#personala

Forced. Watched. Scolded to want flawlessness.

My best has never been good enough for them because they saw and they said I wasn’t trying at all. At least I find pride in the effort I kept giving to never fall below any standard. So proud that I kept trying for myself only.

I grew up too curious. Too open. Too soft. No idea who I learned it from. So glad I became myself, all mine to be.

Obedience unlocks the success. Shiny possessions. greedy hands. Everyone is jealous of the movie stars. Always unimpressed with what they already have, not realizing their luck. Always dreaming of elsewhere like little dreaming assholes.

Where exactly do I want to be in 5 years? Is that really your business to inquire? I don’t need any fucking keys to success Because I know how to pick a lock and have the best life you wouldn’t know about from the shelter you slave to keep over your judgmental and ignorant head. I’d pick a million locked doors to get away from here and all the fucking expectations you all have for me to conform, expecting me to find normalcy 

All I feel is crushing pressures making my lungs collapse and pushing my already achy bones to fit inside this impossible mold I keep falling right out of.

Fitting in is my most famously failed subject..  Maybe being a millionaire would be intoxicating at first, But it would rot me to the core. I’d end up vomitiing black tar. Covering the white interior of my sparkling Ferrari, the smell would be permanent like my disgust of having every material thing I liked, and still not feeling the winds of the internal eternal hurricane in myself die down a tenth of a mile per hour speed. Why exactly should I want what everyone wants?

I’d rather live by my rules than spend my life trying to be a lawyer and memorizing constantly changing decisions that depict other human beings freedoms.

I’d rather gather my adventures in a bunch of books than spend all my life in a classroom being told what to think and show off as a display of intelligence instead of their reality of mistaking parrots mocking ways for a decent education system.

The world is allowed to be my classroom because I think best without any orders to obey. Money is nothing but a luxury that can’t even be enjoyed without  Love, care, health, happiness,

Will you know precisely how intelligent I am by how I obey your stupid rules and whether or not I’ve memorized all the characteristics of epithelial tissue ? Because no one can tell me who I am Or where I’m gonna go in life , Not even a psychic or my closest friend. Because I myself can’t even predict it with a slice of confidence. Why should I worry?

What I reflect on most is how I’ve improved someone’s day today. How I’ve strengthened my relationships - or didn’t So I can improve things for tomorrow I think about choosing compassion over ignorance.

Karma takes care of the rest. Just because I’m not the least bit eager to spend $100,000 I don’t have on a stress-filled education that may or may not benefit me in the end, I shouldn’t have to be any less valued as an individual. College has been shoved down my throat since day one. The idea of skipping it isn’t tragic to me. It’s not a goddamn crime.

I know that no matter what path choose, it will be fucking perfect.

Anyone elses input isn’t important. And I can change my mind anytime I want. That’s the everlasting beauty of life If you don’t like something, you go and change it. Or you change yourself. It’s simpler than we make it out to be. We too easily forget that everything will be just fine again. My entire life I’ve heard nothing in life is promised except death..

Te-ai oprit vreodată să observi tot ce este în jurul tău? Să meditezi asupra momentului 0, asupra lucrurilor care se întâmplă în prezent?

Dar natura? cum arată? ce te atrage cel mai mult la ea?

Meditând ne vom da seama cât de deconectați suntem, sute de gânduri trec pe lângă noi și nu știm cum să le controlăm. Știai că omul are peste 55.000 de gânduri pe zi? Citind textul tu tocmai îl gândești fără să îți dai seama. Cum ai grijă să îți ții în frâu gândurile negative care provoacă orgoliile?

Subconștientul tău atacă ca un leu când apar situații dificile, el este monstrul din interiorul tău, iar tot ceea ce poți face ca să îl oprești, e să îl observi, iar apoi să te împrietenești cu el. Imaginează-ți că meditația este singura cale a comunicării cu sinele, oricum chiar este singura cale, dar niciodată să nu subestimezi puterea imaginației.

Ia o pauză de la social media și observă-ți casa naturală, nu trebuie să fie totul brusc, există etape zilnice de care trebuie să răspunzi, chiar dacă este puțin stres la început din cauza rutinei toxice pe care o aveai înainte. Stresul îl poți elimina prin sport combinat cu meditație.

Teachers are assholes

I just.

Damn. It's been a shitty day. It's rained all day and I have to go outdoors between classes. I was exhausted because I was recovering from a meltdown that happened a week ago at home. Fucking. 2nd. Science class. That bastard son of a bitch. First he calls me up to the podium n shows me my test all like "Maven what does this say" & of course I'm like "w-wel-well sir th-that-thats my-mine-my name is what you have there sir," (I stutter dont fucking judge me). Of course my deadname is a fucking noun and the only L-starting name in the fucking class and I've been signing it the same since the beginning of the class so he was being a bitch on purpose and we both knew it. "Well, really? I couldn't make it out- my six year old son can write better than this you know." This was loud enough for the class to hear. The sonuvabitch I stalked in first grade snickered. Don't ask. Everyone was staring at me as if we haven't been unwilling partners for years like shit I've helped you all cheat at least once. I hate you all but at least pretend you don't think I'm a total scatterbrain. Mentally I'm contemplating a million sharks because every teacher since the thirds grade has mentioned my handwriting and their 5-6 year old kid. Fucker. But in reality I've nonverbalized and my vision is literally the void of yawning death that cannibalizes my eyes for enjoyment. I can't see anything and when I get back to my seat I'm just. Starting blankly waiting to be able to see again. I'm not being dramatic I literally can't see when I'm stressed.

Apparently this warrants a "hurry up, Maven, what's the hold up, huh?"

So because I don't want to be roasted alive by whatever the Fuck my anxiety is flipping it's rockers at I start digging through my bag (I can barely see now but it's slowly receding) for my notes to do I can't even remember probably study. But of course that's not adequate. My friend my pal that I promtly deem cal for ease of typing is under the knife aswell. Luckily he has a better Fuck you facade than mine because this is when I realize im crying. Something about his grades being terrible which is actually illegal to say in front of the class, and I can tell he's about to slap a bitch. So I rest my hand on his elbow and give him a lil pat bc violence will get you in juvie and apparently now that I've shown interest in his okayness it's all it's my fault again. "And I'd think someone who's failing vocabulary as bad as you would be more keen on actually studying, /Maven/." I'm crying, cal is concerned, I'm having a panic attack, I'm getting sent out into the hall, and I just.