I have to keep it together.

Have you ever felt an overwhelming sadness from just a little thing? Maybe it was the potential of losing something good, or the fact that you lost someone so close to you that you would never have expected it.

Either way it feels like there are heavy rocks and stones being shoved into your chest until you break.

Until you let it get to you.

Until the walls break letting every single emotion you have inside burst forward.

With every single once of strength i have i must keep it all together.
The stress of it all is truly wearing me down, to the point where even sleep is a chore.


I have to keep it together.

among the factions, i find myself.

There is a book stashed in my purse.


Buried beneath a bottle of sweet smelling body spray.

Tangled inside my headphones. 

Its not a small book. 

Its not too big either. 

But it is my favorite.

The one that has made me discover pieces of myself I never even realized were there. 

It has made me realize that I am...

Divergent. 

"I choose to turn away from my reflection, to rely not on myself but on my brothers and sisters, to project always outward until I disappear" 

I am abnegation. I am selfless. I care more about those around me to care about myself. I will never lie. 


"Give freely, trusting that you will be given what you need... Do not be angry. The opinions of others cannot damage you... The wrong is past. You must let it rest where it lies... You must no longer think cruel thoughts. Cruel thoughts lead to cruel words, and hurt you as much as they hurt their target."

I am amity. I no longer care what others try to say to hurt me. I will never think cruelly towards others. 


I am in my own way part of this amazing story. I felt the pain of the characters and fell in love with the personalities in the story. it is by far my favorite series of books. Just reading Veronica Roth's words just bring me so much joy. I identify with the characters. 


If you haven't read the Divergent series yet I STRONGLY suggest you do. It is amazingly written and the story will have you wanting more and more with every turn of a page. 


READ IT!!!


(all quotes by Veronica Roth, parts of each faction's manifesto) 


Toodles xoxo 
Jess


P.S part 2 of the zombie idea is coming very soon. :) 

Anxiety.

What do you think an anxiety attack feels like? No one really knows until they experience it first hand.

It feels like there are tiny tigers scratching my eyes, bringing me to tears with their sharp, dense claws. They refuse to stop until i give in.

I wont give in.

Not yet.

There are a ton of bricks placed on my chest, building themselves up until the walls are so high that there is no way i can climb them let alone knock them down.

I can.

I'll Try.


My head is swirling with thoughts of self doubt and self hate. Everything that has ever happened is my fault. I was bullied, had to be my fault. I lost so many people I love, my fault. I cant do anything right, my fault. I'll never amount to anything, my fault.


Not this time.

Its not me.

Its not my fault.

Breathe.


The tiny voice in my head that always says no is getting to me. I'm ignoring it. I am moving on with my life.

I am terrified.

Don't like new.

Don't like change.

I'll get over it.

Its about time I start living for me, ignoring the doubts and the insurmountable fears. Its time i start to feel the way I want to.

No more shyness.

No more.

Its time to think about me for a change.




Jess xoxo

Flesh (A zombie idea)

The summer heat was excruciating. It made most of us cringe with dread but we had to leave this dank basement. The smell of the creatures was stomach churning. The heat made it much worse. The flesh fell off the creatures in sheets, the smell of the rotting flesh and the mass amounts of blood spilled in the streets made it almost impossible to leave the basement without a respirator. It was my turn for the supply run. I drew the 

short straw and now I must risk my life just to have a chance of survival. 

I crawled through the small window into the gated backyard where we insured it was free of the monsters. They craved nay needed human flesh. It was the way they survived. The only way to destroy them and insure that the would stay down was a hit to the head. be it a bullet, which was very rare to find, or a knife. I tiptoed through the yard walking on eggshells. I hated this job. 

There was a wholesale store down the road that had some supplies left. I had a small backpack, big enough to hold only the essentials and maybe a luxury item for myself... deodorant. In these times I cherished what little piece of heaven I could get. The smell of the streets and the creatures made it hard to smell anything good. If I could find just one small stick I'd be happy. 

The road was filled with rotting corpses in various states of decay. A group of rotting bodies lay next to a van. The inside of the window was covered in a deep red, blood. The creatures were ruthless, they would tear you limb for limb before you could even scream. there were a multitude of body parts strewn around, an arm here, a partial leg with the veins protruding through the bend of the knee. It was an all out war.

The road was quiet, odd for this time of day. The  store was just around the next bend. I could almost taste the fresh water from the over stocked room. The last time I was here it was an all out mad house of survivors, most of us grouped together and lived in the small basement where we would never be heard. It was cramped, but at least we were safe.

The parking lot was clear. I took off running, trying to get to a safe haven to clear my head. I was here now. I was safe... maybe.

theres nothing like a zombie story to make my brain seem ever weirder then it already is. i have a partial obsession with them. its to the extent where i have a zombie calendar in my room and a walking dead blanket.

if you guys like this storyline and want more let me know. it was just an idea that popped in my head and i may just continue it. 

toodles xo 

Jess

I'm Living

                                                                            I stole a book.

Not from a store. 

Not from anywhere.

You could say it already was mine.

You can say it wasn't.

But I stole it. 

He won't notice I thought. 

He never did.

In fact i think i told him. 

Well i guess he knows. 

When i was younger, just blossoming into a avid reader, I stole one of my dad's books. It was the 1988 paperback copy of The Eyes of the Dragon by Stephen King. The front cover was dark and eerie, the pages folded over on some corners, stained from who knows how long being in our basement.

 It was a creepy basement. The small window on either side looked out just high enough to see the frozen ground in the winter. We used to have a giant toy box in the one section, later filled my my brothers room. It spanned two full walls and was made out of scrap wood that my dad had. I used to take his books and pretend to make up stories to tell my brother or the three other kids my mom used to watch. I could read some at this point. I read to them, making up stories as if i was a teacher reading from a textbook. I remember taking that book down and flipping to a random page, picking words that i knew. Then i seen one i should not have... a dirty word....a swear word.  I threw the book down and ran away crying, blaming my tears on the innocent cat. Poor Jasper. 

Years later, I picked it up.

 I stole it. 

I needed to. 

The book that i swore i never touched.

The one that fueled my .. imaginative language sometimes. 

The Eyes of the Dragon. 

I read that book until the pages were fragile and worn. Its a reminder of my dad. We were a lot alike. Same taste in weird, messed up books, creepy pictures and so much more. My dad used to write letters and poems. I got my love of the written word from him. He, to this day is my inspiration, hes the reason I strive to write more and much better, why I live to write. When I write anything I always try to write anything to make my dad proud.

To be honest, writing this blurb, getting it all out of my system I think he'd be proud. He would be proud that no matter what life is handing to me, all the stress and issues, all of the people who try to bring me down, all of the bullies that always told me I couldn't, here I am. I  am doing exactly what they said I  couldn't. 

I'm living. 

Toodles xo

Jess

Memory lane

Don't ever let anyone say that your words aren't worth anything. Sure they say that a picture is worth a thousand words but why take a single, tiny piece in time and capture it. Live it instead. Write it. A thousand words could be several pictures.. several memories.. several points in time. I would much rather see LOTS of pictures described with eloquent words then one single picture.

Sure i sound really messed up but its true. pictures are one of my favorite things dont get me wrong but why not live in the moment. sure it will fade over time as a memory but words are forever.

to me words can transport me everywhere. from space and time, to a future where sure everything looks bleak but you know in the end it'll be fine. Or it will even bring me to a time that i miss, with people i miss more and more.


All of this came out of one simple, meaningless, thing.... my moms recipe box.... my gramma(s) were both amazing cooks, my gramma on my moms side would make the most amazing rice pudding.. and brown sugar toast soldier although i am biased. everything would always taste better when she made it. i found a few of her recipes and as simple as it is i seen her hand writing on her Christmas pudding recipe and i was brought back. i could smell her toast, and her typical morning tea. i could see her smacking my papas foot with her cane to wake him up because he was snoring too loud, disrupting her soaps, and i could see her looking out the giant picture window watching the birds.. or the neighbors as she typically would....  its been about 5 years now and i can still see all of that..

i seen my dads corn bread recipe.. and if you knew my dad, he would swear up and down that it was just a recipe he came up with off the top of his head then when he was looking away you would see the recipe printed off of his computer.. it still tasted good. i remember one time when we had a B.B.Q over the summer and he got a marinade from the GT down the road. one of his friends asked what it was and he smiled and told them that it was just some recipe he found at the "Clubhouse" (a.k.a a spice company). he wrote the recipe for corn bread on the back of an envelope. see his writing i could hear his laugh, or his snore if when i turned on something i knew he wouldn't like *cough* say yes to the dress *cough*  its been almost 2 years now and i will always cherish those memories.

so words really can be worth way more then a single picture, it can bring to you good memories, to bad memories, to places you have left behind, to friends come and gone, and most importantly to love... love will always be what it is all about.



Toodles xo
Jess

writers block.. no not that....

I have so many words and my heads and they are all swirling around like a snow storm, a.k.a the almost everyday occurrence here. I just can't seem to get them on to a page. I see little tiny scraps of a story and ideas scattered all over my purse. All of them written on some leftover paper from old signs from work. 

"She seen him lingering in the dark of the abandoned room, staring through her like laser boring holes into her skull. BUY ONE GET ONE FREE!!"

i don't like calling it writers block, i feel like a lego. so i think ill call it writer's indecision... no... writers stupidity... nah... how about this hopeful writers is currently unavailable at the moment, please hang up and try again later BEEEEEPPPPPPPPP. 
Much better :) 

i've been trying for days. i write some ideas down and then 20 seconds later i scrap it... i need to channel my inner John Green or Abbi Glines or Molly Mcadam... their words always seem so elegant, well thought out... when i put mine down its basically word vomit.. alphabet soup vomit... BLAHHH hhfiwhfewtyjbhvieytgthkgyiseyoslfj... what to do...

writing is my one passion.. my relief.. God knows what i'd do without it. My anxiety would probably get to me. 

write right rite. i have to stop.. get back to work.. i guess i should... maybe look for quotes to inspire..

oh well, toodles!!!

PS I am currently reading Esther Earl's This Star Won't Go Out and she is inspiring. shes so quirky :) R.I.A Esther <3