vanilla raindrops

email: noreia@planet-save.com.

This is my blogchalk:
United States, California, sometimes Steiermark, Austria, something bored teenagers say when they speak useless words into brick walls of cotton candy, English, German, Noreia,creative writing, fiction, reading, college student, strange, cat power, mogwai, arap strap, dresden dolls, white oleander, the earth, my butt, and other big, round things, welcome to the dollhouse, fuckers.

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by bodyPUNKS!

body jewelry by BodyPUNKS!

 

feeing jolted. on too much caffeine. charged.

this is a time when i'm not quite okay with being myself. i need to be the girl who has just discovered there is more to music than Christian rock, more to reading than Psalm 119. she was eighteen and she dressed in dark colors because they soothed her. she loved to walk the aisles of the music store, browsing used records and CDs, realizing that she could buy anything she wanted to listen to, because there were no invisible rules saying, this is okay, but this is a sin. it was a strange, earthy kind of freedom.

she felt on the tip of the world, in a sense. she felt that the world brimmed with fascinating, beautiful people who could connect with her, who could love her. she liked the quietness inside, the space and the music that filled it. she liked liking the rain. she liked the new girl at school, who was younger and had all kinds of crazy friends, who made her laugh and forget herself, who wrote beautifully poetic letters.

she loved to come home and set the Pearl Jam record to "Indifference" and flop on the bed and sing. she loved being young and being herself, discovering what that meant.

but "that there, that's not me." i think i need it to be. i think i need to know that all that youth and craziness is not lost.

i have the urge to smoke and get tattoos and piercings, to sit in the dark and look at the sky, to kiss and yearn and mourn growing older. this urge to carve into myself in so many ways, to explode and implode and scream, to burn and writhe (that word she used so long ago), to be, to be, to be.

unsatisfied.

why did i suddenly wake up and realize that two years had passed and i didn't want it, i couldn't hold on?

i sometimes wish that i could stop learning, stop thinking so seriously. to be naive and reckless, to be narrow, to think about music and shows and people and being cool, to be satisfied in that. i rebel against growing older, against the thought of sickness, the worry of this big, evil world. maybe that's why i want to harm myself. maybe that's why i want to be numb.

but she's still there, inside of me. there doesn't have to be a difference.

Posted by: noreia at 19:44 | link | comments (3) |