many little rainy day lists.

this was an unfinished post from june; life happened and it never did. now it is; it's happening, because i still think that is still deserves a chance for life: a chance to break out into the minds of men. it's also completely irrelevant now but it's a little bit poetic so maybe you can still appreciate. perhaps you can think of it as a time capsule and remember your own june. this post is a bit of a mess.

{put this into a tab. thank me later.}

"WE STEPPED OUT INTO THE WORLD FROM THE HEAVY DOOR OF THE VENUE AND THERE WAS RAIN FALLING ON MY SKIN, AND THE WORLD WAS FRESH AND COLD. WE WERE ALL VERY YOUNG. THE SKY WAS AS BLACK AS THE BRILLIANCE OF NEW YORK WILL ALLOW, AND THE THROB OF PEOPLE AND METAL WAS ALMOST VISIBLE IN THE AIR. PEOPLE AND METAL: THAT'S ALL THE WORLD IS REALLY MADE OF, IN NEW YORK. AND RAIN, ALWAYS THE RAIN. AND I COULD BARELY KEEP MY EYES OPEN. I'M SURE IT MUST HAVE BEEN BEAUTIFUL, IN ITS OWN WAY, BUT I COULD NOT SEE IT. THAT'S THE WAY THE WORLD WORKS, SOMETIMES." // you can't win, chapter two

it's been one of the coldest and wettest junes that i can remember, and this is glorious to me. i legitimately love rain, with passion. i think i could be happy if the earth ticked so that it rained every day; because i like to feel cold and clean. i love to walk in the rain, truly. i love the shivering silver rim that layers the pavement.

think of this post as a rain-themed journal entry stretched out over my entire day. it's not going to be very specific. i'm going to take my time, collect my thoughts, soak in the current storm, and write some little lists drawn from this thunder culture.

10/06/15 // 12:32 PM
recently:
01. we returned from montréal at 5:30 AM on monday after driving all night. the city was like another world within my world: it was like a small scatter of france inside of canada. it was pristine, throbbing with life and intelligence, extremely french, and architecturally stunning. i was there with my two older brothers and our dad for the montréal formula 1 grand prix [probably the most famous motorsport in the world, although more popular in europe than in the united states] and i will never forget this experience. the hum of fast cars still throbs in my head, and i miss the city terribly. i must learn french more fluently; i want to live there when i am older.

02. i'm done school. it's like a wave lifted off my shoulders. it's wonderful to have so much time in the day to read, play guitar, muse, do yoga, write poetry, learn latin, help old people cross the street. it's too bad that i actually spend most of this time on the interwebs.

03. i'm so apprehensive about this summer; i am both excited and apprehensive. i don't know what's holding me back. i don't know what kind of a person i am now. i don't know what i am meant to fulfill. i don't know i don't know i don't know. all i know is that i don't. i had this really good word describing how i want to live, but i've forgotten it. i wish that the artistic people genuinely found beauty in messy, real things. they romanticize blood and grit and drugs and steel and graffiti and anorexia, but they never see the art in acne and cellulite and hangnails. i want to live efficiently. i want to be skinny and alive and and artistic to the masses. i want to be marketable and fascinating. instead, i am human.

 scared of my own image, scared of my own immaturity / scared of my own ceiling, scared i'll die of uncertainty / fear might be the death of me; fear leads to anxiety / don't know what's inside of me; don't forget about me / even when i doubt you, i'm no good without you. DOUBT // TWENTY ONE PILOTS