throwback

From the Archive: House of Cards (2006)

~ crazybuddhaful ~ Leave a comment

It was as if he picked up her house and shook it furiously, uprooting everything from its place. She had never seen so much crap–and she had never seen so clearly. She knew that things could never be put back the way they were.
What do you do when someone comes in and makes a list of your flaws, a list so long it extends further than the length of your being? Just places it apathetically in front of you, in black and white. You slowly go down the list and feel the sharp sting of truth in every item just staring boldly back at you. Things you had carefully hidden. Things you’d gone to such care to hide, even from, or especially from, yourself, so that you were convinced they no longer existed.

How did he find that? I locked it away so deeply I couldn’t even see it anymore.

But he had found it. He found everything. Knew everything, remembered everything. She hated that the most. Sometimes, she couldn’t even remember her last sentences. Sentences that made him so angry but she couldn’t understand why, for she had already forgotten what was said. Therein lied the problem. He remembered everything while she remembered nothing. They were from different worlds really, but they were made of the same soul.

Old Notes

~ crazybuddhaful ~ Leave a comment

I found these old notes/ramblings from 2012 on my phone…I had a lot more angst back then.

April 23, 2012
I just can’t help feeling sad about where this society is going. Maybe that’s why I feel so lost about what I want to do. Maybe I just don’t want to be a part of it. Or maybe deep down inside I really do.
Looking at these fashion blogs, I just can’t believe how people spend their days. I’m imagining this girl getting up every morning to pick an outfit, put makeup on and find some photo worthy location to take pictures of herself. And then hundreds of thousands of us watch and want to do it too.

May 15, 2012
He will never get me. Perhaps no one ever will. Life for me is just a series of tiring events. I’m not even 30 and I already exhausted with life. I’m beginning to feel numb to pleasure. Facebook, Instagram, Dancing with the Stars…is this what our world has become?
There are corners of the world that aren’t focused on such things, but thats where you would be – in a little corner. Everybody wants to be seen but nobody wants to actually know anything. This makes me sad. And tired.

May 24, 2012
As I sit here reading John Locke’s introduction, I can’t help smiling. I just love this shit. Words. Is that weird? I feel like people would read this and think what kind of nonsense is this? What the fuck does this mean? But I ate up every word and thought each one was brilliantly selected. I felt that feeling I sometimes get…that burning desire I have to write that I just keep contained inside. I refuse to give it the air it needs to grow. But maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I’m saving the world from volumes of dribble.
I don’t know why but thoughts put into words just gives me the greatest pleasure. Maybe it comes with the territory of being a voracious thinker. When your whole world is thoughts and most of them are kept captive inside of you, it drives you mad. Maybe that’s why so many writers are so tortured. They’re just in their minds too much…there’s just too much noise and not enough paper.