Go On, Cry Wolf.

Relationships, to me, are like swinging doors. It's open, or it's closed, and you get very little in between. If you happen to get caught in between in those few seconds as the door retreats to its frame, at an inopportune time, you just might find yourself with a few bruised fingers.

I'm open or I'm closed. Making new friends is terrifying. It takes a while to pry me open, and there's a very slim window for when a person can come in. But when do I let you in, then you get the full force of exactly who I am--love it or hate it, I 'll give you my all. Luckily, I find that most people who bothered to break down my strange exterior, love who they meet on the other side--even with the craziness and moodiness that come with. And I wish they knew just how much I appreciate that. So apart from them, I'm closed to everyone else. I put on a smile and I'll act really nice, but mostly because I like to be polite. Don't get me wrong, I don't dislike them either. The bother is I'm never truly comfortable with them, ergo, I'm never completely myself.

Then there's those who I've already let in, and yet, they chose to pry from the inside, out. It takes a while for those doors to budge because once I care about someone, I don't let go of them easily. But if they force themselves out, and the door closes behind them-- it stays shut.


I had a lot more to say, but realized that it's pointless to go through the trouble.

Cheers!

-jejecola-

Vortex of the Majority

Credits to: http://oo-rein-oo.deviantart.com/art/Swallowed-By-Society-173665824




The photographer calls this 'Swallowed by Society',which I think pretty much describes situation majority of the population. We are blind sheep following the herd. We live in a world of stereotypes, distorted norms, and pressures from the larger population. And to make matters worse, standards have been damagingly shifted. Pressure to be rich. Pressure to skinny. Pressure to fit in. Forget body image issues or good' ol morality, we all act like life is just one big party.

I bet the philosophers of old had it easy. They could point to a rock and say, "Behold! The origin of beings!" And if they supplied logical proofs, no one could say a darn thing about it. Except maybe pick something else and declare it the ultimate reality. In this day and age, people will point to you and think you're on crack.

Okay fine, maybe this is a little bit personal. But I hate being looked at like I'm a of freak of nature. So I get a little overexcited about stupid things and I find humor where others don't. I like obscure references and think that singing to cheesy love songs is hilarious. I probably overdo my hand gestures and I'm too loud when I get animated. But I'm not going to apologize for it.

(most likely, this is all in my head, and I'm just a tad paranoid)

But for arguments sake, let's say my delusions of being the objeect of people's ridicule is true

don't hate on me because you can't keep up

that was condescending, but no one's going to read this anyway. Bad days make for bad writing (in both contexts of being terribly written and writing something terrible).

Dare to be different

Cheers!
-jejecola-

Bark With No Bite

There is a version of myself that I'd like to become. The only problem is, she exists only in my fantasies. She is confident and level - headed. She commands authority just by walking and she always makes the right calls. She's spiritual, smart, successful, (and sexy.) And most of all, she loves a challenge.

Then there's me. The real, boring, introverted, cowardly shell of a dreamer. I chanced upon an opportunity to do what I do everyday-- talk, only it was in front of a lot of people. And for a while I was pumping with excitement. Already, I was getting ahead of myself, the way I always do. My mind created this brand new world starring me, whose undiscovered potential suddenly decided wake up one morning and kick ass.

It lasted about an hour.

When the adrenaline died and I returned from the gush of utter happiness, reality kicked in. Self- doubt took over. Cowardice grabbed the wheel. And fear was calling the shots. Like an unsuspecting target shot at point blank range, it hit me. There is no undiscovered potential. There is no other version of myself just waiting for a chance to come out. There is only me. There is only a girl who can talk about her dreams, but cannot chase them.

When push came to shove, I backed down. And I don't understand why. I regret it a bit, but the regret won't kill me. Nothing will change. I will, as I have always done, merely exist. To live, and then to die, without ever leaving a mark. I can talk the talk, but my walk is the walk of shame. When the going gets tough, this toughie's a complete softy. My dreams will never materialize not because I don't possess the ability to make them happen (Not that I would know because I've always played it safe) but for the sheer lack of trying. My fear of failure and my insecurities grip me too tightly that I can't picture overcoming them. I will always be too scared to take the risk.

And I'm sick of it.

But here we are again. Tough talk is all it is. And that's all there will ever be.

-jessaminecola-

Lost

I don't know what's happening to me. I don't know who I'm turning into. When did I become this person? I'm lazy, complacent and unmotivated. I used to procrastinate, but this just ridiculous. I'm blowing important things off. I'm falling into a routine of just constant failure. It's failure after failure after failure. And I know I should be trying my hardest to turn things around but instead I preoccupy myself with anything but the things I must do.

I've lost my spiritually. I've given up every conviction I have ever had. I swear. I've drank. I've cheated. Next thing I know I'm gonna be doing drugs or something. I don't pray anymore. I don't have relationship with God anymore. I'm irritable, and mean, and hateful and ungrateful. I've become so superficial and have become obsessed with my looks.

I act terribly towards my family. I'm a burden to my friends. I'm worth walking out on.Besides, Who's to say I was ever worth keeping?

Who am I if not for the morals I kept, the standards I held, the relationships I fostered? If two years ago, you would've told me this is the person I would become, I'd have laughed. I'd have said that I'd never let go of my God. I'd have said I was passionate and driven. I'm 18 and I'm exhausted. I don't know if the path I'm on is right. I'm so scared that I'll just get fed up and give up all of a sudden someday. Someday when I've wasted so much time. I'm not cut out for this. My life has hit rock bottom. And I've no way of getting myself out.

How A Bad Day Ends - Poem

Today was terrible. And as I react to every bad day, I become a thoughtless, cranky mad man. You'll see how angry I become. You'll see how easily I lose hope. How easily I crumble to depression. The part of the poem that's full of angst, I wrote on the walk home. After I let off some steam, I get home regaining a bit of common sense. I couldn't very well let all that angry poetry go to waste,so I decided to write back to my angry self. You'll see the shift in my mood. And how uncharacteristically optimistic I become.( I swear, I'm bipolar!) And this is usually what happens when I've cooled down. I hope you enjoy it. :)

How A Bad Day Ends
By: Jessamine Cola

If I now I just stopped breathing
I’m going straight to hell
And this world will soon follow
As far as I can tell

I don’t believe in friendship
Nor in good and honest work
Love is only actual,
When it comes with mundane perks

I’ve been stripped of my morals
I’ve come to learn to hate
My body’s slowly dying
My ethereal soul mutates

My life has lost all meaning
My God has been replaced
By guises of the devil
Yet I run to them in haste

Time will wait for no one
And certainly not for me
My future’s morphing into
One colossal tragedy

I bear not the ability
To create change in my routine
The extent of my efforts
Is but a muffled scream

Eyes closed, I dive backwards
And free fall into spite
Of everything I’m doing wrong
And inability to make them right

I’m lacking in courage
I’m lacking in strength
To deny my apathy
And make concrete my intents

I live in my daydreams
For my real life, I can’t stand
If only wishes did come true
You had life at your command

But life isn’t just a slab of clay
You mould to your delight
It is the foolish man who makes
A mountain for every hill in sight

Don’t dare talk of injustice
For justice has been paid
Unless the justice that you seek
Is in a passing grade

Your faults are yours and no one else’s
So lower your pointed finger
Get mad, and shout, and swear if must
Then let no bad feeling linger

You can rant all day about people you hate
of the things you must do that you despise
But that only means, you must slave the night
For Ra’s chariot will soon cross the skies

Leave your frustrations at the tip of your pen
And drown them in the blackness of ink
Today will be one of many bad days
But good days number far more than you think

Look back when you’re older
Look back when you’re wise
Look back when you’ve found
Courage and strength in your stride

The clumsiness of your youth
Will be a thing of the past
But it’s no easy road
Get your act together, fast!

I wish you well, friend
That tomorrow will bring
A day that falls under “good”
One with a smile to share and a song to sing
So perhaps you’ll write of brighter things :)


-don't forget to leave a comment! :D-
Cheers!

-jessaminecola-