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god, i just wish we had more time. the sad thing is, we had time. i spent a whole year agonizing over you, making angry blog posts, and lusting from afar. during that time you grew up without me; you're an adult now, a computer science major at a fancy school across the country, a software engineer at a startup in san francisco. and me? well, i'm nowhere near that point yet. our date last night was really wonderful, you were so sweet. i need to see you again so i can kiss you properly. but as of right now you're officially ignoring me because it's been three hours since i texted you and you said you get home before 9 (it's 10). and if you keep this up, we might literally never see each other again ever. which would suck because i wasted an entire year being so incredibly nervous around you that i had to pretend i hated you in order to not make a fool of myself whenever you walked in the room. and so far i've only spent about three hours righting that. i feel like i'm getting a taste of my own medicine because for the last few months i've been messing around with a guy who likes me way more than i like him, and now i'm chasing after you while you couldn't give less of a shit about me. every dance, every show, every event this past year where i've gotten dressed up i prayed and wished and dreamed that you'd be there with me. because as hard as i try to deny it, i really do like you. so much. when you played that beautiful song on the piano in the band room, i knew you were the boy. the boy i'd never forget, the boy i'd chase after and brood about and dream about and cry about. the boy i could love if i tried. and oh my god, that was like the second day of school. i'm still so young, but i was younger a year ago. i can (mostly) keep my composure around boys, i've gotten a hell of a lot better at kissing (i was never bad, but now the reviews are extremely positive), and i know what i want. and with you, i want three weeks of happiness. let's take this roller coaster as high as it can go because i don't care how big the drop is. i just want memories of you that leave a good taste in my mouth, because right now most of them involve me being incredibly embarrassed, humiliated, or literally crying because i couldn't keep my shit together around you. you always seem to have it all figured out and i am so, so jealous because i know i have my life about as together as you do but it doesn't show at all. i just want to look cool around you. i compensate with crop tops and short shorts so you'll pay attention to my body because i'm insecure about my personality. but i worry i'm just making you feel bad. you don't have to talk about how you're going on a diet or working out all the time because you are fucking perfect the way you are and i absolutely love that you're chubby. jesus christ i miss you and your eyes (they're the most stunning shade of blue, by the way. i'll tell you that in person if you'll ever let me). you're only a few miles away so i can't imagine how hard it'll be in a month. but. every bit of heartache would be worth it if you'd spend these last couple weeks with me. maybe, just maybe it would lessen my regret of the last year.
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how can people know me when even i have no clue who i am? i've made some observations and assumptions about myself recently and i'm not sure if they're true but they're all i've got right now. first, i'm not a romantic. it's all about sex and attention for me. when it comes to boys i get bored of them easily, especially if they like me back. unrequited like is better because i can create amazing, perfect versions of them in my head and i never have to deal with the disappointment of finding out how mediocre they are. it's no fun unless there's a chase. also, i don't click with people who are too nice, to innocent, or too goody two shoes. i need people who are honest, unfiltered, uncensored, daring, and who will never make me seem like the weird one. i need people who will push me around a little bit to keep me on my toes and prove that they're being real with me. i need people who let their teenage brains get the best of them and become twice as excited when they find out the plans for the day involve illicit activities. next there's the whole issue of what my last name means. it means i'm bound to struggle with mental illness; i have, i do, and i probably will for a long time. it means i use drugs and alcohol to relieve stress. it's too soon to make this statement definitively, but it seems like now i take a shot when a year ago i would have self harmed. my last name means that my life is never going to be all white picket fences because i will never stop losing people, worrying about the people who are still here, and struggling with my own internal issues. lastly, i think it might be a problem how much i worry about my appearance. not necessarily my face, cause i can't really change that, but my body. i've always been one of those people who didn't understand why girls would say, "don't call me hot, call me intelligent." i thought, "jesus, take it where you can get it! your teachers and parents can call you intelligent. i'd be very happy to be complimented on the way i look." and i am. i very much appreciate it when people call me hot, although it's a little demeaning to find out i'm known to a group of guys at my school as "the girl with the great hips." it feels like these days when guys like me it's for my body, which part of me is okay with because it's something i put a lot of work into. on the other hand, it'd be really cool if they liked me for who i am too. but we've already established that even i don't know who the fuck that is.


Jul. 15th, 2016 10:00 pm
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sometimes i feel like a really awful person. i drag the people i love into my insecurities. i want so badly to feel like a good person that i'm happy when i'm nicer to a friend than they are to me. i don't mind when people forget my birthday, especially when i remember theirs, because it means i've one-upped them. how twisted is that? and i want to feel strong and powerful, so i love when people spill their secrets to me but i'm not vulnerable to them in return. again, it feels like i've one-upped them, in knowledge and in control. and speaking of control, oh god do i want control. usually, i'd rather people like me for my looks or body than for my personality or intelligence. this is because if people lust after me, i can control and manipulate them. it's amazing what showing off my torso or tossing my blond curls can do to an attitude. reciting the presidents in alphabetical order doesn't get you free drinks. that's part of why i work so hard to stay fit and look good. i do it for myself, because i'm my own worst critic, i do it for power purposes, and i do it because i fucking love attention. i never swat a camera out of my face and i never back down from an opportunity to take the stage. i'm always grabbing for the nearest microphone or seducing the nearest boy, not because i like him but because i need his attention. the people i do like aren't people at all, but ideas. i've never liked a boy as much as i've liked the idea of one. if i'm unlucky enough to have a crush at any given time, i go home at night and fantasize about me and him. my head creates such an amazing guy that when i see him the next day i'm always disappointed. and then i'll be so confused. do i like him, do i like the idea of him, do i just want his attention, do i like that i know his secrets, do i like that i'm nicer to him than he is to me, do i like that i can control him, oh my god have i ever really liked someone for just who they are? sometimes i feel like a really awful person.


Jun. 3rd, 2016 08:59 am
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i'm sitting in history class right now and i feel fucking awful. bad grades don't usually bother me but i just don't understand why she had to be so mean in this case. we had to do a DBQ and i didn't come on the day the rest of the class did it because my cousin committed suicide. so i showed up the next day, she yelled at me in front of the class for not coming, and made me do the DBQ in half the time as everyone else the day after my cousin fucking killed himself. i know she graded me especially harshly because i wasn't there the day i was supposed to be and i know it's my fault for feeling like shit and not being able to focus, but i think she could have had a little more sympathy. she didn't know he was 23, she didn't know it was a suicide, she didn't know that me and my whole family have depression, she didn't know that him dying made me so scared about who would be next that i couldn't think straight, she didn't know a lot of things and it wasn't her responsibility to because i didn't tell her. but as a teacher who has worked with kids for so many years, she should know when something's wrong and i don't think what she did was fair even without all the things she didn't know. i tried my best and came up with a pretty acceptable essay considering the time i had and it really didn't deserve an F. well, as she would say, life is hard and i just have to deal with it.

growing up

May. 26th, 2016 10:09 am
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i feel like i've grown up too fast, or maybe that's just me. when i was a few days shy of 12 i saved my brother's life. not in a he-was-drowning-and-i-pulled-him-out-of-the-water way, in a he-told-me-he-was-going-to-kill-himself way. i didn't really understand the severity of the situation at the time, but i knew enough to tell my parents and get him help. that memory haunted me throughout the rest of middle school and long into high school, and it was hard for me to go to sleep at night because i knew i wouldn't be able to protect him or keep an eye on him. i'm still troubled by how close we came to the what if. in my freshman year of high school i had my first real boyfriend and my first experience with depression. i started self-harming around the end of freshman year and it's still something i have to fight against almost every day. when i was 15 i had a crush on a 24 year old and i'm pretty sure he liked me too. now i'm 16 and i've been drunk, smoked weed, all that stuff that everyone does. i still take care of my brother. he smokes too much weed and sells his adderall and he does some shady things but i help him out of them. i've talked many of my friends off the ledge and i recently lost my cousin to suicide. i've moved across the country and gotten in my fair share of dangerous situations (usually involving getting trampled at shows). as you saw in my last post, i'm getting some questionable text messages from an adult. i've always wanted to experience everything, to feel everything, to live. but i'm a kid. i'm literally a 16-year-old kid and it feels like too much too fast. it's always a competition of who's done more, who's gone further. but no one ever stops to think that oh my god, we're all children. we're people's daughters and sons and we don't even know who we are. i suppose that's why we do it - to find out. but does no one else feel like they're missing out on part of a pure childhood? maybe it's just me. i just feel so young.
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i don't know if i should feel bad or not. i had this really weird conversation with this guy last night and i was totally manipulating him just for the fun of it. in my defense, he was willingly incriminating himself AND it was the first time he had talked to me in six months (he cut me off without explanation). however, it still felt kinda messed up. i'd tell him this stuff and say "i don't usually tell this to people, it's kind of a secret" and tell him something all my friends know, then in return he'd tell me something really weird and i'd screenshot it and text it to all my friends. he's an asshole, he knows it and i know it too. but that didn't stop him from texting me some things that people really shouldn't text to a minor. stuff like inviting me to come over when his parents aren't home, get drunk, and sleep over (i assumed what he really meant was have sex, judging by some of the things he said before that). obviously i don't want to. but how far will i go just to fuck with him? see what other stupid shit he can do or say that i can tell all my friends? i don't really want to find out how much of a manipulative bitch i can be without my conscience stopping me. at the same time, i'm bored. and i don't know what i'm doing. it's obvious he doesn't either. i think i might just be doing this whole thing just to feel something.
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You gave us quite a shock. You ripped us apart and brought us all together. You made everyone who knew you cry and you punched a hole in our hearts. You didn't mean to. I don't blame you for wanting to get out of your head. Everyone is blaming themselves but I think it's society's fault. I blame society for not caring about mental illness half as much as it should. It's a harsh world out there and even all your family's love and support couldn't change that. I hope I'm right and that someday your sisters, friends, aunts, uncles, and everyone who helped you will stop thinking of your story as their fault. It hurts them and it hurts me to see them blaming themselves and I don't think you would want that. We miss you, you know. A lot. I have a lot of cousins but I always thought you were one of the coolest. You were a really, really great guy and it's so unfair that you had to struggle your whole life. Speaking of missing you, you'll never guess what song they played today at your funeral type thing. It wasn't really a funeral because no one was expecting this to happen so your sisters had to throw something together as quickly as possible. It was really nice though. Anyway, I was looking out over the lake - it was raining and foggy but still one of the most beautiful places in California I've ever seen - and I heard "I Miss You" over the speakers in the tent. I have sang and played that song a hundred times, heard it even more times, and performed it on stage, and now it will forever be your song. Because when I heard that B major chord progression, I remembered that our last conversation was about how much we both like blink-182. That was only a couple months ago. You seemed to be doing so well. At your funeral there were all these pictures of you and my mom and I were remarking on how much you looked like a teenage Alex Gaskarth a few years ago. But today Alex Gaskarth got married and today your ashes sat in a box on the table. It's not fair. The priest was talking about how you would want us to find strength in God. I'm not a very religious person and I'm probably not gonna follow an organized religion cause I think they do way too much harm. But I will pray for you and the rest of my family. I'll give religion a shot if that's what helped you and if you would have wanted it. People said beautiful things about you today. I'm not gonna go on about how kind and generous and gentle you were because I hope you know I mean all that when I say I loved you when you were on Earth, I love you now, and I will love you forever. I was never really sure if there was a heaven because of science and all that, but now I know there must be a heaven because there's no place else you could be.
Love, Livie
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fuck you. fuck you for being a snarky, egotistical asshole. fuck you for being awful to everyone but me. fuck you for being the first person i met in this town, the first person to make me blush, the first person to make me smile, and the first person to make me cry. tonight is the second time you've made me cry. i think. it might be the third or fourth, i've tried to block those memories. fuck you for caring about me and tearing everyone else down. fuck you for hurting the people i care about. fuck you for always seeing me at my worst (but that one's mostly my fault). fuck you for being smart and talented, and fuck you for knowing that you'll always win because of that, even if you're a dick to everyone. fuck you for making me want to impress you. fuck you for making me embarrassed and shy and fuck you for getting to me. you always get to me and i've spent the past six months trying as hard as i can to stop letting you. fuck you for telling me your secrets and leaving me with no idea what to do with them. fuck you for making me want to know everything about you so i can finally understand why you're such an asshole. i wish i could say i hate you. i really really do. but that's the problem: i don't care about you because i see that there's probably a good person under all that obnoxiousness, i care about you with your smartass attitude and your general asshole-ness. i can't get you out of my pores as much as i scrub and scrub and scrub because you'll always be the boy with the breathtaking piano piece and the beautiful blue eyes. so i'm begging you. pull me close or throw me away, or else i'll forever be stuck yelling fuck you when i really mean the opposite.

the moment

Dec. 21st, 2015 07:21 am
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You walk down a narrow, dark hallway. You are either alone, leading your friends, or a venue worker is guiding you. You adjust your guitar strap, fiddle with your mic tape, or crack your knuckles. You stop in front of a curtain or where the hallway ends. Music is playing and people are cheering. You run through your vocal warmups one more time or hit your drumsticks against the wall. You bounce on the balls of your feet and wait as your heart rate jumps with every passing second. It doesn't matter how many times you've done this. You are still nervous. You take a deep breath and look down, or into the eyes of those who are about to follow you out. You are a statue in the seconds before you are given the order to go on out. Now pause. Freeze frame. This moment, the one where you tell yourself "Okay, it's time" and resolve to forget every worry and care in exchange for going out there and giving them the best show they've ever gotten, that is what you live for. The moment when your head is spinning and your heart is pounding but the world has never looked so clear. "All you need to do," you tell yourself, "is just go." And so you do. And you are thrown into a completely different world of bright lights and what feels like a billion faces even if there are only a hundred people there. The transition is always hard. But you take another deep breath and strike that first chord or sing that first note, and suddenly you are a natural. The stage is beautiful, but right next to it, that little dark, cramped space that is a completely different world; well, magic happens there too.
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dear you,

can i try again? it'd be extra cool if you put in some effort too (they never do, but you're welcome to). i'd like another shot at us if that's okay. but i'm warning you, i have terrible hand-eye coordination.

yours (as much as i've tried to deny it),
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this isn't really gonna be bittersweet like the bertolt brecht poem that the title is from, just warning you (it's mostly bitter).

a few months ago, i found myself at school one night for band rehearsal. he was conducting and i was in the first row. this was still in the ohmygodhowareyoureal stage of my crush on him (i fall hard and like passionately but fall out of like just as easily), so naturally i was still having trouble forming complete sentences around him. oh and by the way, he's my age. in case there was any confusion about that because of the conducting thing. anyway, to my nervous brain's complete horror and my heart's delight, he kept talking to me throughout rehearsal. to say i made a fool of myself is an understatement. every single chance i had to say something mildly interesting or intelligent, i fucked it up. one time, he thought i was raising my hand so he called on me, but instead of saying "i didn't have a question, sorry" i literally just stared at him, deer in the headlights style, and slowly turned tomato red under his gaze. fuck. i left that night feeling like i had absolutely obliterated any slight chance i had of making him like me. ran it over with a steamroller and then nuked it. i got out of there as fast as i possibly could and outside into the crisp night air. finally out of the bright lights, stuffy air and public humiliation, i leaned against the wall and cried. i cried because no matter where i am, i always fuck it up. how could i be so stupid, to think that 2,000 miles and a fresh start would make my imperfections go away. i thought i had found him. well, turns out i was totally wrong but at the time i thought we could have been something special. i hated that i couldn't change. i hated that all my flaws didn't just disappear because nobody knew about them here. but at the same time, i don't want to go back. chicago knows worse things about me. sadly, i'll probably never be able to ditch my flaws, no matter how far i travel. i guess i'll just have to live with it.


Dec. 3rd, 2015 05:35 pm
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if you've ever spent time with me, you probably know that boys aren't exactly falling over each other for my affection. now, i'm pretty sure it's not because i'm particularly ugly or mean. i'm actually quite confident about the way i look most of the time and i'd like to think i give off some pretty good vibes. my mom says it's because i'm too intimidating. give it time, she says, and they'll get enough guts to talk to you. she says they're afraid of my intelligence and confidence. well. we all know i'm insecure as fuck about a lot of things and i highly doubt people fear my GPA, seeing as i can't talk intelligently around boys. literally, i either ramble like there's no tomorrow or can't find a single word to say. maybe it's because i'm so... well, me. a few years ago i had an honest to god six pack and that kind of scared people. i can see how boys wouldn't like that. one of my favorite things to do with my last boyfriend was arm wrestle (i never won, but you can bet i put up a damn good fight). my idea of a good date is wrestling him to the ground and then making food and cuddling. i always make the first move, even if it's not very graceful. i'm really not very girly at all - in my actions, definitely not my looks - and i guess a lot of boys aren't really into that. but every now and then, there's a cocky little shit who wants to try his hand at winning me over. they're all the same (though there really haven't been that many of them): composed and confident (even a little arrogant) on the outside, and a hot mess behind closed doors. sadly, the boys i like rarely align with the boys who like me. well, maybe one day my luck will change. i'll keep dreaming.

anyway, prom is coming up all too soon and i have no idea how i'm going to get a date. my parents are going to force me to go - once-in-a-lifetime high school tradition and all that, even though we get a senior prom too - and there's no way i'm going alone and leaning against the bleachers looking interested in whatever's on my phone all night. i've always wanted to give someone a huge, dramatic prom-posal (cause odds are, no one's ever going to ask me), so i hope i can find a suitable boy with five or six back-up plans by the spring. wish me luck.


Nov. 30th, 2015 05:38 pm
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dear you,

i'm sorry. i feel like i'm leading you on and it sucks for both of us. i really want to be your friend because i could really use someone i can talk to here in my new "home." unfortunately, i feel like that can't really happen unless we both feel comfortable just being friends. i don't want to push you away or confront you about any of this. i just want you to know that i'm sorry, but i'm not your girlfriend and i never will be. no matter how hard you try, you cannot change who i am.

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i fuckin hate my history teacher. well, that's a bit harsh. but it's pretty true. i'll stick with it.

i don't do well with control freaks. people who need to have every moment of time structured, who need my every move choreographed, who shoot dirty looks my way if i so much as cough at the wrong time. why should anyone give a shit except me if my notes aren't color coded correctly or whatever the fuck her problem of the day with me is? i've had teachers like her before and i'll have teachers like her again so i guess i have to learn to deal with it. but i feel like environments like this stifle creativity and kill individuality. her convoluted rules and systems won't teach me anything and the way she calls me "sweetie" or "honey" and pats my shoulder and then proceeds to insult my intelligence is obnoxiously condescending. so thank you, mrs. american history teacher, for making me feel incredibly stupid and never failing to publicly humiliate me at every possible opportunity.
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i am one of those people who believes that the best way to deal with an issue is to simply let it go. of course, you, i, and everyone else in the world knows deep down that this is a terrible strategy. i am not saying that i find a way to circumvent every obstacle thrown my way, but i let go of things to easily and have a tendency to repress unfavorable memories. i am quick to forgive and quicker to forget.

there's a lot of shit in my head that i simply refuse to confront. push it to the back of my mind, sweep it under the rug. sometimes the tidal waves break my carefully constructed dams and everything comes crashing down around me until i can rebuild. i like to convince myself that i've lived this idyllic, picturesque life. in a lot of ways, i have. but we've all got issues. only no one, not even my closest friends and family, really knows about mine.
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sorry i've been gone for a while, i've been pretty sick. i think whatever i was down with was made a hell of a lot worse due to stress. i hate school. anyway, today i'd like to write about a topic that befuddles us all sometimes: boys. i really have issues with forming relationships and i think that would best be explained through a few stories.

let's start with freshman year, my first real boyfriend. it was known to each other and basically everyone else in school that we liked each other, but he rejected me when i asked him out on the grounds of some ridiculous excuse i can't remember. he did tell me that he liked me though, so i held on. we became good friends. i asked him to the winter dance and he turned me down. i held on. we started texting on a regular basis and went on a group date or something that didn't really seem like a date at all. i told him i had been diagnosed with depression and he said he had to go to class. i kissed him in march and high fived him afterwards cause i didn't know what to do. he called me in may and asked me to be his girlfriend. i didn't really want to say yes but i did because i had fought so hard all year for him. i kissed him on the last day of school and we went our separate ways for the summer. he took me out on a date before school started again and i realized that it wasn't really working out. we held hands in the hallway and ran into the guy i was starting to like at the time who coincidentally had the same name as my boyfriend. yikes. i found out that he was planning to ask me to homecoming and i broke up with him. we never spoke again.

that same year, sophomore year, a new boy moved to town. he was adorable and i knew he could have his pick of any girl at the school. i invited him to my halloween party and he cuddled with another girl all night. i figured i had zero chance with him so my friend suggested i just tell him i like him. i did one day before class and he didn't know what to say so he just hugged me. we became good friends later and it turns out he was a huge player and fingered three different girls each week so i wouldn't have wanted to date him anyway. although, we were hanging out one day and he told me that if i had just asked him out he would have probably said yes. well.

in the spring of my sophomore year i was playing a show with a gorgeous dark haired guitarist and bassist. he could sing too and he had a lovely voice but he was really self conscious about it so he just played. i had a friend find out if he was single and he was. i was essentially peer pressured into asking him out and i thought there was no way in hell he'd say yes but he did. i got his phone number and we picked a time and place and went on what i thought was an awesome date. we hung out downtown, he bought me dinner, and we crashed a college party and never ran out of things to talk about. i was thinking about kissing him goodbye when he said "well, see you around" and left. we never spoke again and i still have absolutely no idea what went wrong.

this year, on my first day at my new school, i walked into my first class ready to throw up and a boy and his friends asked me if i was there for a class which i was definitely not there for. i stuttered out a no and started to panic. his eyes widened and he began to apologize profusely, introducing himself and explaining that he had no idea i was new. i joined a couple clubs that he ran and began to reply to his emails about club matters in a way that i considered flirtatious but would probably not appear so to anyone else. i made a cute, romantic playlist not-so-subtly directed at him on my music blog but he either didn't see it or ignored it. i finally got up the courage to ask if he wanted to go to a show with me because i didn't know anything else to do around town. he said yes and got my number and we began texting. turns out he didn't actually know any of the bands so i went to those shows with friends. i thought things were going really well but then he asked why i was so nervous asking if he wanted to go to a show and i said cause i thought he'd say no. he said he was too nice to say no, despite what other people might say. well. i didn't want his pity so our relationship dwindled to glancing at each other during class and blushing when we caught each other's eyes. turns out he's quite obnoxious and kind of an asshole sometimes so i'm definitely rethinking pursuing him, but sadly i still check my phone every hour to see if maybe he's texted me or liked one of my photos on instagram. and the holidays are coming up and i don't really wanna be all lonely and bitter like usual. maybe i'll just try again. he looks really good in black skinny jeans.

there have been many more almost loves and unrequited romances that could fill up a book, but those are the ones who stick out to me the most. my parents say just give it time and guys will be chasing after you. we'll see about that, but i don't really want to be thrown into life completely unexperienced. i'll keep you updated on how this works out.
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I think I’m romanticizing what was killing me. I have a tendency to do that. Let’s be real, Illinois fucking sucks. Middle of nowhere, the weather is shit, there’s Chicago and then nothing but cornfields and plains for eternity in every direction. And Chicago is ghetto as hell. Shit goes down there. For real. I feel like everything’s faster and grayer in Chicago. Everyone is always trying to get somewhere even though we all know there’s really nowhere to go in the long run. Everything that happens elsewhere is always crazier and darker in Chicago.

We are politicians, industrialists, and long dark coats. We are also scholars, jazz musicians, thespians, and kids yelling into microphones. We are homesick for another place but we cannot leave, no matter how hard we try. We are coffee on a blustery morning, philosophy, vertical steel, dark clothing, art, ice skates, and ever-present slush on the streets. We are products of lake effect and overcast skies. We are our own twisted kind of beautiful. We are some of the best people in this country and our surroundings do not reflect that. We have down-to-earth Midwestern values, New York talent, and Ivy League knowledge. We are the Chicagoans, and we don't really want to be here but for some reason so many of us cannot cut the city's dark skies out of our hearts.
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On the plane ride back I read about a boy who was also on a plane. He called his ex-girlfriend before takeoff and she said, “I hope your plane crashes.” He wished it did. I stared out the window and thought about what would happen when we landed on the tarmac at O’Hare. My family and I would push through throngs of people to drag our luggage off the crowded carousel, then we would run out as quickly as possible to avoid getting trapped in one of the world’s busiest airports. We would stand on the gray, chilly sidewalk and wait for a cab, then watch the bright Chicago lights fade out into darkness as the car shuttled us into the suburbs. We would arrive at our house with the big red door and blow warm air into our hands to counter the sharp bite of the wind. We would smile and laugh in our echoey house with the high ceilings. We would be home.

It always scares me to land at SFO because it looks like you’re going to land in the bay, but then at the last possible second a thin landing strip appears and tension drains out of your shoulders. The airport was slow-moving and sparsely dotted with travelers. The air was warm and still. We drove across the Bay Bridge, marveling at the beauty of San Francisco. It was beautiful, but it felt off. Two puzzle pieces that don’t quite match up. This city is not mine and I do not belong to this city. We are overly polite dance partners who touch sparingly and carefully. I know it takes time. And I will wait. But in two years it will be another city, another place I will try to call a home. I wonder if I will ever feel as bound to a city as I am to Chicago. I hope I do. Chicago has shitty weather and a fair amount of people I’ve grown to hate.

I'll get over this homesickness soon, the same way I get over everything. But right now it's worth a few blog posts.
auberginedreams: (Default)
The view of the Chicago skyline from the planetarium is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Not just because it is pleasing to the eye, but because it is mine. The sad thing is, I wasn’t even aware of its beauty until I left. I never knew that Chicago had wrapped itself around my heart until it tugged hard when I tried to run away. I was trapped in the Midwest, but it was home and it always will be.
I can’t talk to anyone here about what it feels like you uproot your life and leave all your friends behind, because they have no idea. I can’t marvel over the little things, the small cultural differences, because the people here have known them all their lives and are oh so sick of them by now. Some of my teachers don’t even know I’m new here. Who is this girl, where did she come from? They decide they don’t care and move on while I am ripped in half, spread out in pieces across the country. Kids care a little bit more.
“You’re from Chicago, what’s it like there?”
“Colder. More jazz. A bigger scene.”
“Oh. Cool.”
No one wants to know about my old life. It’s always moving forward, never stopping to look back on the past. On the sixteen years that made me who I am.
I miss having friends and a life. I miss knowing that if I died, people would care. I miss my scene. I miss the bands, clubs, and sports I was in. There are versions of myself I am definitely not sad to leave behind. Thank god no one here knows what I was like in middle school. No one knows that I used to date That Nerdy Band Guy or used to be obsessed with One Direction or owned multiple Sleeping With Sirens shirts (and wore them to school). But I am an outsider living in an insider’s world. They all know each other and not me. It’s not that I don’t have friends here, but it just takes time to build strong relationships. I just wish time would hurry the fuck up. It sucks being lonely.
The only thing that’s the same is the music. The same musicians play the same shows as they do back home, and for just a moment, I can feel like I’m back in the House of Blues or Bottom Lounge or the Aragon Ballroom. I still have all the same music on my phone and Pete Wentz’s lyrics still mean the same thing on the West Coast as they do in the Midwest. But I don’t have School of Rock anymore, which really sucks. I miss the amazing musicians I was able to befriend through it. I miss being in a tiny room and playing shitty covers and sweating and feeling awesome and leaving with ringing ears. I miss having crushes on gorgeous, dark-haired guitarists who had a tendency to not like me back.
I miss the little suburban bubble that I tried so hard to burst. I miss the girls who made me smile and the boys who made my heart swell. I look forward to the reunions, but can I really just waltz back into your lives so easily?

The kids are the same here, just with slightly different faces. High school’s still bullshit. But I’m the same. I’m the same Midwestern kid who just wants to sit outside the planetarium and stare at the Chicago skyline.

first post

Nov. 21st, 2015 07:54 pm
auberginedreams: (Default)
so i have no idea what i'm doing here. i know perfectly well what my goal is with this account, but i have absolutely no idea how this website works. i guess i'll figure it out. i am a child of the digital age, after all. anyway, i'm making this account because i want to have a diary that is not only for me but also for the world. i've always thought it's funny how i'd much rather have strangers know my deepest and darkest secrets than friends or family. long sleeves at school and home and t-shirts at the mall. anyway, this is me. you'll never know who i am, but you'll know more about me than anyone who actually knows me. thank you for listening.

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