reflections

I want what M has with her gf, even if I don't want to actually become a lesbian. I want that kind of I-need-you-but-the-world-says-I-can't-have-you love. I don't want to die without knowing that, at the very least. I want to be desired. I want to be respected for who I am now, and not misrepresented as who I used to be. I don't want to misrepresent myself. I want to sing again. I want my 5 octaves back, like no one will ever know. I want to dance. I want a way to pursue all my career aspirations, but in order to be good at anything, I need to focus on one thing at a time, which I have a great difficulty doing. I'm astounded that I've been at my job for a year and a half, but in the same breath, I can't imagine being anywhere else in life right now. I could be married. I could be in University. I could be graduating University this April. I could be in France. I could be in Africa. I could be on my way to Scotland. It appears life wants me in DB for the time being, despite how much I loathe the city as a whole. The people are the only thing that makes it any kind of bearable on a day-to-day basis. I have a small obsession with odd numbers. Weird, I know. Roughly 98% of all my disappointment stems from my falling short of perfection in anything I do. D says I'm too hard on myself. But I know that if I'd just apply myself, I could be great, instead of just good. It could've been me in Kelowna with him, instead of her. I also don't like having competition; I love the spotlight of being the best, and having a skill level or being something to aspire to. The only real competition in life resides in how hard you push yourself at what you love, or maybe, enduring what you loathe. I want to make a difference in not only others' lives, but in my own. I want to be a good role model for myself. I want to be some kind of inspiration, a muse, for someone. My life is full of I wants and I could bes, and I am growing listless with my life in DB. I still need to finish my education to become anything in the culinary world; something I'm not even sure I want to pursue after I graduate. I'll always cook, and I'll always hold K and D on a pedestal for making me into this person, woman, I am today, and hopefully the better woman and more conscientious human I will become in the next year and a half.

Like joy was something you could touch
I wrap it around me
Like a blanket
It's just you, me and the moon

I wish. I dream. I believe. I'm not sure what I believe. I'm complex. I'm disturbed. I'm disturbing. I'm available, yet emotionally unattached. I'm dead on the inside; waiting for life to give me a boost with its great jumper cables of experience. I'm realistic to a fault. I live in a dream world, where sometimes I have troubles distinguishing the fact that I'm not behind the fourth wall of the rest of the world, watching it like a close-up, live-action play whose outcome I can't affect or alter. I have a hard time not staring at other people. I've been told I have a way with words, and someday I'd like to believe it. I just think I'm insecure in myself, and feel the need to express myself like I do in order to compensate for my lack of personality and life experience.

You want my brutal, honest truth? I honestly believe there is no one out there for me, and I'm destined to be alone, watching love from the outside for the rest of my life. I believe I will live a third-person perspective until I die. Alone.

That's where the tears on October 6th came from, when B came to the hospital, that train of thought. Love. I was fine until I wasn't alone. I am comfortable in solidarity. I am confident in independence. I am uncomfortable in spotlights. When there are other emotions around me, I get flustered, confused and overwhelmed quite easily. I have an extremely difficult time expressing myself in spoken words, because once they escape my lips, it's permanent. Writing, I have an infinite amount of time and tries to get it right. Perfect. Hence why I listen to so much music -- song lyrics and the sounds which surround them express my feelings so much better than I could ever dream to accomplish myself. Sometimes there are no words for what I'm feeling. In times such as those, the orchestral Score Of The Life Of Me is blaring in my head so loud that sometimes I have a hard time hearing reality. Which, I know, is quite an issue, but I am at a loss as to how to even go about beginning to try fixing it. Not that I really want to anyways.


I think I'll just remain perfectly flawed and alone for the time being; it's where I'm comfortable.