#anywho! i should probably go journal and sort my shit out

[brightfemurz]

this is a healthy coping mechanism

[lookingforawolf]

Let’s be friends.

Welcome, beautiful humans. If you’re reading this you have somehow delved deep into the inter-web and found yourself on my page. Nevertheless this might actually be a good thing. It’s come to my attention for many years now that there needs to be more kindness in the world and just up until recently I was waiting for some sort of revolution of kindness to arise and that we would all live in peace and love. Clearly that shit isn’t happening. So I’m taking matters into my own hands, and I’m going to do my part on spreading love throughout the world to those who have never felt deserving of it. Don’t fret I’m not going to be sappy all the time. Now you probably have some questions. You might be wondering how I plan on changing the world with a blog? Those are also my thoughts as well. My ultimate objective for this blog is to really be my journal of all my many thoughts I have in my fucked up jumbled brain and things I struggle with. I am in no way a certified expert on mental health, but I do happen to have hands on experience and I’m hoping to create a safe space and help anyone who feels, or has ever felt, alone in the world, worthless, unloved, and has struggled with themselves internally. To shine a light on a pathway to a new perspective on life (insert rays of sunshine here). You may also be thinking, why should i trust anything this woman is saying? Fair enough. You don’t know me and I sure as hell don’t know you. So let’s get to know each other, shall we?

Hi, my name is Kiley, and I have a dream of changing the world. Like most people, I’m sure, I grew up believing anything is possible and the the sky’s the limit, but as I have grown up I’ve been hit with a thing called life and its packed a heavy punch. From what I can remember my childhood was your standard suburban family lifestyle and I was happily cruising through life. Until I got to high school and hit some bumps in the rode. As a freshman I felt as if I had finally entered into the “best years of my life”, because that’s just what I had heard from my family throughout my life. I really thought I had my shit together because I had made it onto the cheer team and I had my eyes on my middle-school crush. You can gag now, its fine. Point is I was naive like so many others, but I wasn’t aware of it till my sophomore year when shit. got. real. It all started with a boy, such a cliche I know. While I’m not going to dive into all the details because we’d be here till the sun burns out, I will just say that love is simultaneously messy and beautiful. This was a point in time where I had NO clue what I wanted out of life so I was just Ms. Indecisive, and that pissed some people (said boy) off. Who really does know what they want to do with themselves at this point in life? If you’re reading this and you knew, I envy you. With that being said a lot of firsts happened here. My first time getting drunk, first time smoking weed, first time having sex, first time being in love, SO many firsts happened, and I think that’s why everyone says “its the best time of your life” but I happen to think it’s the best lessons in your life. I’m gonna get into the deep stuff right now. So I struggled with depression throughout high school and none of my friends at the time understood, so I very much felt alone and thought that maybe I was just being dramatic. The few friends, whom I am still very close with today, that understood were comforting for me around this time, but even having their lovely souls surrounding me, I still felt unworthy and alone. I pretended like everything was fine and masked it very well by diving into cheer and trying to shield myself from my depression, but I never felt fully in control. So I kept that mask there and it took everything in me to try and ignore it but depression is very persistent. Anywho, swiftly moving on now, while the end of high school was approaching everyone was deciding on college and majors and I was sitting there pulling my hair out because I still had not one fucking clue what I wanted to do with myself. So I went to community college. Lasted 3 semesters, and dropped out. Don’t get me wrong, I love learning new things, but school was never my strength. Oddly enough, college actually hurt me more than it helped me. With college came and overwhelming load of a emotions. I couldn’t fight my depression anymore and anxiety followed very closely behind. Panic attacks became part of my daily routine and I thought about death very often. I went down a very dark path that I will get into on another day, but my life meant nothing to me at this point. After leaving college I did a lot of soul searching and found myself in Jesus. (If you don’t have a faith or believe in anything that’s totally fine, but I do happen to have a faith.) With that being said I have found a new comfort and I am more at peace. I am in no way, shape, or form perfect. I still have anxiety, I still get in very depressing states, but the difference is I know I’m not alone and I know there are people who feel just like I do and that also gives me comfort and desire to share my story and possibly relate to someone or help someone. One of my very dear friends, who is one of the lovely souls I referred to earlier, also has a blog and she focuses mainly on mental health while sharing her experience and what she wished someone could’ve told her when she was struggling. So, y’all should check her out here, she’s a beautiful human. 

With all that being said I hope you enjoyed me word vomiting my life story with you. Stay tuned to learn more as I journey through my life.

Peace and Love. xx

[brocolirose]

I have lost sleep.

So to speak. When I fall asleep, I’m a log for at least 8 hours. Such a waste of life. (Look at me, being an angsty teenager at age 27. That’s what 4:30AM sleep-deprived cynicism looks like.) But this pattern of not going to sleep before 4AM has been recurring very often in the past 2 or 3 weeks, and this time I mustered up the focus to write down those things that bug me, and those things that stress the fuck out of me. Hear Me Ramble.

One of the biggest challenges I face with journaling as an activity is choosing the medium. Putting pen to paper is the most satisfying, sensorially. Tracing the letters, forcing myself not to write in a jumble, whiting out mistakes and re-writing on top.... They’re the small, irreplaceable pleasures. Typing is a lot less about fine motor skills and less emotionally invested (at least in my case -- I put a lot of thought in the form and content of manuscript text) -- but it is much quicker, much cleaner, much more flexible, and above all easy to reference. I sometimes read my very old blog posts, and I wonder both at how much/little different I am from back then and at the fact I have actually journaled/blogged so little in the past 7 years. Where did my writing go ?

Well, to put it bluntly: it probably went in the sinkhole of Facebook comments, for the most part. I spent so much time fighting losing battles. Then you give up on Internet crusades when you burn out from the broken-record conversations. Anyway I don’t recall writing a lot more besides that and getting my college degree in Korean studies. Boy did I learn how to properly scratch paper in those 3 years. (Funny thing is: my laptop kinda broke down in the first year and needed to be constantly plugged in, so I couldn’t really bring it to campus and use it to take notes -- so I got really good at switching my color gel pens while scribbling.)

Anywho (I love this silly little word), writing used to be a way for me to process my feelings and thoughts, and somewhere along the way it just got dropped. There was also a time I took a lot of photos and went through the trouble of sorting my favorites, editing them and showing them (in my FB photos, ifyou’re looking for impressive). But one then the other vanished, mostly around the time I got a first boyfriend, and then when life became a busy whirlwind (to my standards -- I need a loooot of leisure time -- not having found my calling and whatnot). I’ve made a few feeble attempts at writing over the past year, to deal with my depression, in the context of therapy -- but I got hung up on the medium, and never could find consistency.

But fuck it. Pen and paper is a pain to carry around then review. Livejournal is as good as dead. So here I am, on my last long-standing blog. A kingdom of isolation, stranded on the far shores of.... well, Tumblr. Whatever that means.

(It’s a 5AM ramble now, woohoo!)

Oh I have a bit of that rice drink and matcha, let me drink that to quench my thirst. Yummy.

If you’re still reading this, wayward voyager, let me reward your patience now and tell you what has been stressing me out. See, I have been living and working full time in a different country than my own, living on my own (and then with a flatmate) for the first time in my life, making good money (considering the job), and getting a taste of adulthood I never had before. But this “time away” has not gone according to plan (life, duh) and shit started hitting the fan 6 months in. It’s been nearly 4 years since I realized I had nearly all the symptoms of chronic depression, and so far no doctor, therapist or counselor has contested this self-applied diagnosis (nor did they diagnose anything on top, which is a relief). But here in Cork I was suddenly forced to take care of it, and for the first time I had a proper network of support to guide me toward the help I needed. In Paris I never had the time or energy or interest to look up the help myself, and mom paid rent. Locked in a situation where I needed to provide for myself, but couldn’t carry out my work because of recurring breakdowns, and refusing to fold back onto my Paris mommy-shelter, I left myself few rescue routes: get better, or end it. You might have noticed I’m still here.

(or am I?)

Long story short, this year has really helped me tie up a few loose ends, and opened up the path to resolving other issues, instead of drawing a curtain on them.

- I mourned a friendship (or two); - I took responsibility for my feelings in general, and figured out the emotional hardships I was willing to tackle in a long-distance, polyamorous relationship (there have been many); - I started to really get the wisdoms of Buddhism and Stoicism, and it helped me keep a less dramatic outlook on life; - I Netflixed the months away, and caught up on a lot of shows I would have never seen otherwise. (honestly I don’t remember a fifth of it, and the remaining less-than-a-fifth is very unlikely to be useful in daily life or conversation, and I’m just not a TV-show-fangirl -- so we may bar this whole thing as a huge waste of time and money, but I’ll own this.) - I have never drawn so much in a very long time. I posted a lot of stuff on Instagram lately, relatively speaking. Paradoxically I got myself a new laptop in January to do more digital stuff, but ended up, over the last 6 months, filling out a drawing pad instead: twice bigger than the previous one, and filled twice faster. My brain’s a twat. Or maybe just my expectations are. Fuck me, whatever. - Now that I’m coming to grips with emotional hygiene, I’ll be able to start building some financial hygiene. Because I wasn’t able to save more than my ass’ skin and what it takes to keep it dry, warm, clean and peachy.

I’m also figuring out that instead of being a nice smart badass waiting for her chance in life, I am more of a wasteful cowardly fuckwit with delusions of grandeur -- while paradoxically knowing my life is shit, yes. (not top-grade never-getting-out-of-there shit, but still shit. Entry-level shit, if you will.) But I used to think that I deserved better and just didn’t get the starting boost I thought I had deserved by virtue of being born with whatever beautiful brain I thought I had been endowed with.

Truth is: although I’m human and thus inherently flawed, so far I’ve done a pretty terrible job of picking up the skills needed to progress in life as an autonomous adult. Just to say I’m not as smart as I like to think I am.

Somehow this thought is liberating. It’s good to be an idiot. To embrace being a dimwit. No need to impress anybody, even myself.

That doesn’t mean I will let everything go strapless and become even more thoroughly irresponsible and aimless than I already am. I simply want to acknowledge the very likely possibility that I’ve been setting the bar a little too high for myself by factoring in a stellar intellect that flirts with no other stars than those wriggling over the seabed floor.

So there: I’m stupid, and it’s okay. It just means I should get my sheep in a row and work harder, otherwise my peachy ass becomes crisp bacon. (hmmmmmmmmm bacon 🥓)

(It’s 6AM, I wouldn’t mind some bacon and eggs.)

Hmmmm I didn’t get too much into detail, and I suppose I’ve rambled enough because I don’t feel like going on. But it felt good. :) So I’m going to close off by saying that what stresses me out is that I may not be fully ready when the day comes that I have to fly back to Paris (July 5th), and I’ll have to leave plenty of stuff here because I didn’t move my butt to expedite my stuff back nor sell what I could. And I’m afraid of losing other friends as I figure out how to go about being a polyamorous, sliiiightly bisexual person with values that do not bar flirting with someone who happens to be somebody else’s “other half”. I’m also scared I won’t find a livelihood whose required work won’t drive me crazy or suicidal.

Because I’ve experienced these things. But I’m not afraid of going stag on a backpacking trip across Europe and more. Because, of that, I am clueless.

[cispicious]

JUNE 2, 2011

Hey there. I doubt (people will read this) that journals are supposed to be used for advertising, or propoganda about oneself. I'm guessing it's what normal journals are used for: to document the day to day trials of human life. Yea, but I'm not human. So I guess my definition of a journal shall be, "Trials of a Nephal" If you don't know what a Nephal is, ask God. Oh, and in case you're far too lazy - or just don't care about my looks - to go check my pictures, I can give you a short description right here: * I'm the same height as Taylor Momsen, my favorite celebrity. <3 * [redacted because holy shit this was bad] * I'm Jamacain and Scottish, and my hair is a sort of red-brown-blonde color. * [redacted because holy shit this was bad] So, are you looking for a biography of my life? I'm not sure I want to type that much. I guess I'll summarize it and make it even less of a biography by telling you things about myself:

I was born on January 2nd, 1996 in New York. I moved down to Florida with my family when I was 12, and have been here fro three years. (Can you calculate my age?) I'm bisexual, but I lean more towards girls. I may [redacted because holy shit this was bad]. My life revolves around music and sarcasm. My English 2 Honors teacher wrote in my yearbook to never forget the essence of my spark. Lol, no. My teacher's not Taylor Swift. She actually told me to never lose my sarcasm, and who am I to defy a teacher? .... I like to think that I'm humorous enough to start a YouTube webshow, but even though I have an HD Camcorder, I can never find the willpower to do such things. Maybe because I'm really sensitive and insecure, and I doubt I can take the hate comments....right. Anyway. People think I'm a player because of the rather extensive list of people I've been with. Honestly, I used to be a player. I've only been turned down once in my life, and only God knows why. Because it can't be my dashing good looks or humble personality, right? Oh my, looks like I've hit the irony button again. I'm actually in love right now, and I can't tell you who, just in case you jealous bitches go on a rampage.

Anyway, shall I post about my day? I'm in 7th period - Speech and Debate - right now. My friend Barbara and I are the only girls on this side of the room. It's not like we ever do anything in here. We're too effing smart, so we just keep quiet while the bumbling idiots around us try to keep up with the teacher, and stumble over words like oppression. I just showed her that. She laughed. x) Oh, um, the rest of the class is either playing games or watching The Great Debaters. I saw it in 8th grade. I don't need to see it again. The boy, Junior, isn't exactly eye candy. Finals begin tomorrow. Me and my science project parter don't have to take a Biology final, because we won the science project competition. (We - I - made an action movie about the project, pretending to be spies who had to solve the Problem, or else the White House would blow up.) Let's call her Erica. I'm scared to be alone with her, if we have to go to a different room, because she has a crush on me. And she doesn't even know I'm bisexual. She makes people move so she can sit next to me, touches me innapropriately, and told me that she knows that we're supposed to be soulmates. Save me. So here's my question of the day - supposing I write everyday and that any of you care - : What do you do when you want to make someone stop loving you, but you don't want to stop being their friend or hurt their feelings?

JUNE 3RD 2011

I'm only making this 'cause someone's making me. Let's have a recap of my day, shall we? 6:33 - woke up over an hour late. I didn't shower and merely tussled my hair, and I ate breakfast in the car. Got to school on time, despite what my dad thought. Realized I didn't have my Biology textbook which was due today. Panicked for a second, then decided not to give a shutzpah. In Latin 2, I spent like, ten minutes on my final. I had my AE do it for me, then I went to sleep in the chair on the other side of the room. It smelled funkeh. In Biology, I didn't have to take a final so I went to the Media Center with Jackie, and not Erica. Fank chu, Lawd for making her not come. So I sat down in the back, and Jackie - constant bully that she is - made me sit on the floor so that she could read comfortably on the place where I was lounging. It was cold in there. Um, nothing exciting really happened. My sister is annoying the hellzpah out me and I'm gonna kill her. Question of the day: Why isn't it possible to go back in time yet?

JUNE 6TH 2011

Hello, ladies and gents. So, today is the second day of finals and the beginning of the end. That's right. IT'S THE LAST WEEK OF SCHOOL!!!11!!111!! I took my English 2 Honors and Algebra 2 exams earlier today (actually I just finished my Algebra) and I have to say I was dissapointed by the lack of imagination by my teachers. I mean, these tests were a bit too easy- not that anything's wrong with that. But you ever get that feeling that once you believe something to be incredibly easy, turns out you got every damn thing wrong? Yeah. That's how I feel. Anywho, this guy I think is adorkable (and he's a skater, swoon!) opened the door for me and made a cute joke. Now before you say "oh dear Lord is this just another hopeless romantic?" let me tell you that he only does it for me. When anyone else is at the door, he just stares at it like it's the door to Armagaddeon or something. I have a question: Do any of you believe in alter ego's? Do you believe it's possible to seperate your body from yours? (Google!) I have one. My friend named her Cali, don't ask. But if any of you have had encounters with your AE's, PM me. We need to discuss something. But that wasn't my question of the day. The real question is: Is it possible for your Alter Ego to become their own person?

JUNE 7TH 2011

But I set fire to the rain Watched it pour as I touched your face Well, it burned while I cried 'Cause I heard it screaming out your name, your name When laying with you I could stay there Close my eyes, feel you here forever You and me together, nothing is better 'Cause there's a side to you that I never knew, never knew All the things you'd say, they were never true, never true And the games you's play, you would always win, always win I'm in love with this song. I cried hearing this girl sing it. I think I'm in love with her now. WHY CAN'T i HAVE A VOICE LIKE HERS, GOD??????? I'm gonna cry. This song makes me cry. Her voice. So damn angelic. Anyway, about my day: IT SUCKED. The only fun part was during homeroom when we were playing Scrabble, [redacted because holy shit this was bad]. Oh, and I talked to my friend Ella for the first time in months. I swear, I'm just going to keep promoting this girl. I wonder if I can get her number....sigh. If only she had red hair. LAWL. I'm just joking guys. My heart belongs to Caraquel. Yanno, when she wants it. Anywhom Question of the Day: What makes you laugh?

JUNE 8TH 2011

Tomorrow's the last day of school. I finished my Speech and Debate class early, so I'm coming here. I'm about to pour out my feelings here. I'm about to get deep. Like, 6 feet underground deep, brah. So, I think I'm in love. With the fucking world. I have this problem where I love too much. I suppose there's a gap in my heart from not getting enough love when I was a kid, or maybe my brain is just fucked up. I've fallen two feet, I've been dropped, I've had a glass cup of coffee fall on my head all before I finished kindergarten. Maybe that's why my brain is fucked up. There's a lump in my head, and I'm not sure if that's normal. I think it messed up my mouth-brain connection, where I don't say what I think. Like, if I think "Mr. John's class is nice." I'll end up saying. "Mr. John has a nice ass." or something, when the guy is like 1,000 years old and looks like Santa Claus. And the sad thing is- I can never remember saying it. Sometimes I think it's Cali saying these things, and other times I think I'm just special. I love my girlfriend, my ex, and my two best friends. (But I love Cara the most.) I get jealous beyond belief when they so much as mention another person. The thing is, I should only love my girlfriend. 'Cause she's the only one that (I think) even wants to marry me. And that's the only reason I'd ever be interested in a person- because I think they're worth it for the long haul. I really should get over all the others, because they're taken and they don't want me for the long run. They want me for the here and now, I guess. Or maybe they want me for the here and now so they can see what they'd be getting in the long run. I'm so confused and I'm hurting, but I just can't stop loving. My girlfriend's favorites on Twitter are chock full of gay boys telling her they love her. And I get jelly because I'm the first - and only - girl she's ever liked ('cause I'm just that rockin') but she could probably change their sexualities. My best friend, Cara, I just...I just love her. I'm crying right now IN EFFING PUBLIC because of how much it would kill me to not have her in my life, to not have her love. And if you are reading this Caraquel, I love you. I love you. I know Cali said she was helping me get over you, but I don't think it's possible. Every time I think about you...it's not possible to live without you. But yeah. I need to get my cranium checked. This just ain't realistic. I mean, whenever my friends come to me about their relationship problems, I think "Oi, if only it were possible for me to love you all." but mostly because I hate it when they cry over some chick who doesn't give two flying shits about anyone but herself. So, my questions of the day are: Is it possible to have fucked up the love gland in your brain? Is it possible to love more than one person? Is it possible to die from heartbreak?