So I went with my roommate to a club, to people watch and keep an eye on him. There was so much alcohol. There were so many cigarettes. Everyone looked the same. 

I leaned on some sort of ledge and watched most of the time.

I remembered those times in middle and high school, where we would go all sit in the auditorium and someone would come tell us, "beer tastes bad, people drink to have confidence," and it's true. I didn't drink, so hanging out in a bar for me meant I could watch people be ridiculous and no one would notice me. After 10 minutes there I got out my headphones and blasted some music I much preferred. 

I'm not one to go out.

I looked at what people were wearing. Now, as a feminist, girls can wear whatever they wanted, but, I believe that clothes should not be worn to impress anyone. And dancing is fine, but do it for fun, don't do it to impress some guy. But hey, what do I know, I went home alone.

My drunk roommate also beat me awfully at darts, which I was not very happy about. We explored the club, I watched him and a lot of other people try to dance, alcohol in hand. 

Someone actually came up to me, his name was Max. He talked to me a bit, he didn't go to FSU but he was in the military stationed not too far from here. We watched his friend try to pick up a girl, and talked about skateboarding along with his ex who was from FSU who trampled on his heart. He also introduced me to his third friend. They both said I was *explicit* cool. The third friend said he knew I was too cool when he walked in and I had my headphones in.

Don't worry, I didn't get Max's number. (Kinda wish I did, he seemed really really sweet and was very handsome.) 

I didn't go home with anyone, no worries. And I even think I would enjoy going back, because for some reason the people "brave" enough to talk to me are actually cool people, unlike me who's more of a hypocrite. 

It was an interesting experience, and I'm glad I had it.

Poem from April 1st, 2014

I drive past men in dress shirts looking good,

Women who feel like they should,

And then there's me

In this ridiculous metal machine, as silly as it seems. 

This is how I get there, get by. Not hearing the birds sing in the morning sky.

Not noticing the time passing

Or the waves crashing

Or the little things that grace each morning that are real.

And I, like all others have come to no longer be able to feel

Sense, touch, taste

The true world in our haste to go from place to place.

Maybe that's what's so awfully wrong

That we've grown accustomed to a new song

With turning gears and motors and hums

Different to the melody the spider strums

On her silver web artfully designed

Without instructions or direction,

 just crafted with instant perfection.

Olivia's Soap Box

Let me tell you the tale of why so many young people, in my personal opinion, are not very active in politics. This will also explain why you'll rarely see young people giving comments during committee meetings, or advocating for stances on important issues.

We have grown up with hearing about how frustrated our parents are with the government. We went through the 2008 recession and felt the effects linger throughout middle school on to high school graduation, and even continuing when we finished college. Like our parents and grandparents, we too have given up on our government. The majority of school studies focus on math and science, which results in young adults who have no idea about the process through which the education and appropriations bills went that cut funding for the arts and sciences.

I believe, that because we have so little faith in the government, we have given up. No matter what is said, no matter who publicly comments in committee meetings, regular people are not listened to because we are not the ones funding campaigns. (That's what it's all about.) If we wanted the government to spend money to protect our water or our state parks we would have to have money and time to wait for just the state government to get a law put into place. 

We cannot wait, and yes, we are impatient, but because our lives and the lives of the next generation depend on it. We are used to being able to get information in 2 minutes. We rally, we participate in fundraisers for causes we believe in, we try to be happy in a world that wants us to drown in reality and create cynics out of all of us because if our parents and grandparents aren't happy why should we be? 

The majority of people in positions of governmental power right now won't survive to see the effects of taking away the arts, draining aquifers below sustainable levels, plastic buildup in the ocean, logging, land development, coal burning, fossil fuel consumption, a media consumed by propaganda, pollution dumping into the water system, and a money-consumed government. And the knowledge that no matter what we as young adults say to our government, it will not convince someone that children of the present and future should be safe and fed and educated, upsets me to no end. Our stories won't get senators and representatives to vote in favor of bills that would impact the lives of ordinary people because they've not received money from those ordinary enough to work 40-50 hours a week. That is terrifying and frustrating, especially to people my age who want to help others and ensure the safety of our future children. Partly, because we don't have time to waste, and we know it. 

I want my children to be able to see coral reefs, and go to clean beaches, and be able to go to school and learn about the world. I don't want my children to live in a world they have little chance of thriving in. 

Yes, one person can make a difference, but a governmental system buried under layers of money compounded over years cannot be dug free by only one. Changing the mind of one representative or senator doesn't happen often, let alone in enough time to have the minority overcome the majority when it comes issues like fracking or plastic bottles. It takes years. I've heard stories of how bills that protect children, protect our water sources, protect our forests, and protect our springs have taken over a decade to be put into law. 

We cannot wait years. Half of the House and the Senate members will be dead by then. I will most likely have children. Our air will be as polluted as China's is right now, and our water as polluted as India's, my children won't be able to go outside to draw with chalk. All because I do not have the money or the voice to change the world on my own, or gather enough people. I cannot take money out of the government across 50 states single-handedly. 

In my opinion, most of the people my age are extremely passionate when it comes issues they care about, but are so disillusioned because the media along with everyone around us says we should grow up. I've been told that I'm not pretty because I'm not a model, that my entire generation is lazy, that we are unappreciative of what we have, that we have no idea what we are talking about, and that we know nothing compared to those older than we are. But we still try, and hold on to the hope that we can change the world because that's often all we have left. 

The Unpaid Intern

"People tried to fit what they were seeing to what they were believing." "They'll look at existing data and try to put it in their own model."

I went to my internship and toured the entire Capitol, which David frequently referred to as the "cook's tour". I met several people from all different areas who worked for different representatives. One of the things he emphasized to me was that "you catch more flies with honey," especially in a place like the Capitol, as he smiled and knew the names of most of the people we passed by along the way. It took me a while to absorb all of the information which spanned across about 4 buildings and 22 floors. We went through the Senate and the House of Representatives, saw where the governor meets with the board of governors, and passed by several important offices. I often got mixed up for a moment, but managed to somehow figure a rough layout in my head Of where everything is. 

After the tour we sat in the cafeteria on the lower level and David showed me the bill he was working on, what steps he was going through, and he explained the importance of going line by line to try and dissect each part. One of the most important things from his explanation was that you have to fully understand each word and if you don't get it, you can't see all of the possible outcomes. Another thing that David stressed was to always be a little paranoid, because a sentence could have underlying implications with just the addition or subtraction of a word, or choosing "and" instead of "or". 

It reminded me a lot about a puzzle, and being able to think of every single wrong thing that could happen so that then you can present the findings to whichever organization you're lobbying for. After the findings are presented, the organization decided whether to support, not support, or try to change things in the bill. Every single piece is important, and I realized that there is so much lying underneath that has to be dug up and so much research has to be done. It gave me a newly found appreciation for the people in government who know so much. David commented a few times saying that, "it's never boring, I learn new things every day." 

Stupid Heartbreak

You know, love is a lot like betting. Or stocks. And losing makes you feel like absolute _insert curse word here_. I have been crushed a bit by two guys in the past month. Sigh. I don't want to explain it in anything other than metaphors. I like metaphors.

Getting hit in the chest by a small truck.

Having a small child bodyslam your chest.

All those lovely things, metaphorically speaking, are rejection. Right down to the core. I feel it in my chest every single time. But, I get up and move on. 

The seasons changing.

Winter comes and goes often for me. There is a constant freezing, cracking, and melting cycle in my heart. And each time I try and believe that I'm stronger; that it won't hurt as much as it did last time. Yet someone comes along and wrecks that idea because I decided to put so much stock in them believing they were different. 

And then I listen to the same sad songs over again because I'm crushed.

In a few months, even a few weeks I'll have someone else I'm interested in who makes me feel like the stars. Someone else who's messages I'll save. And the cycle continues.

I always think "this one is different," especially the one I was just talking to because he was so much like me, I thought...

But I guess that's what I get for thinking. 

The world spins forward. And distance creates rifts between people who realize different parts of themselves over time. It's too hard to keep up. I've said this so many times, that, if you're always around someone and constantly reminded of their existence, then your love will either be great or fail. But distance breaks the chance of finding out because you become different people without the other realizing it. It's not just physical distance, it's mental distance. 

So, time to start again? 

TALLY?

GETTING A BED

Yeah it sounds over dramatic. But this is the best thing to happen to me in a LONG TIME. Well, one of them. I missed having a soft bed so much!!! I guess it's the simple things, but I love it. It makes me feel finally at home. For so long I missed having a bed. Moving from air mattress to dorm bed to air mattress was fine, but this, it just makes me feel loved. I know it sounds crazy, but I feel so lucky being in bed. I hope other people have this feeling once in their lives. 

I'm in Tallahassee now! It feels crazy. I keep moving around. My address keeps changing. I have no real home. I don't have a car. I don't have a cat or dog. But I do have this adventure. 

I need to make a list of "what will make me happy" or "what I wish for" list. Kind of like a vision board. 

I'm sorry it's past midnight and I'm a bit tired.

My roommates Allen and Dylan are actually really nice to live with. We all get along as of right now. I'm trying to reign in my nagging about dishes and things. I hope it says alright between all of us. 

Happy new year?

Thoughts from the doctor

I'm trying so hard to come from a place of love, but it's hard when my mom keeps telling me "from a scientific standpoint" about amputations and me potentially going blind. 

I'm trying to ride the wave of feelings and let it come and go, so I can be ok. But it's tough for me to do with someone else in the room. 

Focus on breathing

My head hurts, I feel a bit nauseous, and I didn't get enough sleep. I'm probably dehydrated too. 

I really dislike these doctors visits. I've done a few now, and they're awful.

-- 

So the doctor came in and my mom did most of the talking while I tried not to cry. And they agreed, I need to see a psychiatrist and also lower my dosage of Zoloft. My depression is so severe that it's affecting everything else in my life. 

It's all in my head. And if I'm going to change it's going to have to come from me. It's also going to take a lot of work and a lot of doctors to feel better. Apparently I'm like a soda bottle all shaken up that could explode at any moment once I start lowering down the Zoloft. I don't want to be in contact with my mom at college, it's a lot of work. 

What side is talking? Depression or anxiety? Or just me? What am I anymore? 

When I get annoyed about my mom talking about my diseases and me not wanting to be in the room when she talks to the doctor is that depression or just learned sadness?

Am I pushing people away because of depression or because I don't want to talk about my feelings right now?

And why do I feel so smug about the doctor saying the main problem isn't the pcos it's my depression? That it's funny how my mom wanted to take care of my body and physical form so I don't get my toes cut off, but she didn't notice my mental state flying out the window again. Like, me sleeping all the time wasn't because of not having energy because I'm overweight, but it's because I'm severely depressed. And it's something I had tried to say, probably poorly on my account, that my head isn't in it, so it's not going to work until I'm motivated. But she scheduled this visit without telling me to get medicine for my binge eating, and I begrudgingly went along. Even though she said, "you don't have to go if you don't want to," and, "you have to be willing to do this," even though I was just doing it to make her get off my back about it. I got angry when she brought it up last night and just wanted to be left alone. I'm in a mood where I don't want to talk to her because it's usually about this type of thing.

Maybe now she'll understand my mindset is wrong to try and diet and change my entire life because my head isn't in it. And my body isn't in it. None of me has drive to do anything, and I'm sure that's depression. But I just resist more when she tries to change me and have me go to doctors. I know she cares, but if I change I want to do it on my own. And maybe visiting a psychiatrist will help. 

In the end, I'm still glad I went because it confirmed that I really really need mental help. It's not all about my physical body, it's about my brain. And I want to love my brain and myself.

Happy birthday to meeee

Hi!

Please don't post birthday related things on my wall.

It's not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, I just have never really been a fan of the social media impersonality of the whole thing. I don't do it for other people's birthdays, and it's not necessary for them to do it for mine. 

Thank you!

If you want, you can read something I wrote, strike up a conversation that I won't respond to until 3 AM that probably won't last more than 3 sentences back and forth, eat some mangos, make spaghetti, doodle, look through all of my recent irrelevant posts, take a nap, play some music, I don't know. 

I'm going to nap for a bit though.

4/30/2014 3:39 AM 

Yet hour after hour ticked by, faster than I could ever imagine, breaking to unrepairable pieces beneath me. I couldn't hold them, I was only permitted to stare and regret I had not made them stronger. Seconds blew away into the wind, and I could not breathe them into my lungs so as to keep some form of reminder; I was powerless. The world laughing as it stole precious moments that I was too foolish to see until they were slipping far from my vision. Each of my fingers grasping for the memories already lost. 

---from Facebook---

Things I have done...

1. Graduated high school

2. Got into college

3. Worked a few jobs

4. Tried to be financially responsible

5. I didn't become a pregnant teen.

6. I didn't get into a car accident ever. (the slight tap from the safelite autoglass person from behind didn't count because there was no scratch and it was all fine and we didn't even exchange numbers)

7. I got 1 speeding ticket. 

8. I've paid for my car insurance since I was 16. Minus the one payment because I didn't have a job at the time. Or a car. I still don't have a car but I still pay... because... I have a job again.

9. I did some really really stupid things. But of course none of them were "normal teen mistakes." But I learned. Don't touch wildlife. Don't drop cellphones in the bay multiple times. Don't forget a pillow when moving to college. Probably bring a light blanket in the car next time and sit on the side away from the sunshine so you don't toast.

10. Bought myself things. (Ipad, Ipod, food, clothing, computer, music, you know the necessary things.)

11. Learned how to ride a skateboard. Tiny board to be exact.

12. Written a lot of college papers.

13. Written a lot of emails.

14. Helped a club.

15. I've been featured a lot in the school newspaper. (nerd)

16. I went to some amazing concerts.

17. I took some awesome photos, which I probably haven't shared.

18. I've played in a marching band at the Jaguars Stadium.

19. I made it through middle school. 

20. I've been out of the country for school.

21. I went to NYC, DC, New Orleans, all over California, and have driven through a lot of southern states.

22. I did a ton of creative things. And after two years I still haven't posted my senior year 3D portfolio. 

23. I changed in my "style" from middle school to now, like most people. I still look the same though.

24. I grew... maybe 3 inches... probably less.

25. I changed what I wanted to be when I grew up a thousand times.

RANT

Time to rant. 

OK. So I just talked to my dad. And he's in Costa Rica. Now, this wouldn't be an issue, if recently he wasn't in nyc seeing a jazz band. 

Now, I'll admit, I'm jealous. But that's ok. 

I also can guess who he's with. Which I don't really want to discuss. Just one week until therapy; I'm holding out. 

I think my issue is more that, I could have some of that money, for me, to live. I guess it's different when you don't have kids to spend money on. But, whatever. 

I could ask my dad for money, I'm thinking about asking for help getting a car. But I don't really like asking for things. Not that there's really any other way of going about it especially with my dad, but I have this urge to not want to do that. I know he has money, and I feel like I'm entitled to some of it because I'm still his kid and struggling. My dad and mom pay the same amount to my college fund. But he makes 3 times more. In a perfect world, or even an altruistic one, my dad would give money to me to live. Which occasionally he does, but I have to nudge for it.

I never wanted to become like that "zits" comic strip where Jeremy always asks his parents for money and that's it. And I have anxiety trying to ask for help. But what else can I do?

The level of "so unfair" is high. And I'm feeling it. I'm going to take a nap now.

FINALS WEEK.

I haven't been posting because of finals. I've been thinking a lot, but not posting.

Most of the things are social justice related. And stress related. I have to get ready to go next week! I think I'll be away for 10 months or something from my friends. It's crazy for me to think about. And of course I'm nervous about going to a new school. Sigh. Especially one that is "dangerous." In my head I've been brushing up on my martial arts skills. XD 

So, short update, I'm still alive. Sort of. 

And I Wanted So Much to be an Hourglass...

My life...

It's like holding fistfuls of sand, each grain a moment in time. My hands clenched as tight as possible, trying to remember every single feeling and second of my life, but I can't stop the grains from falling from my grasp. Pretty soon, the only ones left are creating indents in my hands too striking to forget. And as time goes on, I keep grabbing more and more sand only to have it slip through my fingers again no matter how hard I try to hold on. Though there are ones I want to remember, and ones I want to forget, my memory is not as selective as I'd like. There are certain big grains of sand that make marks that will never go away, but some little ones slip away without me even realizing they existed to begin with. 

And I wanted so much to be an hourglass.

My research was awesome! And then I talked with Jace on Tuesday and he loosely said "nah,"  and told me that my meta idea is good, but I should pick a topic in my field and not be all stressed out over something I'm not incredibly excited to do. (sigh)

But I did learn a lot and I found hundreds of resources that will help me in the future write much better, and I have a lot of tabs now bookmarked for future reference so maybe one day I can impress Jace. (sigh) 

I actually loved the readings, I found specific studies that I pointed out and directly attached them to others in the passage. They all used a lot of qualitative methods which mean they were potentially biased. And it's really hard, from what all of the studies have shown even, to compare one student to the next. 

I expect to see the knowledge gap growing in the future. If some kids start up with a cushy childhood like I did and some kids did not, I know that one lifestyle leads to a much greater advantage over the other. (strong feelings) I feel that because all children learn differently and have different odds stacked against them, that there's no real reason to ever compare them to each other. Learning should be tailored to meet individuals even a little bit, and not try and measure everyone with one scale. 

And when I don't match up to my peers in one aspect, I may in another. Which makes me feel a little bit better, but how fair is it that one area of me is stronger than the other but only one is measured across the board? 

I love being engaged. It's basically what has gotten me to this point. I understand the material for the most part. But often I struggle with getting the words right in the style that the teacher finds acceptable. I am good at talking with teachers and my peers. But I will definitely need help when it comes to taking feedback and understanding it without feeling awful every time. And I want to increase my knowledge. Growing up and experiencing different things has helped me learn and understand a lot more than just sitting reading a book. I've learned a lot from mistakes and asking for help. I am a bit of a snail though and need time to figure out and get to where I'm going. It's going to be a long learning process. 

A Submission for a Thing

Name: Olivia Van Housen
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Twitter / Instagram Handle: stlgirl1216

Tell Us Your Story.....

[Songs/Album Title bolded]

You know those moods you get when you really need to listen to specific songs?

I'm one of those select few people who listen to songs only on repeat for hours at a time. I can tell you thousands of lyrics by memory. Each specific song is important to me. Some trigger memories and feelings. I can also tell you exactly what I saw, where I was, and what I felt the night I listened to Sounds Good Feels Good for the first time. 

This entire album highlights the actual pop punk rock scene and the bullied or cast aside kids understand who can connect with the music on a higher level. From afar, I appreciate you as humans, who created something that helped save us from ourselves. It will take a long time for you to reach the same levels of audiences as I know you hope for, but that's ok. 

I listen to music all the time. A couple years ago "Amnesia" was the song I cried to for hours alone in my empty house writing letters while my mom and my sister were at the new apartment that didn't have any place for me. From the new album, when I listened to Broken Home for the first time I almost burst into tears while studying with some friends in a coffee shop. Thankfully I reached home before I played it on repeat and had my feelings about it. The lyrics resonated with me so deeply, and I thank you for that. My parents went through a very abrupt split about a month before I left for college and two years later I still haven't gotten through it to the point where I can say I'm truly alright. But I'm working on it. I didn't get to have the true range of emotions about it at the time, because I had to be an "adult" and take care of both family ends. So now the feelings come in bits and pieces. 0/10 do not recommend. 

Jet Black Heart is great for when I have to put on the "I'm ok" act for others when I really just want to go home and lay down, or I get that feeling of wanting to cry or break something and I just have to reign it in. I always worry. I worry about my family and their financial situation, I worry about my friends, I worry about school, I worry about figuring out who I'm supposed to be in time, I worry about being on time, I worry about forgetting an important meeting, the list goes on and on. When family tells me "don't worry about money" and then complains to me about how awful the finances are, of course I'm going to worry. I spend my pay checks getting myself food, I've had different jobs for years to try and pay for myself in any way possible. If I want something I go out and get it on my own. I don't like to rely on other people, especially not my family. I try to complain as little as possible. I try to be a good listener and attentive to other people. But when just want to cry and tell someone how much everything sucks sometimes, I keep it to myself and bottle it up inside. And then worry if I ever got into a serious relationship they wouldn't get it, so I hold people at a far distance. I think you guys know a little about this type of complex. 

Your music helps when I finally feel myself breaking down, or when I need a catalyst to get me to feel. I've dealt with personal issues in my head for a long time. I grew up in and out of therapy, on medicine, and living with self-hate. Now, I've been so busy with college and work I barely take care of myself. There has always been that constant battle in my head I keep contained. Music is one of the only ways I've been able to let out some emotion. Thank you for that. 

The sort of bridge resolution mix at the end of Outer Space is soothing, and reminds me of the school library now because most nights I'm stuck studying and doing homework late. The first time I heard it I laughed because it can't rain in space(I'm partially a science major) and thought of the illusion to the impossibility that the girl would ever really love the guy again. And he would be waiting forever floating in these feelings of loneliness but not able to let go because he believes so strongly in the feeling that her love gave him. Maybe it wasn't your intention to be this deep and science ish, but you can definitely steal this if you want. 

Invisible has the wonderful sound of the typewriter which I love, and often I wonder to this song. I'm still trying to figure it out who I am. I don't know what I want to do with my life, my self-confidence is the height of an ant, and I feel like there is a level of meaninglessness to my life because I'm just going through the motions. I want to help people. I want to make a difference in the world, stop injustices, and give people a chance to be heard by someone who cares about what they think and what they've been through.

[Side Note] I remember when I went to your concert in Tampa, I had a letter for you guys apologizing because I know to a small degree how awful you must have felt during times of the tour. I wanted to tell you that I was sorry and that the tour was almost over so you can soon let go of all of that pain for a little while. I can understand laying in bed hiding tears and not wanting to tell anyone because, your life is so great, how could you? And I'm sure you know that feeling of pressure in your chest like all of your ribs are going to break from some invisible force. Trust me when I say, it's pretty similar on this end too. (Also, sorry you have to suffer those awful insane teenage girl screams.)

I'm also sorry that because of what you do, you can't trust people in the same way as before. Your work defines who you are, your mistakes are not as easily fixed, and each relationship made is now taken with caution never confident that the people around you really care about you or what you have attached to your name. 

I'm not that much older than you are, but I can give a little advice. I know it's hard to go through life, but try and find the good in the little things. I can't tell you how many times I've smiled at butterflies and frogs because nothing else made sense. Finding new music is also one of those little bursts of happiness. Don't forget to do something for yourself.

Thank you for making music that impacts my life, and will continue to in the future. Your songs have helped me through some rough nights, and I know this was a terribly long email, so also thanks for reading it. 

I wish you all happiness.

-Olivia Van Housen

My "After Messing Up" Email...

I am truly sorry for endangering other students with my poor decision to pick up a wild raccoon. It was not my intention to hurt or worry anyone. I was not thinking clearly and made a horrible choice that impacted a lot of lives in a negative way. I did not mean for anyone else to be harmed, especially my fellow students. 

There are a lot of reasons behind my actions, but none of them are any excuse for putting others in danger. I have learned a lot from this experience and I will do what I can to prevent situations like these going forward. I take full responsibility for my actions and I am sorry for endangering other students due to my lack of judgement. 

I wish to remedy the situation in any way possible.

Trial 6

I was pretty sure that good woman was scheming all night.

This story begins in the forest. I was 15 years old, chopping a 6 foot tall tree for firewood. It had just begun to snow, and I felt a chill in my bones. After several hours with my axe, the deed was almost done. I wasn’t aware of the woman behind me until I stopped to rest once more. 

“Hello,” she said with a kind smile. “Do you happen to have a moment?”

“Of course, is there anything I can do?” I didn’t want to be rude. “Are you lost?” 

“No, young man. I was just wondering if you knew anything about the tree there.” I glanced at the tree which was almost in half before noting her appearance for the first time. She looked to be about 70. Her hair was as white as the snow that fell around her which made her blue eyes her most prevalent feature. 

“I can’t say I know much.” 

“Indeed. Perhaps you have a moment out of the cold to help me find my way home? You see the snow has covered my path, but I’m sure it will only be a moment. Don’t worry the tree will be here when you get back.” 

“Of course.” I put my axe down and walked with the old woman past the tree. After a few moments I spotted a small cottage not too far from where we had started. I helped her make her way to the door. “Do you need anything else?”

“Oh no, thank you my dear. But you must stay for some tea! I insist. For helping me home, of course. Don’t worry the sun doesn’t set for a while now. Come in! Come in!” Nearly pulling me inside, she shut the door behind us. 

“Do you live here alone?”

“Yes, but my family comes to visit every so often. Come! Sit by the fire and warm yourself. You must be exhausted.” The room was reasonably bare, with a nice rug by the fire and a few armchairs. Another hall led off to the right of the fireplace perhaps to a bedroom, and to the left was what I could guess a tiny kitchen. “What type of tea?” she called from the room to the left of the fire. 

“Any is fine.” I sat down on an armchair and felt myself warm considerably. “You have a lovely home.”

“Why thank you,” she returned in a moment with two cups of tea and handed me one before sitting down opposite me. “Now, you said you know nothing about the tree which you were cutting down?”

“That is correct,” I sipped my tea, “I do not. I was only told to go and cut.”

“Wise man. How long have you been working on cutting that tree?”

“One full day already. I’m not very skilled yet.” 

“Indeed. How would you like to become a real woodsman? I can help you. See, I have a potion that could make you strong. Even strong enough to surpass your father.” My interest sparked, and I took another sip of tea.

“How would that happen?” 

“Just finish your tea. You will be able to cut the tallest trees with three strokes, but be warned, do not swing your axe more than required.” At age 15, I would be able to take down the tallest trees. I was enticed, and drank the rest of the tea. I felt no different than before. The woman smiled and said, “It is your reward for helping me home. Now, go collect your axe and return home. Tomorrow you will see the effects.” She showed me out and I said my goodbyes.

The next morning I arose early, in no mood to stay around the house. I had gotten little sleep and the sounds from the night before still rang in my head. I snuck out before anyone awoke and took my axe to the tree that I had been working on cutting down, eager to test if the magic worked. With one stroke I sliced cleanly through the rest of the tree and it fell to the snowy forrest floor. I then tried again with a different tree, cutting once, twice, three times. It fell right next to the other. I began chopping up the fallen trees to take them back to the house. Once I had arrived home, my father laughed at how early I was. Drunkenly he remarked how it should have taken me a week to chop two trees, and spilled some of his alcohol on the floor in his fit of laughter. When he slowed his laughter, he noticed the spill and yelled for my mother who emerged from the kitchen. I smiled sadly to her when my father rose from his chair, then he pushed me outside and shut the door. I knew what was coming, and I grasped the door handle for steadiness. The sound was so loud the walls could not muffle it, like a snap mixed with a gunshot. I could not take it. Again and again it happened. Just like last night. I ran to my axe, without thinking and swung once, twice, three times at the door. Then I ran inside. Again, I let the axe swing once, twice, three times. 

-Finished right on time no editing. 6:51 PM

"Drunk on the idea that only someone else's romantic love can fill our emptiness."

Nothing in this post was related.

Trial 1 for my Writing About Writing Paper

My life’s work consists of selling medicines out of a cart. As odd as it may sound, the townspeople are grateful for my mixtures that have “magical properties.” For the longest time I had to go as a salesperson door-to-door, asking if anyone needed cures for their ailments. My first client was a man by the name of Thomas. He had a high fever and his family was desperate for some sort of remedy. I gave him a small vile and went on my way. The next day when I was in the market buying some food, Thomas came barreling through the crowd and rushed to shake my hand. His fever had disappeared. He even offered to buy me a meal, but I refused. All I asked of him was that he would spread word of the medicine’s success. 

That was a month ago. Now my medicines are in constant demand for ailments such as fevers, stomach pains, dizziness, etc. The cart had become less door-to-door and now only goes to the main market. One day, a young man approached the cart. He seemed to eye the wares with curiosity and I let him do so. Slowly, the man moved closer and signaled for me to converse. I complied. He said that he had an addiction to heroin and wondered if I had any remedy. The story that followed his request described his year-long struggle losing his family and home to the addiction. He had no one left to turn to, and told me the amount he was willing to pay.

I was unsure whether or not my medicines would be able to combat this type of ailment. I asked him if he could meet me here tomorrow and I would give him something best suited for treating his disease. That night, after pouring over what seemed like a thousand books, I was able to find some sort of old apothecary medicine hidden on one of the last pages in my collection. I followed the instructions and crafted this elixir, praying that it would at least lessen the severity of this man’s disease. 

The next morning as soon as I arrived he appeared at my cart. His eyes were bloodshot and it looked like he had not slept in months. I handed him the medicine and he gave me a very large sum in exchange. I did not question where he had gotten the money, though I did ponder about it. He nodded to me and then disappeared into the now bustling crowd. I never saw him again.

That night before I fell asleep I felt a strange sensation creep up into my body, curling around my lungs and heart up into my brain. I had no idea what was happening. When I awoke, I felt a hunger like never before. Upon looking in the mirror, my eyes were red and the veins seemed to raise from the eyes altogether. I was in shock. I had never gotten sick in my entire life. For a while I wondered what could have brought on this sickness, but then the intense craving captured my attention once more. I drank cups of water trying to satiate the feeling, yet it kept returning as soon as I set the glass down. Eating also did not lessen the pains. My head began to pound and I felt dizzy. After a long morning I went out to the market. Along the way, I passed by a store that usually I paid no attention to, but there was this lingering feeling of longing and it pulled me in. The shopkeeper asked what I was looking for and before I knew it the word “heroin” flew from my mouth. I found myself giving the shopkeeper money and receiving a small bag in exchange. Forgetting all about my work I pulled the cart back home. Somehow I effortlessly took in small bits of the drug until my hunger seemed to calm. In a out-of-mind state I realized that the medicine I had given to the man would not get rid of his addiction, but move it to myself and all of the knowledge about where to find the drugs came with it. Because I had only ever cured short term ailments, they had no effect on me. But now, I was stuck with this terror. 

Once my daze had calmed down the hunger returned. I cried for the first time in years, unsure where my life was headed. All I knew was that I needed something to stop the pain. 

HP and Zombies

When your college is weird...

I'm busy.

This song is killing me. I am having flashbacks, and somehow I still can't cry! Good ness. And stress is building from knowing in 2 months I'm going to see my dad. 

I'm officially going to Tallahassee and I'm nervous? Excited? Stressed out?

It's been a long time since I've posted. I went home for fall break last week and was sick, but I also went to two amazing concerts and met some great people. Now back to the struggle of writing papers and trying to stay afloat. I don't think I will be going for the scholarship because I'm just too busy. I fell off my ladder today. These sentences won't make sense because it's 2 AM. 

Tomorrow I get to sleep in. 

I remember the writing on the walls. That feeling of sadness is there but I can't pinpoint it or make it large enough for me to cry. 

I'm planning on having a semi-relaxing Friday, with fishing. Before I have to be plunged back into work, editing, papers, etc. I feel like I'm chipping away at pieces, but I'm never finished. Trying to dig my way out while being slowly buried. And at the same time now I'm fighting with my mind to try and regain control. I just don't know what I'm going to do. One step at a time.

I wrote two songs, and made it through a week of breakdown before break. I was so close to crying so many times, and I still don't understand why. The stress I'm guessing just compounded, but now I'm semi back to normal. 

When did taking care of myself not matter? Because right now, it's one of the least important things, but I still think often about it. 

Song of the post: broken home-5sos.