Fireflies ☮

Life is seamless, dispersed yet a constant pain in the ass and we are simply pawns in the hands of the vast cosmos. We live our lives unaccompanied, yet together. We struggle through out heartbreaks, our battles, and our solitude. We go through the years wishing, hoping and dreaming, while some of our dreams come true and others crash and turn to flames. Sometimes we wish the isolation would disappear, allow us some tranquility, some peace of mind; allow us the privilege of being free; feeling free. We attempt to ease the pain through love, a love we yearn for and beg for. Through our deepest, most intimate desires we scream for someone out there to hear us. Listen to our pleas and understand us; love us. At times, our desperate cries for attention are heard, we find the perfect person; the perfect love. We live a long peaceful life, filled with prosperity and splendor. We live with our children and grandchildren oblivious to the rest of the world around us, only conscious of our own contentment; our own untainted bliss. Other times however, we are made to struggle, to battle with our demons, whether internal or external. At times we live in scarcity and poverty, stricken with hunger, so accustomed to the stench of death and decay, and from the day we are born, we are obligated to grow up and mature, grow up and be responsible for our lives and the lives of our siblings if we were born with any. We may lay our heads on filthy, soiled rags at night and gaze up to the sky; to the stars and inquire the heavens, “what have I done to deserve such injustice?” we may even go so far as to think that perhaps, in another incarnation we were a malevolent executioner, an abuser of souls or a rapist bent on taking the lives of the innocent. Perhaps we do deserve it, but why can’t we remember what it was that we have done? Why is it that we have to pay for other people's mistakes, faults and transgressions?

No matter how we choose to live, or are forced to live, ultimately we do end up living. We may not enjoy this wretched life of misery, and melancholy, but we arise in the morning, breathing and screaming – on the inside of course. We wake up thinking perhaps today will be better, perhaps today a spark will cause a chain reaction, which in turn will cause another, greater chain reaction all directly allied with the universe; a universe which will possibly take pity on us; pity on our souls, souls with whom we are born with and fall to our deathbeds with. Perhaps this immense universe will allow us one, singular day of uncontaminated ecstasy and liberation, reprieve from the wonders and terrors of our mother Earth.

Earth.

The home in which we are all born. We all live, breathe, smell, touch, see, hear and taste her. Our mother Earth with whom we are all joined in solidarity, a camaraderie that thrives when or if the time comes for us to preserve her; defend her. However, this being said she is in momentous danger for even though she is what we call home, even though we find our loved ones from within her, we are dragged through our lives kicking and screaming, then die within her and are placed back into the ground which comes from her, the soil that will smolder our decaying bodies, away from the outside world forever. Even though she protects us from the dangers of the Ozone, the perils of emissions that could vacuum the life out of us forever, we continue to wound her. We continue to cause so much pain and anguish that she is begging us to stop, all the signs are there, and by hurting her we are ultimately hurting ourselves as we are hurting the home from which we come from. And although at times Mother Nature can be cruel, unforgiving and ferocious, we cannot give up on her, we cannot surrender her. For if she ceases to exist, if our world, our Earth dies, where are we to exist? Where are we to thrive? To find our loves, or heartbreaks or fight our battles or struggle for the privilege in which we were granted that is called life. No other planet will grant us this unconditional endowment, so why destroy the one that does? Just as we continue to annihilate our own lives, inert and merciless in our rampage.

Perhaps one day our pleas will be heard, perhaps the universe will take pity on us and grant us the wishes that we keep demanding. However, if this miracle ever happens, where would you make use of this phenomenon? What will you do if you do not have a home to go to? What if your home has been destroyed by you, none other than your own kind, your own egocentricity and there is nothing left; nothing but the guilt of not taking a stand, sparking a change while you still could. While there is still some time left to salvage our homes; our hearts, our lives.

Will you choose to take a stand and fight for your home? - For your life? Or will you sanction for it to be torn into a million pieces, while you are left forlorn, destitute, and lifeless.

Where will you appease your solitude then?
xoxo

I'm a Fake♀ ♂

.Small, simple, safe price.
Rise the wake and carry me with all of my regrets.
This is not a small cut that scabs, and dries, and flakes, and heals.
And I am not afraid to die;
I'm not afraid to bleed and fuck and fight,
I want the pain of payment.
What's left, but a section of pygmy sized cuts.
Much like a slew of a thousand unwanted fucks.
Would you be my little cut?
Would you be my thousand fucks?
And make mark leaving space for the guilt to be liquid.
To fill and spill over and under my thoughts.
My sad, sorry, selfish cry out to the cutter.
I'm cutting trying to picture your black, broken heart.
Love is not like anything,
Especially a fucking knife!

Look at me.
You can tell,
By the way I move and do my hair,
Do you think that it's me?
Or it's not me?
I don't even care.
I'm alive, i don't smell
I'm the cleanest I have ever been.

I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry.
Dry.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Do I drink?
Do I date?
I've got perfect placements.
all my ink
Satisfied, in your eyes.
I'm the biggest fan I've got right now.
I made sure that I look how I wanted to look.
The people around me,
The people surround me.

I feel big, I feel tall, I feel dry.
Dry.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

My stomach hurts now,
And all tied off in lace.
I pray, beg for anything to hit me in the face.
And this sickness isn't me.
And I pray to fall from grace.
The last thing I see is feeling.

And I'm telling you I'm a fake,
I'm telling you I'm a fake.
I'm telling you I'm a fake.
I'm telling you I'm a fake.
I'm telling you I'm...

Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me, look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.
Just look at me now.
I'm a fake, I'm a fake.

Fake!
Fake!
Fake!
Genuine fake!!!

I genuinely like this song a lot. Simply because no matter how much you would like to deny it, everyone can relate to it on some level. Whether you have experienced a sense of loss, or if you used to cut or you’re a manic depressive or really had anything that happened at some point in your life that affected you in a negative way, this is a song you can probably relate to. However I’d like to clarify that people can interpret this song in any way they would like to, without any regard to what I think, but here's a link to I'm a Fake - if you would like to listen to it.

So here’s a brief history about the band and Bert McCracken. Bert is the lead singer and songwriter of The Used, was born in Provo, but raised in Orem, Utah. He was brought up in a straight edged Mormon society, and was even involved in editing a magazine called “Drugs Suck”. However, along with many teenagers, adolescence hit him and his parents hard, and they conflicted in a myriad of aspects; including their chosen religion- Mormonism. Bert decided to rebel by going to other churches, and experimenting with drugs, until he was kicked out of his home at the age of sixteen. From then on until the age of nineteen, he struggled with homelessness and drug abuse. However, his big break happened when he auditioned to join a band – then called Dumb Luck- the band members were astonished by his talents and welcomed him immediately, this was also when they decided to rename themselves “The Used”.

In Berts thoughts, this song was about his own alcohol addiction, his own struggle. He has been battling with his dependence for years, and consistently mentioning them indirectly in his lyrics. However, as I said previously, people can determine the meaning of any song in whichever way they would like; it’s really up to you how you let the song speak to you. I guess that’s what makes them so amazing, they don’t even need an insane solo to make their songs sound completely bad ass! - But I’m a bit biased on this aspect, I love The Used. You may hate this song, despise it even, for being too out there, too emotional perhaps, and that’s fine, for we do live in a world where we can agree to disagree –at least I hope we do!

Anyway, this song speaks to me because I believe that everyone feels a little lonely, lost, broken, and fake at times- I know I have. Have you ever felt that your whole world is spiraling downwards, crashing, exploding, and your thoughts; your feelings are clashing and conflicting with everyone else’s? Have you ever felt so alone that sometimes, you start to think that maybe you deserve to be alone, maybe you did something so wrong that you’re deserving of this pain, of this agony that you’re living in. Sometimes, we allow ourselves to drift off into an alternate universe - if I may call it that- in this universe; we are happy, thriving and full of joy. We are able to achieve this effect through a plethora of mediums, whether it is through song, dance, art, literature, sports – either way you create your own world in your mind, and you are always the moderator of your own thoughts. The thing about being able to think, is that our thoughts are private, we live in our own little microcosmic world which shape shifts into a glorious galaxy while we sleep, or even when we let our imaginations take hold while we are conscious. In our galaxies, we are able to make anything possible, we don’t have to pretend anymore, we are as real as we can be, and nothing is impossible. I guess what I am trying to say is that when life gets hard all we can do is try to deal with it, and escape it in our own ways. Sometimes putting on a face, playing pretend and being fake is the only way of dealing; even if we hate ourselves afterwards.

This song speaks to me. Does it speak to you?

♡ ♡