Primal Repression

I remember, when I was a kid, when you liked someone, you'd tell them; or even if you didn't your friend would embarrass you and spill the beans to your crush.

I remember, when I was a kid, that if you were asked out by a boy and you'd said yes, that you were officially going steady.

I remember, when I was a kid, that enough value was held where they wouldn't ask you out if they didn't have complete intent of making them your girlfriend or boyfriend.

I remember, when I was a kid, the idea of love was so much simpler, much more pure and genuine.

I remember, when I was a kid, relationships were valued until they ran their course.

But it's not like that anymore, and I can't quite figure out where we went wrong. As I'm getting older, so is the rest of my generation, the same kids who grew up with the same memories of young love and heartbreak as I did.

Where did we go wrong? How did we get to a point where love "grew up" to be a lost cause?

Dating has evolved to become a slaughter of emotions to the point where we've started carrying around shields and bayonets, and are quick to turn to defense. But why?

I fear common decency and respect has gone out the window, and into the internet. We're overwhelmed with options. There's too many to choose from now that we have a giant database of singletons. Instead of getting to know people in our everyday lives, at a natural pace and building lasting relationships, we're given the opportunity to crash-course a person, and leave them in the junkyard.

It's keeping us from committing, whether we realize it or not.

"What if there's someone better?" constantly nags our subconscious.

We're losing sight of what is real and of what is good and honestly it just might be right in front of our eyes.

It's a disaster, really...

We're making infidelity easier.

We've adapted knowing if we refuse to commit, then no one can stop us from keeping our options open, keeping them at a swipes reach.

We're only fueling the fire.

Making excuses to have multiple partners,
making excuses to keep our distance,
making excuses to avoid building trust,
making excuses to avert getting hurt,
making excuses for the sake of making excuses,
and all that these excuses are making, is things worse.

We're wasting our time building fleeting interactions instead of investing our time in building deep meaningful connections. We're only cheating OURSELVES from experiencing the most wonderful gift we have in this life, the ONE AND ONLY GIFT that money and society can't take away from us, YET WE'RE SO EASILY TAKING IT FROM OURSELVES.

I'm over it.

Come feel with me.

Worrying is pure BULLSHIT

"There's no one good enough to be alone." That lyric keeps running through my head. I can't fathom where things went wrong. I can't believe what you said. Just when things get tough that's where you find where you stand, not only amongst others, but in your own hands.

No ones good enough to be alone. That's why we need one another. Otherwise we'd all go mad, until our existence dwindles like the crack of thunder. An echo, a flash, and then it's gone. What else do we have to give, what else do we have to own but fabricated bullshit that we pretend makes us feel like we're not alone. 

There's no one good enough to be alone. Not even the wisest of souls. Not even the most peaceful Buddhist priest, even he needs those who he can leave his mark upon.

No ones good enough to be alone. We need others to share our souls, we need others to remind us that all of this shit should just be buried in a hole, that we need not worry about that which attempts to blind us, that we need not worry about assholes, but of kindness. No one should have time for this shit. No one should care. If it doesn't make us happy we should just let it fall into the wake of our past. We should sail ahead or hell, even swim if that's all we've got left.

Because no ones good enough to be alone.

No single man, nor woman, can make a house a home.

Because then you'd grow old, with no stories to be told, as your life passes by and everyone you held dear goes on without you, leaving behind fear, for no other but yourself, because you let it win.

Don't let fear win. Don't let it be the biggest sin, whether catholic guilt or wills that wilt it will destroy you and make you old and bitter wondering why and how you got to where you aren't, with no one but yourself. 

We cannot let fear win. Our lives are fragile and worth more than this. We shouldn't live in fear or guilt or worry or sadness but with vigor and hope and passion and happiness, sharing love and care for those we hold dear. We should thrive, experience, laugh and cry, together as a whole not only alone. There's too much to lose. Too much to make us feel awful, and who actually wants that? 

I don't know about you but I just want someone to carry through this crazy world, whether on my shoulders or on theirs, it doesn't even matter we can take turns for all I care. All that matters is that we loved and let love, made mistakes and learned, grew and maybe left something behind for others to carry on with. I wanted that with you, I loved you.


©Nicole DeRoy 2015.

I don't even know where to go from here...

We've spent multiple intimate moments together.
Shared some laughs, 
some smiles,
some miles.
Walking, talking, joking, goofing.
exaggerating the miles.
laying entwined in each others skin
not worrying about anything,
nor of sin,
Yet I fear where we stand,
I fear of moments already planned,
of dreams and desires
to distract the hours,
but lest we forget
these moments that are spent,
I'll keep them near and dear
regardless of fear
and hope that we can find a way
to make these memories all but fade
no matter where life takes us
no matter what shakes us
no matter where we stand
as lovers or as friends
I don't want to see the end
so where we walk through the bends
lets remember what we've spent
and just maybe we can make this be
in moments of simplicity
something worth living for.

©Nicole DeRoy 2015.

Love and Life are Peculiar Concepts

I don't even know what I'm doing. 

Ever. 

I try not to think too much into how I live my daily life because thinking is all I ever seem to do anyways and the act of living seems to be my only escape.

Hell, even when I write, when I paint, when I draw, when I indulge in other distractions, I stop mid way to think.

And I don't even care that I don't know what I'm doing.

I don't care about much of anything anymore.

I don't care about most things, all I want is to experience, to have fun, to exist.

I might be a masochist.

I might be chasing death by living fast.

I don't think about consequence, I just think about what I want in the moment and fulfill my reality.

I've discovered that planning ahead or wanting certain things to work out a certain way only breeds complete disappointment, anger, frustration, sadness, weakness, depression, anxiety, and it all begins with that danger of thinking too deeply into the future.

Nothing is certain.
Nothing is real.
Nothing exists unless you make it exist. 
Nothing is what it seems.

So I don't care.

If it makes me feel good in the moment I'm going to do it.
If it makes me happy for the short run I'm going to roll with it.
If it makes me feel alive, I'm going to let it.

Because this life is too short and too quick and death is impending and I don't wanna worry about any of it.

I don't want to worry about the inevitable.

I don't want to worry about anything for that matter.

I just want to be.

and I just want you to "be" ...
with me.

© Nicole DeRoy 2015

Doors

I feel like everyone puts too much emphasis on defining life and defining a meaning to our narrow existence. 

Definitions only complicate the simplest things. Let's take a door.. How should I define the word door..?

Nah let's not, that's boring. 

It's simple. There's nothing to complicate...

You simply open the door and it explains itself. 

Let's just open our lives and stop being complicated.

To write is to fear words

A year ago I would have told you that I've been searching for inspiration, looking for that next whirlwind to throw me into something overwhelmingly expressive; yet I never would have imagined that what I would encounter less than a week ago, was that thing.

I've been trying to be strong by attempting to drown myself in daily comic relief and by keeping my life moving forward. Yet here I am again at fucking four o' clock in the morning deeply in thought as I realize that the momentum I've been pushing through with is all because you've lost your life, and I feel it's only right that I push forward with mine, if only for the sake of allowing the memory of you to breathe since your lungs have ceased to do so.

What you're reading now isn't even close to what I've scared myself from writing down. It doesn't even hold a candle as a vigil. I don't know when I'll be comfortable to share it yet I know something musically is going to follow and I have no choice in that matter if I plan on moving forward.

There's something about the subconscious...

There's something about the inner desires of a person when something tragic happens...

There's something about expression that can nearly scare you to death when it comes from such a deep, recessed and dark place.

I'm only remaining vague because of the sentiment and fragile nature of the matter, out of deep respect and love, and I pray that everything works out okay.

You will always be in my thoughts and your memory will live on forever through your loved ones and I'm so sorry that there was nothing more that I could do.

I don't want this to haunt me, so writing about it is all I can do...

Life /līf/ (noun) - a perpetual disaster

Is life only worth living once you've made poor choices to learn from?

There's moments in time where you face what seems to be a never ending montage of unfortunate events, and lately that's been the driving force in my day to day.

Less than ten days ago I was feeling on top of the world for the first time in years. I was happily cruising through my day to day and doing what made me feel good whenever I wanted and what made me feel alive whenever I needed it.

"Just go with it."

That was my mantra over the past 6 weeks.

"Just go with it."

It's still haunting me. 

I'm dealing with an inner battle daily just to keep it going, because it's the only thing that seems to make sense anymore. 

I got my ass handed to me again, this time even worse than before; yet in a different place, at a different time, under different circumstances. I turned my own life upside down because I felt I could get away with anything, that I could do anything, be anything, become anything, and live like nothing else matters. 

The struggle that is facing me is keeping that attitude going when everything I know gets stripped from me. 

I've been catapulted out of my comfort zone and in my darkest hours on no sleep for 3 straight days I made poor choices in trying to handle moving on. Lack of sleep breeds lack of judgement, and lack of judgement breeds preying on those who've been trying to help you out to the point where you don't realize you're putting strain and stress on the ones you care about who are trying to care for you back, be there for you, and do what they can for you.

It's been awkward. 

An awkward month reduced to an awkward week reduced to an awkward day and an awkward series of moments within that day. With each reduction it seemed to be getting better and better but it was just an avalanche of awkwardness snowballing into itself until it got so big it rolled off the edge and exploded into nothing but debris and powder.

Do we sometimes mistake awkwardness for awesomeness? Or do we simply get so caught up in the moment that any awkwardly awesome interaction becomes a dreamy haze waiting for the air to clear and open itself up to reality again?