I've always felt so secure in my future. For so long know I've settled into my dream, I've grown used to its comforting promise, that whether or not I succeed or fail I will have tried my best.
But it's hard to succeed or fail when you don't know what you're supposed to be succeeding or failing at. You were born to be a writer, I'd always told myself. There's only one way you can make a difference and help people, and that's through pouring your heart out onto a page and hoping it'll make somebody's day a little brighter. Recently, though, that little voice has fallen to a whisper and I constantly find myself with only a tiny spark in my mind, where a flame once was. Does it really matter? Does anything I'm doing matter? I can't help but lost sight of the road ahead of me when all I see is my daily routine crushing my creativity. I used to fine comfort in the normality of it all. When I knew exactly what to expect out of my day, even if it was the promise of sorrow, it made me less anxious and more secure. Maybe that's one of the reasons I couldn't force myself the stop being depressed: because at least I knew to expect the tears, when throwing myself into the world with a smile could have had an outrageously unfamiliar outcome. It's just really hard. I find myself wondering if I'll feel bad again, and if I do, will I be able to pull myself back out. All I can do is remind myself, Remind myself of that little girl and all of her journals filled with fairytales written in glitter gel pen. She wouldn't want me to give up on her dreams. She would want me to hold my chin high work myself into the ground if that's what it took to be successful. Of course it matters. Maybe it doesn't matter to millions of people, maybe my novels won't fly off shelves, maybe I'll never get a New York's Best Seller sticker on a front cover. It matters to me. That's what's important. It's my dream, it's what I want. I need to stop being comfortable with it. All I want is a single smile from someone, maybe from a lonely teenager like I used to be, maybe from the mother whose child struggles depression. That would make it all worth it. And by god, that's what I'm going to get. ~Margo xx
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So. Here I am again. I should really stop beginning sentences with so, it’s not grammatically correct and my English teacher would probably slap me. Whoops.
Time to talk about something that’s become very important to me over the last month or so. It’s influenced me in so many ways, encouraging me to work out and stay healthy, to keep doing what I love, to learn new languages and travel the world, to keep singing and dancing simply because doing so brings me joy, and to be an overall better and more well-adjusted person. I bet you’re wondering, wow Margo, what is this incredible thing that’s basically changed your life for the better and made your day-to-day living more enjoyable and full of passion? Well, my friend, the answer is simple. Kpop. Korean pop music. Yep. Specifically the kpop group known as EXO. Now, EXO is a group composed of both Korean and Mandarin members, part of the subgroups called EXO-K and EXO-M. Their fans are called EXO-L's, as in, EXO-Lovers. That's me :D Ever since I discovered the world of Kpop, all I've been listening to is EXO, BTS, SISTAR, 4minute, all of it. I've yet to get really into SHINee, but I am a fan of one of their members, Taemin, who's best friends with my bias from EXO. Kpop vocab of the day: Bias- your favorite member of a kpop group. My EXO bias, also known as my lord and savior, my Korean husband, and my reason for waking up in the morning is *drum roll please* . . . KIM JONGIN! His stage name is Kai. Boy oh boy am I in love with my bby Jongin. I have over 1,160 photos of Jongin on my phone. Some people think it's obsession, and unhealthy for my personal wellness. I'd like to see how those people would deal with his complete and utter beauty and flawlessness in a way that DOESN'T sacrifice their soul. I could go on for days about Jongin, about how incredible his dancing is and how watching him move as if his heart beat is constantly in tune with the music, how every small movement is calculated and swift yet purposeful and graceful. . . and yes, I am fully aware that I am shoved so far up Kai's ass that he could simply walk down a street and I would be applauding and requesting an encore. But, that's not the point. If I'm being entirely honest, I don't really know what the point is, other than the fact that Jongin is both my spirit animal and my soul mate. Now, I have known that Jongin was my bias since the first video of theirs that I watched, a music video for their song "Call Me Baby," after which I spent hours yelling "PLAID PANTS, THE GODDAMN PLAID PANTS,". Anyway, I just wanted to share my intense love for kpop and EXO. ~Margo xoxo ((THERE'S AN EXO SONG CALLED XOXO AND NOW I AM CACKLING)) Well, here we are. It's officially 2016, and 2015 is over. Complete. Done with.
While most people my age are out partying, I'm home, and happy about it. I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here, unless it was with my best friends. For me, New Years is about reflecting, rather than partying. So there! My first resolution for 2016. To reflect more, and to take time out to really think, instead of letting things just flash by in a rush. I want to savor this year. I have a great feeling about it. Well, I think I'll start with the more sad parts of this year, so then I can end this year on a positive note. I haven't lost a lot of people this year, but the ones I've lost were important. Devastatingly important. I lost my best friend of 8 years, who no longer speaks to me. I still have questions about why it ended so abruptly, and what really happened, because there must have been more than I was aware of. I stand behind my actions, which is strange for me. Usually I back down from my gut and assume I caused the problems. But, not with this one. So, maybe in some ways, it was good for me. Everything I did came from a place of love, and my want for her to be the incredible person I always knew she could be. But, a pothead boyfriend and backstabbing friend here and there can lead to complications. I know that I did mess up at times. I should have been less accusatory when I intended to be concerned, and I should have given her a bit more benefit of the doubt. But, here we are, months later, with our only words exchanged being in a birthday card she wrote to me, in which she told me that I can still come to her, always. Personally, I immediately knew that was a load of bullshit. I don't trust easily, but I trusted her. A lot. So damn much. I still find myself wishing so badly that I could just text her. I've already said sorry multiple times, I've tried to bury whatever hatchet created itself between us. Sometimes I can't think of anyone that I want to talk to about my problems, except her. It still hurts. I think it will always hurt a little. Look at me, I'm tearing up just writing this. But, let's look at the bright side. She looks happy. At least, from what I see of her on social media (although I still don't watch her Snapchat story... I can't quite let go of my pride in that regard). She and her pothead boyfriend broke up, which is good for her sake. I learned a lesson about being glad for what I have because it could be gone any day. I've also become more independent, and although it's been an intense struggle, I'm learning how to console myself, how to take care of my problems without needing someone to walk me through it. I think I've always had some codependency issues, and I think this has helped me work through them. Well, it's nearly 2 am on New Years Day and frankly, I'm tired. Goodnight. ~Margo xx I'm angry. I'm so damn angry, I don't know what to do with it, how to express, how to even feel it. I tried writing again, but I'm utter shit at it. It was unique or special. It didn't express anything but blandness and it felt awful. I don't even know what to do.
I have a boyfriend. We've been together for a little over a month now. Sometimes it feels like things are going so great, and sometimes I just feel sick. I know that I've always wanted this incredible and epic relationship full of intrigue and passion, and I know that that is rare and most likely impossible. This isn't that. And in some ways, I like it that way. There's less questioning of how much we like each other, it's more subtle. It feels constant, instead of wavering. I like the lack of questions. But also, I want more. I want to feel like theres just passion. So much passion that we can barely even handle it. I feel bad about that, about wanting more. I really do like him. A lot. Yet, I can't see a future down the road. Although, that's how high school relationships are supposed to be, I guess. I don't like this feeling of being tied down, of not being completely free. As ridiculous as this may sound, I really do think I prefer the feeling of being single and free. I don't want to break up, though. I really don't want to, hopefully not because it's just easier to stay together, to not have to tell everyone and delete the instagram posts and delete the photos and have awkward conversations about it with relatives that have met him. I want to find more in him, well rather, in us. I want adventure and to create myself and to feel beautiful and to be filled with color and sunlight. I'm afraid. Because of this feeling and because I'm listening to Someone Like You by Adele. I don't think I'll go to boys basketball practice tomorrow (I'm a manager). I don't think I can see him right now. Which, in itself, is dangerous. I don't want to think about that guy or my boyfriend or the friends that I love and the love that I've lost and I just don't want to think about anything, but I can't fucking go to sleep, either. ~Margo xx "Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead." -Adele PROLOGUE
Every day is a battle. I'm heading an army consisting only of myself. I have few reinforcements, few allies; when you have allies, you have one more thing to risk losing. These hallways are filled with risks, every locker a land mine. My heart is a machine gun that's low on ammo. My legs are soldiers riddled with bullet wounds. They say, "Lose the battle, win the war.' Well, that seems entirely unrealistic, when every day is another battle lost. With every step my breath quickens, my heart pounding with a distant ring. I feel underwater, sweat pooling in my palms. The weight of my backpack forces me to lean forward painfully. As my duffel swings around my waist it bounces on my right thigh with every step. I see the black trashcan against the white an gray speckled column, as ugly as it is every other morning. It reminds me of what I'm about to face. In moments I see the walkway between to particular sets of industrial green metal, the tile changing from cream to light gray. The splotchy flecks of black decorating the floor remind me of drops of dried blood gone stale and dry. My shoes squeak deafeningly as I walk directly past my row of lockers, without a pause. I know my fate. My geometry book gains ten pounds on my lower back, my jazz shoes and canister of hairspray dig into my left shoulder. As I yank open the faux wood door of the Spanish classroom, I sigh, but not from relief. The first bell hasn't rung, I haven't even gotten the chance to ask how my partner is when I'm supposed to be telling him how the weather is in a language I'm not familiar with. Yet, I'm already certain that I have lost today's battle. In the corner
Sat the girl I love And the girl I loved. In the corner Sat my future And my past. In the corner Sat my hope And my despair. In the corner Sat my smiles And my tears. In the corner Sat my self-confidence And my low self-esteem And as two walls meet My past and future met, The pain, the love The tears, the laughter The broken, the put back together In the corner Sat the girl I love And the girl I loved. And in the corner, I was not. Every corner has a comfy inside. Every corner has a sharp outside. And as I stood there, Technically on the inside, I'd never felt such a sharp pain As the outside corner slicing into my spine And making me wish I could forget. ~Margo Three days and a dance into my Sophomore year of high school.
The first day was a pretty typical first day. Except, of course, much less mind boggling anxiety due to my medication (thank god). I'm looking forward to most of my classes, except Spanish. The only thing I really But, oh well. I won't let the jerks rain on my parade. The second day was AWESOME. I'm not even sure why, honestly. Things were looking up, the people I couldn't stand were more bare able, and now I have dance to look forward to every day!!! I can't even describe how much I'm LOVING being on the dance team!! I finally feel like I'm a part of something. And a part that actually matters, at that. The third day, though… not so great. More like terrible. I forgot my iPad, leading to a near panic attack that caused my mom to speed home and back to get it to me during her plan, which made me feel like both a terrible daughter AND a terrible student. Weights was a free day, which I used to love, but there are only three girls in my class and therefore not enough people who wanted to play volleyball, which is what I always did. I got stuck with playing wall ball, which I actually do enjoy, but the first pitch went straight for my feet and the ball awkwardly hit them and bounced off and everyone look at me like I was stupid for not catching it. Then one of the guys was laughing while looking at me later in the game, for what reason I don't know. After that, I sat with one of my best friends apart from my main squad at lunch. However, she pretty much ignored me the whole time to talk to her guy friend, who used to be my friend until he defended rapists, and later threatened to report my other best friend's bae to the police for rape after they literally did nothing even remotely illegal??? Guitar was good, thought. Guitar is always good. Chemistry was boring as usual. So was seminar. However, we don't have dance on Fridays, so all I had to look forward too was the squad riding home with me then going to the back-to-school dance together before staying the night since we're house-sitting my grandparent's place so I can actually have friends over. I worked really hard to arrange it, especially since it's the first damn week of school. However, my best friend ditched on the whole thing, LIKE SHE ALWAYS FUCKING DOES, after complaining about not being able to come over here since my grandparents had to leave late after my grandma having heart surgery!!!!! But, my other two best buds in the squad stayed the night, even though they didn't ride home with my mom and I. The dance was okay… although it reminded me of the last dance, that I went to with my boyfriend who is no longer my boyfriend. Boy does it suck when a slow song you love comes on and you have no one to dance with. But, I love dances! And they were playing great music!! So I enjoyed it, jumping up and down with my best friends. But, of course, that joy didn't last too long. I was looking for my best pal, the one from lunch (let's call her Lisa) to tell her about this guy who I've been wanting to be friends with forever, and who is her friend, but I'm thinking I might like us to be a little something more… anyone, I find her sitting in a corner of the commons, because she's not a big fan of dances but she had to be there for school leadership reasons. Who was sitting next to her, you ask? The answer is the same to the question of who many of the poems on this blog are about. The one girl who hurt me the most who made me feel like shit, who broke my heart into pieces, who led to my trust issues, who's made me sob on so many occasions that it would be useless to try to count. They were being very buddy-buddy, but I went over anyway, because who gives a damn about her. I hugged Lisa and didn't bring up the guy thing, because she wasn't feeling great and I really didn't want to bother her. A song that I loved came on, and she told me to go dance because I was practically jumping up and down. When I came back after it ended, she and the the girl who broke my heart (TG) were gone, I asked another one of our mutual friends where Lisa had gone, and it turned out that they'd gone out to the back parking lot together to get some fresh air. I wish I could find the words to describe how awful I felt in that moment. My stomach dropped to the floor, my mouth got dry. It felt like I was gonna choke, or explode, or start sobbing, or maybe all three. I walked away, and danced for the rest of the night, feeling like I had swallowed a dumbbell. I've never wanted to, or thought I could, dictate who my friends were friends with. But they all know how much TG hurt me. Everyone knows, even though I'm pretty sure most of them like her more than they like me. I've always felt like, when a friend of yours is friends with someone who hurt you badly, it's like your friend is saying that it's okay that they hurt you. Like they're saying that all the pain you felt, and the tears that fell, don't matter to them. It hurts like hell. I can't even explain it. The night with my friends went well, better than expected. We had waffled for breakfast! I slept a lot today, trying to avoid the sleep-deprivedness that I experienced in my hellish (more than -ish) freshman year. I have a lot of homework to do tomorrow, but that's okay. And I have dance on Monday!!!! Yay!!!!!!! Well, that the report for the first week of school. Let's hope it goes up from here. ~Margo xx "I try, but it's so hard to believe. I try, but I can't see what you see." -Jesse McCartney I absolutely can't focus on my homework and I have less that two weeks to do all of it before school starts, but goddammit how am I supposed to focus with all this crap on my mind. I'm just gonna try to get it out.
I wish someone would read this and really care. I'm considering transferring schools next year. But every time I convince myself that it's what's best, that I need to take a risk and make the leap, I remember all that I'd be leaving being. The good, as well as the bad. Because I wouldn't just be leaving the bullies and the memories of them calling me names, throwing dodge balls at my head, telling me I don't matter. I'd be leaving the bullies I'd made friends out of, who apologized and became some of my closest friends. I wouldn't just be leaving the people I've burned bridges with, the friend who broke my heart and makes me feel ill whenever I see her, I'd be leaving the best friends who've stayed. The ones who gave a shit about me when even I didn't care what happened to me. How could I repay them for all their love and care by leaving them? But then again, I'd have to make the choice for myself, and not anyone else. Sometimes it feels like I'm deciding between education and friendship, which is an awful feeling. Plus, I've worked so hard for what I've gotten in Baldwin, for the friendships and the reputation as someone who isn't just a piece of shit nerd. I'm on teams! I'm in clubs! I don't want to let those people down, as well as leaving things that I love doing, that at some points have been the only reasons I didn't transfer earlier. I don't know whats right for me anymore, even though I sometimes know what's wrong. ~Margo I can't seem to get this whole Life thing down right.
I want to live a life full of joy. I don't need money or fame or infamy, I just want to be content. I want to be safe and healthy and most of all I want to help the people I love, and make sure they always live in contentness as well. Unfortunately, I don't think I can do that as well as doing what I love. At least, what I love right now. Maybe I love more things as well, I suppose I can't be sure yet. I've spent so much time writing, and told so many people that writing is my love, and one day I'll be a published author, that I'll change lives with my words. But the truth is, I'm not that sure. I love writing, and I really do want to help people via something I love doing. But what if writing isn't it? What if I simply won't make the cut? What if I'll have to sacrifice what I love for who I love? After all, it's hard to make a living by writing books, especially when you have a family to provide for. I know I should focus on I want, and not on what other people will think, but how awful would it be if I had to face the facts and tell everyone the writing can only be a hobby that I love? Then I'll be admitting failure to all the classmates, all the teachers, and the friends who have told me that there's no way I can do it. And what's even worse, how will I tell it to the people who've always encouraged my writing, and helped me in any way they could? How could I tell them that they wasted their time on my failed dreams? I don't know. I can't remember where I used to get my writing motivation. I suppose it was from the promise of love, of a fairy tale ending. Now everything is different. I've grown up, unfortunately, and my past dreams seem so unrealistic. I'd give anything to forget the last year. But maybe I wouldn't. I've gotten stronger, I've gotten better in some ways, but not particularly in the ways that I really want and need to. My skin is thicker, but that means that as well as the bad stuff, the good stuff is harder to get inside as well. I want to wake up and be surrounded by possibilities, rather than feel like I'm trapped in a cage. It's not that I'm afraid to face my fears, because I want to run out into the world and take as many risks as possible. It's just that to take risks, I'd have to abandon the things that I hate doing, but I know will look good on college applications and all that. I don't feel like I have the freedom necessary to take risks and make mistakes. I feel like I don't have time to enjoy myself, to live. And I hate it. With all my heart, I hate it. ~Margo "I can't get the balance right" -Don't Swallow the Cap, The National Life is full of gifts
The gift of life The gift of growth The gift of intelligence The gift of understanding The gift of friendship The gift of love The gift of hate The gift of heartbreak The gift of confusion The gift of progress The gift of loneliness The gift of passion The gift of birth The gift of wisdom The gift of regret The gift of hindsight The gift of death Life is a gift That we should appreciate Life is a gift That I opened too early. ~Margo "Everyone has a gift for something" -Unknown |
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