Like many other teens, I've faced my share of troubles growing up. When I was young, I was eager to seek counsel from my peers and did so to the point of annoyance. I put up attention-seeking Facebook statuses, I specifically texted people asking for help and even wished with all my heart that others would care that I was upset. That was just the point though, I always had someone to lay my problems on. But two years can make quite the difference and sophomore year of college bears almost no resemblence to senior year of high school.
The types of problems were always different too, of course. It's not as though I'm dealing with some sort of crippling depression like I was when I was two years ago. It's just that I, like many others, occasionally get upset to the point where I need an outside influence to calm me down. But I can't passive-aggressively call for help over social media. This is frowned upon for those attempting to use these sites for journalism-related purposes. I can no longer just text people and ask for help, this isn't high school. You see, this was difficult even back then. But, there were a few key people in my life that would help me out no matter what the situation. As time went on, I lost contact with nearly all of those people.
When I went to college, I realized that I had a problem that I could tell literally no one about. I was forced to call an old friend to avoid the risk of going crazy. This turned out to be one of the most important decisions I would make in years. The fear of not having someone to talk to was gone. She became not only someone to tell my problems to, but someone who I could tell anything. This is important to me as I like to share what goes on in my life. Yet, as they often do, things got complicated. Her and I don't talk very often anymore. It took this kind of drastic change for me to realize what she meant to me. She allowed me to keep my sanity.
No matter how well things are going in life, each person needs something to keep themselves sane. This semester I've made more friends than any few months in my life, I've made advances in my journalism career, increased the popularity of my sports blog, gained confidence in my work, live-tweeted Division I basketball games, interviewed countless Division I coaches and athletes, traveled all over with the cross country team and had more fun weekends than I'd ever dreamed of. Yet, with all this popularity, with all these people I now know and say "hi" to accross campus, there's not one single person who I can really talk to. I have more friends than I've ever had (which really isn't saying much for me) and yet I'm so alone.
Yes, I have a girlfriend. That's where most of this starts. There are certain things you just need to be able to talk about with other people. I don't mean to worry her but it's becoming ever more difficult to hide how hard it is to not have anyone.
So now I have this blog, I guess it is my new outlet. For better or worse the blog will always be available. I don't receive the same type of relieved feeling when I type something on this as I do when I talk to someone. I haven't gained any perspective and I haven't grown any wiser.
But perhaps this isn't a matter of me not having anyone more than a matter of me not wanting anyone. Maybe I just don't really want to talk about my problems anymore. Maybe I know longer have the ability or the energy to come up with some sort of explanation of myself or defense of my actions. What I could I tell someone even if they would listen? Am I supposed to tell them an entire backstory of my life to have them understand my actions? Do I want anyone to know what I've done, how I think or what kind of situation I've put myself in?
Maybe I've closed myself off from talking to anyone because I'm scared of being considered the bad guy. Maybe I already am the bad guy and no one will talk to me because of that. I'm not perfect and I don't strive to be. But I'd like to be more than I am now. I didn't get into this situation on purpose. Maybe if people could see things the way I do, they'd understand. I don't like to hurt people, I like to help them. I like to my friends happy and I like being a reason for that. I hope by senior year I can be recognized by most people on campus and I hope I can evoke some sort of positive emotion in people when they see me. I just want to make people happy, I really do. Of course now I can walk all over campus and see people I know almost everywhere so I guess I'm on the right track. But at what cost? Could this somehow be related to my lack of an outlet?
I once had it all, I once was king. But I got too confident. I once had someone I could tell literally anything in the world to no matter how digusting, personal, inappropriate or childish it was. But those days are long gone. And what's more? I'm not asking for them back. Each problem I face will be bottled up inside me and will consume until I can figure out some way to get over it. This isn't the life I chose but it is only one phase of it, afterall. I once had it all, I once was king. But I let a friend go. And my sanity may soon be gone with her.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Nini's Big Yellow House
When I was little my grama, who we called Nini, lived in a big yellow house with black shutters. The interior of the house was lined with a bright red carpet. Even today those vibrant colors stick out in my mind. Our entire extended family lived close enough for me to enjoy the subtle nuances of the neighborhood.
It seems as though I spent thousands of hours playing in the back yard with all my cousins. The middle section of Shennandoah road became so familiar to me. I remember being surprised by the loud engine noises of her neighbor with a motorcycle, I still recall the scary old man who lived two doors down. I remember the nice old man that lived next door and the countless hours spent playing around her willow tree.
Summers were spent playing in the back yard with my cousins and brother. Since I'm in the middle, I was lucky enough to have spent time with nearly all my cousins back there. When I was very young Quinn, Toran and I (who were always together) learned from our older cousins; Colin, Bailey, Erin, Katie and Bridgid. As time went on we were able to walk over to Nini's house by ourselves and thus, spent more time there. We'd play hours and hours of baseball and then go in and talk to Nini.
As I got older, there were some welcome additions to our family. My cousin Pat was born in 1998 and then Fiona in 2000. In 2002 my aunt Jen had her first son, Ben. It seemed that after Ben was born we went to Nini's even more. We no longer just played outside, we were now responsible for some of our younger cousins just as our cousins were responsible for us a few years before.
Summer memories are not the only ones I have of Nini's house. For a while we spent our Christmas's there too. But most of what I remember was on Halloween. After trick-or-treating we'd all go back to Nini's house for donuts and cider. We'd always end up watch "The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" at some point during the night. No Halloween was complete without a trip to Nini's house.
At some point in 2004 things changed. Nini got sick and spent a lot of time at the hospital. It became clear that she was no longer able to live on her own. She lived in a rehab facility for some time and then assisted living. She eventually got her own apartment. We still went to visit her but it just wasn't the same. Somehow it lacked the charm of the big yellow house.
Things have changed completely since then, Nini died in 2010. The scary old man who lived a few doors down is also dead, the guy with the motorcycle has long since moved. The house is no longer yellow and the shutters are no longer black. The red carpet was ripped out years ago. Things have changed with us too, we're no longer care-free little kids running around the back yard. Erin and Katie have graduated college and both have full-time jobs in Boston. Their sister Bridgid lives in Chicago year-round and Shannon will also be headed to college next year. Colin, Bailey and Quinn have also entered the world of college while Toran has joined me at St. Bonaventure. The "babies" Pat and Fiona are now in high school and seventh grade respectively. Ben is now in fifth grade and three more cousins have joined us since Nini moved (Gabby, Charlotte and Sullivan). It took a while to realize but we were partly shaped by our experiences at Nini's house
Time passes and neighborhoods change. These few houses on Shennandoah were one of thousands of neighborhoods in the world who's charms have encompassed the childhood of a generation. From an outside perspective, It would appear we have all gone on to bigger and better things. Yet I would wager there isn't one of us who wouldn't trade it all away for one more care free day at Nini's house.
It seems as though I spent thousands of hours playing in the back yard with all my cousins. The middle section of Shennandoah road became so familiar to me. I remember being surprised by the loud engine noises of her neighbor with a motorcycle, I still recall the scary old man who lived two doors down. I remember the nice old man that lived next door and the countless hours spent playing around her willow tree.
Summers were spent playing in the back yard with my cousins and brother. Since I'm in the middle, I was lucky enough to have spent time with nearly all my cousins back there. When I was very young Quinn, Toran and I (who were always together) learned from our older cousins; Colin, Bailey, Erin, Katie and Bridgid. As time went on we were able to walk over to Nini's house by ourselves and thus, spent more time there. We'd play hours and hours of baseball and then go in and talk to Nini.
As I got older, there were some welcome additions to our family. My cousin Pat was born in 1998 and then Fiona in 2000. In 2002 my aunt Jen had her first son, Ben. It seemed that after Ben was born we went to Nini's even more. We no longer just played outside, we were now responsible for some of our younger cousins just as our cousins were responsible for us a few years before.
Summer memories are not the only ones I have of Nini's house. For a while we spent our Christmas's there too. But most of what I remember was on Halloween. After trick-or-treating we'd all go back to Nini's house for donuts and cider. We'd always end up watch "The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown" at some point during the night. No Halloween was complete without a trip to Nini's house.
At some point in 2004 things changed. Nini got sick and spent a lot of time at the hospital. It became clear that she was no longer able to live on her own. She lived in a rehab facility for some time and then assisted living. She eventually got her own apartment. We still went to visit her but it just wasn't the same. Somehow it lacked the charm of the big yellow house.
Things have changed completely since then, Nini died in 2010. The scary old man who lived a few doors down is also dead, the guy with the motorcycle has long since moved. The house is no longer yellow and the shutters are no longer black. The red carpet was ripped out years ago. Things have changed with us too, we're no longer care-free little kids running around the back yard. Erin and Katie have graduated college and both have full-time jobs in Boston. Their sister Bridgid lives in Chicago year-round and Shannon will also be headed to college next year. Colin, Bailey and Quinn have also entered the world of college while Toran has joined me at St. Bonaventure. The "babies" Pat and Fiona are now in high school and seventh grade respectively. Ben is now in fifth grade and three more cousins have joined us since Nini moved (Gabby, Charlotte and Sullivan). It took a while to realize but we were partly shaped by our experiences at Nini's house
Time passes and neighborhoods change. These few houses on Shennandoah were one of thousands of neighborhoods in the world who's charms have encompassed the childhood of a generation. From an outside perspective, It would appear we have all gone on to bigger and better things. Yet I would wager there isn't one of us who wouldn't trade it all away for one more care free day at Nini's house.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Despair
It hits you like a Mac Truck. One minute you're sitting there, normal as can be, a perfectly functioning member of society. The next you're overcome by a paralyzing feeling that you can't shake no matter how much positivity your mind can attempt to conjure.
This feeling can be brought on for a number of reasons. The reason never seems explainable to another person yet it's totally understood by you This horrible feeling can be brought on by any number of factors but most likely by something small. Perhaps it's brought on by a quick snippet of a painful memory of the past passing though your mind. Perhaps it's brought on by seeing something you never wanted to see on Twitter/Facebook. Perhaps the source of this sorrow is the realization that someone is better off without you. No matter where this feeling comes from, you can be sure it will be nearly impossible to be rid of.
It's just an incredibly bad feeling. It stops all progress made in your life immeadiately. What you've done before is no longer important. No matter what you've accomplished in your life, you can never become immune to this feeling. It's ever lurking as a dark symbol that we are not safe from our own minds.
In some ways this feeling is like a drug. Your mind is altered while you're inflicted with it and you do things you wouldn't normally do. The government has no policy against it, there are no groups dedicated to make sure kids stay away from it.
The feeling I describe is the feeling of despair. Each person treats it's arrival differently. For example, my worst bouts with it consisted of me laying on the floor in my house. I'd lay down there for hours because it seemed like too much energy to muster to do something else. I'd lay there doing absolutely nothing except for occasionally banging my head against the ground. I'd lay there not texting, not talking, not watching tv, just thinking. When things became too painful to think about, my brain would just stop. I would drift off thinking of nothing, almost as if I was sleeping. Only I was wide awake in some other plane of non-thought. I would suddenly realize that I was concious not knowing how long I had been laying there but more importantly, not caring.
While each person may be inflicted with despair differently, I would wager that each reader knows of what feeling I speak. I urge you to enjoy each free moment you have as much as possible. Because once despair infects you, enjoyment will be a thing of the past.
This feeling can be brought on for a number of reasons. The reason never seems explainable to another person yet it's totally understood by you This horrible feeling can be brought on by any number of factors but most likely by something small. Perhaps it's brought on by a quick snippet of a painful memory of the past passing though your mind. Perhaps it's brought on by seeing something you never wanted to see on Twitter/Facebook. Perhaps the source of this sorrow is the realization that someone is better off without you. No matter where this feeling comes from, you can be sure it will be nearly impossible to be rid of.
It's just an incredibly bad feeling. It stops all progress made in your life immeadiately. What you've done before is no longer important. No matter what you've accomplished in your life, you can never become immune to this feeling. It's ever lurking as a dark symbol that we are not safe from our own minds.
In some ways this feeling is like a drug. Your mind is altered while you're inflicted with it and you do things you wouldn't normally do. The government has no policy against it, there are no groups dedicated to make sure kids stay away from it.
The feeling I describe is the feeling of despair. Each person treats it's arrival differently. For example, my worst bouts with it consisted of me laying on the floor in my house. I'd lay down there for hours because it seemed like too much energy to muster to do something else. I'd lay there doing absolutely nothing except for occasionally banging my head against the ground. I'd lay there not texting, not talking, not watching tv, just thinking. When things became too painful to think about, my brain would just stop. I would drift off thinking of nothing, almost as if I was sleeping. Only I was wide awake in some other plane of non-thought. I would suddenly realize that I was concious not knowing how long I had been laying there but more importantly, not caring.
While each person may be inflicted with despair differently, I would wager that each reader knows of what feeling I speak. I urge you to enjoy each free moment you have as much as possible. Because once despair infects you, enjoyment will be a thing of the past.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Heavenly Profile
I found myself on Facebook the other day viewing the profile of a young man I knew. I don't really remember knowing him very well, I may have met him once or twice. Yet it seems as though all of my friends were close friends with him. His Facebook made it appear as though he had friends from everywhere, just so many friends. That young man died the other day.
He seemed to have lived such an incredible life. The posts of his friends discussed memories of their past experiences and told such incredible stories. He seemed to mean so much to everyone he came into contact with. Even people who barely knew him felt compelled to leave their condolences on his page. Friends posted funny pictures as a reminder of that night and people poured their hearts out about how much they were going to miss him.
As I began to scroll down through his posts I began to feel oddly jealous. My life couldn't possible compare to the excitement through which he seemed to live. I don't have that many friends, I don't mean that much to anyone. I could die and I doubt anyone would notice. It felt like my life was simply a continuous stream of going through the motions. Nothing I did was exciting, none of it would matter to anyone after I was gone. I wished that I could be so much more like the guy whose page I was looking at.
I scrolled back a little further, past all the posts of his friends to see his own posts before he died, what I saw shocked me. Despite all the fun he had, despite all the friends that cared for him; he wasn't happy. His posts expressed his displeasure with life. It was as if he had no idea how important he was to anyone, as if he had no idea what an incredible life he had. His last post shocked me the most, he expressed how unhappy he was with his life, in the last line he indicated that he wanted to leave. How could someone who had so much and meant so much be so down on himself?
At that point I took a look at one of his pictures and realized that he looked a lot like me. What was his name anyway? I scrolled all the way back to the top and was dumbfounded at what I saw....It was my name. I was looking at my own Facebook. It was then I began to wonder where I was. I seemed to be in a barren room in the middle of nowhere. How could this be? I was dead.
Right then I was overcome by happiness. I had never realized how important I was to those around me. It had never dawned on me that I had a lot of friends, a lot of great friends. This experience made me realize how special my life truly was. This experience could only be described as heavenly.
He seemed to have lived such an incredible life. The posts of his friends discussed memories of their past experiences and told such incredible stories. He seemed to mean so much to everyone he came into contact with. Even people who barely knew him felt compelled to leave their condolences on his page. Friends posted funny pictures as a reminder of that night and people poured their hearts out about how much they were going to miss him.
As I began to scroll down through his posts I began to feel oddly jealous. My life couldn't possible compare to the excitement through which he seemed to live. I don't have that many friends, I don't mean that much to anyone. I could die and I doubt anyone would notice. It felt like my life was simply a continuous stream of going through the motions. Nothing I did was exciting, none of it would matter to anyone after I was gone. I wished that I could be so much more like the guy whose page I was looking at.
I scrolled back a little further, past all the posts of his friends to see his own posts before he died, what I saw shocked me. Despite all the fun he had, despite all the friends that cared for him; he wasn't happy. His posts expressed his displeasure with life. It was as if he had no idea how important he was to anyone, as if he had no idea what an incredible life he had. His last post shocked me the most, he expressed how unhappy he was with his life, in the last line he indicated that he wanted to leave. How could someone who had so much and meant so much be so down on himself?
At that point I took a look at one of his pictures and realized that he looked a lot like me. What was his name anyway? I scrolled all the way back to the top and was dumbfounded at what I saw....It was my name. I was looking at my own Facebook. It was then I began to wonder where I was. I seemed to be in a barren room in the middle of nowhere. How could this be? I was dead.
Right then I was overcome by happiness. I had never realized how important I was to those around me. It had never dawned on me that I had a lot of friends, a lot of great friends. This experience made me realize how special my life truly was. This experience could only be described as heavenly.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Doom
It is said that each one us must struggle through our own personal battle; that each person is afflicted with depression for at least a short while in their life. This can be brought on by the death of a relative, the end of a relationship, or perhaps a personal problem such as a fear of who one has become. Yes the average person will eventually get over this depression and look at it as a life lesson; something they learned from.
Then why can't I be the average person? Why does depression stalk me as if it has a personal vendetta against me. Why do I feel it's the inevitable end to every situation in my life? Why do I ever go on doing things knowing full well that they'll end in depression? What am I even still doing here? I can run as much as I want, I can win the battle but depression will always win the war. Perhaps it feels it has unfinished business after coming so close before and not winning. Now it is employing the clever strategy of using the one who saved me as a springboard to return. How can I saved when the only one who can help me is killing me? How can depression do this?
But depression is not really a living, breathing entity. It doesn't actually have an agenda. It doesn't care how close it came to ending me and it especially doesn't care who saved me. It doesn't have the capacity too. Depression is a symbol for something much deeper in my life. My insecurities and psychological issues tend to hurt people who's hopes had been gotten up by my sweet talking and even sweeter heart. I always feel this will eventually be it for me. How much more of this can I sustain? Each solution to end one depression is just the cause of the next. Each time I work to get over my depression my goal is to meet someone. This person will eventually become the cause of my next depression. No matter what choice I make in any situation, depression is the only outcome. I have no choice. The fact that we live in a free country means nothing from me because there is no ammendment giving us freedom from our own mind. It always starts out as sadness from a situation that i've royally fucked up but turns into so much more than that. It turns me into an anger filled, world hating, monster who resents everything nearly everyone does. But I can be so much more than that. I can be more than the depressed, cynical, crazy guy and I can be more than the cocky douche in non-depressed situations. I can be a person who loves, a person who makes people happy, someone people go to help for, someone who makes a difference, someone I used to be. Someone I know I can be again. I just need the chance.
Depression has hit hard this time because it has become crafty, it has changed things up. Because it knows that i've become experienced with its causes and oh to familiar with its effects. It knows that i've been put in this situation three summers in a row now. Depression comes home to roost about every 10 months. Summer 2010 I had to struggle to decide if I wanted to stay with my first girlfriend of many months/ former love of my life or go with a girl who shook things up. A girl who made me realize that there was more to life than your first girlfriend. A girl who made me believe (falsely) that ultimate happiness was achievable. There was a clear choice here, it was going to be girl number 2. But how was I going to break up with girl 1 so I didn't hurt her. I guess I never really lost my fear of hurting someone although my ability not to do it has been hurt. Anyway the situation with girl 2 caused the situation with girl 1 to deteriorate until we broke up.....that was when I found out that girl 2 and I weren't absolutely perfect for each other. I hurt both girls to the point where they wanted nothing to do with me. I felt useless and terrible. I felt as though I had let down my soulmate and now I was just playing out the string. I was slowly falling apart and my life was in serious danger. Each night I went to sleep hoping it was the last time I had to go through this kind of pain. I wished death would come to me so I wouldn't have to do it myself. Girl number 6 changed all that. You'll find out more about her later. For now all that's important is that what put that five month hell to rest was girl 3. Girl 3 is was a tall, beautiful blonde. She was kind, she was funny, she was nice. We didn't belong together. It's just now that i'm beginning to see this. Girl number 6, while coming with such a larger set of issues was just perfect for me. No one else in the world would be able to see that and that is what scared a young, depressed, misguided Boy #1. He played it safe and in the end only made it more dangerous for himself. Either way, girl 6 and 3 really had nothing to do with eachother at the time. Just having a girl like girl 3 was enough to pull me out of my funk. But I wasn't the same boyfriend i was to girl 1. I was lazy, i wasn't loving enough, I wasn't concerned enough. Perhaps this was because I had seen the end and knew this was nothing to worry about. Perhaps I was scared of being hurt again. Perhaps she didn't push me to behave enough. Either way this is where girl 4 comes in. Girl 4 is by the worst girl in this story. At no point did she ever care for me, at no point did she ever have my best interest in mind. She liked me a little bit and saw fit to destroy my relationship. My inability to break away from girl 4 and girl 3's lack of strictness caused me to be a bad boyfriend. Eventually girl 3 got quietly sick of this and began to have feelings for a friend of mine. I was eventually saved by girl 5. Girl 5 is not enough to save me forever. Perhaps this is because far too often I view these women as saviors and not just someone to be compatible with. I feel terrible, I never wanted to hurt girl 5. I just may have to choose between that and death. The choice remains to be made.
The trouble now is that I know enough to not make the same mistake twice. But instead I waited too long and now I may never know what could have been. I must admit that I've never felt such a connection with someone in my life. I've felt graced with such a prescence as to hold my interest to the point where it hurts for a conversation to end. I've never met someone who i've thought was so beautiful but was so ignored by so many others. Alas what makes me deserve such a girl? Why did I ever think I deserved a chance at her? She is beauty far beyond what I can handle, she is happiness far beyond what I will ever know. I feel again, this time perhaps rightfully so, that i've lost my soulmate. I feel as though I must now go through knowing full well that the person I was supposed to be with was lost through no fault of anyone but my own. Now my final choice is impending; what is more attractive of an option? To live like this or not to at all.
Then why can't I be the average person? Why does depression stalk me as if it has a personal vendetta against me. Why do I feel it's the inevitable end to every situation in my life? Why do I ever go on doing things knowing full well that they'll end in depression? What am I even still doing here? I can run as much as I want, I can win the battle but depression will always win the war. Perhaps it feels it has unfinished business after coming so close before and not winning. Now it is employing the clever strategy of using the one who saved me as a springboard to return. How can I saved when the only one who can help me is killing me? How can depression do this?
But depression is not really a living, breathing entity. It doesn't actually have an agenda. It doesn't care how close it came to ending me and it especially doesn't care who saved me. It doesn't have the capacity too. Depression is a symbol for something much deeper in my life. My insecurities and psychological issues tend to hurt people who's hopes had been gotten up by my sweet talking and even sweeter heart. I always feel this will eventually be it for me. How much more of this can I sustain? Each solution to end one depression is just the cause of the next. Each time I work to get over my depression my goal is to meet someone. This person will eventually become the cause of my next depression. No matter what choice I make in any situation, depression is the only outcome. I have no choice. The fact that we live in a free country means nothing from me because there is no ammendment giving us freedom from our own mind. It always starts out as sadness from a situation that i've royally fucked up but turns into so much more than that. It turns me into an anger filled, world hating, monster who resents everything nearly everyone does. But I can be so much more than that. I can be more than the depressed, cynical, crazy guy and I can be more than the cocky douche in non-depressed situations. I can be a person who loves, a person who makes people happy, someone people go to help for, someone who makes a difference, someone I used to be. Someone I know I can be again. I just need the chance.
Depression has hit hard this time because it has become crafty, it has changed things up. Because it knows that i've become experienced with its causes and oh to familiar with its effects. It knows that i've been put in this situation three summers in a row now. Depression comes home to roost about every 10 months. Summer 2010 I had to struggle to decide if I wanted to stay with my first girlfriend of many months/ former love of my life or go with a girl who shook things up. A girl who made me realize that there was more to life than your first girlfriend. A girl who made me believe (falsely) that ultimate happiness was achievable. There was a clear choice here, it was going to be girl number 2. But how was I going to break up with girl 1 so I didn't hurt her. I guess I never really lost my fear of hurting someone although my ability not to do it has been hurt. Anyway the situation with girl 2 caused the situation with girl 1 to deteriorate until we broke up.....that was when I found out that girl 2 and I weren't absolutely perfect for each other. I hurt both girls to the point where they wanted nothing to do with me. I felt useless and terrible. I felt as though I had let down my soulmate and now I was just playing out the string. I was slowly falling apart and my life was in serious danger. Each night I went to sleep hoping it was the last time I had to go through this kind of pain. I wished death would come to me so I wouldn't have to do it myself. Girl number 6 changed all that. You'll find out more about her later. For now all that's important is that what put that five month hell to rest was girl 3. Girl 3 is was a tall, beautiful blonde. She was kind, she was funny, she was nice. We didn't belong together. It's just now that i'm beginning to see this. Girl number 6, while coming with such a larger set of issues was just perfect for me. No one else in the world would be able to see that and that is what scared a young, depressed, misguided Boy #1. He played it safe and in the end only made it more dangerous for himself. Either way, girl 6 and 3 really had nothing to do with eachother at the time. Just having a girl like girl 3 was enough to pull me out of my funk. But I wasn't the same boyfriend i was to girl 1. I was lazy, i wasn't loving enough, I wasn't concerned enough. Perhaps this was because I had seen the end and knew this was nothing to worry about. Perhaps I was scared of being hurt again. Perhaps she didn't push me to behave enough. Either way this is where girl 4 comes in. Girl 4 is by the worst girl in this story. At no point did she ever care for me, at no point did she ever have my best interest in mind. She liked me a little bit and saw fit to destroy my relationship. My inability to break away from girl 4 and girl 3's lack of strictness caused me to be a bad boyfriend. Eventually girl 3 got quietly sick of this and began to have feelings for a friend of mine. I was eventually saved by girl 5. Girl 5 is not enough to save me forever. Perhaps this is because far too often I view these women as saviors and not just someone to be compatible with. I feel terrible, I never wanted to hurt girl 5. I just may have to choose between that and death. The choice remains to be made.
The trouble now is that I know enough to not make the same mistake twice. But instead I waited too long and now I may never know what could have been. I must admit that I've never felt such a connection with someone in my life. I've felt graced with such a prescence as to hold my interest to the point where it hurts for a conversation to end. I've never met someone who i've thought was so beautiful but was so ignored by so many others. Alas what makes me deserve such a girl? Why did I ever think I deserved a chance at her? She is beauty far beyond what I can handle, she is happiness far beyond what I will ever know. I feel again, this time perhaps rightfully so, that i've lost my soulmate. I feel as though I must now go through knowing full well that the person I was supposed to be with was lost through no fault of anyone but my own. Now my final choice is impending; what is more attractive of an option? To live like this or not to at all.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Perfection in the Form of a Female
I would say that she is beautiful, but that wouldn't begin to describe her. For beauty is so often associated with appearance and she is so much more than that. She's perfect. She's the most incredible combination of endearing, thoughtful, gorgeous, fun, and intelligent. She's more than just a girl to me.
She's smart. Not just in the traditional way either. Her intelligence reaches far beyond study and memorization of school work. She is able to master that while also looking at the world through clear eyes. She sees things ways others do not. This view allows a deepness to form with her, a sort of beautiful way of viewing each situation. She is smarter than you, but she'd never let you know that. This genius is a blessing and a curse for the impetus for this design of thinking was a series of rather unpleasant experiences. Never has a soul gone through so much horror and been so pleasant all the while.
She is thoughtful. She remembers things about people because certain people are what matter to her. She wants other people to feel important because it's rare that someone makes her feel that way. She is always willing to lend help to those who seek it. This is never just a ploy to look good; she likewise feels the pain. If a friend cries, she cries, the pain they will is felt just as much, if not more, by her. She will always look to please those whom she holds dear.
She is fun. Spending time with her makes one remember why life can be so beautiful. There is never a dull moment spent with her. Each and every moment is heaven, utter ecstasy. When you're with her, you feel as though pain ceases to exist, that there is only love.
She is gorgeous. One look at her makes the atheist in me believe, perhaps, there is a God. She has this unique smile that puts one at ease and gives the feeling that you've made her happy. It's a good feeling to think you've made such a beautiful person so happy. She does not have the features of a normal girl. She is slender but strong, she's a protector. The tone of her body makes makes one squirm and evokes all kinds of thoughts. Yet again I'm brought back to an image of her smiling and all is well in the world, there are no troubles, no insecurities. Most do not agree however. There are many a person who believe this angelic girl is not a beauty for the seeemingly ludacris reason that she does not conform to the standards of traditional beauty. Many are not attracted to her and thus I am relieved. Perhaps it is just me that believes I am staring at perfection in the form of the human body. This makes me feel that maybe she feels one-tenth as strongly about me.
She is endearing. She knows exactly how to make one love her. She cannot be ignored for this is impossible. She is addicting. One cannot simply get away once they've become close enough. She causes one to feel so good about themselves that they couldn't possibly leave her behind. The day starts to be viewed as something to get through just so you can talk to her at night.
She is tortured. Unforetunatly I am of a small minority that feel this way about her. Not nearly enough people are allowed close access to her heart. Perhaps if they were they would begin to understand. They would understand that there's so much more to people than what meets the eye. Perhaps they would learn to stop this mindless policy of judging people based on appearance and search deep into the soul of as many people as they can. However it's not easy for people to break the status quo. So they pass by her like she's nothing. They focus on pleasing the people society wants them to please. A small group is all that receives the absolute pleasure of her friendship. Overall she will be forgotten by most that crossed paths with her, yet she has more of an impact than they ever would. She's the reason many in that small group are living or living well. Not even her family knows the importance she holds to these people. Perhaps this is why she is treated with such indignation by them. They make her feel like she is less important. But this is because even she fails to realize her beauty.
She is broken. The cruelty of those around her have only worsened the horrors she's seen. Every night she is haunted by the worst possible thoughts and regrets. Regrets of being forced to accept such a level of depression at such a young age. After a few years of it, realizing her childhood, tween years have been wasted and her teens are next she begins to operate a secondary life to ease the pain. The misdeeds she experiences combined with the guilt of having to lie to those dear to her cause even worse pain. She can't live with herself without falling victim to addiction. She is sickened by the state of the world around her and by the complete lack of remorse people show while treating eachother so poorly. She is sickened even worse by disappointment in herself. This is a vicious cycle, there are few good outcomes here.
She is perfect. I won't let her succumb to the this depression. I am charged with making her see the world as beautiful again, no matter what it takes. For I know that she would have done the same for me. She was always a friend to those who had no one else and now I shall be the same for her. I won't let her be crushed under the weight of the world, I will save her if it takes an eternity. For true beauty is worth salvaging no matter what the cost. Most importantly I know, when this is all said and done, I will again be graced by the beauty of her presence. A presence and smile that can be described in no other way than perfect.
She's smart. Not just in the traditional way either. Her intelligence reaches far beyond study and memorization of school work. She is able to master that while also looking at the world through clear eyes. She sees things ways others do not. This view allows a deepness to form with her, a sort of beautiful way of viewing each situation. She is smarter than you, but she'd never let you know that. This genius is a blessing and a curse for the impetus for this design of thinking was a series of rather unpleasant experiences. Never has a soul gone through so much horror and been so pleasant all the while.
She is thoughtful. She remembers things about people because certain people are what matter to her. She wants other people to feel important because it's rare that someone makes her feel that way. She is always willing to lend help to those who seek it. This is never just a ploy to look good; she likewise feels the pain. If a friend cries, she cries, the pain they will is felt just as much, if not more, by her. She will always look to please those whom she holds dear.
She is fun. Spending time with her makes one remember why life can be so beautiful. There is never a dull moment spent with her. Each and every moment is heaven, utter ecstasy. When you're with her, you feel as though pain ceases to exist, that there is only love.
She is gorgeous. One look at her makes the atheist in me believe, perhaps, there is a God. She has this unique smile that puts one at ease and gives the feeling that you've made her happy. It's a good feeling to think you've made such a beautiful person so happy. She does not have the features of a normal girl. She is slender but strong, she's a protector. The tone of her body makes makes one squirm and evokes all kinds of thoughts. Yet again I'm brought back to an image of her smiling and all is well in the world, there are no troubles, no insecurities. Most do not agree however. There are many a person who believe this angelic girl is not a beauty for the seeemingly ludacris reason that she does not conform to the standards of traditional beauty. Many are not attracted to her and thus I am relieved. Perhaps it is just me that believes I am staring at perfection in the form of the human body. This makes me feel that maybe she feels one-tenth as strongly about me.
She is endearing. She knows exactly how to make one love her. She cannot be ignored for this is impossible. She is addicting. One cannot simply get away once they've become close enough. She causes one to feel so good about themselves that they couldn't possibly leave her behind. The day starts to be viewed as something to get through just so you can talk to her at night.
She is tortured. Unforetunatly I am of a small minority that feel this way about her. Not nearly enough people are allowed close access to her heart. Perhaps if they were they would begin to understand. They would understand that there's so much more to people than what meets the eye. Perhaps they would learn to stop this mindless policy of judging people based on appearance and search deep into the soul of as many people as they can. However it's not easy for people to break the status quo. So they pass by her like she's nothing. They focus on pleasing the people society wants them to please. A small group is all that receives the absolute pleasure of her friendship. Overall she will be forgotten by most that crossed paths with her, yet she has more of an impact than they ever would. She's the reason many in that small group are living or living well. Not even her family knows the importance she holds to these people. Perhaps this is why she is treated with such indignation by them. They make her feel like she is less important. But this is because even she fails to realize her beauty.
She is broken. The cruelty of those around her have only worsened the horrors she's seen. Every night she is haunted by the worst possible thoughts and regrets. Regrets of being forced to accept such a level of depression at such a young age. After a few years of it, realizing her childhood, tween years have been wasted and her teens are next she begins to operate a secondary life to ease the pain. The misdeeds she experiences combined with the guilt of having to lie to those dear to her cause even worse pain. She can't live with herself without falling victim to addiction. She is sickened by the state of the world around her and by the complete lack of remorse people show while treating eachother so poorly. She is sickened even worse by disappointment in herself. This is a vicious cycle, there are few good outcomes here.
She is perfect. I won't let her succumb to the this depression. I am charged with making her see the world as beautiful again, no matter what it takes. For I know that she would have done the same for me. She was always a friend to those who had no one else and now I shall be the same for her. I won't let her be crushed under the weight of the world, I will save her if it takes an eternity. For true beauty is worth salvaging no matter what the cost. Most importantly I know, when this is all said and done, I will again be graced by the beauty of her presence. A presence and smile that can be described in no other way than perfect.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Why I Write
When I first constructed the idea to write a non sports blog in my head, the second idea I wrote down was an article detailing why I write. However I never fully formed an idea enough to write the article. I could have written some bullshit on sports and how that made life worth living and had a pretty good article but I never had enough inspiration to write it. Perhaps it's because that's not the real reason I write.
At the current moment i'm being bombarded from seperate angles on a situation that I can't help but obsess over. This situation is nothing new but my greatest fear and the worst possible outcome of the situation is finally coming to fruition. Although it always seemed inevitable, I thought I could possibly delay it just a bit. But I can't, I don't want to let go too early. Losing a friend is hard enough but losing them to the point where one of you might as well be dead is beyond comprehension. It's already happened to me once recently and I don't know how much i'll be able to hold up the second time. Perhaps what hurts the most is that I know that this individual problem is salvagable but at risk of creating much larger issues.
You see this problem isn't totally my fault, only partially. Ultimately, it's a timing issue, but a timing issue, at that, that possibly saved one person's life and salvaged my sanity. She too, means nearly the world to me and it remains unclear even what my best option is much less the option that is best for everyone. Either way I'll be hurt which I suppose is well deserved. But i'm too young to have to deal with this, I'm too young to be dealing with life and death situations right now. This is the reality of the situation for the two that I write of are touchy souls. Not to their discredit, they have suffered more through the clear eyes of reality, so more to their credit than anything.
The reason I can't just go on with what I have is because of the feeling. It's a feeling I shouldn't have but a feeling that creeps it's way into my life anyway. It's the feeling of being absolutely crushed. The feeling of a friend/family member dying unexpectadly or too soon, the feeling of losing everything you've ever hoped for, the feeling of a kid being denied from his dream school, the feeling of a parent burying a child, the baseball player attempting to salvage a career and a living yet cut in spring training, the feeling of despair and hopelessness. The laying down feeling as it's become to me. This stems from the overwhelming feeling to lay down on the lowest possible surface(the floor) and remain there. No matter how hard I try, I can't get up, I can't shake this feeling. It gets to the point where it's too painful to think, so you stop. Any progress you're making anywhere in your life comes to a screeching halt so that you are able to fully appreciate the pain through which you are going. Ah the feeling of despair.
So what do I do? Do I dwindle away in monotony while silently hurting everyday, wondering what could have been? Do I take the risk knowing that i've made similar ones in the past and only hurt myself in the long run? Do i do this knowing that i'm playing with fire? Do I leave both and attempt to leave the past? I know that the first option is the only realistic one? So what am I to do? Am I to think about the situation incessently to the point where death seems more attractive than the ongoing pain, confusion, and regret that we call life? What do I do when a decision has to be made and it's needs to be made now? What do I do when I know that at least for a short while, depression is inevitable and at most I could lose someone who's been more important than words can describe? What do I do when wallowing in self sorrow is no longer an option? I sit behind a computer screen and pour my heart out. This is why I write.
At the current moment i'm being bombarded from seperate angles on a situation that I can't help but obsess over. This situation is nothing new but my greatest fear and the worst possible outcome of the situation is finally coming to fruition. Although it always seemed inevitable, I thought I could possibly delay it just a bit. But I can't, I don't want to let go too early. Losing a friend is hard enough but losing them to the point where one of you might as well be dead is beyond comprehension. It's already happened to me once recently and I don't know how much i'll be able to hold up the second time. Perhaps what hurts the most is that I know that this individual problem is salvagable but at risk of creating much larger issues.
You see this problem isn't totally my fault, only partially. Ultimately, it's a timing issue, but a timing issue, at that, that possibly saved one person's life and salvaged my sanity. She too, means nearly the world to me and it remains unclear even what my best option is much less the option that is best for everyone. Either way I'll be hurt which I suppose is well deserved. But i'm too young to have to deal with this, I'm too young to be dealing with life and death situations right now. This is the reality of the situation for the two that I write of are touchy souls. Not to their discredit, they have suffered more through the clear eyes of reality, so more to their credit than anything.
The reason I can't just go on with what I have is because of the feeling. It's a feeling I shouldn't have but a feeling that creeps it's way into my life anyway. It's the feeling of being absolutely crushed. The feeling of a friend/family member dying unexpectadly or too soon, the feeling of losing everything you've ever hoped for, the feeling of a kid being denied from his dream school, the feeling of a parent burying a child, the baseball player attempting to salvage a career and a living yet cut in spring training, the feeling of despair and hopelessness. The laying down feeling as it's become to me. This stems from the overwhelming feeling to lay down on the lowest possible surface(the floor) and remain there. No matter how hard I try, I can't get up, I can't shake this feeling. It gets to the point where it's too painful to think, so you stop. Any progress you're making anywhere in your life comes to a screeching halt so that you are able to fully appreciate the pain through which you are going. Ah the feeling of despair.
So what do I do? Do I dwindle away in monotony while silently hurting everyday, wondering what could have been? Do I take the risk knowing that i've made similar ones in the past and only hurt myself in the long run? Do i do this knowing that i'm playing with fire? Do I leave both and attempt to leave the past? I know that the first option is the only realistic one? So what am I to do? Am I to think about the situation incessently to the point where death seems more attractive than the ongoing pain, confusion, and regret that we call life? What do I do when a decision has to be made and it's needs to be made now? What do I do when I know that at least for a short while, depression is inevitable and at most I could lose someone who's been more important than words can describe? What do I do when wallowing in self sorrow is no longer an option? I sit behind a computer screen and pour my heart out. This is why I write.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Hello all! This is my first post on my non sports blog. My about me explains who I am pretty well but i'd like to give you guys a closer look. I'm Taylor Nicholas Nigrelli and I was born in Syracuse, New York in 1993. I've lived in the Buffalo area since I was a baby so yes you should feel bad for me, especially considering what a huge sports fan I am. I wasn't blessed with the most athletic talent. I try not to let this phase me too much and i'm proud of who i've become anyway.
I've always been an emotional person but over the years I've tried to eliminate emotion somewhat in decision making and instead channel emotion into what i'm writing. At some point this year I decided to take a risk. For as long as I can remember it's been my plan to become a history teacher. This is a safe option and for too long I planned to do what was safe. I've always loved sports and over the years began to gain some skill at writing. This October after a tragic event which will be discussed in a later post, I decided that life was too short to not take this risk. So I changed my major and began to write more about sports. A few short months later here I sit as an editor at the school newspaper (Assistant sports to be exact), the cross country beat writer for the school's athletic website, a contributor to another webiste run by students, co-editor of the Hungry Dog Blog, and of course the author of this fine blog. Things can change quickly and I still have a long way to go but I know with the right amount of effort and just enough emotion, I can become a great sports writer. I've always felt that I've had great ideas or great things to write that i've never gotten to share and this gives me the oppurtunity to do just that. So I hope you enjoy what I put out, feel free to leave a comment.
I've always been an emotional person but over the years I've tried to eliminate emotion somewhat in decision making and instead channel emotion into what i'm writing. At some point this year I decided to take a risk. For as long as I can remember it's been my plan to become a history teacher. This is a safe option and for too long I planned to do what was safe. I've always loved sports and over the years began to gain some skill at writing. This October after a tragic event which will be discussed in a later post, I decided that life was too short to not take this risk. So I changed my major and began to write more about sports. A few short months later here I sit as an editor at the school newspaper (Assistant sports to be exact), the cross country beat writer for the school's athletic website, a contributor to another webiste run by students, co-editor of the Hungry Dog Blog, and of course the author of this fine blog. Things can change quickly and I still have a long way to go but I know with the right amount of effort and just enough emotion, I can become a great sports writer. I've always felt that I've had great ideas or great things to write that i've never gotten to share and this gives me the oppurtunity to do just that. So I hope you enjoy what I put out, feel free to leave a comment.
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