One Love

Tell me darlings, what do you know? Okay... okay, now tell me what you understand.

I, personally, can't answer that question. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand anything, I mean when you think about something, anything it's absolutely amazing. It's mind blowing. And I do mean anything. We're so used to technology and speech and just.... EVERYTHING that we forget to be thankful for it. We forget to ponder, and sometimes we forget to try harder.
What's something that people want to understand? That people want period? And, again, this is just my opinion; Love. Who doesn't want to fall in love? Who doesn't spend their days thinking about their potential other, or the potential of their potential other? Tell me, what do you want to understand? What do you love? Who? What's the difference between loving and caring? Is there one? Why be able to ask these questions if they don't make sense, if they don't have answers.
There's no bubble for you to fill in, there's no right answer.
(There sure as hell can be a wrong one, though)
What did I just say? Why are you reading my ramblings? Who cares. No one really cares, not even me, I don't know why I'm writing this. I want a poetic translation of what's to come, I want love. I have love. We won't name names here, though, because that's not really what matters, what matters is... thought. Emotion.
L O V E

What's the meaning of life? What's the meaning of anything? If we're all here to serve some greater purpose, some all-out grand agenda than wouldn't we all be doing the same thing? And what is it that every last human being does? That every living thing does? They die. The meaning of life is to die. And how sad is that? How awful and twisted and brutal and just... horrible is that?
I'm not so sure, death is something I'm very curious about. I recently met a young man who thinks that death isn't dying at all, unless you have no idea what you're doing or what you're getting into and his beliefs, even though he says they're not beliefs, "They're just things I know." He'll tell me, explain everything, and at the same time make everything much more confusing.
When we die our spirit comes out of our body and finds a new one and we don't remember anything about it unless we know before hand and pay attention. Or some shit like that, I don't really know, I put up with him because I'm nice to everyone and because I care about his feelings and I don't believe in any after death experiences or rituals and I'm looking for one that fits with what I already believe in.
What do you already believe in, Chellie?
Well! I'll tell you. I believe in magic. I believe life is this continuous forever that's worth more than any of us can explain or even comprehend. I believe everyone is beautiful, every last person on this earth and it has nothing to do with how they look on the outside.
I believe that you can grow up and become a hippie, I believe that you have something amazing to say, tell me something wonderful. I believe life is about stories, and that that's what everyone strives for: a story. An amazing telling of something that happened to them, something to inspire, something to make people take a step back and really think about who they are and where they're going.
I believe in making wishes and I believe in coloring... in fact it would be a lot easier to tell you what I don't believe in.
I don't believe in religion. In fact, religion and the people involved in it kind of creep me out. This also wasn't just a last minute choice that I made to make my mother mad. I've been thinking about this for a long time, for most of my life.
I grew up in the church, I went to private school for most of my life and then I was thrown into the real world, worse than the real world, if that makes sense, I was thrown into the drug world. Right before I turned 13, you know seventh grade, JR high, I started going to public school and my mother almost died. I didn't really notice this though because I was too busy lying about where I was during the school day and stealing money that we didn't have from her wallet.
Then we moved here. Where's here?
Dolan Springs, Arizona. Maybe you've been here, in fact if you've been to the Grand Canyon than you've driven right through here, maybe you blinked and didn't even notice that this was a town, that people live here. At the moment I do.
I say that because I really don't plan on living here forever. I don't even plan on living here for much longer. I used to hate this place, looking outside can easily remind someone of The Hills Have Eyes, because the landscape is identical, and the people here all of them are drugged out and poor. So poor and dirty and trashy.
I don't hate it here anymore, though, it's not that bad. Maybe it's because I became one of those drug addicted people, or maybe it was the moment I realized that the desert really is actually a beautiful place.
Whoa! Whoa! Drug addict?
No. I'm not a drug addict, despite the things some of my old best friends would like to tell you, loveeee to tell you that I don't care about anything but myself, that I'm selfish and that I'm fake.
And I am, I'm not going to lie to you, there's no point in it. I was fake. I was as fake as they come, I wanted to please everyone around me but that started to hurt, that got lonely and suddenly I would be depressed and I would start hurting myself and those people who weren't being pleased anymore... they got mad.
I'm not mad at this one person in particular that I'm talking about, in fact I miss her and I wish I could explain.
Meth is a serious drug. Before you continue on and hear me call it beautiful and accidently reference it as a must-have-for-yourself experience let me make sure that you understand this:
I'm not giving you a referal or the aye-okay to start smoking dope.
No.
I did it once, for five days.
Those were the most amazing... terrifying, intense days of my life.
And I wish that I could repeat them, even the scary parts if just for a moment I could be inspired and believe in myself like I never had before.
Like I'm forgetting how to, now... Do you know how awful it is to know you're special? To know that you have something to offer the world and feel it starting to slip away. I can feel the real me locking down... hiding deep inside of myself because I'm scared of rejection. If I show people who I am and they don't like it... if they hate it... what else do I have to give? Nothing... And then... why should I even be alive?
What if no on responds? Did the world lie to me and tell me that I'm good and make me believe that I have a talent.
Because this is it, writing is my talent, and I'm not even the best at it. I'm not exceptional at anything, but I'm good at it, and I love it. That has to count for something?
I don't know if this is going to be continued... I don't know if you'd even want to know about the one week that changed who I am, that changed everything. The funny thing about that one week is that in order to tell you about it I have to tell you about my life, I have to explain things to you that I've never tried to explain to anyone, at least not everything.
I just want someone to understand.
So tell me, darlings, what do you know?