Thursday, March 6, 2014

I Can't Feel The Right Side of My Face

NOTE: I just found this unfinished post in my drafts, I think I was planning on posting it at some point but I must have forgotten about it. I can honestly say I have no idea where I was going with this post but some points are still relevant so I feel like there's no harm in putting it up. Again it's been about two months since my last post (this seems to be a recurring theme.) I still go back and forth about this blog a lot and what I want to share with the world and what I want to be secret and just for me (see more thoughts on this below.) Lately I have been feeling like I'm not exactly doing anything with my life other than going to school and doing homework and seeing friends and it's becoming kind of upsetting. One could argue that at 15 that's exactly what I should be doing but the problem is I've been given (am being given) opportunities to do some incredible things but I always seem to just let them fall apart. This blog being one of the projects/opportunities. Sort of. This feeling leads to more feelings then usually a panic attack then a lot of laying around listening to Beyonce and telling myself that it's okay because I'm only human and I can only due so much but then that usually leads to continuous laying around and lazy-ness. It's really an unfortunate cycle of events. I would end this with some sort of uplifting "But I have decided to change my life and be more productive! and passionate! and focused! and organized! and driven!" But I honestly don't know what's going to happen. It's not good or bad it just is. I'm in a definite 'figuring it out' phase right now. The good part is something has to happen at some point so I suppose I have that to look forward to. Now is the point where I would make some joke about how "I'd say I'd post more but yeah probably not" but it's sort of gotten past the point of that to where I will honestly probably not post for another two months but if you need me I'll be laying here listening to Beyonce.


It is a Thursday night and as of right now I should be finishing my homework. As of right now I am listening to Transatlanticism and taking many a selfie while lusting after a bowl of granola. I figure not many of you read this blog much anymore which is comforting in a way. I feel more free. More comfortable. Lately I have decided to do what makes me happy, whatever that may be. Last night it was prancing around in my strawberry bathing suit, chopping off half my hair with kitchen scissors and eating copious amounts of Swedish fish. So that's exactly what I did. It was fabulous.

I have decided to start using this blog for myself. No one else. It will most likely be much less about fashion (was it ever really about that though?) and simply writing and chronicling my life as a 15 year old girl/artist/teenager/woman/granola consumer/human/literature nerd/writer/hairless cat enthusiast. I have become very private in the past few months, and I debated whether or not to keep posting here. I'm still unsure if not a little uncomfortable doing so, only if for the fact that I'm wildly blunt and I always feel like I've shared too much, lost some of my mystery ("You can't loose something you never had, Lillie" haha yes you're very funny) I suppose it's all in finding a balance.

I currently have a pounding headache (think like 87 River Dancers having a convention in your skull.) I've been drawing more lately and attempting not to destroy all of it once I've finished. I like some of it, maybe I'll post some. For school we were talking about timelines and assigned to each make a timeline of our own lives. I was working on mine and it just sort of hit me how delicate a life can be. I haven't been here that long and I've had a few experiences, maybe not enough but a few. I realized how my life could be eaten in one bite, it's so small. I have so much to explore. It's so interesting what children remember. Looking at my childhood a lot of it is fuzzy up to about age 12 or 13 but I remember snapshots, little torn off pieces. I remember my mom, red nail polish, Chanel No. 19. I remember my dad, strong hands, chapstick that smelled like pepper.