Self Known

As vaguely discussed in my last post , I've had this feeling lately that I haven't been posting for myself. In fact, I haven't been doing anything for myself, really. It's always been for my readers, followers, subscribers, "order-ers"--just anyone other than me . So I've decided that Truly. Madly. Deeply. will be temporarily shutting down for the rest of the month. This will give me the time to focus on me and what I'd like to achieve in my off time. Don't forget me, dear readers, for I will come back with fresh ideas, reinvented views--and most definitely a new blog design. ;) Wish me luck on this self-fulfilling journey. And may the rest of your month be blessed. <3

// I have been missing Mackenzie. // I enjoy repeatedly drowning myself in a sea of written words and words to be written. // I have fallen in love with dried fruit (apricots, raisins, figs: you name it, I probably eat it). // I have wanted to be inspired and inspire others but I think I must go on an inner journey of self-discovery first. // I've decided that perhaps this blog has wavered and I may take some time to shut down and reevaluate its purpose (which means I may not be posting for a while...). // I haven't gone on break from blog designing yet. I think I'm afraid to give myself more free time. // My writing class is swiftly approaching and due to my broken laptop, I may have to borrow one of my older sister's many devices (thank you, God, for blessing me with a generous older sibling). // I created a small writing inspiration board, for my room. It has quotes and encouraging words scribbled onto bright pink index cards and I must s

Because it steals all my time. It helps me get lost in a (better) world. I enjoy the feeling of my own words and scenarios consuming me. It's invigorating to watch something I've created go from from three words, to three thousand words, and even to thirty thousand words. It allows me to vent and express what I'm feeling. In a way, it helps me reach out and communicate with others. Writing lets me build (or demolish) characters, places, things, and happenings. So I can feel what it's like to be someone else (and if i don't like it, I just go back to being myself). To expand my vocabulary and introduce new words into my life. I write to get better. Sometimes it guides me into a part of myself I didn't know existed. It opens my eyes to new things. After the words travel from my brain and out through my fingers to be expressed on a not so blank page in a Microsoft Word document, I can sit back, and stare at the crude creation that glows before my eyes

via Pinterest + + + Do you ever look at someone else's blog/words/ect. and it gives you this feeling--this thought ; I want to create something like that. I want to be like that. I look around and I feel so overshadowed by all these talented people. Why can't I be like them? Why can't I have that talent? Or that grace? Why can't I be awesome ? Why can't I just...not be me? As I'm looking around, I try to grab onto these qualities and break off a piece for myself, so I can be like that. So I can bring part of somebody else, into myself. It doesn't usually work, though. The piece is either too small, or crumbles and falls between my fingers, like dry, flowing sand. I get so hopeless sometimes. I fall into this mental game of; "No Rose, you can't be like that. You get to stay your suck-ish self and watch everyone be better than you." "But I don't want to be like this. I can be someone else. I don't have to be me

[ via ] Tears stain my cheeks like clear, salted paint. I want to wipe them away, but I end up smearing the sadness across my face. My eyes are rimmed red, and my cheeks stained with a cruse mixture of blue, yellow, purple and green hues. I have a certain hatred for crying, because anyone who sees can easily evaluate what I'm feeling. I don't want the sympathy most tend to offer, yet I accept it. Because what is there to do? I can sit here and cry. I can feel sorry for myself. Or I can embrace these new found hurtles with an uplifting determination. I could win . But why ? Why uplift when it's sure to be my downfall? In fact, sitting here and crying sounds fabulous. I'll become a modern Mona Lisa with my emotional face paintings. People won't wonder where my eyebrows went, though. They'll question my overly colorful cheeks and sad eyes. Yes. It's the Mona Lisa life for me. + + + Well... That turned out different than I expected. It's sa

via There's a soul out there, stumbling with the rest. She wants to feel beautiful but her conscience won't allow it. She's too busy telling herself, She'll never be like the wanderers that surround her brokenness. When jokes are told with tipped heads, She wants to laugh along but her happiness muscles are torn. She frowns instead, to feel the pain she wants to bury. This soul is confused. Alone and hopeless. Wordless and broken. Help this soul. Help her. Please.

Wow... Where do I even begin? Well, I guess I should start with some thank you's. Thank you, Mackenzie or recommending Pandora to me. And thank you Pandora for giving me this musical gift. I was once restricted to Selena Gomez, and One Direction (which is not bad in any way. it's just...confining), but now I have the power to indulge and discover musical pieces by Shakira, Lady Gaga, Neon Trees, Katy Perry, Kesha, Lana Del Rey, Flo Rida and many, MANY more. I hadn't realized how much I depend on music up until now. I listen to it while I work on blog designs, sometimes while I'm doing school, and when I go outside to swing with my sister. [both photos via] Music has captivated me. And in a sense, it's healed me, enveloping my swollen mind and taking me away from the terrifying world--just as long as I keep my ear buds in. What does music do for you? Thank you for reading. <3

I love reading. The transportation to another world and time is such a blessing. Don't you agree?