Back to Black – Summer

We only said goodbye with words

I died a hundred times

– Amy Winehouse back to black

EDIT: I, summer is almost over, and I wrote an entree at the very bottom to my own reaction of this summer. Below is my words as written before everything occurred in the summer time. 

I don’t know what to expect, but I know not to expect much. 

It’s complicated. My relationship with writing and knowledge. I hate and love both thing equally. Each one gives me the abilities and power to do things beyond what I could imagine, and access to things I would have never thought accessible. Similar to the music of my choosing, after some digging I found the bones and flesh of each song, beat, word and sentence in each album and book I experienced. 


Separated sounds. 

The point in which when I begin to form the question of how a song forms from its composition to the desire of reading into the lyrics that go beyond the aspects of listening, this is the point in time where I become obsessed with music. The music of my choosing that is. Everything surrounding the making of one song or the journey of the artist(s) to the power of a single word is both joyful and terrifying. Where do my thoughts began and when do the thoughts and influences of others end? It never completely ends.

One thing I have learned is to not take for granted the power of a single word. Leave no word to waste, leave no emotion needed to be felt. Time is precious.

As much as I would have enjoyed going into detail over music from my point of view, let’s skip to what’s happening now. It is now Jul. June has become the past once again. I remembered my mother the day after she passed to the afterlife this year. I still remember the event as sad. I often find myself forgetting how she sounded, her gestures and her manners are still things that grapple the corners of my mind, but their claws become looser day after day, year after year. I didn’t cry for once this year. I did not feel extreme sadness for once. Emotions did not consume my entire being for once. I did not feel happy either. I just felt, slight numb and relief – to an extent. As time flows beyond us all, memories become faint and painful things carry less power and weight over our emotions. I had little to no reaction when I noticed that another year has passed once more. Again. Another year has passed. I act the act of wearing the mask of not being effected by death. Stay strong, positive. Death only effects you if you let it. Sometimes people break down. It happens. 

I’m sorry to be such a ‘down-er’ but I feel people do not openly talk about death. Afraid of the pain death brings when you talk about. I don’t want to talk about emotions, but I want to voice my experiences with death. It hurts. There’s no right way to feel about death. Also there’s so much anger that never fully goes away. 

So summer, what are my big plans? Shoot for the stars. I plan to be my best and go outside for as often as possible. I hate nature to an extent. My new place is great, but I feel the walls closing in. The pressure of failing to do my best and trying to fix my own issues is difficult to handle at times. Half the time I think everyone is an idiot, as nothing brings me such joy as materialistic things and music. As I grow older, the less I enjoy people and gaining their attention. I’m not an outright bitch, but I’m catty, sassy, and most of the time I never mean half of the things I say. I feel similar to Thorgy and an old person who bitches about everything for no reason. I get tried of myself at times. Most of the time I just stay quiet since I have no valuable input to insert and I prefer not to voice my opinions. I know in the atmosphere about people and conversations how freely I can be with others. I have not found my own circle where I can be as free as I once could. 

I realize that I cannot be overly nice with people when I first meet them. I just can’t. I’m like a rose with thorns or a porcupine. I try to be as nice as possible, but I have lived a life full of worry danger and survival. Plus my family lacks such kindness. I also view the world as half empty full of selfish individuals who just want personal gain.  

My summer plans include reading and writing. If I have to fight with a pen rather than fists I will. I didn’t get to where I am today by being a pushover. I remember when I was younger and did ‘bad things’ to the point where my actions no longer felt under my control. I lost a sense of who I was and became something else. That is why I love rock music because for once in my life it was my own interest against what I did for the interest of others. My new growing interests shaped my determination to be better than my entire family ever achieve. Even after isolation and lack of acknowledgement from most of family, I know that who I am and what I do has no value to anyone but myself. No one needs to understand what I mean in any shape or form. Even if I always stand alone, I need no validation to do what I love. In death, I knew at that turning point life I had to let go of things, people, emotions. It is not the end of the world to fail. If my things get stole I can replace them.I know that everything has expiration date, some things come with labels others do not.

As I write this I am remembered at how much emotion withering to death (album) has within me. I never liked anything to be structure especially around my life, but I think the time has come to create some lines of my own choosing. I never vocalize my plans to anyone in complete detail because to me the important parts is not planning but achieving the end results. I think for once I might need to focus on the steps to achieve my goals. I accept that planning is fine and works for some occassions. To those who think that planning every detail of your life is important know that nothing can ever be fully planned from start to finish. Lose control, get lost in the uncontrollable. I did for the past four years and I achieved some great things since then. 

EDIT: Continued results:

Hello, it’s me. (Insert Adele joke here).

It’s been a crazy summer. I let myself live to my own extent with restricts here and there. I learned how to pace myself in more aspects than the usage of alcohol. I learned a lot about many things. My writing has improved or so I believe it has. I fell in love with TøP, who have bestowed me with lyrical magic in each song. I always remember Message Man. The song can carry several meanings depending on how it is interpreted I love that aspect of the song. Even the title is beautiful. Message man, as a physical being or place a comma in between those two words and the entire title changes in meaning. I love it. I found more friends this summer. I organized and started an old hobby of my mine. I forgot how well one can adapt to a place once you find something to grab onto. I missed having several friends to explore bars, food, and parks. I missed having a network of people outside of the classroom who have no direct connections or ties solely to just school. I’m excited and scared of the new semester. I feel prepared, but am I really? I have to begin early and not fall behind on assignments. I have to force myself into a schedule, and the closure that is felt through being on a schedule is scary to me. I have to handle this emotion and get myself on track so I can achieve my goals one by one. 

Sorry my reaction entree for summer was so short. Similar to summer, I just want to be leave a concise message behind to have a crisp and clear message to have once the winter sets in. (Winter = death)


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