Sometimes I wonder if friendship is anything more than convenience and people mutually taking advantage of one another. There will always be something that someone does to irritate you or some opinion of theirs that you will disagree with; there is no one true “best” friend because I don’t think human beings were created that way. People could be born in the same town, go to the same school, wear the same clothes, even run with the same people - but they’re still polar opposites in some respects. How do you define friendship?  Is it because you can laugh with them or because you can trust them? Despite the fact that I have close friends, people who I love and cherish dearly, I recognize that there are some things I will never trust anyone with. There is some information, some secrets I guess you could say, that I will take to my grave. It makes me sad to think that friends can be people you don’t even know, simply based on the things that they tell you. Look at me, for example. I can safely say that there is no one in this world who knows me all the way through. Sometimes, that’s just the way it has to be, I guess.


Looks like I’m back at it again, and I’m hoping that consistency will come along with this blog at some point. I already know what I’m going to write about before I even start, which is more than I can say about 001 aka my over-long, rambling “introduction” to this blog. Today’s topic is the most commonly discussed topic, but the most (in my mind, anyway) intricate and confusing topic that there ever was, and probably ever will be: love.

At 20 years old, I really can’t say if I’ve ever been “in love.” Everyone’s definition of love is different, and if I think that I was in love with someone, there is probably someone somewhere else that thinks the emotions I felt were not “real” love. Honestly, who are other people to say what love is, or who you are supposed to love? Looking back on my past relationships, I can say that I have experienced what I believe to be love. However, both these times the relationships were challenging, dysfunctional at their best, and ended negatively for me. Why?

As human beings, we are constantly subjected to emotional hazards. Heartbreak, disappointment, embarrassment, etc.: all of these things can lead you into a downward spiral if it hits you hard enough. Some people avoid these hazards by never letting their guard down, never having any expectations, or whatever. I seem to seek them out. Don’t ask me why I fall in love with the people who treat me badly, because I don’t know the answer to it. Sometimes I try to analyze myself and think that maybe I do this because I want to seek out the positive attributes. I fall for people who are unhappy, because I want to make them happy. I fall for people who are struggling, because I want to help them. I fall for people who are broken, because I want to fix them. I can’t remember the saying right now, but I think it’s something about breaking a mirror and cutting your hands all up while you try to put it back together. I would say the mirror is a good metaphor for every relationship I have ever truly invested emotion in. Sure, I’ve broken my fair share of hearts, I can’t claim innocence. Maybe all my bad love life luck is just my batch of karma coming to bite me in the ass. Maybe I’m just such a masochist that I fall for people who hurt me just because I don’t want to be in a successful relationship - I just want to be miserable and alone forever. I choose none of these options, personally, but then again I also think I little too highly of myself sometimes.

I like to think that the people I fall for are not bad people. I like to overanalyze the things that they do, and make excuses for them. The fact of the matter is that when you’re sleeping with a guy, you pay his rent, and drive 200 miles to see him - he should probably treat you like a princess, right? In my life, this was the perfect opportunity for him to hook up with someone else. In front of me. Whatever, that’s in the past (lol like a week ago), but the point is that so many people just write it off as “he’s an asshole,” or “you could do better.” The real question is, though, do I want to do better? I don’t think of this person as an asshole. Sure, he acts like one sometimes. I can’t say I’m a fan of the way he treats me or acts sometimes, but there are the shining moments. If you’ve ever been in a relationship, you know what I’m talking about. Sometimes, when you’re with someone, you just have this moment. This click, where you look at someone and just think to yourself, “Wow, I am so in love with you.” 

What I want to know is, how many times can a person act like an asshole before the shining moments you had of them start to get tainted? I feel like no matter how many times someone you love is an asshole to you, all you need is that one shining moment just to convince yourself to hold on. Sometimes, you should let go. I think the hardest part of love is knowing what relationships to let go, and what relationships to fight for.. or whether you should even have to fight for the so-called right relationship at all. 

I haven’t spoken to him a few days.. since Wednesday to be precise. I’m wondering if I’m a masochist because I still want to, or if I’m just in love. Maybe a little of both, maybe neither, but tonight I’ll go to bed with dreams of the shining moments that I tell everyone I don’t care about. This is my secret. 

"We ignore the ones who adore us, and adore the ones who ignore us."


Today is October 5th, 2013. I decided that I would try this whole “blogging,” thing again, but the real blogging this time. I think blogging was originally invented to be a type of online diary (journal, whatever you want to call it) but it’s become millions of people recycling the same ideas on blogs that have one theme. This blog doesn’t have a theme. I don’t even know if I’ll be reblogging things or just bitching about my life, but either way there is no theme, because there isn’t really a theme to my life. I don’t know my purpose, and I have no real goals at this period in my life. I’m a 20 year old  wanderer with no real idea of what the hell I am doing with this life. Yet.

In case anyone decides to read this blog, I guess I should go ahead and introduce myself. My name really isn’t important, it doesn’t have anything to with who I am. I am a 20 year old (as I previously said) college dropout from southeastern Pennsylvania, right outside of Philadelphia. I travel as much as financially possible, and I’ve been moving state-to-state roughly every 3 months since the first time I attempted to go to college. My astrological sign is the Pisces, aka the sign of the fish. I only bring this up because there are some things about the Pisces description that fit me perfectly. I’m spontaneous, impulsive, and very outspoken. I am good at reading people and seeing through their bullshit, but I am a terrible liar without cause (I used to be a compulsive liar in elementary and middle school, and I still occasionally lie about stupid things, but nothing too serious). I love water, in any form. I think the only thing that differs between me and the so-called “textbook” Piscean is that I hate feet. Irrelevant, in the grand scheme of things. My favorite color is red, because I’m obnoxious and relatively confident. My favorite number is three, because it seems events in my life come in threes, both good and bad. 

A big influence on my life has been drugs. I know, it sounds bad. I’ll break it down for you. When I was 15 years old, struggling with a crippling depression, is the first time I was ever prescribed a medication other than your standard strep throat antibiotic. I was on 100mg of Zoloft for about two years of my life, before I quit it cold turkey. It made me feel a complete loss of emotion which, for a while, I felt was a much better alternative than feeling sadness. Eventually I got over the idea of being a walking, talking zombie and quit the ADs. During my junior year is the first time I attempted to smoke weed. I had a psychological block with marijuana due to my drug-addled father abandoning me because he preferred drugs over parenting, but that’s a whole different story. Maybe for later. Anyway, I didn’t like pot when I first tried it (as a stoner now, this still makes me laugh a little) but when I went to college I really developed an inclination for getting high. As my depression slowly crept its way back into my life after the worst breakup of my life, I turned back mood stabilizers and antidepressants to help me get by. I enjoyed college, the partying anyway, and even class when I found the motivation to go, but I think the most profound effect college left on me is an open mind. I tripped shrooms for the first time during my second semester of college. I can safely say that this drug changed my entire perspective on life, and I haven’t been on a psychological medication since this experience. This, combined with my growing inclination for MDMA, made me a happier, more positive person in the long run. Although drugs can be dangerous, I haven’t found one drug yet that has caused me ONLY negative effects. There are some drugs where the negative outweighs the positive, and these are the drugs I steer clear of, but as far as hallucinogens, MDMA and weed goes, I’m pretty much on board. *Test your drugs, though.*

It’s 5am, so now I’m going to go to sleep in the guest bedroom of my grandmother’s town house and face the prospect of going to work in the four hours. I know I will probably spend this night as I spend most nights before  I go to sleep, hopelessly refreshing my Twitter feed as no one tweets and thinking about the things that keep us all up night: missed opportunity, lost love, paying the bills, etc. Tomorrow, however, I’ll wake up with the mindset that today is a new day, and even if I fail tomorrow, there will be another try for me after that.