it boggles my mind. Even two people living side by side under the same roof don't have the same childhood. People grow up, emotionally and physically, at different rates and all need their time to reach maturity. Some people never really mature. We're all exposed to information at varying rates and what you consider basic knowledge could be revolutionary to someone twice your age and vice versa.
But, getting older really is all about knowledge. While the specific information you take in depends on you as a person, the general concept of knowledge defines age. Your constant intake of knowledge is what ages you. Muscles remember certain motions you do often and learn to help you improve them. Your brain's neurons hold on to memories you emphasize and learn to help you in areas you prioritize. You develop habits and learn to fine-tune your speech to your social setting and form your own personal opinions. Knowledge is power because knowledge is progressing. I've started growing out my hair by taking the time to learn more about it, experiment, look up ingredients, what is bad/good for my type, and studying different methods of care. My skin breaks out less and irritates me less because I've taken the time to learn types of routines, alcohols to avoid, fruits to keep off my face, and the difference between different types of creams. If I sat there, oblivious to all of this, truly believing I could care for my hair and skin without any additional knowledge, I would still be crying about my hair falling out and my skin flaking up.
Knowledge starts with a will, however. I wanted to learn to take care of myself, so I started. I managed to identify the issue and tried to fix it. Experience has enabled me to quickly identify issues now to this day, around a year after I stopped relaxing. Recently, I looked into my hair porosity, and because of it, I'm trying out different products with lighter oils and fewer proteins. I've gotten to a point where my mother looks to me for hair and skin care advice. And, honestly? I remind her I'm not a professional and that she should wait until I have a license before taking my word above others. As much knowledge as I have, I now have enough to realize how oblivious I am. The more I look up, the more I realize there is to learn, and the more I realize I want to learn.
Getting older is not only progression but a desire to progress further.

Flickered Star - 'Who is your replacement' Jacques Type Beat Prod. Løze

Hope you recall what October was like:
everything I did made you squirm and smile.
Head over heels I thought this was forever--
January comes, we're stuck under winter weather.
You're changing, you're fading, and you're switching sides.
You've left me all barren now I'm left here to decide;
is it really all worth it, do I really like this system?
We were perfect before, why should we be so different?

Don't do this to me--I wish you'd just stop
needlessly questioning my feelings at heart.
You knew this all from the start,
don't act like it's new.
Don't say that it's me and I won't say it's you.

But, boy, oh boy, I love you still, you're so close to my heart.
The closest anyone has been so please don't tear this apart.
The feeling so far, the caring so far, it's so authentic.
I refuse to drop it, I'll carry rocks and you'll see I'm genuine.
Yes, I see the flame, suffocating, dying, I know.
It's still a flickered star, I see what helped us grow.
With a little bit of fanning, some letting go of the past,
I'm sure that we could carry it, I'm sure that it could last.

(Beat 8x)

Hope you recall how December had went:
you spiraled deep and drove yourself into your own deep end.
How could I not notice that you were losing yourself?
Vicariously compensating by denying the help.
Got comfortable with myself, got comfortable with you.
Shoulda known I'd scare you off, just like I always do.
First, you're saying it was okay, you're saying it was cool.
Then you pushed me away and you're leaving me confused.

Don't do this to me--I wish you'd just stop
needlessly questioning my feelings at heart.
You knew all this from the start,
don't act like it's new.
Don't say that it's me and I won't say it's you.

But, boy, oh boy, I loved you still, you were so close to my heart.
The closest anyone had been yet we tore this apart.
The feeling so far, the caring so far, it felt so authentic.
I refused to drop it, now I can't tell if it was genuine.
Yes, I saw the flame, suffocating, dying, I knew.
Still a flickered star, I still saw why we grew.
With a little bit of fanning, some letting go of the past,
I thought we could've carried on. It never would've last.

(Beat 8x)

I can recall how February had gone:
crying every blessed day, fearing you'd move on.
I felt it was me, claimed attachment issues.
But in retrospect, you clearly had something going on too.
One month you're romantic, the next cold and guarded
the next was self-hatred, you pitied your guardians.
You picked yourself up by reframing top to bottom.
I'm sorry I didn't change, I just wanted one more run.

Beat Which Inspired This: Jacquees Type Beat 'Who is your replacement' (0:32-4:17) 

Movie Review: Extinguished

Extinguished is a 4-minute, romantic, short animation. It was released on July 23, 2017, and was directed by Ringling College of Art and Design's students, Ashley Anderson and Jacob Mann. Many people showed it a lot of love, and rightfully so, it's well made. In this world, love is symbolized by a literal flame in one's chest. It tells the tale of a heartbroken man, scared to fall for someone else again.  He does, however, and realizes it just as she's leaving. He then uses his literal burning love for her to lift up a makeshift hot-air balloon and follow her. She sees him, her chest finally ignites, and it's a happy ending.
My only issue was that the first implication is that the flame represents that your heart belongs to someone--that you're in love. However, his flame immediately reignites after just seeing this girl. She knocks on his door accidentally, he watches her for barely sixty seconds, and his flame of "love" goes haywire. Are we supposed to believe he's fallen in love with a person whose name he doesn't even know? Wasn't he just mourning his last heartbreak a moment ago? This feels more like a representation of attraction here. But the Grandma came out with her heart already taken, and when she expresses that the guy next door is attractive, nothing happens to her flame. Also, a flame of attraction would be problematic. Imagine being in a committed relationship and having to watch your partner's flame light up whenever they see someone attractive. I know you're meant to trust them, but that sounds like a recipe for pain.
So I got to thinking, and I got hit with an idea. What if the flame isn't a sign of "this is the one?" But rather, it's a sign of what you think of a person. The guy is clearly the romantic type and seems like the kind to fall really hard, really fast. The girl, on the other hand, needs more of an incentive to think of someone in that light. Both of their flames light up when the possibility of a relationship with this person is enticing to them.
Another thing I noticed is that most of the people with flames can handle them relatively well. The couples shown at the start and the grandma all have really stable flames. Even the girl could carry hers with no problem even though she only really had it for ten seconds. I expected the short to throw one last gag at us in the final scene by having the girl's flame burn the flower, just like the guy did on many occasions. But no, they don't. They keep this ability strictly his throughout, which was the first thing that led me to this conclusion. The title "extinguished" could be taking on a triple meaning.
1) His last flame was recently extinguished from rejection.
2) He constantly tries to extinguish his new flame.
3) He needs to extinguish his old relationship pain to establish a new one.
I noticed the first two immediately. The last took some more thinking. His flame being so aggressive and burning things could be a literal representation of his doubt and desire fighting each other and tearing him apart. We see him clearly haunted by his pain at the start and that pain is most definitely following him throughout. Take away the flame concept and we see a guy who desperately wants to confess his feelings but has trapped himself by his fear of double rejection. It winds up in bits of it stumbling out to a girl who isn't stupid--she just wants proper effort to be shown. Finally, he trusts himself. The very thing he's been trying to destroy, he accepts it and lets it lead him. Notice how his flame stabilizes after his makeshift balloon starts to stay up? He follows his flame and confesses. The girl sees the effort and is happy to return his feelings. The calmness of the flame is acceptance.
It's brilliant.

~~~

Link to Extinguished  
Jacob Mann's Instagram
Ashley Anderson's Instagram
My Instagram

Poem Prompt: Orb

For the first part: Unknown

I shook the bottle.
I heard a small rattling.
I looked inside, and couldn't see much,
just the rolled-up paper
with 'u n k n o w n' scribbled on it.
Plenty of things were unknown?
Which one of those things
was this note referring to?

The was a solid, spongelike stopper in the mouth
I pulled on it, to no avail
I decided a bit of extra muscle
could have yanked the thing off.
I thought of my parents,
both of whom would scold me for taking it.
I thought of Junior,
too young to even comprehend this.
Then I thought of Dennis,
who had moved out around a moon cycle ago
and most definitely had the strength.
So I went to Dennis.

Rugged and starved,
I could see that Dennis was struggling to survive
on his own now.
He looked happy to see me
and didn't even look at the bottle at first.
I explained my dilemma
and he scolded me,
as expected.
He then took all the muscle he had built from hunting
and pulled the stopper clean off.
His finger dug into the bottle's thin neck
and pulled the paper out.
He frowned, then showed me the blank note.
'u n k n o w n' was all that was there.

Removing the paper did reveal a small blue orb.
It was too large to fit in the nozzle
but too small to break the glass.
Dennis looked just as confused as I was.
He shook the bottle and tried,
carefully as he could,
to crack it open.
After a few tries,
Dennis got frustrated and tossed me the bottle.

I remained on the shore all day.
Throwing the bottle,
stepping on it,
driving a stick into it.
Nothing was working
and I spent my entire day there.
As I looked up and saw the pinks of the sunset,
I sighed.
Mama would certainly be upset
and I had achieved nothing.
I was tired of trying to open it.
It was just glass.

I set it down beside an ant that was crawling by
and picked a nearby stone.
I gauged the weight in my hand
as I watched the ant inch away.
When it was gone
I took all my frustration
and smashed the glass.

Nothing.
It stayed intact.
But, I did see a small crack
on the orb inside.
The blue became brighter
and it seemed to somewhat glow
I ran to tell Dennis.

River

This is one of those prompts where I can't take it literally.
So I won't.
Imagine a river. A crystal blue shining in the sunlight rushing over rocks mounted in a bed. It's racing down a hill, spiraling for the pool where it gives out. The water lines trickle past the hill and into the terrain, where a calmer part of the river is found. Keep following and you'll find a grove. It's jaw-dropping. The birds, the palms, the wildflowers--all surrounding the harshest part of the whole river. The waterfall's mouth. Just stand too close, and you'll be sprayed from the sheer amount of pressure in the water. It's beautiful. So, so beautiful. It's therapeutic to finally find the roots of the long, winding river. But, if only you could see through the water. You're bound to find dead animals--maybe some people--who couldn't handle the water. They tried and failed, or they fell in, and their remains cling to the mud underneath. Slowly, they decompose and drift out of the grove, down the river, over the hill, and into the ocean. There, their ashes become one with the sea.
You clench your fists. This beautiful phenomenon you just discovered has proved to be adequately bloodthirsty. Young fish splashed in the calmest part of the grove, the calmest part of the whole system. They laughed, swimming only feet away from what could be their own. So innocent and pure, yet cruel enough to ignore it all. Was it cruelty that caused this? Or was it a lack of awareness from the start? Nevertheless, they were happy. You wish to be happy. Looking over into the water, a clear reflection looks dead at you. Frazzled, exhausted, worn-out, the reflection looked so done with it all. Is that how you looked? Maybe a soak with the fish couldn't harm you. Stepping over the swampy land's branches and leaves, you head over to where a school of small fish played.
Roll up your trousers and slide in, your boots and socks are off to the side. The water's warm, calming. It feels great against your foot and gradually pulls you in. Eventually, your whole leg ends up in the water and your foot is nearing closer and closer to the bed. Until...
You felt it. Something grabbed your foot. Retracting back, you look into the water, searching for what touched you. You can't see it. Your arm lunges into the water under the expectation of feeling this thing out instead. Feel the fingers. The wrinkled, time-taken skin covering the thin bones. They interlock hands with you, and for a moment, you don't move.
When they let go, you're filled with determination. A need to fulfill their dreams--outdo them, even. You pull out of the water, lace up your boots, and roll down your pants. Find the clearing. Hundreds of feet of pure rock as far as the eye can see. Put one hand on a rock--it falls. You swallow your fear down and find a more stable on. Pull your feet up, and begin the journey.
Think about it.

Solemn - 'Drunk Dial' Beat Prod. by Pdubcookin x Roclegion

Been staying up,

scrolling through all your "love."

Clearing it has never been so doable.

Our nightly calls, the daily texts;

the hearts I sent

went from yellow, pink, to red.

And now I'm back, on your contact,

deleting it--

I'm leaving it blank.

Erase the times

I thought you might have tried.

Won't touch it, no,

I won't fill my head with lies.

I swore that I

would always be your ride.

I crossed my heart--

for you, I hoped to die.

But now that I've 

caught on this time,

go pity cry.

And I'm left here solemn.

*Beat Which Inspired This: R&B Instrumental Beat 'Drunk Dial'(0:45-1:48)

Movie Review: Bao

Bao is a 2018 animated short. The eight-minute short was played before Incredibles 2. It was directed by Domee Shi and in the eight minutes of run time it has, it goes to dark enough places to pull on your heart. I had gone to see Incredibles 2 in a cinema cafe and was honestly crying before the start of the actual movie. A bao is a part of Chinese cuisine made with various fillings in a yeast-based bun or ball and prepared in different ways. In the short, the bao seems to be filled with vegetables, rolled up, and steamed.
The short starts with an older Chinese-American woman making bao for her and her husband. Before she can eat it, one of the bao comes alive. Almost immediately, she accepts it as her child. She clearly wants one desperately and starts pampering her food.
The audience is then warmed up to the bao as he and the woman bond. She quickly forms a daily routine involving her and the bao--suspiciously void of her husband. The bao seems happy and quickly grows up. He becomes more curious and social, opting to develop a life not centered around his mother. A very typical adolescent thing to do, yet the woman takes it personally. And I get it. Over an entire decade spent doting on a small human being who has done nothing but look up to you and run into your arms every chance they get--and you're just expected to let go. It's hard. But you have to learn to let go and develop a very different relationship. This person you spent a decade coddling and another decade dictating, you have to spend the rest of your life in something similar to a loving friendship. But not letting go is even harder.
This woman refuses to let him grow. The bao pulls away and it hurts to see. You know it's completely natural but it's still so heart-wrenching. All grown up, the bao introduces his American girlfriend to his parents and announces his plan to move out. His mother is shocked and attempts to keep him inside. The bao responds by forcefully making his way out. Before he can succeed, however, the woman grabs him and chews him up. She then wakes up to see it was all a dream.
She lies on her bed, crying. Her husband brings her real-life son--who strangely resembling the bao--to make amends with her. He brings her a treat, the same treat she made for the dumpling in her dream. They make up, the short ends on a bittersweet note.
Now, the dream is clearly an analogy. Most of it is pretty clear considering the minute we get with her actual son in the end. The final scene of her dream, however, takes a bit of thinking. I would like to believe that it's referencing her suffocating him until he cut her out completely. She cries as she understands what she's done.
After their reconciliation, they form a much healthier, friendly relationship. As the short ended, I sobbed my eyes out.

Poem Prompts: Tremble

My crimson red chucks

dangled over the rushing waters,

beating against stones

hundreds of feet beneath me.

The softened reds of the sandy grounds

clash harshly from my shoes.

Beside mine,

are a pair of dusty brown boots

tapping the soles of my feet.

I look up and into her eyes.

A darker brown--

a softer brown--

a brown I could happily stare into.

A gust of wind blew past, blowing through her lavender hair.

I felt its patter through my jacket.

She shivered; trembled; jacketless.

Instinctively, I draped mine over her.

Her face went rosy as she huddled in the knitting.

A stronger gust of wind whistled by.

She clung onto the jacket, keeping it from the breeze.

I shivered; trembled; jacketless.

She chuckled, a soft, hoarse sound, and

opened up her arms. She invited me in.

I leaned onto her shoulder and retreated under my half of the jacket.

A last gust of wind blew, 

stronger than both its predecessors.

We both shivered; trembled; half jacketless

and laughed.

Foolishness

Sometimes, I feel so foolish.
I have a tendency to think with my heart and block out my mind. I have fun, I enjoy myself, I connect with others, and I laugh a lot. I like the attention my loved ones give me and I like feeling appreciated. I bask in this love and warmth as long as I can and often forget it's only meant to stay for so long.
After a minute, life moves on. Assignments come up, money gets tight, people get stressed. There's no time for unconditional love anymore. Either contribute or be ignored. I don't want to be ignored. So I bow my head and do what I feel I need to. I'll stretch as far as I can until even the person notices the holes in me. It's uncomfortable to look at. It's uncomfortable to live with. One of us will give up eventually.
Sometimes, the problem is that I don't stretch. I notice patterns and expect it to be the same as always. When something actually happens, I turn a blind eye and am all but useless. I have a specific memory of me asking a friend how she was every single day. She was never okay. But it was never because of anything worrisome--as far as she told me, that is. All I heard was "too much homework" or "I've done too much walking" or something like that. I stopped being concerned when she said she wasn't okay. I'd try to engage a conversation about it, but there was no more me worrying if she could handle it. One specific day, she said it, and I just nodded. Later on, she was complaining about how no one took her struggles seriously and referenced my response that morning.
I felt betrayed--but she was right. She was airing everything out to me and I went and dismissed her because it wasn't as life-changing as I had expected. Who even was I to sit there and gauge people's struggles?
Struggle is something we all can relate to. Not the individual struggles, but the word itself. I, personally, struggle with being so blind. To social cues, body language, and not accepting things outside of whatever rigid world I go and craft up in my mind. This is so easy for so many people, I know it. And I know that me voicing this must be so strange to those people. But, because they have that social knowledge, they won't sit there and pretend like my issue isn't an issue. Just like I can't sit there and pretend my friend's issues aren't issues.
I can't go overboard trying to impress, and I can't go under trying to save time. For once, I need a pathway straight out of my own head and into the real world. I want to see the earth and its inhabitants for who they are and not what my mind conjures up. I don't want who I like and dislike, I want the facts of their beings. I want to see past myself.
But, being a foolish fifteen-year-old girl, it's kind of difficult.

Linger - 'Youth' Smooth Guitar Beat Khalid Type Beat Prod. by Pacific

Kicking, up my feet

Wishing, you were me

Fishing, for bravery

Or pity, whichever I see

Handouts, don't frame it like that

Takeout's my next best man

Fall out and in again

of love, or something like it

Moving on's never been my good deck

Now you're making me play blindfolded

Sorry if I don't got a tactic

All I really know is going at it

So I'm telling you, expect a fall--

please--

Yelling at me's just another trigger

Doing my best to move my heart

But it's so stubborn, it wants to linger

(Beat x12)

Yeah, it's so stubborn, it wants to linger 

(Beat x8)

I'll do my best to move along, but

It's so stubborn, it wants to linger on

Falling, to my knees

Recalling, what I used to be

Appalling, how I ended up

I know it's not the end but I've had enough

Moving on's never been my forte

Still, you're egging me on anyway

I know your heart's n the right place

But mine's so stubborn, it wants to linger

(Beat x12)

Yeah, it's so stubborn, it wants to linger 

(Beat x8)

I'll do my best to move along, but

It's so stubborn, it wants to linger on

All the haziness is making me fall--

please--

Disappointment's just another trigger

Doing my best to move my heart

But it's so stubborn, it wants to linger

*Beat Which Inspired This: 'Youth' Smooth Guitar Beat Prod. by Pacific (0:16-3:13)