When Did Everything Change?

There was a time not too long ago when hurting yourself felt good. Back then though, it was called something different. It wasn’t about inflicting pain, it was about feeling something, anything, that was different than what you already knew. I’m talking here about the newness of things. I’m talking about moments that could shock your entire body and leave you feeling high for days. Baby faces doing grown up things. Little hearts filling themselves up with experiences. There was always a story at the end of it all and it didn’t usually end in tears. That, like everything else, would of course soon change.

It’s hard to discern when the change happened though; it’s hard to tell when you became incapable of shaking things off like you once did, when you stopped believing the promises of a shirtless boy in a dark bedroom, when a fight with a best friend turned into years of a steady and slow dissolve. All you know is that it happened. Don’t know how. Don’t know when. But here you are: hurting yourself for different reasons. Here you are hurting yourself and it actually starting to feel like pain. The lows aren’t so dramatic. There’s no screaming, no yelling, no visible anger. Instead they just creep under your skin and stay there, chipping away at your resolve. The permanence terrifies you. The permanence is proof that you can no longer afford to be silent when it comes to running your life.

You would’ve done anything to go back. Go back to the first boy, the first friend, the first drink. Feel it all around you. Feel it go inside of you. You figured this would make you happier. Because the problem here is the cruelty of time. You’re sure of it. Not a doubt in your mind. You blame moving to different cities, long-term relationships, and busy schedules. They’re the issue. They’re the things that are making you miserable and taking everything and everyone away from you. Right?

Pop quiz! Why doesn’t getting drunk feel the same? Why does having sex make you feel even more alienated? How come you aren’t getting what you want when you did everything that was asked of you?

How come.

You’re asking the wrong questions. You know that, right? No? Okay, well why don’t you go further down until you realize it? Why don’t you hurt yourself some more until you realize you actually want to feel good?

Look, I don’t blame you for not wanting to ask the right questions. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes with willful ignorance. There’s a certain kind of thrill you get from rejecting the things that make you happy. Because once you start asking them, once you make that choice to better yourself, being bad will never feel as good. Being bad will just feel like you’re delaying the inevitable.

When did everything change? You wonder this as if knowing the answer will make everything better. It won’t. Growing up is difficult — you have to mourn the newness and accept being old enough to know better — but it’s what you have to do in order to keep living. Because there’s only so long you can keep asking the wrong questions and expect to find a good answer at the end of it. There’s only so long you can check out of your life before it starts to belong to someone else. Something else.

From the thought catalog

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To the friend who invited me to :: SUPERDRY PARTY Ft. DJ ANTONIN (PARIS) BY Skyy Vodka ::

You know who you are. This is your warning letter.

A few minutes ago a friend of mine invited me to a party. Fair enough, what’s unusual about that you might ask? Well nothing except the event picture was a picture of a girls crotch and the name of the party was :: SUPERDRY PARTY Ft. DJ ANTONIN (PARIS) BY Skyy Vodka :: .

Now let’s start at the beginning. Why would a party advertise itself with an actual picture of someone’s crotch? Sex sells yes, but I thought that was supposed to be in a kind of subtle sexy way. No, apparently it means crotch in ones face sells. I don’t know about you but I really don’t need to see an actual sexual organ to pick up the sexual undertones.

Perhaps people today aren’t as perceptive as they used to be, say back in 2004 when a mere ‘nip slip’ by a leather clad Janet Jackson (or was it Michael, I can never tell the difference), brought the world to a standstill. What Janet Jackson has nipples? She’s using them to sell music? Hulk Hogan used his nipples to sell wrestling and no one ever complained!

Crotch aside, I thought to myself: “let me just click on the crotch, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks.” Sadly it was bad. Oh I couldn’t have prepared myself for the horror that was to ensue. Just like a scary movie, when you are shouting and pleading with the sexy mysterious protagonist not to walk into the dark room, a part of my brain was doing just the same. But of course I ignored the ‘don’t go into the room’ feeling and did it.

Shock and disgust, the name of the event had two colons before the actual start of the name. What does that even mean?  Now as far as I know a colon is supposed to inform the reader that what follows the mark proves, explains, or lists elements of what preceded the mark (at least according to Wikipedia). But I mean really now, what does that mean and what’s more what does a double colon mean, is it meant to be ironic? Or was the person who wrote it overdosing on keratin (I’m not sure if that’s even possible) and had a tremor? Could it be simply for decorative purposes? But how would a colon be decorative?

Finally the party’s name is Superdry. Apologies for being unable to write that all in caps lock, it’s against my beliefs of not being a total douche bag. Now what is a ‘superdry’ party, does this mean there will be cover in case of bad weather, or that there will be no running water? Or perhaps a guarantee that there will be no rain, “come to our party not only will it be dry but it will be super dry”. Or perhaps it is a comment on the type of humour that you have to have to enter the party, in that case I will take my pants of and my crotch and I will waltz right on in there.

Next time I get a whiff of a crotch coming from your direction you are dead, at least Facebook dead to me.

For Helen…because its true and I will miss you!

Remember how he walks, the colour of his skin, the curve of his neck, the shape of his lips, and find it in the strangers you meet day after day. Find him in other people and think how truly ordinary he is because you see him so much in other people.

Forget how his eyes looked when he was trying so valiantly to tell you how sorry he was. Forget how deep it seemed that cold rainy night and how the pain reflected in his eyes was enough to make you stumble forward and hug him like it was the first time. You gave your all to that hug, wrapped your arms around his body and buried your head into his arms. Forget how you wanted to stay there forever and just skip the talking. Forget how you pulled away and looked into his eyes so you can tell him that you still don’t believe him.

Forget how the sides of his mouth turn up and how his hands reach out to touch any part of you every time you see each other. Forget the feeling of ‘being found,’ do not even feel that way again for anyone.

Forget that one boring afternoon when you suddenly convinced him to shoot music videos. He was the star of everything. He was too good in your eyes that you even included the crappy shots. Do not even watch it for one last time. Delete all the memories to forget. Delete the music. Delete the place. Delete the person from your hard drive. Fill them with someone else right then and there. Remark at how easy it was.

Forget his gift for your  birthday. Forget his efforts for you. Dispose of all his gifts, those things that he bought for you because you both know it would be funny. Laugh because you can’t find it anywhere. Not in your room, not around the house, not in your bag. Hate his letters but don’t throw them away yet. Convince yourself to not believe in those kinds of lies and read them anytime someone tells you those things again. Do not ever forget these lies.

Forget the time he cried one night because he was telling you something about his mother. Forget his secrets, his quirks, the things that he claims he had only said to you. Share them with someone unrelated to him. Someone who doesn’t really know him. Transfer the burden of the only person knowing those things right at the moment. Assure yourself he’s going to tell them to someone else sooner or later. Cherish the idea of having a social side wherein no one knows he exists. Find time to be with them as much as possible.

Forget who he is. Remember to forget. Remember how he walks, the colour of his skin, the curve of his neck, the shape of his lips, and find it in the strangers you meet day after day. Find him in other people and think how truly ordinary he is because you see him so much in other people. People you don’t even know. People you know. Fight the nostalgia. Be in understated comfort knowing he wasn’t really special to begin with.

And lastly, forget yourself. Forget who you are when you are with him. Forget the unwilling relationship he had imposed on you, leave all the traces of his negativity behind you. Forget how happy he made you feel, likewise remember how stupid you felt when you believed him. Forget being forgiving, how he was the only person to have broken your trust more than enough times and yet, stick to him undeserving so. Forget being noble, for sticking to a person who doesn’t deserve you. For thinking that maybe you both could do good in each other’s lives. Forget being idealistic, how he managed to corrupt your mind that something can overcome all trivialities: something called love (platonic or otherwise). Forget being mad and mean, a consequence of being in a place wrought out of lies.

Forget who you are when you are with him and find yourself in a place rid of any trace of him. Forget everything and start in a better place.

From the Thought Catalog

An open letter to a friend who calls herself ‘we’

It seems though that now, whatever it is you participate in, enjoy, or experience, is being fed through a second set of nerve endings and sensory receptors, because I have yet to hear about something that doesn’t involve “we.”

Dear you,

Look, I love you. We’ve been friends for so long now, and you know you’re amazing. There is no one I could have more fun with, no one who will so reliably hold back my drunk hair and then tell me it’s okay to wear sunglasses indoors at brunch the next day because my eyes feel like despair. We’ve been through so much together that, at times, I can take you for granted. I assume that you are a constant in my life, and if that has led me to treat you with anything less than the love you deserve, I’m sorry. You are the greatest friend anyone could ask for, and there’s no one I want happiness for more. No one. So when I found out that you were dating someone, I could not have been happier. I thought, “This is it. We’re all finally going to be happy and get what we want, and we can all run off into the sunset together linking arms, singing that song from the end of Grease.” If only I knew then how wrong that would prove to be.

It starts off innocently enough. I call you, wanting to do something, and I don’t hear back from you for a while. A text or two goes unanswered, and when I finally get a hold of you, you mumble something about being “really tired,” and not feeling up to going out. I can hear your lover in the background, trying to pry the phone away from you from all directions like a many-tentacled squid, but I ignore it. You’re in love, and there’s nothing wrong with spending some quality afternoon time in bed.

But then it gets more worrisome. You start missing out on things you love, your social appearances become so rare as to elicit a “Woah! Look who crawled up for air! Hope no one is pregnant.” every time you show up. Your hobbies and interests start morphing, slowly, to adjust to those of your new love. Your affinity for bowling has been switched out for a serious vested interest in wind surfing, and the fashion magazines you once pored over with glee you now refer to as “banal.” Who taught you that word? My friend would never seriously refer to something filled with free cologne samples as “banal.” But I digress.

The point is, I can see the “you” that makes you who you are evaporating in front of my very eyes. Aside from the new interests that seemed to appear overnight and replace all the things you used to love, is the strange assertion that this is nothing new. Come on now, let’s be real. We all know that your long-standing, passionate interest in Greek philosophy is about two weeks old, tops, and is inspired more by the fact that you’re getting laid on the regular by someone who likes to read than any interest in understanding mankind. I mean, I get it, but let’s just be honest with ourselves. And I don’t begrudge you this new persona! On the contrary, it’s fine to see someone grow and develop. I mean, it would be nice if this were a little more self-motivated and less based on making yourself the ideal mate for someone you are unhealthily attracted to, but I suppose the ends justify the means.

However, there are certain things that irk me more than others. For example, last I checked, you were a single unit — one person, no more, no less. As I understand the English language, that would mean that you would use the first-person singular nominative case personal pronoun, known in some circles as “I.” You would say, as you used to, things like “I went to the store,” “I really liked this movie,” or “I picked out this scented candle that makes my house perpetually smell like chemical pumpkin pie and suffocation.” It seems though that now, whatever it is you participate in, enjoy, or experience, is being fed through a second set of nerve endings and sensory receptors, because I have yet to hear about something that doesn’t involve “we.” “We went to the new exhibit, it was bourgeois.” “We used to really like Woody Allen, but Midnight In Paris was like watching him dance for pennies from the everyman at your local multiplex.” “We decided to arrange the apartment to get more south-western light in our living room.”

I don’t recall being friends with a two-headed hydra who can’t stop talking about the concert it’s going to next week, but then again my memory’s never been great.

Look, I’ll reason with you here. You and I both know that this relationship isn’t going to last forever. Feign your outrage, talk about moving to Vermont and having barefoot children, and then let’s get back to reality. At some point, you’re going to find yourself hating all of the pretentious and uninteresting things you pretended to do to participate in this farce of a commitment, and that’s okay. Come on, we’ve all been there. I once learned about everything there is to know about modern banjo playing with a foaming-at-the-mouth urgency to impress this guy I ended up breaking up within a month. (True story.) But you know what was awesome? When I regained consciousness and realized how much of an utter circus that whole thing was, and I regretted how quickly I had tossed aside my friends for what I imagined was true love at first sight, you guys were there to take me out and remind me how much fun it is to be myself. And I want to thank you for that.

But now it is your turn. So have your fun, ditch your friends, lose your head. Just remember who was there before, and remember who will be thereafter.

From the thought catalog

23 things a star knew at 23

Another list from a good friend.

Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket never let it fade away! I really enjoyed number 12. Its so true, so many people. I know that were ‘all that’ in high school are either coke heads or decidedly average, while the girls who were ‘weird’ and ‘uncool’ are all successful young women. Take that popularity!

 

  1. I LOVE with all my heart, and hurt with all my heart.
  2. Crying is inevitable for me. Tears never run out of stock, I’ve tried.
  3. Girls don’t like me, and I don’t care.
  4. Clever humour always trumps wash board abs.
  5. Wash Board Abs  don’t ever hurt though.
  6. Pets bring a kind of love into a home that no one else can ever replace.
  7. No  matter how many times I’ve been hurt, or lied to or betrayed, I never lose my faith in people. Naive? Maybe.
  8. I am naive, clumsy and somewhat dorky. But I choose to believe its charming.
  9. Nothing about my body is symmetrical. But symmetry is boring.
  10. Intelligence is extremely subjective.
  11. I will never be the most interesting person in the room but I wont be forgotten easily either.
  12. High School was pretty much redundant. Your life and worth only really begins when you realise being a prefect and having pretty colours on your blazer means nothing in the real world.
  13. Grief never really goes away, but it does get easier to deal with.
  14. No girl will ever be completely happy with her body, but remembering the good things is important. I have great boobs, I own them, they’re mine.
  15. Whether I like it or not, I want my parents’ life one day. I want a husband like my dad and I want o be a wife like my mom is.
  16. My brother will always be my friend.
  17. I love corny. I will sing along to lame music.
  18. There is such a thing as someone true love, someone will love me for me. All of me. One day.
  19. My Grandmother understood me like no one else can, or probably ever will.
  20. The sea side is where I’m meant to be. And will definitely end up.
  21. The value friends add to my life ALWAYS pleasantly surprises me.
  22. That I will probably never be OK with making mistakes, but will make them anyway.
  23. Number 23 is last because it took my this long to find out that I have a lot to offer the world and the people that choose to share life with me.

 

Radiohead + South Africa = poop in pants

So Radiohead may just be coming to SA. After years of dating one of the biggest Radiohead fans out there I was constantly bombarded with a constant stream of their music. I only really started appreciating them once we had broken up…guess its the whole take the horse to the water vibe. BUT  what you need to do is go and like the page so they can be confirmed! So go do it NOW…please.

 

You can like the page here:Radiohead SA Tour

27 things she knew at 27

Here is another one of my favourite lists, my ‘German’ friend wrote it.

15. is my favourite:  Youth. You are never too old to do anything. Live life – have fun!

1. Age. It’s just a number.
2. Fear. Life it too short – be bold and be brave!
3. Time. The most precious thing you are given. Be wise as to how you spend it.
4. Money. It really makes the world go round but it shouldn’t be the end of your rainbow.
5. Music. One of the most powerful things we have.
6. People. Too many people limit themselves and define themselves by what they are instead of what they can be.
7. Choice. There is always an alternative.
8. Parents. Appreciate every day you have with them.
9. Death. It is not final.
10. Gratitude. Be grateful for the smaller things you have in life.
11. Self. To thy own self ALWAYS be true! Never compromise on who you are.
12. Silence. You find yourself in your silence.
13. Friends. A true friendship is priceless.
14. Honesty. The truth always comes out.
15. Youth. You are never too old to do anything. Live life – have fun!
16. TV. Overrated.
17. Numbers. There is power in numbers.
18. Travel. There is no such thing as a lonesome solo traveller.
19. Boundaries. They are there to be challenged.
20. Respect. A little respect goes a long way. We are equals.
21. Responsible. You are accountable for your actions.
22. Love. The most painful and most beautiful thing on earth.
23. Sharing. Some things in life are better shared.
24. Mind. The power of the mind is greater than you believe.
25. Chance. Everybody deserves a second chance. To err is human.
26. Regret. Life is too short to regret. Learn and move on.
27. Knowledge. Never stop learning.