I never want to be so tired in body, mind, and soul that I accept sadness, or I accept disappointments because it’s easier, because for some reason I’m too tired to fight.

Most days I say I’m too tired for a lot of things. Truth is I’m not nearly tired enough to use that phrase. I will never be tired enough. I will never allow myself to be in a passive relationship with the world and society because I could never live in a world I didn’t agree with without continuing to put up some kind of fight until I am in the ground. I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way. 

People disregard talk like this as young energetic activism, but this is just me. This is what you get: this spikey, stubborn girl who will always be there to say something because being a wall-flower, being underrated, never sounded very fun to me.

What is the point of silence. 

What is the point in existing if you’re going to do it quietly.

"I wanted the whole world or nothing."

Charles Bukowski

that’s meant to read “sorry I’m not sorry”

(Source: douchefaggery)

Sometimes I don’t really know why I started blogging. I can’t remember why. And it has become such a big part of who I am and the way that I communicate. 

I don’t like Facebook because it is full of people pretending to care about each other. It’s a face of the person you want the world to know. I don’t like participating in such a thing. But I do because I like to be a part of things. It is inherent within my being to need to be a part of things and to be left out is not an option. But it is so hard to pretend to care. But I care so much if everybody else cares. I care if only two people care enough to like a status. Maybe that’s why I don’t post them anymore. Not unless it’s something of importance or of any significance to my life.

I like tumblr because for some reason that feeling isn’t there. The people who read this, I can’t believe they do. That some of you think I’m funny or interesting, because I’m not putting up a face. This is all real, this is all the naked me. My soul is here, you can see it, you can smash it, you can hate it, judge it, love it. Whatever. The point is that it’s there. I’ve created something that will be around arguably forever.

I feel pigeon-holed into this role I’ve created for myself unknowingly at certain times in my life and they are so deep I can’t get out of them, so it’s nice to be somewhere where I started one way and can continue to grow and change. Maybe not without judgement, but without caring so much about what is correct or expected.

I really believe in this blog and having the right to talk about what I want to talk about. People warn me about blogging about certain things, and I’m not stupid, but fuck me if I’m not allowed to blog about what I want to. If that jeopardizes some kind of career or whatever, maybe I’m being naive, but I believe in that, I believe in this right. 

Is anybody listening?

Sometimes I feel so connected to all the souls who are just looking up at the stars wondering if anybody is listening because they don’t have anyone who will besides the universe or God, or whichever being tries to listen to the millions of people and their billions of prayers.

I know the universe seems to swallow up hopes and spit on dreams, and sometimes you might question whether your silent thoughts have touched the eardrums of anything at all, but I think it’s important to speak anyway, to wish, to pray anyway.

To shout your message to the world because who the hell is a silent and unyielding universe to stop you? Silence equals nonexistence and oh my god are we going to exist. We are going to exist.

Today someone asked me if I believed that women had rights.

Women do have rights, a lot more than they used to. Feminism isn’t about bitching because women don’t have rights, or aren’t equal members of society (which in some ways they still aren’t really). 

Feminism to me is just another way of understanding that just because someone has rights, it doesn’t mean the problem is fixed and suddenly disappears. The Emancipation Proclamation didn’t end the problem of slavery. The Civil Rights Act hasn’t stopped discrimination. 

Racial and sexual hierarchies, these are all mindsets, traditions that were/are ingrained in people and it is our job as a progressive society to make sure that these traditions don’t continue because we have deemed them wrong. 

I’m just striving for a little bit of consistency, some truth and action. If anything is going to change we can’t just make a law, make a rule, we need to alter our thinking—not just with regard to women, but with regard to all minorities, sexual orientation, and everything else.

Can you hear me?

What I love about words is that they can be caked in so much humor that most of an audience will laugh so loudly for a few moments that it almost drowns out the quiet and somber seriousness that lies beneath them. In such moments it takes a trained ear to filter out the premature laughter and listen for the quiet whisperings of Meaning. 

I can hear you! I can hear you, oh god, please—

I can hear you.

The blog name

The phrase “Can you hear me?” is one of the few things in life that I can decide is my favorite something. I am indecisive, and I take comfort in the things I can decide on.

To me, the phrase represents ultimate vulnerability, the good kind of vulnerability, where you have enough confidence in yourself to let your guard down and reach out to someone.  It’s the moment where even if asked meekly, it asserts that you demand respect, that what you are saying deserves to be heard, not because you are better, but because you are a person and what you are saying matters. The moment you ask this question is the moment you finally seize control over life, or a situation you weren’t comfortable in–which is funny because that’s basically what life is. Life is a series of uncomfortable events.

I’m not a cynic. Quite the opposite actually. I’m a romantic, in all sense of the word. I try to look at everything in the best way possible. I’m not a sunny optimist, but I do believe that everything will be okay eventually, and that we need to have the strength and courage to get through the hard times because that’s what gives us character. It’s what makes us who we are.

This blog is a blog for me. It’s to keep me sane. I miss words, and writing. This blog is for me, to help me remember who I am, because I know that I get lost a lot of the time. Not to say that change is bad, because growing up is necessary. But it’s necessary to keep yourself in check. To remember who you are, and to know that you deserve the best because you are worth it. To remember that you are a person, and deserve to be happy.