Scribbled On Paper

What I Am

2011-04-26T10:02:00.000-07:00

I am flawed
I am perfect
I am selfish
I am selfless
I am solid
I am fluid
I am predictable
I am spontaneous
I am polar opposites
I am a hypocrite
I say something
but mean something else
I am black and white
I am gray
I hate, love, envy, want
all for
unbelievably trivial reasons
There is no logic to me

Stop Being Delusional: Be What You Can Be

2011-04-07T11:39:00.000-07:00

There is something wrong when you do something to try to impress somebody. That situation is sad and pathetic. If you have to go out of your way to become somebody you are not, then you are not likely to win anybody's approval. Your friends will think you have changed and those who never liked you will just think that you are trying too hard.

I am not the person trying to win approval. I am the person seeing somebody go out of his comfort zone in order to better fit an ideal that never really did conform to him. I really feel sorry for him.

This leads me to think that becoming somebody who you are not is one of the things that causes disdain. Do not pretend you are the mountains when you are obviously a canyon. Do not think you can fly when you are a fish. Do not think you are this when you are that. What you are is not bad. Even if you are inferior in something, you are much better off trying to work with it rather than trying to pretend that that is not a part of you. People will love you for your honesty instead of regarding you with disdain.

Really Old Poem

2011-03-31T20:59:00.000-07:00

Wrote this with a friend in the 9th grade. I just found it in an old notebook. The poem is pretty dark, but that's just how teen angst works. :)

A maiden sits upon a bed
Beside her is the man she wed
Sinful thoughts fill her head
Lead her on a path none dare tread
Intoxicated haze contradicts the dread
The warmth within her long since dead
Sanity hangs by a broken thread
A flashing blade, to death it led
Silver gleams off tears not shed
As light floods from a moon blood red

Overwhelmed

2011-03-31T20:43:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I really wish I could just sink into the ground and not have to deal with those trivial problems that eat away at me.

If I was given the option to
Disappear,
And to make it so that I
Was never born,
I would take it.
I want to rid the Earth
Of my existence.
To no longer be a
Burden
To other people.
That would be a
Blessing.

I Feel Like Such a Bitch

2011-03-30T22:26:00.000-07:00

So there is this guy who always texts me with the most random things. I really don't feel comfortable with him and it's annoying me. This is a rant and the strong language and word choice is due to my frustration at myself for not being assertive enough to distance myself from him.

There is somebody whom I do not like. His every gesture and word, no matter how benign, gets on my nerves. There is technically nothing wrong with him; it's just that I do not enjoy spending time with him. This makes me feel like such a bitch, but that person really is not fun to talk to. Being with him gives me the creeps for lack of better word. Having him constantly pestering me is frustrating beyond belief. I feel that he gives me too much attention; I find that disgusting. I would rather be ignored by people I like than have to deal with attention from people I do not like.

Calculus Homework Sucks

2011-03-30T20:58:00.000-07:00

The sound of music beats
Against my ears
I feel my frustration
But I can no longer
Identify the source of it
My surroundings are a blur
Slowly
Even the beat of the music
Soothes to a gentle throb
That pulsates through me
All meaning in the lyrics
Is lost
As I pinpoint
My source of annoyance
But
It is no longer
Frustrating
My head is clear
I am
Focused

Does Being Alive Equal Being Lucky?

2011-03-20T21:47:00.000-07:00

I'm starting a blog not because I have an interesting life that I want to share, but because I feel that this is a good place to put random pieces of poetry and prose that I tend to scribble onto paper. Having a blog will allow me to keep all of my writing in one place. Being more inclined towards science and math, I have never been the strongest writer. I just like writing random things when I'm bored in very important classes.

I wrote this a year or two ago and I thought that this would be a fitting poem in light of all the natural disasters that have happened in the past decade. I do not mean to offend anybody.

I'm breathing.
My heart beats.
I can talk.
I can think.
I sleep
eat
drink.
I've made it.
I'm alive.
They are
crushed
burned
frozen
drowned
suffocated
shot
overdosed
poisoned
stabbed
and most of all...
dead.
They are recognized.
They are pitied.
But I am "lucky."
I survived.
I am alive.
They are dead.
But what about me?
True,
I am alive.
I may be
maimed
traumatized
paralyzed
comatose
limbless
blind
mute
deranged
but I am...
alive.
Still,
I feel as if
it is a burden
to be alive.
Tell me again
Am I lucky?