the art of dead poets

 11/28/24 - i step in line (again)

I realized, I don't need to pressure myself to write when I don't feel like it. Write because of the enjoyment of it, not because I have to fill a page with words, because I have to produce something for people to see.

It's all for me myself and I and that's all it should be.

As i was driving home today, i felt like i was nine years old again, just coming down to north carolina for the first time. Songs by frou frou remind me of songs my mom used to play on the car radio while driving around. Only now, it's not her driving this car, it's me.

And it's my life I'm leading, and it's God who brought me here.

Thank you God for new experiences, for weird feelings, and for a shower I can shower in when I get home. Thank you for connections with people, even though i'm not the best at keeping them. Thank you for giving me a million chances to start over, thank you for the millions of amandas that different people know me as. The loud one, the shy one, the crazy one, the composed one, the inappropriate one, the sentimental one, the unloyal one. And the many more to come.

20:22

It's amazing to think about where I spent my thanksgiving last year. with laughing, happy, welcoming people. one girl i talked to that had the same name as me, and we went off on a tangent in our own corner of the room. a house full of non-americans. 

the average american family is great, but not as beautiful as ethnic ones that kiss you on the cheek, take care of you as one of their own. 

and i get it, it may be weird to have a random girl over. but it never felt weird before. 

last year, with all those japanese exchange students i went to KFC with on Christmas Eve, it never felt weird. i complimented one on his corduroy pants. i think he liked that.

right now there's a bunch of music blasting in my neighborhood, but i think the people here always do that. i'm starting to get used to it now, and the gunshots. at least they're having a good time. (I hope they're not hurting anybody). 

i found my love for driving in the rain, through the fluffy low trees of fall, with orange leaves blowing and green moss hugging the roads so close to you that you feel you're driving through hobbit-land (I know that sounds stupid, it's the closest thing i can think of). I live for solitude, however.

i really was built for my own way, my own forge through the world, through the woods.

i was built for survival since day one, since that day in the bathroom i cried alone in Africa and thought i was going to throw my lungs up.

i was built for the long journey.

Like Hagar, kicked out of her abode to wander through the desert alone.

Jesus had nowhere to lay his head, nowhere to lay his head.

He was a nomad, and so shall I be.

The leaves fall again, and once again, i step in line.

But God, oh God, I'm getting closer.

11/29/24

I feel sick to my stomach.

I don't remember what kissing is supposed to feel like. Now what do I do?

Search for that kiss from traveling I guess. search for that kiss from life.

This is what you'll get, this is what you'll get.

warm feeling rising in my stomach, chicken, greens, and pumpkin pie.

What am i supposed to do?
hang on to God tighter. 

i wrote him prose, and i didn't get it from some french person.

it came from me.

i didn't get it from radiohead. it came from me.

12/2/24

Every day or so (at least i'm going to try) from now on i'm going to write the thing i'm most grateful about that i can think of. that correlates to that day at least.

because, according to my church pastor, the hippocampus can't store anxiety and gratitude at the same time. i feel like i should've known that since my whole career is about studying the human brain. 

Grateful thing of the day: eating Trader Joe's chicken nuggets while watching Bob's burgers. 

One, because i'm blessed enough to eat chicken nuggets now without freaking out and going to the hospital. Two, because Trader Joe's was my whole childhood. I used to collect the little stickers they used to give out when I was five years old. I wish they still gave out those things. I should ask next time I go in. Maybe they think i'm too old. Three, because I love cartoons and I can never ever deny it. Cartoons won't make me spiral or have flashbacks and won't have anything too dramatic. They're fun, lighthearted, and don't remind you about the bad things in life. And they're so corny that it actually does make me laugh from how stupid they are.

I feel like during this period of disappearance from the world I can finally ground myself. Become who I'm meant to be. I'm so tired I can't even begin to reply to people or text. I can barely look at myself in the mirror or get out of bed to go to work on time. I'm too scared to take my medicine. I'm too tired to do anything. When i get in the shower, news flash, i just stand there. i think i really need to reset, and gain strength, or whatever. my leg almost gave out at work today. but i will stop complaining now. 

12/4/24 - i have all that i need

I'm going to do it. I'm going to do it.

Heal, grow, bloom, I can feel it, it's happening.

my beautiful beautiful life.

i'm not going to take my stupid meds, i'm not going to take my mood stabilizers.

God is better than medicine.

and the doctors have revealed that i'm fine.

if my mind is the problem, then God is the solution.

waiting by the door, i wonder. is this the epitome?

when do i grow?
cutting everybody off, going back under the water.

changing, receding back into the cocoon. 

fetal position, wrapped back into the warm petals of my own skin.

bubbles sinking, deeper.

down into the ocean i go.

12/7/24

i love, and i pull

i grieve, and i take

i watch the earth

fall away from me

i smile,

sink into its teeth

watch it grow

one time, in one glass-

trapped memory, 

forever ago-

it was the girl,

it was the sky,

and it was, ultimately,

the little prince.

something that started so beautiful,

how could it turn so ugly?

it pulsates, it grows.

12/9/2024 - a plea

i want to breathe with the trees

God is literally in the trees. He moves them.

I smell weed. i see little crystals of leaves.

20:34

I came to a realization tonight, an important one.

I went outside, for the first time in forever.

i climbed on top of my suv and laid there, stared up at the pale gray sky. 

my lungs opened, my chest upturned towards the sky.

the cold december air hit it, stole all my breath away.

i breathed, playing tug-of-war with the wind, feeling my lungs getting tighter.

i listened to the song i haven't listened to since oregon, and i looked up at the trees. the way the trees move, the same way, everywhere.

i listened to the song, spread out on the windshield of my car, and finally i cried. 

i cried so hard, tears running down into my headphones, in my stupid parking lot driveway.

turning my head up to the clouds, moving towards, beyond me.

my psychiatrist can never have me. i canceled my next appointment.

God gave me these emotions for a reason. 

these high highs, and these low lows.

how am i expected to create beautiful poetry, beautiful words, beautiful art, if i tone it all down with drugs because it's "not healthy"?
i refuse. i refuse, i refuse. if it hurts me, if it kills me, i want to feel.

screw the system, trying to turn everybody into mindless empty bodies.

everybody is a body for a reason. created exactly how they were supposed to.

i want to be full of love, and life, and hurt, and feelings.

i want to be full of hatred and anger and hurt and heart-wrenching sadness, so deep it feels like my heart is choking me. i want to share with the world, i want to give, and not take away.

God gave it to me, so i will not lose it.

i will let my emotions stay.

i want to experience God's happiness and love and healthy joy so completely that i cry from the laughter. i want to yearn for it.

don't take away the spontaneous spirit from my heart, don't take away the longing, the heart pull to whatever is across the ocean. 

if i cannot write, i cannot breathe.

and so, i threw my pills outside.

late, lovely night, come and take me.

how the trees blew across the ocean, how my heart and spirit pulls. 

there is something there, and i can't describe it.

we are so so unaware of what is really happening, what our bodies are connected to.

we are so unaware of the lungs hidden inside the trees.

12/11/24

The rain washed away the pills this morning. I think it's a sign.