The First February

 There's been an idea blobbin' around my mind for probably two months now. This idea is "The First February".

Now, while I don't see myself becoming a musician anytime soon (or anytime far(anytime in general, really)), I have too many ideas for music than should be ignored. I have a Gaia account with an online journal where I keep a ton of these random tidbits. I've decided maybe I'll compile them and make a few songs with Audacity in my right hand and a dreamer's mind vomit in the left.

 I have recorded raw vocals for two different songs: "Miss You The Most" and one that I might call "Liquids of Life". 

"Miss You the Most" only has a written chorus so far, but I've already found a good tune to it on piano and the vocals for what I've written sound about right.

"Liquids of Life" is a short track, but it's all written. I need to re-record some vocals and find piano parts, but other than that it's finished.

 Since I love whoever went through all this eccentric writing of mine, I guess I may as well just say I'll try my best to get a rough track done of at least one of my songs done by next week. If I manage to conquer the terrible fate of procrastination and lack of opportunities, then I'll post it on here next week.

 That's right. I'm letting complete strangers listen to me sing.

FOOLISH CONFIDENCE FOR THE WIN.

Why not take another little chance?

Drawing Goodbye

  When posed with a question like "Where do you see yourself in 10 years?", I'm totally stumped. In fact, I hardly know what I'll be doing in five years. Right now, my objective and long-time goal is to graduate high school, and that's in barely over three years, as I'm already a freshman. The only things I really, really, really want to happen would be writing, drawing, and singing in my future. These don't mix well, which is a source of a great problem for an artsy person like me. Because really, have you ever heard of an author/singer/artist? I'm not even that good at those to begin with.

  I don't know what to write at the moment, so here's a drawing from earlier this week:

 I apologize for the lame quality, this photo is from my phone. And since I highly doubt you can read the words there, the stream in front says "Annemarie, believe me----------I loved you" and the one in back says "I can't forget you"

This is a reference to the song "Lonely Lullaby".

If you haven't heard it and you like songs that make you want to cry, you should check it out.

You: Is it another Owl City song?

Me:...Maybe...

So what if I have a guilty pleasure? We all do.

 When I listen to this song, I instantly understand all he feels. As creepy as it sounds, Adam's my brother and I love him. Nobody's ever going to know the pain a lost love brings until they really feel it. The beautiful memories suddenly become a bitter taste in your mouth, a punch in the stomach, a headache, and an overall endless crying to accompany it.

Then you wipe the tears off your face and brave the world for another day.

 In the passage of time, you might look back with a smile on your face though the scars still burn in your skin. The way he sings "I sang my princess fast to sleep" tears me apart and rebuilds me every time. When I hear him whisper "Because I can't forget you" I know all he remembers and cry in what I know was once there, although it wasn't my experience. As he tells "I'd rather dream" my mind soars to where his does and breathes all there is in a universe such as this.

Sorry.

Got off track there.

This is the fifth time in a row I've listened to it.

But believe me, I loved you

Learning to Fly

     The idea of flying has become more and more intriguing to me every moment for a little over a year now. Before then, I never really thought of it. That may be because I discovered Owl City around the time. It was October 2009, I remember distinctly. Without the elaborately abstract lyrics combined with smooth yet lively borderline electronic music, I'm not sure how I would have found out I am indeed part bird.

  Obviously, it's become a terrible realization to me that I can't actually fly. Even my trampoline can't simulate the wonderful effect the right way. Somehow I feel like I know what it feels like to fly, and I'm constantly craving it, not only for the fresh and open air holding me and brushing all around and over me, but for the freedom it entitles to the one soaring. I literally stare enviously out windows and watch the seagulls, geese, crows, and other birds indigenous to my area floating around, occasionally in a neat "v" formation, perching themselves on a lamppost, or (a very common choice) finding an old Wendy's bag to ransack for scraps.

Lucky little birds.

  Monday night, I had my first purely-psychotic breakdown. I've had many emotional breakdowns, in fact too many to count, but never one completely out of insanity. The only part I remember really well is when I threw stuff out into the middle of my bedroom, making space to shove my mattress into a too-small space by my window, all the while desperately muttering, "I need to fly! I need to fly!"

  My friend has really bad dreams. She has had a certain dream for each friend that she's ever loved enough. In these dreams, they die.

  During my "episode", I texted her to keep myself a little in check. I told her I really wanted to "Run away and fly. Eat the clouds. Swim in the air."

That's when she told me she had her dream of me dying.

She said I had slipped off a cliff and disappeared into the clouds below us. She told me she thought it was beautiful and sad. She told me that my body was never found.

"Maybe you did fly."

  Lately, especially yesterday, I've taken risks I wouldn't have long ago. I've been telling people how I feel for them and my true emotions, or at least have been more honest and open. Many of my fears with people and talking to them have faded by now, making me feel a lot better, but the hardest part is beginning: Using my strength to eliminate my secrets.

Yesterday I told someone I trusted them.

Someone I'm terribly afraid to trust.

But someone I really love.

  I don't know what's going to happen, but I know that these risks can't ruin my life. I've been stuck in a spinning cold front for a long time now, and I've decided that it's time to change things. Perhaps my breakthrough has been a sort of flying for me, since it's definitely out of my normal element and it feels so good. This has been really good for me, actually, the whole structure of my change. So far, things look a little brighter and the sun has begun to rise again.

Here's one to my flying coach.

Even if he'll never know it.

The Light Meets The Dark

  I daydream.

A lot.

I dream more in the day than I do at night. This is probably partially because I'm in a certain category of human that I've thought up as "dreamers". Also, I don't get much sleep. You can tell by the posting times here on the blog. I think about everything. Since I sometimes just don't know how to deal with myself, I need to learn the intricate science of my personality. The data I've collected has taken years to compile, and I'm still pretty lost.

One theory inching its way into my thought space was the likenesses of my soul and my appearance.

This shouldn't be taken in a shallow way, or even for other people for that matter, but I see similarities rising up all over the place.

Eyes really are windows to the soul. Mine are stormy, dark blue. That's only the beginning of the way to describe the corners of my consciousness. Like my physical self, my whole spirit has been a mass of contradictions and never what it seemed to be. I'm short and sort of... What do you call it? Not-sporty? Sure.

But I run fast, climb well, and pick up people taller than me. So yeah. I also talk with a pretty low voice, but sing about an octave higher, making me a soprano 1 in my high school's women choir.

 As a person, I act like at least three different people. I also show many symptoms of Avoidant Personality Disorder (AvPD). This disorder is characterized by social inhibition, sensitivity to criticism, and feelings of inadequacy. Before my lunch time at school changed to one with my friends, I spent many of my days sitting away from the other people in a corner, and leaving long before my next class started. If someone asked if I wanted to sit with them, I'd mumble a shaky and uncomfortable "No thank you." and disappear as well as I could. I hate group work because as much I want to make suggestions, I nearly always feel a fear that they'll ignore what I say or reject my ideas. The disorder makes its victim feel constant loneliness as a result of being terrified of interaction combined with a natural longing for it. There's a constant fight between fear and pain.

 I stray away from the people I love the most because I'm afraid of losing them. I'm afraid of them forgetting me. Now I've unwillingly adopted a personality that makes me treat the people I care about in a passive-aggressive pattern that I know isn't fair to them. After this, I feel like a jerk because I act like one.

 I have rough skin on my arms, legs and hands, but soft cheeks. I'm only sincere in the places people wouldn't see it. I look pale and cold, but I'm actually quite warm. I want to comfort people, but the only way I'm able to is through writing, since I'm such a negative and harsh person. I tease my friend (and her brother, because it's just so tempting), but I need her. I cry every day. Sometimes more.

The way I treat them is just cruel, but I don't know how to stop myself. The softer and warmer and nicer and more graceful part of me is trapped underneath thorns that stab me through too.

Every part of me is so confusing and intricate... How is all of this even possible?

Sorry this whole thing was about me. Did I mention I'm also very self-centered?

It never seems to end.