Our Aesthetic Never Ending Thoughts

Life is a scary thing. One day you’ll be here, alive, and another day you won’t be, you’ll be dead and that’s the inevitable. Shocker isn’t it? But if you think about it, once you’re well informed about the difference between life and death, you have the option to live another day or die, well if you were to think like the suicidal’s. (To think like me would be entering an empty pitch. My mind is not the lavender you wish it to be. It is loneliness. And you cannot seem to find the escape from it. You will never find it). However, you wont necessarily have that option if something or someone else takes it away one day.

Sufficient

You hear all the time that there are two types of classifications: Rich and Poor. What people or society doesn’t want you to be is middle class. This means the person isn’t entirely poor nor entirely rich. I renamed this classification “sufficient.” Rich, sufficient, and poor. This classification is beyond common; I mean if you have a sufficient form of shelter, food, water, and clothing, you basically are in that classification.

When you dig deeper, you find that some families are in danger of losing their form of shelter, have debts to pay, pay a lot of rent, and many more money based issues. It’s funny huh? How a foldable, thin, green, paper has so much power over us? What we call “money” is something that provides us with entertainment, shelter, food, and water. In a way, its supplies us with what we need. Money, in reality, is not the object that is supposed to have power over us.

We are raised in a world where we are taught the more money a human has, the more power they maintain. How is it that money can equal power?

We want things. We want things absolutely unnecessary. Things only the inner cravings of cash you have inside want you to beg for or buy. We only ever want to make ourselves happy so we assume money and its links to your favorite restaurant and store and food is the way.

Sure it can give us clothes and food, but doesn’t everyone regardless of their race or religion or sexual orientation deserve that? Born we do not receive clothes and food for the rest of our lives. We depend on mommy or daddy or our life raiser. Eventually you’ll get a job to get all of life’s necessities. Without one, you are completely and utterly a goner.

We work to get money and that money pays for the place you call home where you’ll have to buy furniture and blankets and on top of that clothes and additionally you’ll have to buy groceries or buy takeout everyday and then occasionally when you have that spare money, go somewhere special for your entertainment. Oh and of course, the twenty-first century added a phone bill.

We need one thing for another and another. We live to support and entertain ourselves to end up in coffins or ashes or a diamond or in space or in a body farm for the next generations to learn.

MONEY. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY. MONEY.

It cost money to type that. If this becomes a book, money is required. To print, the ink, the paper, the cover, the credits, the etc.

Money is an annoying word and the numbers annoy too. You see, there are more ants than money, but more money than human. Eight billion or so of us. More than trillions of money. And so many ants there’s not an exact amount.

If money equals power in a human, ants equal power in money.

Choosing

Everyday you have so many options that others could have but on all levels can’t. A child in a third world country begs for bread he could have but can’t. You see, you could have everything you want you just can’t afford it.

You also decide whether you want to try today, whether you want to surpass your obstacles, whether or not to harm yourself. Yes or No, your two options to decide if you want to or not.

memories that go past you like bullets

Some days will feel amazing and you will infer the next day will be the same but it won’t. You can’t get attached to memories. They’ll just haunt you as times you were either happy or not and affect you depending on what mood you feel a certain day. They’ll remind you of what you had and maybe you still have it but either way, there will always be a memory in which you did or did not enjoy. These memories revolve around many things.

They interfere with your personality even the smallest bit. If you always remember sad memories, you will end up reliving that feeling over and over again.

By remembering happy memories, you look back when you felt great.

Each day you’ll ask yourself questions. Some days these questions will be difficult and deep and others simple and common. Today you might ask yourself: Am I worthy of this person? Am I worthy of myself? How can I continue when the worst thing has happened? And a million more questions but tomorrow you might ask: What should I wear?

One of my personal happiest memories is the day I realized that I will never be “with one”. I’ll always be alone mentally and possibly physically. I know that I shall never be able to say what I want to say or even say what I feel. I will always truly be alone no matter who or what I am with. I’ll never fully be what you call there because my best friend who is also my worst friend, is myself. I can only ever express myself through hidden meanings behind some words because it’s easier.

Being alone isn’t a terrible thing. I think best when I am. So I write because there is never someone I would talk to. I can cover death with a metaphor and you’d never know it. I can sugar coat a lie in pen or pencil. But in this real world, my words are repetitive and shy.

At 3am or sometimes 5am I lay awake and think about all the pain. I brush it off and talk to myself.

Why is it that I can never find good in me?

Why does everyone have pain?

If I change myself for the like of others, will I like me in the end?

If someone read this, would they be more open minded and caring about themselves and others?

If I read this, would I care?

Being alone, I realize I control myself and can manipulate everyone around me.

The Coated

Some people surround themselves in a coat that covers their emotions while others lay bare naked with their emotions. Let’s call those who hide their emotions “The Coated.”

The Coated keep their emotions to themselves in order to prevent people from asking if they are okay. When they are asked if they are okay, they force themselves to say “yeah.” They say words such as “I’m fine” when in reality, they are not, they are held captive inside, they are slowly or rapidly breaking for one reason or a million. The Coated conceal their feels. They infer no one would care, someone would say they want attention, their feelings don’t matter, etc. Sometimes someone won’t care, but then again at one point someone will.

Because The Coated keep their emotions to themselves, at one point their coat is yanked off and they break. All their emotions will spill and people will see one of many colors a human can have. The Coated hesitate when it comes to love and trust. They feel as if no one cares and if no one has cared for a long time, they will find it hard to think someone would. They are the most hurt when it comes to love.

When they fall in love, they get attached really easily. The worst part, for them, is watching the person they love, love someone else. That right there, hurts. The Coated end up assuming no one loves them or that they are not good enough because the person they love, doesn’t love them back. “I love you” are three words that can kill someone or save someone. It will kill The Coated if it is a lie and save them if you truly mean it because it shows them that they are loved and cared for at least by someone if they disappeared.

The Coated, when they decide to share how they feel or what is wrong, be grateful they decided to share their thoughts with you. They trust you but only listen if you care. If you don’t care, it’s better to leave and not let them get attached to someone who could care less about them. Don’t let someone you do not care about get attached. That is emotional homicide.

I know people who I’d put as “The Coated.” Of course one being myself. My biggest inspiration is myself and what I see. People around me and around the world, are the same in a way. They feel. They conceal or they unseal.

Love and Words

“ Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” A popular lie. Maybe not all the time words will hurt, but sometimes they do and when they do, you either chose to show it or play it off.

When we are young toddlers, we play hide and seek but now tears run down our cheek. When we are older we play hide and seek with our emotions. If you hide what is wrong, someone will try and find out why you are not okay. Hiders succeed most of the time while seekers sometimes win.

Here is a question, what is love? I was told love is when you cannot imagine being without someone. I was told that love is when your happiness, sadness, and care depend on one person. I was told that love is wanting to be with someone all the time. I was told love is something you immediately should feel about your family.

As I was growing up and still am, this love situation was never shown. I had a father who left and came back constantly. I never reached that daddy’s girl portrayed on TV. I never was close and I don’t think I will ever be with my father. I have a mother who chased the money of my father and up to present day, wants me to abuse his money. When I didn’t understand as much, my mother intoxicated my brain for me to think my father was this evil person.

I look at it now, and he messed up a lot, but her saying this makes her a hypocrite. Mother is no saint. You say you want money from men. You body shame and you don’t admit it. You’re racist and don’t know it. You’re selfish. My father cheated and left and left. Up until I became ten or nine, my mother stopped hugging me. My family does not do kisses or hugs when saying bye or saying hello. They pretend to be this type of family. I guess when you are younger than ten it’s forced. But if I am truthful, hugs and kisses make me feel uncontrollably uncomfortable. Affection creates an awful taste. I am black and affection is lavender and all those aesthetic colors dripping down the skies. Only one person’s hug was one I adored.

The word “Love” has came out of my mouth before I knew the definition of it. I would say it to my mother and maybe my brothers. Of course I said it because my mother said it to me. I didn’t really know what it meant. Come now, I don’t think someone loves but instead prefers and deeply like some people more than others. Of course that is just my point of view.

If this love stuff is in fact idealistic and your dream, this is how I’d picture it:

Love, a color we turn. A pink rose with water droplets on it. Two pink roses that started off amber and black and pale. They found each other when one day they where placed next to each other. They turn from the stem, to petal, to pollen, peachy pink. One dies before the other. Both die eventually. One might spot another flower. In the end flowers change colors when one see’s another.

I personally don’t believe in love for several reasons, one being that if love was real, it would be a very scary thing. Maybe it is real but I, like many others, don’t want it. People say that love is this great thing but for me, it is like trusting someone with a gun pointed at your heart, to not pull the trigger.

Almost

Some days I question how one day someone decides to randomly never talk to someone ever again. How can you just stop texting, calling, and hanging out? Even if you weren’t even technically with this person. You may not have been together with the person but you were a something or an almost. And that almost will follow you forever. It shows how what you thought, what you hoped, what you experienced didn’t mean anything or was just a lie.

And I know it hurts. It hurts doesn’t it? Feeling like no one will ever love or like you the way you do with others? We do that to each other. Some of us don’t even know we are doing it. Some of us don’t care. Because we’re selfish. Because we don’t take anything and treat it the way it should.

Monsters are never foreign creatures. They are always ourselves. People are monsters.

We don’t care if it does not involve ourselves. We don’t take in consideration the way others feel. Well, some people do but of course about the people that make them feel happy. We are selfish.

A scary look back when you’re an adult is thinking about people you could have done something about or people you did something to. What if the girl who never ate is slowly dying at twenty-one? What if the boy who denied your attention was gay? What if when you stop talking to him, you accidentally opened his question of existence?

When we lose people, it’s a strange realization. I like to think things happen for a reason, which anchors the blow of it. One day we could be sharing our lives together and the next, well it really doesn’t feel like a next because you’re gone.

Everyone will hurt someone in their lives, intentional or not. One simple thing could lead someone to a million. The girl who never ate, I hope she ends up doing so. The closeted boy you wanted, I hope he finds his courage. The boy you left, I hope he is okay. The girl you broke, I hope she is a woman.

You could have helped your friend with anorexia. You found that what she had, became normal for both of you so it was ignored. You cared about her but you didn’t do anything because you thought, what can I do?

When you stopped talking to him, you thought he wouldn’t care. But he did and he cried and I know a part of him died. But you assumed it was okay.

Almost. You almost could have. But you and someone else didn’t. It’s okay. That’s a human.

The Pain We Inflict

Pain is inflicted on everyone in many forms. When you imagine a time you were hurt, you automatically imagine “it”. Whether that pain was a person or something you saw, you automatically imagine “it”. We want the ones we know hurt us, but we run from those who love or like us.

The human being is a complicated thing full of sorrow and happiness and intelligence and secrets and goals for it all to end in a box six feet under or turned to ashes. Our biological mother brings us into the world with no will power over what will happen to you. She or someone else either raises you. But others, they raise themselves. Adopted, orphan, fostered, or with biological family, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.

Of course, not everyone will grow up in a happy life. Nothing will ever be perfect, no matter how hard you try. So we grow up to become golden apples in our life raisers eyes or bruised fallen apples. No one ever is a disappointment to their life raisers really. If you have managed to be even the slightest bit happy in your own way, then I see you as a golden apple. Sometimes parents don’t see it. Sometimes we don’t see it.

As we grow we feel stuff. “Stuff” refers to a lot of things. We start to fully understand our sexuality or accept it, we learn from our mistakes, we get bad habits, we have tendencies, we start becoming sad bunnies and some recover fast, and of course society will make you want to hate yourself and try harmful ways to change or yourself.

Our world is an extravagant place full of toxic. Toxic our existence caused. So does that make us toxic?

In my deepest moments, which is almost al the time, I think of the worst things in the world. I think about something we hate yet we all have. Pain. We feel the slightest bit of pain and we quickly want to numb it. Drown it with alcohol. Swallow it with pills. Smoke it away and blow. Snort it in rows.

We’re always trying to take away pain but if you never feel it, that would be terrifying. No emotional pain or physical. Eventually you’d want to feel it again. Without pain, the world is pointless.

When someone kills themselves, they don’t really want to die, they want to end the pain. Suicide survivors say they regretted it. They tried to take away the pain by taking away themselves which can’t workout because pain is what the world is made of.

You see, I would easily kill myself and no one knows that I feel this way. People hurt each other. The world hurts us. People who keep it in feel terrible. I don’t want people to feel the way I do.

Someone cares. I know someone does. You can’t drink everything away. It’s time you knew that.

A poem for our future generation:

The generation where depression is the new obsession

Where grades get you names

And eating disorders are trendy

Death is idealized and not realized

Where men are made ridicule if they cry

Where women who stand up are told to die

And pain is almost always numbed

Sexuality defines you

Religion separates you

But what will the generations do?

depression

I’ve already stated that depression seems to be an obsession. But what exactly is it, I’m not sure. My therapist described it as a cloud that follows you around and while everyone seems to be enjoying something, this cloud blocks your way to happiness. She also described it as not fully feeling what everyone else feels.

Today, February 12, 18, she asked me if I was aware or thought I was depressed. See she already told me I had this anxiety I didn’t even know about. I told her I didn’t know. I really don’t.

I don’t always feel happiness about things the same as others and there always is that feeling of bore and gloom when it comes to certain things, but doesn’t everyone feel that way? No. Well at some point, we all feel this way or at least that’s what one substitute named Mrs. Franklin told me. I believe her.

My therapist suggest things to help me on my way to recovery. But the big issue is whether or not I want to try recovering from whatever it is she thinks I have. Personally, I don’t think this therapy thing is for me. However, I do want people who feel this weird cloud to get help and find someone to talk to so they realize they are okay and that they are worth it.

When I observe or learn about depression, I don’t see what’s so exciting about it that you want to have it. An awful cloud affecting you daily, some days worse than others. Some people don’t even show it until they are fully alone.

I feel the worst when I am alone but sadly, I love being alone.

I think the reason I can manipulate the people around me is because I can lie my way to things. To my therapist, I can’t even tell her how I feel so I lie to her. Every time I am forced by my mother to go I say I am good.

I pull this one hundred percent okay person on the outside with no other emotion but happiness, annoyance, and laughter. I make people think I am stable and okay. Except I don’t ever feel that way.

I wouldn’t describe it as depression but someone else might. I don’t like admitting things often. I’ve been going to therapy since April of 2017 without choice. If anything I feel worse than when I started. But that doesn’t mean therapy is worthless, it’s just not for me because in weird way, for me, recovery isn’t my goal.

I guess my goal is to make people realize the world’s issues and even one’s personal issues.

Depression isn’t this thing you want. This cloud has to be treated with therapy, trying, and sometimes prescribed medication. Lots of things happen when someone becomes depressed. It leads to eating disorders, insomnia, self-mutilation, suicidal thoughts, affects in motivation, and just so much more.

How, no, why, would you want that? You can’t make fun of depression when you haven’t experienced it. You can’t make up that you are depressed just because one day you feel down.

There is in fact a difference between depression and sadness. Depression follows you wherever and you don’t always shows it. Sometimes it’s worse than other times but it just seems to affect your emotional stability. Sadness, however, you feel this when something hurts you and you feel unhappy. But this sadness is fixed with time or by someone accompany. It follows you in the moment. Sad or depressed, the emotions someone goes through shouldn’t be taken lightly.

Constant sadness can lead to depression. Everyone is sad before they become depressed.

The reason I feel as I do is as unknown to me as is to you. Sometimes I think maybe it’s just a phase or maybe it’s the people around me. Maybe its my judgmental mother or my distant father. Maybe it is the thought that I slowly drown in. Maybe it is me who caused all this pain.

alone:

adjective or adverb

having no one else present; on one’s own

I am often left alone. The world is often alone. You are alone sometimes. Some people are afraid of being left alone. They can’t stand being without someone. They fear as if they seem less popular without being with someone. Some get panicked when they are alone. Others find someone to go to.

There are many people in this world who hate being alone to the point they crave attention on repeat. When they don’t find or receive it from the area they are at, they either find a different area to receive it or make sorrow of themselves. There are people who manipulate people to think they are okay and there are people who manipulate people to think they are not okay. But when you go up to them, they almost magically feel better.

Look, there are many terrible people in the world and there are many types, but if I named them all, this would just be pointless.

I have realized that no matter how good or bad or sad a person is, no one ever wants to be completely alone. Everyone wants someone’s company whether it be often or not. Whether they want to admit it or not.

Being alone are my greatest and worst moments. Of course sometimes I want someone. Someone to talk to or just someone to be there. There isn’t no one I have met that I’d like to do that with or be comfortable with to do that. Well there is and was, except they left.

Ever since they left I have been more and more alone. I am not lonely. That’s a whole different definition and meaning.

LONLEY:

sad because one has no friends or company.

I do have friends. Sure I only really like two or three and sure they aren’t the best, but we call each other friends. I do have company, just not always.

Alone I am not lonely

Alone I am lost

Alone I think worse

Alone I think best

Alone I do everything

Alone I will go through life

Lonely when there’s no company

Lonely when I lose everyone around me

You’d give me a word and I’d easily turn it depressing.

At my lowest of lows and when the aloneness effects me worse, more than a million thoughts go through my brain that put me in rehab. You look at me and you see the outside. You see my laughs and you here my jokes. When you listen more and more as to what I say, you’d realize these things I say are always hidden negativity towards myself.

Everyone can find one thing they are or where insecure about. Their weight, body, chest, stomach, hair, or voice or just something. When a human becomes insecure about something, they try to fix it.

When I’m insecure about something, I go through this unexplainable shutdown of all of my body. A complete shutdown of happiness. A complete shutdown of being able to do homework. You see, my body feels so worthless to the point it cannot bring itself to do the important things. It’s strange because my body or mind just wants to lay down and listen to music that comforts me or just browse through social media where the only messages I receive are streaks.

My mentality knows I should get past this shutdown but my body knows I’d have to try harder than any other day. Other days I’ll be overly cheerful. The opposite of a shutdown. Sometimes in the beginning of a day it upbeat and when I am home and of course alone, I shutdown. I try, but sometimes I cannot bring myself to overcome it.

But when I am alone, I write and read. I create these thoughts into words and poems. I read to feel the life of another. Right now I am alone. At school I walk alone mostly. I think and talk to myself in my head. It’s easier than socializing for me.

Alone I create the relatable. I don’t realize as I write because in the moment that’s how I feel, but people can relate or get touched by what I write. I don’t think I am this lyrical, poetic, author genius. But if in the moment when you feel terrible and there is no one to talk to, writing it out is a helpful thing for me. I read it later and it just surprises me that, that is how I felt.

When you’re left alone a lot, you begin to learn a lot of things about yourself.

suicide

I’d be lying if I told you I never thought about doing this, but if you ask me in person, of course I’d deny it. It’s difficult for “The Coated” to talk about this. It puts them in an awkward position. If they say no, you’ll think they are okay and sometimes they want you to know they aren’t. But if they say yes, they fear your judgment.

When someone is depressed or suicidal or self-harms, they don’t want to hear, why? You have a good life. They have heard it before. They get it. But it makes them feel worse about the way they feel. It may seem as if someone has a good life but people don’t always share what happens in their life or behind closed doors.

About one million people worldwide commit suicide annually. That’s around one death every 40 seconds or 3,000 per day. For every suicide, there are 20 attempts.

People make fun of suicide and I guess it bothers me because I’d actually think about everyday. I make jokes about killing myself and it’s laughed at by even myself but no one actually realizes there is some truth to these jokes.

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Our Aesthetic Never Ending Thoughts

Our Aesthetic Never Ending Thoughts

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