Deflower and abandon.

So I had a couple of dreams last night, and I thought I’d document them since I haven’t done that in a while. But as I feel my heartbeat quickening, I have a feeling that I’ll regret writing about one of them because I’d rather forget that one.

It took a while before I could remember the first dream, probably because the second one made such a strong impression. So apparently, I lost my virginity last night. Or I guess I should say, my subconscious virginity. I’d been close to doing that once before. I think it was during the summer, it was pretty late in the morning but I was fast asleep (no school to keep you from sleeping in), and Michael Cera was just about to pop my cherry when…I got a text message. From this one. Yes, my dear old friend the Subconscious Cockblocker (I should just call you S.C. from now on). Yeah so anyways, this time it was Taylor Lautner who got cast as the cherry-popper. At least I think we went all the way. I dunno it was implied, like a PG-13 movie. It’s funny how some things are left out in dreams because my mind has no idea how to conjure that image, I don’t have any experience to draw inspiration from. All I can remember is that he was panting a lot and that I was on top. Now that I think of it, I don’t even think that we finished. Oh my God how sucky am I at having sex dreams?

Yeah so that was kind of funny. But then I woke up at 5 am and decided to force myself to sleep again…bad idea. Fucking horrible idea actually. I had a proper nightmare. I was in a huge mansion in the middle of nowhere, it was literally just beige sand as far as the eye could see, and I had a bunch of friends over for a pre-party. Everyone had changed into their “party clothes” except me and I was like: “Wait for me!” The bathroom was occupied, so I was like banging on the door and shouting that I need to change. And then the bathroom was empty and I went in to change. While I was changing, I noticed that the walls were of glass and outside was a girl with black glossy eyes and blood pouring out of her mouth. I was terrified and ran out to find that everyone had left. Then I realized that I didn’t have my contacts in and my glasses were in the bathroom. This time, there were two girls outside, staring blankly with the blood staining their white dresses. Once again, I was horrified and ran out. This time, I could hear that there were a bunch of people in the next room and my mother appeared. I asked where my friends were but she just answered: “They left.” and went back to the crowd. As soon as she left, everything turned dead silent and I felt this painful pressure in my ears. All the windows shattered and everything turned black.

I really hate my mind sometimes.

What?

Once, I had a dream that I was in this huge city filled with concrete buildings without windows. The whole city was in the same shade of pale gray with the sky a deep charcoal. I was running along with a huge crowd, all heading to a Paramore concert. After running for what felt like hours without getting anywhere (literally running in the same place), I just stopped and realized: Wait, this is just a dream. And then I thought, well it is a Paramore concert, so what the heck, let’s see where this takes us. And then we all arrived at this huge dome where the concert was going to be held. When I woke up, I still had the feeling of elation…until I realized it wasn’t real. But had I actually realized that it was a dream, or was it just a fake realization that was a part of the dream, considering that I just kept on going? And if I really was aware, was it really me being acting “rationally” and choosing to go to the concert, or was I still constricted in my awareness and had to follow the course of the dream? I dunno man, but it was very strange.

Purgatory.

I’m stuck. Trapped in a big white room of nothing, staring into brightness. My head is filled with lack of substance, a pressure applied to clear the space – to prepare it for something more. I’m in this seemingly infinite void, waiting for something. I know what I’m waiting for. I think I know what I’m waiting for.

Do I know what I’m waiting for?

Am I waiting for my destiny, or the thing that will keep me from it? Doubt fills my head as I wander, going around in circles. The eye of my mind sees a picture, a picture of my potential future. I want to reach out and touch it, but every time I try, it moves further away. Getting smaller and smaller until there’s nothing but a small black dot of insignificance left. I realize that my impatience ruins the possibility, and stop trying to bring it to me. Instantly, the picture returns to its original state. Instead, I try to see what the picture depicts. I squint my eyes, trying to discern the motif, only being met by fog. It’s of no use. I can’t touch my dream, and I can’t see it, so how do I know that it’s real?

Faith is blind.

I’ll just have to hope, and try my best, even if I don’t know exactly what I’m working for. I’ll just have to focus on the feeling alone, and make sure that it’s enough. And this, this is the ultimate test. To see if I can actually do this, if I can keep myself focused and centered enough to get where I want. To be able to meet my fate.

This is purgatory.

(The combination of burnt sienna and cyan makes my knees go weak. And it’s incredibly intricate. I could spend hours looking at this.)

Writings on my skin.

Good evening fellow earthlings,

as you’ve probably noticed by now, I have a particular fondness for tattoos. In other words, I love them. There’s just something about having your skin marked with something personal, a message that you can choose to show the world, or keep private, a reminder that’s only for you to see. And it’s forever. This is usually the most off-putting part for people, but that’s actually one of the things I like the most about tattoos. Forever. I love forever.

So, one of the dreams I have in life is to get a tattoo. Well, a couple, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Though it’s a definite desire I have, I’ve never thought of it as something I’d actually do. Why, you ask? The most current reason is that my mother wouldn’t approve. She doesn’t have anything against people with tattoos, but doesn’t approve because of the whole “honor your body, for it is your temple” thing (which I absolutely agree with, but obviously, tattooing would be like decorating and celebrating that temple). I know this may sound trivial, but remember that I’m still a minor, and mommy’s rules go. However, I am turning eighteen this year. Becoming an adult and all that stuff. Which is bull, because we all know that you don’t actually magically grow up the moment you turn eighteen, and your parents don’t automatically let go. But the real reason is probably that I’m too chicken shit. There are two kinds of people in the world: dreamers and go getters, the latter being the upgraded version of the former. Unfortunately, I have not upgraded, and ideas in my mind rarely leave the mental drawing board.

However, there’s nothing wrong with dreaming, it is the first step towards becoming a go getter. So let’s dream a little, shall we? Let’s say that I am actually getting a tattoo. What would I get? As much as I love the idea of having beautiful artwork on my body, that doesn’t really feel like me. At least art in the form of images. What feels like me? Art in the form of words. Words, words, words. I live for them. I love reading, writing and living by words. And honestly, I feel like I’m better at writing what I feel than saying them out loud. I found this website with the prettiest font I ever saw, so here are the words that I would probably choose if I were to get tattooed right now, in the following style as well:

This sentence kind of summarizes my life in the most beautiful way. I spend most of my time thinking about what the meaning of life might be, and even though there’s no way I’ll know the definite answer, I strive to find everything I can that may make my life more than it is. Even though this is my clear intention in everything I do, I sometimes forget that. When things get scary, I simply choose to do nothing, missing what could be, instead choosing to remain where I am. Which is an okay place, but nowhere near where I want to end up. So this would be a great reminder. Another reason for me wanting this quote is that I first read it in Looking for Alaska, by John Green, which is, along with The Catcher in the Rye, my favorite book. And even though my life will probably change and I’ll read plenty of other books, some that may be better, this one will always be the one that changed me, like all things do, but in a way that I feel was so necessary for me. It opened my eyes, and my mind, and it will always hold a special place in my heart.

If the first one is a reminder of what I want to achieve in life, this one is a reminder of what I have, and what I will need to find it. Even though you hear them all the time, it’s so easy to forget these things. Faith is something that is extremely important to me. In fact, to all human beings. Even if it necessarily doesn’t have to mean faith in the religious sense. Personally, I do believe in God. I believe there’s someone out there looking after me, even though it might not feel that way all the time, and I want to be able to remember that. Always. But, equal in importance, I also want to be reminded of the fact that I mustn’t lose faith in myself. And I can’t lose faith in humanity either. Even when things are looking dark. Hope isn’t something I have to be reminded of to have, because even in the worst situations – we always feel hope. Even when we feel hopeless, we have hope. The reason for me wanting that word is because sometimes, I forget to acknowledge that hope. When things feel shit, I still have that feeling of hope, but I need to put that feeling front and center, because with hope comes strength, and with strength – you can do anything. And lastly, love. Love is everything. Love is the most beautiful thing in this world, and if you have love, the rest might not come automatically, but it gets a heck of a lot easier to go find it.

Actually writing out these reasons makes me want these words on me even more. See? I told you that I’m better at writing what I think than saying it…maybe even better at writing than actually thinking it. I don’t know. I might get them tattooed. One day.

Spring Break.

Hello everyone,

just thought I’d tell you about all the things I’ve done these past couple of days. This is my spring break (thus far), in a short manner, in no specific order. I have…

  • Made a summer playlist with over a hundred songs on iTunes.
  • Intended to visit a couple of museums with Succumb, instead ending up doing what we always do.
  • Bought nail polish that I later noted are the colors of each Powerpuff girl. Oh, and midnight blue as well.
  • Painted my nails in one of the colors mentioned above. Bubbles’, I guess.
  • Argued with Mother over whether I actually have the color of the sky on my fingers. Needless to say, I was victorious.
  • Baked the vegan equivalent of apple pie. A rather delicious equivalent, I might add. This was done while listening to earlier mentioned summer playlist.
  • Taken a bubble bath with the songs from So Wrong It’s Right (by All Time Low) playing in the background. Not very relaxing, but that wasn’t really what I was going for.
  • Made myself a tumblr. You can find it here. Effectivizing (dunno if that’s a real word, but don’t care) my blog browsing.
  • Ordered a white lace dress, along with two of my absolute favorite high-waisted jeans from Topshop. I eagerly await my package.
  • Spent my nights huddled up with my laptop, watching movies I’ve always wanted to see, but never had the time to. Including, but not limiting to, Adventureland, 500 Days of Summer and the Rocky Horror Picture Show. The last shocking the bejeezus out of me.
  • Sat in a park with a friend, soaking up the sun and listening to the Xx. And Florence + the Machine of course.
  • Taken photos with my beloved Bellamy (the iPhone).
  • Played ballerina, flailing around in the living room.
  • Dreamt of a certain someone.
Granted, I have more than half of my break left, but I’m pretty satisfied with what I’ve accomplished these past few days. Tomorrow, I’m heading into the city, and the day after that, I’m taking my precious god-daughter to see some sort of animated film. I’m definitely going to paint some eggs as well. Easter time and all. And I have to throw in some meat-eating around sunday as well. No big deal. It’s not like I’ve been living as a pseudo-vegan the last month and a half. Yeah, so that’ll be fun.

Rebel rendevouz.

A short one (but not really now that I’ve written it).

I thoughtlessly walk down the science majors’ hall, to a man in his mid-twenties. The man has coiffed, black hair, and is wearing a jean shirt, black jeans and black cons. Though he has his shirt sleeves rolled up, his arms are covered by another kind of sleeves. Vibrant colors, intricate patterns weave through each other to form beautiful motives. His tattoos mesmerize me. I realize that they are the reason for me approaching him in the first place. The vague sight of color hypnotized me. The man gives me a surprised smile and I ask him about the ink, not caring about the fact that I don’t know him at all. We chat for bit, with a generous amount of flirting, until the bell rings. Apparenty, he has some kind of task in a different part of school, and we have to part ways. On the way to the classroom I’m met with whispers that run through the crowd of studens lining up along the hall. It’s considered scandalous for a student to interact with one of the older guys, but I don’t seem to care. I am late to class, but still running with the rebel thing, so I cockily strut around the tables to my seat in the far back. The burning stares of the students only feed my attitude, and the only thing that causes me to react is someone humming the melody to “I Fell in Love With a Girl”, by the White Stripes, and when I turn my head to the source of the sound, I see the tattooed man sitting there. I don’t show my surprise, instead choosing to throw a flirty smirk his way. After I’ve sat down, I discreetly sneak a glance at him, trying to be nonchalant, and see him stand up. He walks up to me and leans in to whisper something. I put my hand on his neck, but quickly take it back. His skin feels like it’s on fire. I check my hand, but nothing is different. He tells me to meet him in the gazebo after sundown, and then just walks away. With the sound of the teacher scolding someone in the background, I ponder which gazebo he could be talking about. A light switch flips. I get an image of a beautiful white gazebo in my head, wrapped in tiny, white lights and surrounded by lilies. I smile to myself, thinking that I shouldn’t be surprised that he knows about that place. The bell rings us out, indicating the end of the day…

And then I wake up.

Smiles through a purple haze.

That was the first night I dreamt of P***** U***** (also known as Phreckles).

Everything is in pastels. I’m sitting in this beautiful garden, filled with flowers made of jewels and birds chirping. In the background, I hear wind chimes, nothing out of the ordinary, seeing as I pay no attention to it. I’m sitting at a backgammon table that seats four, the pieces in mint green and salmon pink instead of the usual red and black. Next to me, there’s an old, very elegant man whose presence oozes with authority. Across from him, his wife sits a beauty with auburn hair streaked with silver. I look in front of me and see Phreckles sitting in front of me. The man starts saying something about a mission and we’re clearly aware of the situation. From what I can gather, the man is head of a mafia family that me and Phreckles are working for. He and his wife are our bosses, but also kind of parental figures, they tell us to relax for a bit before it all starts. Suddenly, Phreckles starts talking to me, peppering me with questions. In pleasantly surprised and we have this long conversation about something I can’t remember. Then, the man makes some comment about him liking me, amused by our interaction. Phreckles blushes and looks down, mumbling something about checking out a certain tent. He walks away and the woman says that it’s obvious that he likes me. I’m sceptic, but after they probe me to go after him, I leave. Then I’m at this big music festival with huge white tents. The grass is azure and the sky a pale peach. I go from tent to tent, searching after him. After what feels like an eternity, I decide to give up. When this happens, I’m in some tent where a bunch of people is sitting in a circle. I join them and a hookah is passed around. I take a deep drag, feeling the apple-flavored smoke fill my lungs, and as I release my breath, a lilac puff of smoke hazing my vision, I see Phreckles sitting next to me, smiling. He takes my hand, and as we sit there in the violet, smoky tent…

I wake up.