Ice cream cone #91

• It's funny how every time I run into something that I need to blog about, I think about it too much, to the point where I forget where I began. That's why when I try to write on days like that, I usually don't even know where to start.
• I'm really scared thinking about the future, about the things that are going to knock me down. There are days when that motto "the best days of your life haven't happened yet" doesn't have the strength to hold me up anymore. These couple of days definitely haven't been that best days that I was expecting last week. 
• Honestly I was astonished at how heavily the news did its impact on me. I just simply thought, oh well, it's over by now, I can pride myself on saying that emotionally, I've been well. But I guess sooner or later, I'll find out about the bottom of this. Contrary to what lots of people want me to do, which is to sit down and confront that person to confirm if it's all true, the more I hear about it, the more I want to keep myself away, the farther the possible to that character. I don't want to have anything at all to do with it anymore, I just wanna keep all of the toxic people out of my life. 
• It's hard though, to say the least, thinking back about all those time and then convince myself that it's all just a lie terribly told in exchange for some cheap opportunity that don't even mean anything by now. When I said about how someone should paint one of the milestones red in my relationship so that I could be alarmed about how rotten it was, they should paint it on the first milestone. It's a fucked up relationship in the first place. 
• I'm in no position to think any good about this person. I feel like everything, including the gifts, the text messages, the phone calls, the sorry notes, anything that makes me sick to the guts to name are just a bunch of stinking dog shit that was thrown at me. I had every intention to burn all of the gifts first thing when I got home, but then I thought, shoes are not guilty, and some homeless girl out there could have them, not knowing that they were bought by a shit-faced character as bribing gift. I have this vision if I sit down and ask if all of this were true, every word that I'd receive would be another pile of lies. I have to thank it though. Thank you for making me realize how actually terrible a person can be, and how after so many devious attempts to take advantage of others, they're still a ginormous loser. 
• I'm gonna get through this, in one way or another. Maybe after some watches of Perks of being a Wallflower and some pieces of makeups. I'm gonna be okay at last, but I guess some nights you don't go to sleep with happy thoughts :)

Torn jeans and random talking.

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I only have 3 pairs of jeans. I love all 3 of them. Especially the torn pair. And as the result of my passionate love, i wear them everywhere. And every adult looked at me. Each and every one of them asked me the same question: "Are you that poor that you have to wear torn jeans?". I never minded that, it's a social joke that whether you like it or not, you're gonna have to smile and agree or else. But then if you take a little time to look at that attitude towards young people, that is an attitude with no respect.

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I can represent myself as a typical example of the youth. The first lesson in life that we have ever learned is to respect the elder and whatever they have done. Adults are people whose minds have grown completely and they can make proper decision with the less percentage of regretting than children, or that's what they think. We don't make jokes about an old structured house, a 50's woman in knee-length puffy skirts with big buttons and white gloves or a man in perfectly ironed suits with wing collars and bow ties. We have a name for that, it's called vintage.

Well, of course there are bad kids who make jokes about their overly puffiness or the reflectively shiny shoes. But the jokes were understated and mostly private. Because although they're bad kids, they're still afraid of being judged by the society by dissing what's in the past.

But Edna Mode used to say: "I don't live in the past, it distracts me from the now". Although we respect the vintage factor, we don't see people going to work in that outfit. The world, whether we like it or not, is changing. It's easy to see and understand that some people just can't adapt to everything. Some adults, to be exact. A small example, when i was 5, i could turn on the video player 10 times faster than anyone in my house. The change is the video player, and the time it took me to turn it on comparing to the time anyone else does is the difference between generations.

I think in life, you give something you get something back. We gave our previous generation a heartful of respect, we only ask for permission to walk down the street with the defining clothes without the disrespectful glare. It's the people who create the boundaries. My mom always says, if the whole world believes crooked teeth are beautiful, nobody fixes their gaps anymore. We don't hear our parents retelling stories about our grandparents forbidding them from wearing high-waisted pants or neon-colored headbands. Visions are subjective, you lived your youth in freedom, let us live ours. It takes more than just a hole in the jeans to judge a kid, you know.

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I get that when people turn 25 they want the life process to stop, but is it normal when i'm 17?

Most definitely not.

Belief. Unfinished.

If someone asks me "what do you believe in?", i would answer without any hesitation "i believe in New York City". You may question how i can believe in a city, especially not the city from my country, but first, you don't have the right to judge other's belief, and second, i have my reasons.

The bizarre belief was the result of watching too many movies on HBO and Star Movies. Mostly Gossip Girl, The Devil Wears Prada, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist and Little Manhattan. Each movies bring me another side of the Big Apple, all beautiful and magical. In a grief time like this, i am ready to believe in the magical things i used to take for granted. I can name some of New Yorks famous spots, i can close my eyes imagining what it would be like if i was there, if i could touch my feet to the cold sidewalk of the shiny avenue. And every time a movie comes up with a familiar scene, i usually cry in joy: "That's New York! All the best movies are shot in New York!".

Mom's been to NYC, and she told me she was mostly overwhelmed and a little bit dizzy because of all the skycrapers. I envy her for being able to experience that feeling. I've never watched Breakfast At Tiffany's, but i'm sure i will. Audrey Hepburn portrayed the girl whom every girl finds herself in common. Girls believe in glamour, and how they lighten up our lives by the sparkles that sweetly dazzle the eyes when the sunlight visits. I have an imaginary character who lives in the most beautiful penthouse in New York, with the view to the city. And everyday, surrounded by the darkness of the room, she walks to the wide window, admiring the painting made by thousands of lightning bulbs.

Mom told me while we were watching Little Manhattan, there are lots of small parks like that. Me and your aunt used to snug in one and ate orange in there. I remember in one of my fictional stories i wrote i sent the two characters in a park like that once. That's probably one of the best things about New York, hidden behind the crapers' shadows lived a small world of wild flowers, of a carefully made stool, of a little romance in the "everything's possible" city. In movies, they always live in houses with elevator guards who open the door & press the button for them. The scene is always shot in the yellow tone of varnished walls, and there's always something about that person that makes the trademark of the old buildings. And in movies, there is always a scene of the girl catching a ridiculously numerous number of yellow cabs on the street. Only New York City movies. If you don't believe me, watch it yourself.

I sometimes think it's me in double. I get tired of the world i live in, i travel to another world and get lost in it. But New York in my imagination is too amazing to give up. It's the city where anything can happen, the city that never sleeps. There's magic above the chaos of work, above the coffee smell that haunts every person. If i ever get a chance to go to New York, and i'm sure i will, somehow, i will slowly walk on the street, sniff the smell of the favorite city, hands in my pocket ...

i'm sorry i can't picture myself having fun & enjoying life right now. That's why this post doesn't get the way i want. Here's a collection of photos that i love, go check it out.

Hopes.

In 12 hours, from 11am yesterday to 11am today, i've experienced all possible feelings a human being can have in life. Then i talked to her.

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Yesterday i was broken, crying in my room for 2 hours, screaming without a sound. Yesterday if mom opened the door i would run to her and cry on her feet saying i'm sorry and you were right. I thought, and i still think that i'm meant to lose everything i love. Even if mom doesn't believe me, i say i don't want her to know not because i'm afraid of the scold and the nags, i think after what i've been through, scolds & nags are just bruises compare to a wound. I don't want to tell her because i'm afraid of seeing her sad. I kept thinking yesterday if i hadn't been born in life maybe mom & dad would be happier. I'm the bad kid, i'm the headstrong kid, i'm the disobeyed kid. Maybe if they had had another instead of me, ... *shrugs*

I didn't allow myself to think positively as it means i was able to forgive myself & to get happy again. I still don't.

I went to school with tearful eyes this morning & the head teacher asked me why the puffy eyes, have you been spending the whole night crying. He told me you look screwed. I do, i am screwed. In recess, she turned to me and asked, can you look at me and smile. And from the bottom of my heart i did want to do it, and i tried, but i couldn't. Tears rolled down instead. She turned away with a bitter smile. There i knew i hurt someone.

I wrote in my phone this morning: "hope is the pet of your soul. You feed it with faith. Every once in a while, hope decides to jump out of your head and come true. But most of the time, it's starved to death." Life is a kinky bitch, and the smartest bitch ever. Noone outsmarts life, and noone tries to. If it's not that obvious, life hates me.

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Then i talked to her. I think in one's world, everyone plays a role of something. She plays the role of the healing person, a great friend anyone would envy one. As i listened to her words, i watched her leaning her head to the arm, her long dark hair softly flipped under the cold wind of July. Yesterday i wish i could have her calm and thinking. The talk, random, actually, was about life, about hope, about successful people and how they don't happen in our world, about parents, family, hardship. Normal subjects. But i felt better, stopped crying. Partly because i don't think i have any tears left to cry anymore. But i felt better, that's the part. I smiled back at her the smile i owed her from recess.

Special girl, most extraordinary girl i've ever met. Feels like in about 10 years to come, the man that wins her hearts has got to be a great man. If he's not, i feel like i could come right to his face, grab his shirt neck and spits at the douche's face.

Thank you. A million times thank you, friend.

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P/S: such crazy weather. I sneezed for a hundred times today & blew the whole 2 pockets of tissue! That with the fact i cried every 5 minutes really screwed me.

I think the one feeling that keeps people doing something is that finding something beautiful after finding something beautiful. That's the heart of life.

- bedshaped

Many's the time I ran with you down

The rainy roads of our old town

Many the lives we lived in each day

And buried all together

Don't laugh at me

Don't look away

You'll follow me back

With the sun in your eyes

And on your own

Bedshaped and legs of stone

You'll knock on my door

And up we'll go

In white light

I don't think so

But what do I know?

What do I know?

I know

I know you think I'm holding you down

And I've fallen by the wayside now

And I don't understand the same things as you

But I do

Don't laugh at me

Don't look away

You'll follow me back

With the sun in your eyes

And on your own

Bedshaped, two legs of stone

You'll knock on my door

And up we'll go

In white light

I don't think so

But what do I know?

What do I know?

I know

And up we'll go

In white light

I don't think so

But what do I know?

What do I know?

I know