I am in a glass house.
You can see me, you can hear me. Yet I am unreachable; untouchable. The door to this house has closed, locked, and is barred with the toughest of all wrought materials: pain. And still yet, a window creaks open. A hand reaches in. I smile, I wave, I pretend to grasp it, yet when I look down again, my hand is empty, fist clenched. I am unreachable; untouchable. I feel, yet my feelings stand around this house, blocking each spectators’ view. I sit, and I wonder which is more real and which is telling the lie: the ones looking in, or the eyes gazing out?
The house remains transparent, yet the face at the ajar window wears rose-colored glasses. His face expresses the hurt and confusion his empty palm feels. And still he reaches. Why can’t he see the clenched fists? The glass, clouded eyes? The vacant expression? The calloused heart?
In this self-built glass house, I am the broken one.
Doubt has been an overbearing factor within my life. Doubt of others, doubt of myself, doubt of my own worth. And sometimes, I give into these doubts, these thoughts. In the past, I was never able to get through it. I would succumb to these thoughts and let myself drift away from reality. But… as if all of a sudden… that’s changed. This week was a week of doubts of every kind: school, work, money, life… love. And when I had become so obsessed with the thought that things don’t work out and things will never be able to be the same, I was brought right back to reality. I was given a chance again, and reminded that I am merely overreacting. And I’m so glad I can now realize that. With Thanksgiving being today, I am reminded how much I take for granted, and how little I have that I should truly be thankful for. Because one, to be truly thankful, doesn’t need much.
When I fell in love with you, everything I had ever heard, read, seen, or listened to began making so much sense. Every love story was a mirror to my life; every love song seemed to whisper volumes to my heart. The love I feel doesn’t contain fireworks, but it does leave sparks; birds don’t fly around me, but butterflies do continually linger each time you hold my hand. Every day, I long to see your face, and every day I am graced with a presence that God Himself has wonderfully granted upon an unworthy heart like mine. For years I read the poems, but now I find myself longing to be the poet.
Yet time seems my enemy, and loneliness my captor. He leads my mind through dark passages that open upon pessimistic judgements. My mind draws conclusions that Holmes himself would cringe away from. And yet, your smile and your words guide me out of my nightmare and into a light that I, despite the evidence, still believe to be a figment of my imagination. Your hand intertwines with mine, and your arm finds its way around my shoulder, each action reminding me where I am most at home and secure.
And I Love You for This.
It’s amazing how a heart,
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted, and I know that everything I post has an air of seriousness, with a whiff of pathetic, but I have just one more to add on to my whiny existence. And the two songs I referenced in the title are among countless others that deal with the same thing: missing someone.
I would like to share the definition of “miss”
It’s amazing how, in recent weeks, this word has so flippantly been used by people, myself included. But in every honesty, I don’t think I’ve ever felt the actual emotion till recently. First, however, I would like to discuss the use of this verb as an emotion itself.
When we think of emotion, we immediately think of the typical: sad, happy, angry, joyous, etc. But have we ever considered the emotions that come with certain actions? I fully believe that missing someone is an emotion, not just an action. It’s a feeling of loss to a certain degree. A feeling that some things aren’t going to be the same for the time period that the person is gone. A feeling that part of you has been taken far away and that you’ll not be the same until you’re with that part again. This is an emotion that is felt by all, but not quite realized that it exists. It’s strange.
It’s a scary feeling. Especially for those who have never felt it before. Like me.
Recently, for the first time, I’ve felt a part of something, and that’s gone away. A mere text does nothing to help the “miss.” In fact, it only heightens it. Even though I know it’s only for a short period of time, it feels like an eternity. As the picture so rightfully says, we (the miss-ers) miss the (miss-ee) so much that even jealousy ensues. But that’s what is so magical about emotions. They delay and drag time, they bring up a part of people that they probably don’t know exists, they even provoke other, stronger emotions.
So we, as faltering humans, can continue to say “oh, I’ll surely miss you!” But never feel the emotion until it’s so deep, that it keeps you awake at night, prevents your thoughts from focusing, or keeps your tongue from speaking. To miss someone is to not only miss the physical presence, but to also miss all the feelings that coincide. It’s a beautiful, but fatal emotion. But either way, I’m blessed to be able to feel it.
Very kind. Funny. Smart. Perfect for any girl but me. It takes every muscle, bone in my body to even get myself to sit by him. Sometimes, I feel as though he’s afraid of me. Like I’m diseased to the touch. Buddy, it’s okay to touch my shoulder or hold my hand. Look in my eyes and make me do the same, no matter my protesting.
I say that, yet I don’t know if I’m ready for that. For you to be that one.
But maybe then I can let you occupy that part of my brain that is plagued with false feelings and an invisible, shadowed, non-existent face. Help me realize this CAN happen for me, but not that this is my only choice, only chance. I don’t want to settle. Give me reason to fall for you too, since you’re not the first to touch my heart, just the first to actually reach for it. The first I unconsciously have to push away. Instead, be the first to break down the barrier.
Two posts in one day? CRAZY!
I just feel like I haven’t written anything in so long. I just needed to write, but something that I enjoy. Sprawl out my alphabetical doodles on the screen, letting my fingers dance across keys that have become my enemy since finals week started. Even with a finger that is covered with a band-aid, I am enjoy every character I am writing.
I don’t know what it is right now, but I just feel like continuing to write. About nothing in particular. I guess I could write a story, you know? Maybe just a few musings. Here goes nothing:
She dreamed. Dreams that led her far away. To a large bed strung high up in a tree, candles floating all around. Small votives that seemed to light up her face in a light yellow glow. She dreamt of a lake that sat next to her bed-tree. Electric moonlight and bright white stars reflected from its pool, giving everything a small blue haze. She looked around, watching for any sign of life, but everything seemed to be tucked in bed; small flowers curled up and vanished, small sighs from wildlife as they relaxed and dozed. Every once in a while, a firefly would wink at her, as if to let her know she was not alone. The croak of a frog. The chirp of a cricket. Everything about this night was absolutely perfect. She continued to dream, getting deeper and deeper into a fantasy. The branches seemed to hug closer to her as she began, herself, to doze. Leaves tickled her face as her eyes grew heavy, her gaze a bit more fogged. “Go to sleep,” the air seemed to say, “tomorrow will be just as beautiful.”
Lost Hitchcock Film found in New Zealand
A wild, atmospheric melodrama starring Betty Compson in a dual role as twin sisters, one angelic and the other “without a soul,” the lost film turned up among the cache of unidentified American nitrate prints safeguarded for the last 23 years by the New Zealand Film Archive. So far, only the first three reels of the six-reel feature have been found; no other copy is known to exist.
andthatswhenisnapped-deactivate asked: Instead of sleeping, I'm reading your blog. Like a wise philosopher, my gut says we'd be good friends.
But my question is this.
What drives you to write?
Current events. Whatever my heart is thinking at the time. I don’t really have a drive, the words just kind of, happen. You know how some people doodle to get their minds off of things, or draw to express their emotions? Well, I like to doodle with words. It’s more… Expressive of my inner psyche.
Well, I thought I’d do Day 5 “The last time you were really angry and why” and the blog post I was originally gonna put together.
Remember Day 3, and who I described… well… things are a little sketchy. Since he got back from a camp, I knew things were different. He wasn’t BLATANTLY ignoring me, but things were way off. And now, instead of hanging out with me and our friends, half way through dinner with the bunch, he asks “can you take me to [my other friends’] house?” And just before then, “hey, you going to pick up [so and so] to go to the thing tonight?” Whatever happened to “YOU’re going to the dinner tonight, right?” Huh… guess THAT’S changed.
Anyway, besides crying every night in anger, and also relinquishing a horrible habit I’ve had for a long time of digging my finger nails unconsciously into my hand, causing very OBVIOUS and EMBARRASSING scabs and scars and bruises, this is most definitely the most angry I’ve been.
What kind of slap in the face is that!? He’s obviously saying “Hey, you’re really boring to me, and I’d rather hang out with this other person.” Okay, thank you, thank you very much. I compLETELY understand the concept of hanging out with other friends, and we’re not dating or anything, I don’t have a leash on you! But hey, I’d like it if you told me things like this in my face, please?
So the realizations I’VE obtained from this?:
And that, my friends is the cold, hard truth. I realize I’m a self piteous jerk who only wants to talk about herself, and is constantly grasping out for help, I do. But for so long, it’s the only way I got ANY attention. And now, I feel that’s the same with him. He started getting distant, I started getting desperate. He started to fade, I started to fake; and this is a fact. I hate it, though. I hate it about myself, I hate it that my flaws are ruining our friendship, but I honestly thought you’d seen past that! That you couldn’t have cared about them.
But this is why I’ve never kept good friendships. People realize the REAL person I am… and shy away. It’s the story of my life. It truly is. But I could have sworn it was different with you. Guess not, you’re just another typical boy. Guess that’s what I get for having a friend of different gender and 3 1/2 years younger. Oh well.
And here’s the question: Can I get past this? Yes. Psalm 34:18 “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” I don’t need someone who couldn’t care about me. Ya, it’s hard after all we’ve gone through together. We have invested a lot into our friendship, including you influencing me to go to the therapist, and I’m glad I did. I’m glad you did. And although now we’ll never own an apartment in California, or be in each others weddings, I’m glad for the things that happened while we were still on good terms. But I need to grow up, like you are, and get past my jealousy of you moving on, and do the same. 42 days till I’m finally out of your hair.
“Write About Yourself”
My name is Sarah Louise Harrison, and I am 19 years old. I attend Oklahoma Christian, and want to be a Sound Designer for animated films. I am timid and shy on the inside, but I make myself to be fun and confident on the outside. I love many different things, from Disney to Video Games. I love to write, and watch TV; to paint and go to museums; to relax and be continually busy. Heck, you could call me a contradiction waiting to happen. Sometimes I talk way too loud and out of turn, and I never give myself any credit for things. I’m conceited and play off of that anymore. That’s how I am. I love thinking into things and figuring out how they work, or what they mean. I adore being by myself, but when it comes down to it, I love being with my friends. And those, I have a multitude of :) And I have enough love to go around.