The Musings of My Mind

Category: Journal

My Heart


Our song came on this morning as I was getting dressed and it took me back. I relished the moment for a few seconds, but I decided not to give you the satisfaction. I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to feel nostalgic or feel remorse because truthfully, I’m perfectly happy where I am. A part of me does wish it was you, but it isn’t you for a reason. I don’t particularly want to think about why it isn’t. I’m happy that you’re happy and I want you to want me to be happy, and if you were wondering, I am happy. I’m in a different place with a different person and I’d like to stay here. My mind takes me back to our days and night, our secrets, laughs, fights…but then I pull myself away because that’s not who we are anymore. That’s not what we’re doing anymore and I’m okay with that. It hurt for awhile, it left a sour taste in my mouth and I longed for you, but I’m not sure if you felt the same. I guess I should be thankful for that because the uncertainty, your uncertainty, pushed me to move on. Now that I have, I’m…okay. I’m happy. Are you?



On the outside, I’m functioning. I walk, talk, breathe and speak like the rest of the people in this world, but on the inside, I’m curled up in a dark corner. I haven’t moved an inch from my rusting, dingy post since last fall, and every time I think I might’ve slayed the dragon within, it finds a way to pull me back in. It speaks to me in a low, coarse tone, expanding the shrill fear that is embedded in my blood. It furthers my sick belief in the validity of my insecurities, and then, I am stuck. I am left rocking back and forth in the corner of my mind while I smile and wave politely at the onlookers from here to those beyond. But on the inside, I’m drowning and sinking in an ocean of doubt and self-hatred, and it feels so…good here. I’ve cried sordid tears of blood for years, and over time, those tears have formed a batch of their own, forging the self-destruction that was created at the hand of my own knife. So really, this is all I know. I might even call it home. I often wonder what life was like before I allowed my brain and my innocence to crumble under the tyranny of my weaknesses. When did I stop fighting the good fight, only to go to war against myself? I’ve called to the gods of the world begging for a life other than mine. Perhaps a bird who is unrestricted by all other than the limits of the sky. Or maybe, a shoe, or a pair of eyes to see the beauty in all things dreary, ears to hear the music in all that has been silenced. If just for a moment, I could not be me, perhaps I’d understand how I allowed the demise of my soul. Everywhere you look, there are magical words of wisdom and encouragement that are supposed to raise you up from the ashes of a hypothetical death, make you shiny and pretty, and then send you off into the world to be brand new. A “new you!” they say. What they fail to understand is that when you’ve squelched your own light by choking it with the darkness residing within, there aren’t any amount of adjectives and verbs that will make you love yourself. There isn’t a step-by-step guide on how to wake up every day and not want to die. Just once, I want to look at myself and be grateful for my existence. I want to relish the accolades that I’ve redeemed rather than be misunderstanding of how a person so emotionally and mentally distraught could be worthy of such things. Ah, and there it is. The truth has spilled out. I am completely unworthy and undeserving of life and breath, but for some reason, I am still here. There is a war going on at the top of my staircase, and a small child looks on with glassy, hopeless eyes. She gazes at the filth before her and understands that life will never be the same. And right in front of the gun-toting, blood-stained monster, she kills herself before it killed her. Knowing she’d never win was more than she could bear.


How do you all feel about church? Do you attend weekly, monthly, annually, or only on special holidays? Does going to church make you feel closer to God? Do you feel absolved of your sins when you go to church?

I’m Seventh-Day Adventist and on Saturdays, we celebrate (?), maybe partake (I’ve never quite known how to say that) in the Sabbath and we go to church. I’ve been SDA my whole life, I’ve been to a lot of churches, I’ve seen a lot of shit. So much so that at this point in my life, many years ago actually, I realized that church isn’t exactly at the top of my list of places I’d like to go. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate church. What I appreciate the most about church is that for many people, it serves as a safe haven. You come there, you feel welcomed, you feel accepted, and you feel whole. That’s not always the experience, but more often than not, that’s how it is and how it feels. You feel free to talk to God about everything, divulge the dirty details of your thoughts (even though He already knows them) and be completely honest about whatever it is you’re trying to hide deep down. I’ve come across some amazing people in church, and it’s cool, but…it’s just not my…thing? Here’s the problem though. I’ve grown up in this religion, I’ve been held to the standards that this religion projects, and it has kind of led me astray. Not even just mine, religion as a whole. For example, I don’t feel like going to church this morning. I go with my family every Saturday, but today, I just don’t want to go. Yet, I feel very guilty. I feel like I’m sinning and I know that in just a few moments, my mother is going to come in my room and lecture me about how I have time for everything else, but can’t give God a few hours of my time. And in a way, she’s right, but that’s not what it is. Some conservative Christians are under the impression that the only way you can find God and be with God is if you go to church. As if God only roams the halls of holy sanctities. Some forget that God lives and exists in all of us. He’s everywhere! I don’t think that sitting in a pew and listening to a “man of God” tell me how the end is near and that I need to solidify my relationship with Christ will actually bring me closer to Christ. I believe in defining moments. I believe that daily instances will show Gods face more than anything else. But yet, I still feel guilty. That, of course, has to do a lot with my upbringing, but I don’t know. I don’t want to feel like I’m doing something wrong, but am I? Is it possible to manage, or lead, a healthy life of spirituality and adhere to the ideals of your faith without going to church?



Whenever I love something or someone too much, I always fear that it’ll get taken away from me. Just now, I was looking at pictures of my cat and naturally, being the creep that I am, I started thinking of what my life would be like without her. I know that at some point, we won’t be able to be together and when that does happen, my life will go on. Life always goes on. The thing is, though, I have a really hard time letting go. I often daydream about my mother dying. I see my life crashing and burning, the pain twisting it’s poisonous knife in my body over and over again until I eventually kill myself. I daydream about what it would be like if I no longer had my sister around me…or if I’m dating someone, I constantly worry and fear for the end of our relationship. I really, really…really don’t like to let go of things. I don’t ever want to be in bed without Lola. I cringe at the thought that a day will come where she isn’t around to crawl on me, curl up next to me or smell my face. It’s scary, you know? The idea that nothing is of certain. The fact that we aren’t guaranteed anything in life, but death. That is all our one true common factor; we’re all gonna fucking die. And I’m okay with that. Maybe if we all just died at the same time it’d be easier?

When you’re used to losing things, you kind of start to think that everything else will follow the rotten trend as well. You begin to believe that you’re doomed to a world of perpetual sadness, eternal solitude, and…silence. Not the good kind, either. The kind that’ll drive you crazy and make you do anything for the slightest indication of human life around you. I don’t want to lose anymore than I already have, and when I look around at all the people I’m afraid of losing, I almost wish I wasn’t burdened with loving them at all. Yes, I’d much rather love and lose than to miss out on an experience so phenomenal and fulfilling, but the pain that ensues is something I can live without.

But then again, what’s life without pain?
This shit is overrated, I swear.


Yo peeps.

It’s a little early to say this, considering the fact that we’re three days in, but I’m liking October. Well, so far. There’ve been a few moments that I’m not ranting and raving about, but for the most part, I’ve been able to maintain a positive attitude, not to mention an open mind, that’s allowed me to start off this month on a good note. With that being said, I just have two or three things on my mind that I would like to discuss. The first thing on my agenda is slut shaming. We’ve all heard the term, we know what it is, and yes, I’m that radical person. I was on Instagram earlier this morning and a friend of mine posted a little meme of a movie that I wasn’t familiar with. Though, I liked the picture because I liked what it said.

“Be a slut. Do whatever you want.”

To which, someone (a fellow lady) responded by saying, “that’s exactly what’s wrong with the world. All the girls are whores.”

Uhhh, what?! Before I even rip this chick to shreds, do you happen to know every woman walking this great, big (kind of small, actually) earth? Are you inspecting every woman’s snatch and measuring the width to determine just how much of a whore this woman is? Oh. I didn’t think so. I should’ve told her to shut the F up, but I’m not one for internet drama, or drama at all, so I rolled my eyes and kept scrolling. Here’s the deal: who the fuck cares? Oh, that’s right, society. These invisible/made up rules, codes, standards and morals that plague women is sickening. Why does, or should, it matter how many people she, they, we have slept with? Whose business is it, if not my very fucking own? Like you’re really going to give me shit for something that DOES NOT AFFECT YOU? I had to capitalize that because I think people miss that point entirely. Unless I am riding the peen of every male (or female, there are ways) in your family and am causing an undesirable amount of chaos in your life, why exactly do you care about who I exchange bodily fluids with? Why is it the worlds business? Women are women. We are strong, intelligent, creative, funny, sexy, and you know what? We’re just bad ass all around. Every single one of us. If Cindy had a good time with Michael and decides she’d like to partake in consensual intercourse, then she should be able to without the unwelcomed judgement of I-am-every-woman-Sandy just looming over Cindy’s PERSONAL life and decisions. No one deserves that.

I’m focusing on women because we get so much shit for it, but men do too. We have been blessed with free will, ladies and gents. That means that we can all do whatever the fuck we want, unless, of course, it endangers the lives of others and/or risks personal freedom. Then, no. But, on a serious note, let’s stop slut shaming. Let’s break out of this old-fashioned, moral high ground, judge-y mold that’s shredding the confidence of woman. Let’s stop caring about how many people we’ve all slept with because I guarantee you, you’ll move on just fine in life if you find out Ashley slept with 50 men or just 5. Is it the safest, most hygienic thing in the world? No. But if that’s what you want, go for it. Have your opinions, you’re allowed to. Don’t sleep with everyone, you don’t have to. But don’t look down on another person because they decided to live their lives differently than you did. And guys, if body counts matter that much to you, which they shouldn’t because frankly, that’s immature, but if it matters, don’t go date a girl whose body count triples yours and expect her to be someone she’s not. Or even worse, don’t make her feel bad for who she is. We need to learn to accept each other. We need to learn to coexist. If you can’t coexist with someone whose views differ from yours, then dear, you’ve some evolving to do. We’re all entitled to our thoughts, feelings, ideas, but just respect the ones that don’t agree with yours. That’s what being a person is.

I actually went deeper than I intended, so I’ll stop here.

P. S. – I hope I didn’t offend anyone in this post. If I did, grow a pair. Just kidding, totally kidding. Seriously, I’m sorry if I did. (I quadruple checked to make sure I didn’t though.)



Do you know what your own voice sounds like? It dawned on me today that I haven’t heard my own voice in a very long time. Maybe I’ve never heard it at all. If I did, did I recognize it? The only time the world makes sense to me is when I’m listening to music. The crooning of someone else’s soft, calm voice centers me. They fill in the void I constantly feel and they speak my thoughts aloud. But I’m too dependent on that. Now I’m questioning if my undying love for music is genuine or if it’s because I count on it to help me in every way possible. It’s probably a bit of both. For most of my life, I’ve been alone, and for most of my life, I’ve tried to get someone to place into my life so I wouldn’t be (&not just romantic interests). When I’m alone, I think too much. I analyze, I scrutinize, and well, I’m not always so nice to myself. It’s like I’m afraid of myself. What’s truly in my heart? What do I really want? I’ve spent years trying to figure those things out the wrong way, and I’m not saying that I’m gonna get my shit together now, but I’ve recognized my faults.

Like yesterday, I was sitting on top of my car, staring off into the glorious distance of one of favorite spots. Mumford and Sons blasted in my ears, and at that moment, everything made sense. Everything felt okay. Most days, I know that regardless, but music gives me that extra push. The encouraging boost that gets me through the day.

Greg Laswell said it best in his song And Then You: “How my thoughts they spin me ’round. How my thoughts they let me down.”
Like, yes! My thoughts need a leash or a nozzle or…both.

Someone told me recently that I expect too much from people. And I do. I expect more from people than I do myself because if someone else lets me down, I have the choice of continuing a relationship with that person. If I let myself down, I’m stuck with me. There’s no going back, there’s no running away. I would have to face myself, and I’m my toughest critic. I’m not sure I’d know how to deal again. Yet, by not dealing, I’m alienating my own self. Im missing out on who I am just because I think I already have myself figured out, but I don’t. I’m forcing myself onto other people and that’s not healthy. I’m allowing myself to be so open to people who possibly aren’t any good for me and could destroy me just so I don’t risk running into…me. Seeing myself. It’s just easier if someone else does it.

Hmm. Progress is being made here. Admitting is the first step right?

Good day, readers.



I miss the days when I was brave. The days when impulse and random occurrences ruled my life. Adrenaline raced through my veins, and let me just say, I was having a blast. During a conversation with a friend today, she shared that she wished it was the 70’s so she could really enjoy her life. I agreed and said that I would also love that because then, I could really enjoy my life, do what I want and truly not care. Then I wondered..when did I stop living? And more importantly, why do I feel like I can’t? I’m 21 years old, I’m healthy, I don’t have any major attachments. Why do I feel like my whole life has to be calculated and why the hell do I feel this pressure to be so settled right now? I don’t know when I got so scared. I’ve always been worrisome, but today I truly realized just how much my worrying interrupts the natural process of my life. Things should be fun, right? I know they can’t be all the time, but most of the time they should be.

“You gotta let it go. Please let it go.” The Gospel Whiskey Runners- A Stone’s Throw Away

Right as I finished typing that last sentence, that exact line played. I promise that just happened.

Here’s to good&bad decisions that make life as interesting as it is. And to stepping out of our comfort zones….And to not getting too stuck on life’s hang ups..because being happy feels really good.


A friend asked me recently why I love my cat:

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night and I find her watching me from a corner somewhere in my room. People who’ve seen this actually happen always think it’s weird or creepy. I’ve actually had a friend tell me that it like has something to do with voodoo. That if a cat stares at you in that way, they’re stealing fragments of your soul. I think that’s bullshit. When I see her staring at me like that, I laugh and tell her to go to sleep. I think she’s just watching me to protect me. To make sure that I haven’t left her. To make sure I’m alive and that we’re still together. When I get home from anywhere, she hears the door and rushes down the stairs and walks right into me. She’s not the friendliest cat so it’s hard to tell people of her greatness, but she’s really sweet. She’s just really cautious. Lol she’s fiesty and has a little attitude, but that’s what makes her so awesome. She stands up for herself. I love that she isn’t another person who will tell me how wrong I am and how fucked up I am…she just loves me for who I am, it’s easy with her. Her face makes me melt. The way she curls up next to me sometimes, the way she meows at me when I’ve been sleeping for too long, the way she sleeps when I sleep and wakes up when I wake up…the way we’re so in sync. If I’m taking a shower or just in the bathroom, she’s right there in corner waiting for me. If she happens to have been left outside, she either meows at the door until I open up or she waits for me outside the door. She can be really annoying because she doesn’t always listen and she’s so adventurous, but for the most part, she’s the best thing ever. Did I mention she’s hilarious? She does this thing where she’ll be walking and then will just randomly throw herself to the ground like, “Omg what a long day I’ve had.” It so funny. Most of the time when anyone calls her, she’ll meow. It’s not like a meow like she’s answering you because you called her, it’s like an annoyed meow, like, “Ugh! What do you people want!” Lmao she probably can’t take me seriously because I’m always laughing at her.

Me- “Lola, get down! Get off the counter!”
Her- “Meeeoooow! *quietly* meow.”
Translation: You’re so annoying! Asshole.
Then I start to laugh.

Whenever I’m sad, whenever I’ve had a rough time, she’s right there to lay with me. She’s right there to accept me. If I forget to give her water or give her food, she doesn’t hate me. She just waits because she knows I’ll do it sooner or later. I love how she smells me sometimes. She’ll come right up to me and sniff my face, my mouth, or under my nose as if to ask, “what did you have for dinner? Is that chicken I smell?” She can be really impossible and sometimes I want to throw her out of a window, but when she’s gone, I long for her to meow endlessly until I do what she wants. She’s very controlling, but we compromise. We don’t get up at 6 when she wants, nor at 8 when I want, so we wake up at 7. She has a really tight bond with my little brother and she’s able to form those bonds with anyone who is sweet and playful with her. But it won’t happen right away. She has to warm up to you. She has to know she can trust you. I think we’re different though. I used to travel a lot and I’d have to leave her for a few days at a time, maybe a week, and when I got home, she would definitely make it known that she was mad at me. She would make me work for her affection and I always got a kick out of it. She’s perfect and I think she thinks I’m perfect too. I love her because she’s grown to become my very best friend. We fight, but we always make up and never go to sleep upset with each other. If she senses that I’m angry, she’ll crawl all over me. She’ll try to walk on my face, lay on my chest, get all up in my space and she knows I can’t resist that. It’s funny though because she hates people in her space. She hates kisses. She loves getting rubbed down in various places, but no kisses. She’ll always let me kiss her for a few minutes and then she’ll get up like, “Okay, that’s enough.” It makes me laugh every time. I’m a hugger and kisser so she has to deal with it. I grab her face a lot and force kisses on her and I grab her and cuddle her a lot. I love her because she came to me at a very rough time in life and we made it through together. I love her because she’s always there to listen, because she’s beautiful inside and out, and because I never have to question our love and our friendship. She’s what I look forward to coming home to, I see her in my future, and I daydream of her sweet face sleeping her little life away. As I write this, I’m lying on the couch and she’s laying on my head. I’m gonna go upstairs to shower and whenever I walk away from her, I anticipate the sound of her little paws running after after me.
“Hey, wait up!”

Oh, Lola, my Lola.


Well hello 🙂

Today has been amazing. I’m the world’s biggest procrastinator and have been putting off my fall schedule/financial aid for the longest, but I finally got it done today. I don’t know why I put things off, it feels good doing things and getting shit done. Aside from that, I helped my sister move today. Yup! My sister ran for the hills and left me high and dry with an 8yr old brother whose energy level I seriously question. Just kidding, she moved to New York to begin her master’s program and I couldn’t be more proud. It’s going to be really tough because she’s the yang to my ying, the cheek to my butt, and the cheese to my macaroni. She’s my best friend. She gets my jokes, my gross humor, my random outbursts, she won’t judge me for not brushing my teeth until 2pm, nor will she tire of buying me McDonald’s cookies. It’s pretty strange for her to be gone, but I didn’t cry and neither did my mom. That’s saying a lot because we’re pretty sensitive. We told ourselves that she’s going on a really long trip. Although, I’m really going to miss running into her room in the middle of the night and screaming, “OMG watch this video, I’m in tears!” or “OMG did you see this picture she posted? What was she thinking?”

But oh my gosh, SHE LEFT ME SO MUCH SHIT. For one, I’m moving into her room. Now, my sister is super cutesy and girly, she has all these wonderful things and it’s all very organized. I’m the same way, but not as perfect. My room in my old apartment was amazing, but when I moved back home, I just took the room they had and didn’t care to fix it up or arrange it. The only thing I ever change in there are the sheets. The walls are a cute shade of yellow and I could do so much with it, but I never cared. But my sister’s room is perfect! There’s a cute little nook that has a desk, an awesome painting of Audrey, office supplies, a lamp, and a windowwwwww! It’s like something out of a book. Speaking of, she left me like six books, four bags, clothes, shoes, her ginormous television, hair things, and drawer space! I’m overly excited. Her clothes and shoes are going to be too big for me, but I can make it work. I always do. I just have to wash the sheets, move my things in there, and make it my new home. It’s all very grand. Makes saying goodbye that much easier, ha!

Can you tell she’s older than me?

Anyhow, I’ve been in an amazing mood all day. I hope it lasts. I just feel better about myself all around. This year so far has been preeettttyy sketchy, but I’m feeling very hopeful for the rest of the year. I can’t wait till August! I can’t wait to get back into school so I can complain about how much I hate it. But I don’t think I’ll say that because I’m taking 3 writing classes! Let’s all dance together.

And you know, this is all falling in place perfectly because my birthday is in 13 days (21 YAYYY!), I have a job (I hate it, but it pays), and I…well, I think that’s it.

I’m starting to feel more comfortable at home. I love being with my mom. If she had it her way, none of her kids would ever move out, but I secretly feel the same way.

Can you tell I’m the middle child?

I’m hoping that my sisters’ move won’t create a huge void in the house because her presence is so large and in charge, but so far, we’re faring pretty well. Then again, it’s only been a day.

Well, that’s all. No more feeling gross and dark. On my way to loving myself (thanks, Cat) and loving…whatever else I don’t love and should.


*I was trying out the xoxo thing and I kind of like it. I never know how to end a post. I think I just found a way. Let’s all love it together.


Violent Dream

Feels like I’m losing my mind a little bit. It also feels like I have a major issue with just….shutting up sometimes. I’m working on a story right now, but I had to stop and let my mind breathe. I’m feeling a lot of things right now and I felt like I was allowing my emotions to cloud my judgement. My story was taking an unnecessary turn.

I work in five hours. But I have to be up in four. Yet..I’m up writing, thinking, drinking, regretting. Also listening to music. Wishing I could be out of my skin for a bit.

Last night, a good friend of mine told me I had an incredible quality, and when I asked which quality he was referring to, he said that I possess the quality to love whole heartedly. He said not too many people have that, and I really appreciated it. He’s right though. I love..a lot and I love hard. Sometimes it bubbles over because it’s so much and I can only let it out through my words. It comes out in an uncontrollably emotional, confused and angry rant..&each time, I regret it. It never fails. I am obsessed with expressing myself and I have this thing where I feel like people’s feelings should be heard and understood. I also believe that my life is a movie.

My head is spinning. But I’m listening to a great song. All these songs are great. Fuck, I love music.

I am trying to be not so…erratic, but then I wouldn’t be me. This is me. I can’t help it. I have a lot of love inside of me. Sometimes it spills. Decisions I’ve made, I have to live with..beds I’ve made, I have to lie in. Words I’ve said..well, I can’t take them back.

I think about that night at the beach a lot.

I don’t think I’m going to bed any time soon and that angers me because I have to be up so early. I can’t finish this story tonight either.

Is anyone else up right now?

Life is so weird. It’s not funny, it’s just really fucking weird.

I named this post after the song that was playing when I finished it. Just in case anyone was wondering.