I’m just bored.

Whenever I’m facing myself parting ways again, I try to remember what my mom said, “Some people are only in your life as a temporary influence. Sometimes you were only meant to learn one thing, and then it’s just done.”

I struggle with the concept of permanence. I guess truthfully there is no such thing. Every single thing fades away at some point in the passing of time. But it’s still a hard reality to swallow.

It’s unclear to me how a person can enter your life and make things so electric. Then in no time at all, they’re gone.

We can so easily fall into a pattern of talking to a person every day. You start waking up with them as the first thought in your head. Before you fall asleep you wonder what they are up to and if their day was good.

Most of the time however, those relationships turn into a meaningless moment. Feelings of affection have turned into more of science to me than anything, so I can’t help but ask all of these questions.

Is it boredom? Loneliness? Ego? What pulls certain individuals to entertain another?

Is it just small attractions? The way a person smiles? The music they play? Most simply, a really strong lustful attraction?

And what do the small details mean? Holding hands for example. Can the sensational closeness of touch be felt by only one person? Is it possible to touch someone delicately and not feel much of anything for them? Or do we always feel it in the moment, and just later it fades away?

I read that once you start studying love, that you become unable to love.

I wouldn’t say that I’m incapable… Rather, I just don’t trust any of it.

I think that people lie by nature. Whether it be for selfish reasons, or to spare the feelings of another person. Often, I’m put down a lot because of my directness. In my friendships, relationships, family, whatever. But the more I watch the interactions of others, I guess, as much as it hurts, there just isn’t much point in probably 90% of the connections that I make with people.

And out of the 10% that have mattered, and still matter, they too, as they are now, begin to fade in time. We’re left with memories and hopes that we can keep finding things that bring the same kind of feeling. Or maybe even something better.

But I think I’m searching for something that isn’t attainable.

Or, as usual, reading into situations and creating scenarios that aren’t actually there at all. I just felt like writing to strangers since I lack face to face friendships to talk about these things with.

When family doubts you.

This started as an e-mail, but I felt it was too bold. Then I thought, maybe some of you have grown up similar to me. And I hope you remember that you are doing your best. And that’s something to be so proud of.

***

Sometimes, even when you’re so far away from one another, words can travel great distances. Sometimes the words you say that you think someone will never hear end up reaching them somehow.

I have a belief that things always get found out. Even if it’s on your death bed. I don’t think that people’s true feelings about you stay hidden.

But some bad things are said out of love. At least that’s what we tell ourselves. I’m not really certain it’s all love. I think it’s our own selfishness. Usually when we say something hurtful it’s because of our own insecurities. If I say something bad about a girl I don’t know, 9 times out of 10 I’m simply threatened. If I say something hurtful about a family member, it’s to ease my own heart to justify a way they made me feel. Or act like I don’t care. Or if I say something bad about a friend, it’s because I want them to be the way I want them to be because it’s what I think is best.

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Family is probably the last one. We younger ones, we are left to grow up and think, “they just tried to do what was best.” I’m sure no matter what age all of us are right now, we’ve felt that way about the older ones in our family at some point. But despite knowing this, from generation to generation it doesn’t change. We still say hurtful things.

August 2010. Clear as day. I’ll never forget. I was told, “No one thinks you’re going to make it.”

That bothered me for a really long time. Honestly.. this might be the first second that I look at those words and I’m not bothered. Because what is “making it”?

The conversations I’ve had with family it always boils down to money. Money is the only way to be successful. And for some, this conversation always ends up talking about how I can give money to them if I’m “successful”. So I started feeling, “it’s not my happiness, it’s what I can provide.”

That’s how humans are, right? It’s always what we can provide. A service. What are we giving back to society? What are we giving to the people who don’t see our hard work, they only think our “success” is because of them.

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Most of you can’t understand me as I keep saying. It’s easy for you to say to each other, “Holly doesn’t know what she wants.” “Holly is unrealistic.” “Holly should grow up.” “Holly should act this way.”

Maybe it’s because we are from different generations that happiness means something different to us. But I think it’s just individuality. Because in each of your generations there are people like me. But I guess you probably scoff at them too.

Do all of you know what you want? Have you lived such a life where you honestly think you never upset someone? Have you done all you wanted? The “crazy” dream you had as a kid, did you do it?

People wait until it’s too late. Then one day you are taking your last breath thinking, I had it all wrong.

Just because you can’t understand me, it doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. In the grand scheme of things, hell, I don’t know. No one does. I don’t think anyone can argue that.

The steps that I take make you feel uncomfortable. They make you worry. And they make you talk to one another and say things out of frustration. I try to remember that. That we all say things in a way we don’t really mean it to come out.

I know it’s pointless to say “don’t worry”.

But just watch me.

If through all my struggles, frustrations and thoughts of unfairness in my world, I can share a photo of smiling people, a lovely flower, a sunset, anything beautiful. I think that means I’m doing okay.

And out of my life, that’s all I want. I just want to do okay. For me.

My own success is not measured in your expectations. Just as your success isn’t measured by anyone else.

And I hope you can realise that too.

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Dating Games: Relationshits.

Writing this feels so gross. Like… really stereotypical and cliche and all of those other words that say basic bitch in a more classy way. But I write about my moods, yeah? So… cool.

Being the entitled little millennial 90’s child that I am, like most of my grunge born babies, I like things on my terms and done my way. So… relationships, fuck that, right? Who has time for that? Who wants to dedicate their time to some smooth talking, beautiful faced, … okay. A guy that is just going to turn out to be your typical millennial fuck boi. Yes, boy, with an i. I’m told that that’s a bit more “savage”. The younger millennials adapt words quicker than they switch partners.

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And that’s not a jab. We millennials are also pretty… what do the baby boomers call it… liberal? In our world full of opportunities, we don’t have the the same sense of needing to settle down in one place with one person, and that’s great!

However… communication is so lacking. Maybe because of the way we change words so much. None of them really mean anything. They’ll change in a week, just as our minds will.

So even though we all say we don’t have time for relationships, we find ourselves dealing with the same things we want to avoid. Endless seas of twats and miscommunications.

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I’ve been talking to my liberal, entitled, want it all, born around the same years these past few days about love and relationships and what that means to us. Most of them describe the same thing of themselves.

“I want one person, but I think we aren’t meant to be monogamous. I think it’s fine for partners to be sexually active with other partners, but emotionally it should be kept between the two people who have love for one another” type of answer.

Which, as a fellow in utero of the 90’s, I get that. We are a have our cake and eat too kind of creation. But is it possible… I’ve met people, and read blogs, of couples that have very successful relationships this way, but they are from the more closed off older generations. My generation… perhaps we lack the proper communication skills and ability to sacrifice that would enable us to be such a way.

We want freedom, but don’t understand that freedom comes with it’s own price. Emotional termoillllllll.

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Because when people say they don’t want to be in a constricting relationship, it’s more, THEY want to be able to do as they please. When their partner expresses their own freedom, tables turn and jealousy, and “WHAT. FEELS?! We have to end this.”

Relationships of all sorts fascinate me. Parents and children. Friends. Siblings. But those of sexual nature and romantics… the differences between actually caring for someone and just trying suppress human loneliness… mind blowing thing to watch and experience.

But I’ve been asking myself… Have I gone a little too deep into it? Has treating it as a science project trying to find a perfect formula to a perfect communication made it all even more superficial than my grunge diapered peers ability to hit it and quit it with no feelings at all?

Perhaps it has. But we’ll tuck that thought away and I’ll continue my basic ass millennial view of, “Ha, well I am but an observer of this life” attitude.

Matane, doves.

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I say I’ll jump, but never do.

And so we’re told to walk on the sidewalk. Stay off of the grass. Walk the straight and narrow. Eyes kept forward in the direction that is expected from us.

I’ve been taking pictures of flowers again. And walking on curb sides. And rolling in grass. Not wearing shoes on the city streets. And maybe drinking a little too often. Honestly, I’m not really even certain what would be expected of me if I even wanted to hang from that noose.

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I am directionless. Spinning around and around in circles becoming more and more dizzy hoping that when my foot finally stumbles outward my toes will point towards some form of promising light. As I’ve always known, humans are a complicated ball of wanting what one isn’t.

When I was calculated like a compass and my steps laid out like points on a graph, I lacked any excitement. And now, as all of those plans have been erased, my compass hand bent, and my body is twirling, well, I kind of miss knowing my step for step. But in the end, when I’m out here on a tree stump as the sun goes down, I think where I am must be okay. Even if it’s tiring feeling so many things, and some surprises aren’t good ones, maybe I’m more alive that way?

Summer is approaching now. And I don’t want to think much past that anyway.

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*

Side thought. I’ve spent most of the day alone and wandering about. I found morel mushrooms. I caught a frog. Scared a bunch of turtles, and just now sat watching deer.

As I was watching them, and they were watching me, taking bites of leaves and grass and sticks every so often with caution, it made me think that people live this way towards one another as well. I thought first, “if both of us can sit here and accept each others presence, can’t people?” But then I thought, “well, they actually don’t accept me. I’m just here sharing the space. They are watching me making sure I don’t suddenly cause a threat. And I am watching them both in awe, and honestly, for the same reason.”

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Humans live that way. Always watching one another. Questioning our motives. What each other is thinking. Are we a threat? Can we be trusted? Or maybe just people like me think like that. But it was a thought I hadn’t really dug into until now.

For the first time I felt a little silly having always thought, “why can’t people just love one another?” And I guess I should rephrase. Why can’t people just accept one another?

So I think I’ll put it that way from now on.

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Bedrooms.

I’m in one of those moods where a small piece of a conversation can trail you off into a deep pitfall of thought. So I’m thinking about bedrooms.

They are often our most intimate of spaces. Where we keep our most private and often treasured things. Hide our secrets. I was just saying to a person that I actually enjoy when I enter someone’s room and it is a mess. Why?

Because everything about them is laid out and you can observe and learn about them more easily.  Each time you look at a particular area over, you are bound to see something you hadn’t seen before amongst the mess. That in a messy room, there’s no feeling that the person has anything to hide.

So I started looking at my room. And I thought… it’s kind of eerie, isn’t it? A clean room. Everything stacked in a perfect order. Just the way you want others to see it. I note the small details. How a lot of my secrets and feelings are hidden amongst a sense of normalcy. How when people enter my room they think it’s calming. “You have a good atmosphere. It’s a good place to be alone and think.”

It’s kind of unsettling to wonder what people can learn about me just by being in my room.

I’m moving.

“You’re actually pretty sad, huh?” Guess the cat’s out of the bag.

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It’s almost been a year since I had to start truly thinking about returning to the states. It’s sakura season in Japan again, so I’ve been pretty nostalgic. Thinking about where I was at this time last year. Was I happy?

In a few short months I’m moving again. Since I made this decision, I’ve noticed my actions have become pretty… impulsive. Which I didn’t quit get a grip on until waking up this morning. Since I decided to move, I’ve realised that since returning to this drunken college town I haven’t made one single solid connection.

My feelings of this place are all just memories of what was before I left. The people that mean the most to me. The friends that drifted away. The people that have “grown up”. And the people that have passed away. It’s been a wild experience the years that I’ve spent here. And yet, it feels like I’m leaving absolutely nothing behind.

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So I’ve been scrambling… In hopes that I can meet friends that move me. Experience something that will make me remember this place fondly once I go. But the more I scramble and push, the harder I fail. And I realise that, I’m not the person I want to be.

I had an expectation for this year. That I would return as this new free spirited Holly that I felt I bloomed into when I was in Japan. That somehow I would find myself with a group of understanding friends and my last year in this place would be filled with great memories and stronger bonds than I had previously formed.

But I returned and was met with a different reality. And instead of trying to change that, I shut down as I so often do when things don’t turn out the way I had hoped. So I’ve been cold and distant and I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t become close to anyone. That these so called “friendships” where temporary and in turn were not worth the effort. “Drinking friends.” A term coined my freshman year of college for the group of people that don’t really care about you, but you can gain social interaction from.

I never gave people here a chance to know me at all. I reverted right back to the person that I had worked so hard to change. I’m not sure which Holly is more adapt at this life. Not a thing this year has been genuine.

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So as summer approaches I have a strong sense of loneliness. That feeling where you have no one to call, for anything. No one to laugh at a late night movie. No one to watch stars. Talk about life and what’s next. Why are we here? What’s your dream? So I wonder if my last months here will be stuck in this feeling.

I haven’t learned balance yet. It seems I’m either disconnected from the world around me, or I’m pushing too desperately to be a part of it… which in the end leaves no acceptance from the people around me. So I’m not too certain what to do at this time. I would like to watch a far off sunset.

Vanish.

Do you ever have a moment, where you do something simple to every day existence, like take a bite of a granola bar and realise… you feel nothing? Tears slip out, hot and salty compared to the cool that air that is longing to become spring. You realise that you don’t feel hunger, or thirst, or sad, or happy. You’re just, here.

I was reading a lot this morning while laying in a parking lot. Which by the way, others don’t like. They won’t talk to you, or make direct eye contact. They won’t ask if you need any help, and they will keep a pretty decent distance. We’re not very good at what’s abnormal. But I tend to believe, I’m pretty abnormal.

Quotes by Charles Bukowski. He’s not someone you should be reading when you don’t feel anything. But, in some ways, I guess it’s comforting that I can write about this feeling and know that there are others just this way. A quote I found:718fd333fdf5624645c5d1e2e5c093d9.jpg

And I thought; it’s not about dying at all. It’s about the simple fact of existence. Everyone dies. That’s just how it is. And as much of a shell of a person as I am, I guess, though I don’t care if I did, I’m not ready to be dead. However, to not exist. That’s something that moves me a little.

When you die you can’t be fully erased. There’s photographs, social media, news papers, legal records, a grave, a headstone, your ashes. And even if somehow all of those things could go away, there is still your memory.

And only the dead can know what really happens after we die. But let’s say we carry on one way or another. Heaven or Hell. Reincarnation. Ghosts. Whatever. I’m not keen on any of that.

I’m very existential. Who or what just decided one day that two people were going to come together and trigger a reaction of cells to form the being that is me. And why are we capable of even thinking about it? Something that there is obviously no point to.

It’s no way to live one’s life thinking this all of the time, but it’s not fair. That we never have a choice in the matter. We’re just put here and are told, “Do your best.” So we say that when times are hard. “It’ll get better.” And I’m wondering which part of the human mind is the illusion. The awful things. Or the good things. Is it as simple as tricking our mind into seeing the positive in everything?

But somehow people end up just the way the are. A selfish person can pretend to be selfless, maybe even wish they were that way, but always in the end, they are selfish. An optimist may sometimes wish to feel the pain that others feel to acquire understanding, but they will always be an optimist.  So people like me, it would be safe to assume we are the same and eventually always find our roots.

I would like very much for all things pertaining to me to vanish.