Kaleidescope

Sometimes I just like to close my eyes and let my mind do its own thing.

Let it get carried away in Jay Vincent’s notes and beats.

While my mind goes on adventures, I am curled up on the floor.

It’s easier to stand to the side and let my mind do all the thinking. To shut my mouth and let my pen do all the talking.

While my fingers fly and my notebook thins, I am silent in my bed.

Emotions streaming in are easier than emotions streaming out. That’s what music is for. To feel someone else’s heartbeat so you don’t have to share your own. To let others do the screaming and the singing; that’s what music is for.

Reading and music allow us to dip our fingers into the essence of the universe and are the tools we use to live.

Music and words allow us to create—make the invisible visible—and share our heartbeat with the world so that it doesn’t have to.

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Friendship

So lately I’ve been making a lot of realizations/discoveries about myself and the things I value in life. As I was thinking about this one day, I realized that friendship is something way bigger than I thought it was, and I wanted to monumentalize (is that a word??) this large taken-for-granted thing in my life. The first time I found out that friendship went way deeper than being acquainted with someone and hanging out with them was during my TPS France missions trip last summer. So here’s a video of me talking about that:

 

Confidently she walked up to the man. Her face dirty and bleeding from the battle. She glared at him, tempted to sneer, but instead she gave him a scornful look. He held out his hand.

“The key.”

With a face like stone, she slowly took her backpack off one shoulder and then the other. Still not looking away from the man, she reached her arm into her bag. She pulled out a small metal object and opened her fist to reveal a key. She held her arm out, the other hand holding the backpack. No one moved an inch. Not the man, not her, not her friends.

The man seemed to be getting impatient.

“Give it to me.”

He said menacingly between his teeth. She seemed not to hear.

“NOW!
He yelled, thrusting his other hand into a scabbard by his side. Quick as a flash he held a blade to her throat. Her breaths came out faster and louder with the metal to her neck, but her face still didn’t change its icy stare of loathing. The man’s outstretched hand came closer to her. With one final pause, she dropped the key into his hand. She lowered her arm. He lowered his sword, clutching his newly acquired treasure in the other hand. Turning his back to her, he walked away with a low and menacing chuckle.

I Can Feel a Change In Me

Come with me and bring along your dreams, for they shine too brightly to leave behind.

Come with me and bring the kiss that your mother blew you last night.

Come with me and leave everything else alone. For they will fix themselves, dearest.

Understand that the world thrives on its problems. Without them, society would fall apart.

Time after time has proven that we can dream up the impossible, and impossibility is what drives our thoughts; our lives.

The prospect that we might not be as alone as we believe we are.

The walls that keep us from reaching out are the product of years of careful planning and thinking. The daily paragraphs we think to ourselves can be broken in one swift motion.

Yet we don’t realize this. And when we do realize it, it leads to a paradigm shift we gradually grow into.

But sometimes we’re too late, and we wake up to find that all the opportunities we had to grow and change have flown away.

Addressing the Elephant In the Room

Everyone around me is wearing a plastic smile plastered on their face with perfect force, asking people how it’s going when we’re all going “Oh it’s just a test, just a jest, not the real thing.”

It’s hard when everyone around you is focused more on reality than letting people see the real-ness welling up inside: The night they spent crying, their families divided.

Everyone’s putting on a show, a front row seat to look at their perfect lives when really it’s just a patched-up lie. Just looking through a stained glass window at the counterfeit world and lifestyle that we know. Everything’s fast and snappy and no one’s an inconvenience, and no one has to look at it

Everything’s fast and snappy and no one’s an inconvenience, and no one has to look at it, no one has to talk about it because everyone’s mouths are glued shut in a fake, plastered on, perfect smile.

And no one sings.

And no one thinks about anything that isn’t theirs, nothing about the perpetual whirlwind of feeling and trust that no one pays attention to. And I’m sick of pretending like it’s not there. Like the elephant in the room is a perfectly normal substitute for life, like they’ve given it a name and made it a pet and now it just stands there. But I think it’s gonna die soon if no one addresses it, so I will.

Everyone has to be real. No more fake, please. I’m sick of hearing it, sick of listening to it, sick of staring at it and stuffing it down my throat–literally.

It’s sad when you realize that everyone knows how to accept reality but no one knows how to be real.