my names emily, 14 yr old
this is my journal, a previous entry (you can delete the caption)
by olivia, wrote this on 3/2/14, i’m 13.
things have been happening too quickly for anything to have happened at all. i’ve given up on letting myself understand things. a little broken these days, a little sad and delicate. maybe only right now. these feelings are sour. they’re not gentle and sweet, they sting my tongue. my eyes are dry. i sit by gray water in my dreams, the whole world is unsure along with me. my fingers bled when i played guitar. i’m not good enough, or i am so good, more than good enough. feeling like myself doesn’t happen as often as i wish it did. i want to grasp something entirely. i don’t know how to reply to being told I’m not enough, i know I’m enough and I’m not enough in the way that i want to be. it feels like there is endless space within me, you could float through my body and mind and touch the stars and everything would seem so far apart yet close together. this may seem like there’s something inside me, but there’s nothing. it’s empty space, it’s too big for anyone to understand, it’s too hard to make my own. this is my body and my life and it’s all so ugly and not mine. I’m like standing above a highway or in an empty cemetery or by a lake in the winter. I’m not cool in any way but i am always thought of as cool or ugly. no one understands me which is weird, i just want to be alone, i just want to be out of a story, i just want things to become more, they are more but they’re not my more, they’re not the more i can process or feel or understand. I’m not letting myself feel things. i’m alone. i just want to be alone. i want things to stop and then continue when i say so but i’d probably just get bored or really sad and cry. there are people and there are people and there is me and I’m far away. i’m really beautiful and strong and I’m so afraid of letting myself give up. i keep saying i need to work up the strength but i HAVE IT, it’s all inside me, i need to let myself grow. i’m only like this lil plant, this flower, a blossom or something. i need to be for myself. i need to let myself hug myself and love myself and know myself. no one else matters. i wish i knew how to do things. i wish my world were more like what is inside me (not the space, the empty soft lonely/alone pretty things).
I shaved my head Spring of 2013 as a way of asserting my independence from societal norms & as a rebellion against the humidity. This page was started as I built up the courage to do it & was finished (sealed with a lock of my hair no less) once the deed was done.
literally the first photo in my picassa folder it’s completely random
art journal entry about the future - 14/11/2013