37 posts tagged “eshita”

Miss Southeast New York's Outstanding Teen- that's me.

I finally entered a pageant and won! Well, I drove all my buddies insane with all the "pageant talk" I've been doing for the past few years, yes years- but it was all worth it.

I'm so excited and yes, nervous for the state pageant this june. I have so much work to do, I need to be prepared.

I will be dancing to Esmeralda from Don Quoixte (sp?) for my talent. I'm not sure if I should dance on point or not. I want to, but I'm not trained in pointe, I know my feet are strong enought but- it scares me a little.

I know I can't get a dance instructer now, my parents wouldnt want to pay for it. Maybe I should take the risk, just train my self. It might work out, after all "You'll never know unless you try" .

Here are some pics from the pageant. I know I'm slouching but my dress was coming off, the tape lost it's sticky[ness after a while. (Note to self: buy smaller dress)

When I was a kid, like many of you, I was terrified of the dark. Not because I was afraid of a nocturnal monster, but because I was afraid of the uncertainty darkness cast on my comfortable surroundings. At night, for all I knew, the things hiding in the dark were infinitely more terrifying than a frightful creature. The things hiding in the dark were the screams of my mother, the uncertainty before me, the birthing of insecurity, the is there anything.

As we drag, kick, and scream our way through life—as we dance, laugh, and kiss our way through life—we cannot possibly anticipate what greatness, what sadness, is hiding in the shadows of our future. And what's both more chilling and comforting is that what has happened in our past will have always have happened in our past—the permanently exposed.

In the dark, I've faced physical and emotional torture beyond my wildest imagination. In the dark, I've stumbled in search of courage and hope. In the dark, I've wondered aimlessly into victory and happiness.

It's what life is all about, really. What's lurking in the shadows. Sure, many of us prefer recess during the day to discover happiness and ponder our place. But on a playground in the middle of the day, we see everything. Every slide, every jungle gym, every picnic table—it's all in plain sight. On this playground, we do what we wish because we know what we wish; we see our next step.

But at night, when the swings are desolate and even the moon has settled; when the streetlamps have retired; when the stage is cast in darkness—this is where we can only assume what will come.

After Midnight
As so many grandmothers do, mine reminded me that "nothing good happens after midnight." And how true she was. Nothing good could possibly happen after midnight because "good" is a description of mediocrity. Midnight is the icon of darkness; it does not know mediocrity. Greatness? Yes. Horrific tribulation? Yes.

In the dark, we drive more carefully, our guard is higher, our senses more alert, our mind more focused. That's the way things are not because we love the dark but because, inevitably, we must endure the dark.

The greatest darkness is the future. What will happen tomorrow, next week, next year, in an hour. It's the kind of darkness that we should keep top-of-mind to make the most out of. In the light—the present—we must make most of what we have to best prepare for the darkness ahead.

No one will ever see into darkness, but if we play our cards right, when the sun finally shines, we will embrace whatever peril, whatever fortune, comes our way. And if it is the case that we stump our toe along the way, we will learn where next to walk; if we do not, we run the risk of falling into a different kind of darkness.

You're so afraid to continue what we have,
you know something's there,
you feel just as much as I do when you touch me,
you like it just as much as I do when you kiss me,
it's just you're pulling away now because you know that if you don't pull away soon you might find yourself falling in love?

As we wallow in self-pity after a heart-wrenching end to a relationship once so cherished, we have only the aftermath to blame.

Much like the tragic anatomy of a train wreck, the aftermath alone stings hearts and depresses minds. The event itself is a brilliance of chaos, a burst of ferocity with no deception, no tears, no anger. Even shock hasn't arrived. The moment is explosive but uneventful.

The wind that breathes life into tragedy happens in the moments following. And this is true of all our life's events. Only consequences lead to emotion. Happiness is a function of something else, as is love and hate, fear and courage.

Our own thoughts are often predictors of such consequences, and this power inadvertently influences even the strongest hearts. More than not, this is what we might label "irrationality."

And irrationality is the furnace in which heartbreak thrives most abundantly.

It's the Why did he hurt me? Is he happy without me? as much as it is Everything was so perfect.—when, indeed, it was not.

Shut the Fuck Up
And this irrational course to which our hearts so effortlessly damn themselves after tragedy—this is the christening of self-pity, self-deception, self-frustration, self-everything.

We analyze and question every move we've ever made in this fragile state.

We consume ourselves with torture.

We are, in every regard, masochists in the shadow of heartbreak.

Most of us distance ourselves from tragedy with time, and though the self-everything will hardly vanish entirely, time bandages those wounds begun by an event and left open by our minds.

But isn't there something else, something other than time, to mend our hearts? Perhaps another relationship? A selfish rebound. A new found busyness, maybe? Distractions.

Or maybe it's even simpler than that. Maybe we can just tell ourselves to shut the f*ck up. Tell ourselves: "Listen, I really like you and all, but we've mourned and we've mourned. There's nothing we can do. Life is passing us by. Our irrationality fuels our wounds, it does not heal them."

Acceptance
What I suggest isn't that we banish heartbreak. Rather, we embrace it for all it's earned. We exhaust heartbreak with our own burst of ferocity. And then we advance ourselves by acceptance—an affirmative appeal rather than a passive anticipation.

We must accept that our hearts were broken rather than torture ourselves over the Whys and Ifs. Acceptance, with time, will double our efforts to recover the pieces of our broken hearts.

Acceptance means growth. It means accepting that more heartbreak is inevitable. It means saying, "And still, I know I will remain the person I am. I will hurt and I will recover just as I have today."

She crushes my heart
But spares my mind
She rips & tears my body apart
Yet she leaves my soul behind
How can I stand to deny her?
Once you’ve had a taste you’ll try her.

Love for food has come back
She slashes me with whips of emotion
I try to run but always come back
To my seething devotion
Back to my best friends;
Ana & Mia

She wreaks my bones
But mends my soul
She’s a jealous one; I serve her alone
She leaves me broken & yet I am whole
How can I stand to resist or doubt her?
I simply cannot exist without her.

My body is sick and I’m tired
But my mind is sharp and I’m fired
A feeling like this
Are Ana Mia’s blessed bliss.
My mouth pulses with revulsion
With my fevered devotion
For my best friends;
Ana & Mia

She shows me my bones
And tells me how she’s proud
But she ignores my moans
And tells me to sleep when I cry aloud
How can I stand not to lie for her?
When I would gladly die for her.

Another day; another fast
Maybe Ana & Mia will take me home at last
“Am I skinny enough now?” I ask as I close my eye
“You’ll be skinny enough when you die.”
Ana & Mia reply
It’s not a lie

So I’ve decided to spill it; the beans, the juice, my guts... Whatever you want to call it, consider it spilled.
Up to this point, I feel like I’ve done an excellent job of keeping just about everything true about myself, to myself... and for good reason - what people don’t know, people can’t use against you. I guess that’s my first confession. I fucking despise the way people operate. The way people go out of their way to find things out, only to throw them senselessly (BLINDLY) into conversation later. I don’t know if its intentional, (I guess that sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t,) but frankly, it gets to me. Its the same kind of prying aggravation I feel when someone starts moving shit around in my room, or on my table. Stop putting hills in my rugs! Please. Call me OCD but if I put something somewhere, chances are, I wanted it there and it should remain that way. Its the same for anyone else. Let one’s own business remain that way.

anyways.

I’ve fallen into a depression lately - not emotionally, but I feel like my ability to open up to people has peaked over the past two years. I used to be so ready to say anything, without caring how it affected me, but recently I’ve become so protective of myself, not because I’m afraid of getting hurt by others, but because I might make myself look bad-- it’s disgusting. I never used to be so self-absorbed. Its like in every situation, I’m wearing a mask... Not just one mask, in fact, but many masks; Masks to hide masks between people - to hide certain sides of myself from those who disapprove where others don’t. I try so hard to win the approval of everyone. Why? Fucked if I know. I just love being the center of attention I guess.

And all this time I thought myself to be humble.

No sir. not at all.

But then, who really is humble?
Everyone wants to be loved, right? So am I wrong in looking out for my own well being? Who knows? It makes me sick to my stomach, regardless. I’ve unknowingly stumbled across so many insecurities lately that I feel like a different person at times. It’s like I’ve been born all over again, to a world where I have to carry myself differently. I’m still opinionated, I’m still eagerly in search of answers, but my motives have changed. I do it for myself now; for the praise and admiration I earn as a result of my actions, not for the simple pleasure found in just "doing it".
Maybe its all just part of growing up, as they say. Maturing... You know? But does it continue to change?
 
Will I stop acting like such an asshole? Who knows. It worries me. I don’t want to be like this, but its who I’ve become... What’s worse is that I don’t know who or what to blame for the transformation. That would be too easy, right?

Dear Ana,
I saw you in the mirror today
and didn’t like what I saw.
I saw you in the reflection of the cereal bowl
and hated myself.

Dear Ana,
You were there again in front me of
You were there again on my spoon
you were there again on my salad.

Dear Ana,
I’m throwing you away
I’m not thinking about it
I’m pushing you up

Dear Ana,
I will be better
I will be perfect
I will be like you

Dear Ana,
I couldn’t stop thinking about you today
I couldn’t stop punishing myself for it
I couldn’t stop the regret I felt

Dear Ana,
I refused you today
I said I was too full
I refused you past my tongue

Dear Ana,
It’s been a few weeks now
Its been a few months now
I’m loosing control now, Ana

Dear Ana,
People are noticing
People stare, I’m so hot
People want to be me

Dear Ana,
I’m starting not to feel anymore
I’m starting to have that pain anymore
I’m starting to not want it any more, any of it

Dear Ana,
I messed up
I’ll be right back
...

Dear Ana,
I’m back and better
It’s all gone now
The mess is undid.

Dear Ana,
Someone talked about you
Someone said I shouldn’t Talk to you
Someone said you are wrong

Dear Ana,
They don’t know you
They aren’t aware of your magical works
They don’t know the help you provide

Dear Ana,
Something went wrong
Something isn’t right
Ana, are you there?

Dear Ana,
My vision is fading
my feet are numbing
Ana, your disappearing.

Dear Ana,
I’m sick
I must control it, they say
I have to get better

Dear Ana,
Are you there?
I won’t stop it
I Can’t stop it

Dear Ana,
I lied today
I told them lies
I was on your side

Dear Ana,
it’s all for you
I’m almost there
just a few more entries.

Dear Ana,
It’s happening again
This time I can barely breathe
Why is my chest moving so fast, but I can’t feel anything?

Dear Ana,
They say I need to stop
They have me in care
They don’t know

Dear Ana,
I’ve been pretending
they are fooled
almost there, Ana

Dear Ana,
My body is against me
Everyone is against me
Your the only one I trust

Dear Ana,
Are you there?
Hello?
ANA?

Dear Ana,
No one can stop me
I want this, it’s best
I won’t stop it

Dear Ana,
this is my last
you’ve helped me to this
I Won’t stop it

Dear Ana,
I Can finally meet you
I can hear them yelling
I can see them calling for help

Dear Ana,
I’m looking at myself with all those people around
I Don’t like it, yet
I’m outside of my body, But why am I looking at myself?

Dear Ana,
My sight it gone
I can finally see you
Ana, where are you going?

Dear Ana,
are you there?
I’m scared out here, what do I do?
Ana, I should have listened to them.

For the past few months all I ever did was think of you. All day, all night; I'd sit there and wish things were like the ways they were before. I miss those long walks we took everyday. The way we would talk about living together after high school, spending every moment of my life with you.
I don't know if you realize that you mean so much to me, much more than anything.
I miss you, I missed you before. It's sunny out, and the weather is reminding me of you. Remember last year, everyday: I'd spend everyday with you. I'd give anything, anything for those days. Anything to have to back, back the way you were back then.
And now you're gone, planning to move far far away, hundreds of miles away, in a sunny place, where you can walk everyday. And here I am, staying in New York, knowing that I will miss you terribly, more than I miss you now.
Having thoughts of moving to paradise to, along with you; but I don't know if you'd want me there.

I don't know how many times I've repeated to myself "everything's gonna be alright, just breath, wait it out.", trillions probably. And yet, IS everything going to be alright? no, a lot of things aren't alright, and aren't going to get better. You may see me as a pessimist, but that's how I think. I have my good days and bad, but really, ever since we're born, we're dieing, be it inside, or out.

Lately, I've had to make a bunch of huge decisions about myself, on my own, and I've been scared out of my mind whether i made the right decision. I hate making decisions, I hate choosing for myself. 
Usually I'm not like this, and a really laid back person as far as everyone sees, but things have just been caving in lately.

I've always done what i wanted without really thinking, choosing what I want to do at the time, and doing it. I'm one of those people who pick goals, and work for them until they get what they want. You know, those people who don't stop at all, until they get that thing. Well, that's usually me. And probably you too, And probably someone else also. Then, around us, other people are sitting down, relaxing, taking life very easy, and somehow waiting for death and nothing else. it's a very interesting contrast, and when you think about it for too long it gets confusing.

honestly, these are millions of questions running around in my mind.

I'm sure its normal for every person to have a time, or more times in their lives where they just stop and question it all, and need someone to just listen to them, and no matter who it is going through it, its all really, really confusing.

so is everything going to be all right?
i don't know.

cancer, treatments, global warming, people dieing, people leaving, things changing, drugs.

We all know the story of Pandora and her box. At her time, humans lived in happiness and had no troubles. Pandora was given a box as a gift, but she was told not to open it. But Pandora's curiosity got the best of her, one day she could take no more so she opened the box.
Out came misery, illness, grief, sadness, and all the sorrow of the world. At the very end out came hope.
That little ray of hope that flew out of Pandora's box keeps me going. That little bit of hope lets me believe that he will come back to me.
Although we look at hope as a good thing, we rarely see how it can tear us apart. Why should be be hoping for a better life? Why should we hope to have our love come back to us? Why couldn't Pandora keep her stupid box shut?
This is why we have sadness in the world, because a pretty little featherhead couldn't do a simple task.

Lately I've been taking pictures of me on my webcam. Don't really know why, probably out of boredom.