Yelchin.

We’ve lost a number of artists this year, and while each death has been sad and tragic in it’s own way, none of them have knocked me off balance quite like the death of Anton Yelchin. Typing that just now made my throat constrict and my eyes burn. And yeah, some people think it’s silly to mourn the death of a “celebrity” or an “artist” because we don’t know them personally. I beg to differ. Artists create art that impacts us in different ways. As an actor, Anton used every part of himself to create art. His body, his mind, his face, his voice… every part of him was art. You can’t enjoy his art without enjoying him. You can’t be impacted by his art without being impacted by him. And honestly, a big fuck you to anyone who tries to dictate how people grieve.

I was watching TV with my mom yesterday and the trailer for Anton’s new movie with Zooey Deschanel was on. I made a comment like “aww, lil Anton” and made a mental note to see the film because I enjoy everything he does, and my mom made a connection to his movie “Rudderless,” which she saw and loved. And we moved on. And then I woke up this morning to a text from a friend breaking the news and I feel kind of like I’ve been in a haze all day and I can’t really explain why. I wasn’t obsessed with him. I didn’t have his pictures plastered all over my wall. I didn’t have delusional dreams of marrying him. But he was an actor I respected and admired and I’ve always appreciated that he somehow always manages to make me cry when I’m watching him on screen.

There’s something so magnetic about him – so genuine and vulnerable and kind and it’s like, no matter what role he’s playing, his soul shines through it and you’re just drawn to him. He’s exactly one year older than me, and I think seeing someone your age creating things and being successful always inspires this sort of feeling of kinship. He seemed like someone I would have been friends with, and I always rooted for him. I always got excited when he had a new film coming out. And my heart physically hurts knowing that he won’t be making films as we get older. It fucking sucks.

The nature of his death is something that is so baffling to me I can’t even put it into words. A total freak accident. I read he was checking his mail? He was checking his fucking mail?!? And his car was faulty and he fucking died? Just like that?!? I’m so angry that something so….. stupid can happen, and then someone is just gone. I can’t wrap my head around it at all. It doesn’t make any sense. He wasn’t murdered, he wasn’t on drugs, he wasn’t doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. He was checking his fucking mail and now he’s dead. And that makes me question everything.

I don’t really know what else to say other than I’m sending all the love in my heart to his family and friends. Thank you for sharing yourself with us, Anton. Your work has brought so much to my life, I feel blessed in a way. You may not have known me, but you moved me, and I think that’s all we can hope for in life. To move people. To make people feel things. And you were so, so, so good at that.

RIP.

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A Letter To My Former Self

Dear Shonna,

How are you holding up? I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I know the days seem monotonous, like you’re living the exact same day over and over again. It may seem boring, but one day you’re going to miss the monotony – trust me. You’re going to miss having a routine and you’re going to miss the lack of pressure and responsibility. I know high school seems stressful, and it is, but it’s also the easiest your life will ever be. You probably can’t wait to get out of there and start your “real life,” but this is your real life. Believe it or not, the people you know now will be with you for a very, very long time. The memories you’re making right now will be talked about at parties, you’ll reminisce about “the good old days,” you’ll talk about how much you wish you could go back. Embrace your life right now. Enjoy it. Soak it up.

I know you feel lonely and sort of stuck. I know you’re watching all of your friends enter into relationships and you don’t understand why it hasn’t happened to you yet, and you’ve spent hours and hours analyzing every detail of yourself and wondering what’s wrong with you. I know you crave love and acceptance and it just doesn’t seem like it’s in the cards for you, but I’m telling you right now that your life is going to be filled with so much love. You’re going to make deep and honest and unbreakable connections with some of the people that are surrounding you right this very second. You’re going to share moments and make memories that will remind you what life is all about. You’ll wonder how you ever got so lucky. Stop being so hard on yourself. You are lovable, and you will see proof of that soon enough.

I heard about that boy you saw in the hallway, the one that made you stop in your tracks and wonder what planet he came from. He’ll become a big part of your life. You’ll fall in love with him and it will be one of the purest things you’ve ever felt – an honest, selfless, and all-consuming kind of love. And you will have your heart broken, but you’ll be okay. You’ve got to learn right now what you’re worth and what you deserve, and what this boy puts you through will make you question those things. But you’ve gotta fight and you’ve gotta focus on all of the love and positivity around you and you’ll realize that even though what you feel is real, he doesn’t deserve you. You’re going to hurt for a really long time, but don’t be afraid. This boy is going to teach you so much about yourself and you’ll be a better person when it’s all over.

Your parents are pretty intense, huh? So many rules, so many things you aren’t allowed to do, and I know it feels like you’re suffocating and you’re never going to escape. But they’ll ease up after a while and you’re going to go on so many adventures. You’ll travel and you’ll see different cities just like you’ve always wanted to do. Just hold tight, your time is coming.

One thing I can’t stress enough – keep working on your art! Keep playing guitar and singing – soon enough you’ll be writing songs and people will love them. Don’t question yourself, just put everything you are into what you create. Good things will come from it, I promise. You’ll find a confidence and a meaning inside yourself that you never knew was possible.

One final piece of advice: don’t wish your life away. Be present in every single moment, no matter how boring, painful, or pointless it may seem. Find beauty wherever you are. Enjoy your youth, celebrate it, exist in it, and don’t take a single second for granted. You’re going to experience loss in the worst way possible and you’ll learn how fragile you really are and how short life really is, but you can’t let that scare you out of living.

You’re only a teenager for a second. Make it count.

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Stripping down.

Bye bye eyebrows. Hello blonde undercut. Yay for 4 AM decisions.

For a long time, I’ve put so much stock into how other people perceive me. This isn’t to say it’s hindered me as far as how I dress or how I look, but it’s always been a quiet concern in the back of my mind. I’ve become so closed off, so much more content in the background, just a piece of furniture in the lives of those I love. I’ve always felt I wasn’t smart enough, I wasn’t funny enough, I wasn’t interesting enough, I wasn’t enough of anything really and I didn’t have anything of substance to offer anyone, so I just stayed quiet. I would disappear from time to time. I would lock myself up and see who would come knocking. It wasn’t often that anyone did.

Lately, though, I’ve been feeling better in my skin. I’ve been realizing how much I have to offer. I’ve been realizing how much love I have to give, how many thoughts and ideas I have to share, how many people there are to meet and how I’ve been putting my life on hold for a very unrealistic and unlikely future.

I was giving a friend some advice today about how you can’t dwell on things that didn’t turn out in your favor. Life is about moving forward passed all the bullshit and accepting things as they are no matter how hard it is. Things change and sometimes bad things happen and it’s just part of life. We have so much time to get things right, and it’s up to us what we do with that time. We can either punish ourselves and wish things had been different, or we can make them different. We can strive for a better tomorrow. We can learn from the mistakes we’ve made and be sure not to make them again. We may be haunted by our pasts, but we can’t let the things we’ve done or the things we didn’t do take control of us. We must stand up to our demons and learn to accept them for what they are. We must learn to let go.

It was during this conversation that I realized I was talking to myself as much as I was talking to my friend. It’s always been so easy for me to dispense advice and so hard for me to follow it. I think I’m on the right track, now. At least for the moment.

This is a vow I’m making to myself to never let what other people think control what I do or what I say or what I believe in or who I am. This is a vow to take chances, to give love and allow myself to receive love. This is a vow to stop waiting, to stop investing all of my energy into things and people that don’t give me the time of day. This is a vow to make time for myself, and take time to love myself. This is a vow to start chasing after what I want and stop hoping they’ll just fall into my lap one day. This is a vow to start new and to be the person I’ve been too afraid to be for so long.

I am at peace.

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twenty-two.

In the mourning light
I see your eyes
The eyes I’ve seen a thousand times
But they’re different, now
They’re indifferent, now
And I don’t know why or how
But I let my head listen to my heart
When it said, “This time, you follow.”
Now all I hear in my head, so clear
Is an echoing, “I told you so.”

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twenty-one.

I’ve tricked myself into thinking you’re not real, into believing that I just made you up in my head. I think I must have because the you that I knew would never have done what you did. Jim Morrison said, “People are strange.” I think people are just assholes.

The other day an older man I sort of work with asked me if I ever get upset or angry. He said that if I did he would never believe it, and that if anyone ever needed cheering up that they just had to walk on over and visit me. It made me feel so good but at the same time I felt guilty. I’m not the person he thinks I am. I guess it’s true that we are only how we are perceived by others. That’s good. I’d hate to be who I really am.

I have so many things to be grateful for, so many people to cherish and so many plans to make and so much love to share, yet my mind always drifts back to you and suddenly all the good stuff just doesn’t matter anymore. It’s all you. I wish I could fix it. I wish I could fix myself and not care but I do and I always will whether you let me or not.

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nineteen.

When I was 15 I had a crush on this guy that was way older than me. Well, he was a senior. It’s probably common knowledge, but when you’re a freshman and a senior guy even acknowledges your existence, it’s a big deal. He was funny and kind and cool and everyone seemed to like him. He looked at me different. He looked at me in a way that no had ever looked at me before. It was weird and I liked it.

He used to wear those fitted sweaters with the zipper that goes from the collar down to about the middle of the chest (my kryptonite). One night I mustered up the courage to call him. I made him guess who I was and then we talked about gnomes. I have a fluttery feeling in my chest right now just thinking about that period of time. Swoon with a capital WOO.

I can’t recall exactly what happened between us, but I have this vague recollection of someone calling us out on our “chemistry” and him making a comment about how I was “too young” for him. I think that was the first time I ever felt real heartache, but I can’t fault him for being a good guy. Looking back, I was only 15, and he liked me enough not to take advantage of me (which admittedly, he could have – easily). Anyway, he graduated and joined the military and I never heard from him again.

The point to all of this is that there’s this memory I’ve been carrying around with me for years involving him:

I was walking down an empty hall at school – the bell had just rung and I was late for class (which never happened). I had to be on the other side of campus so I decided to cut through this courtyard that connected the history wing and the science wing with a single sidewalk. Just as I pushed through the doors and stepped outside, I saw him coming through the door on the opposite end. My insides went hollow. I mean, of all the days for me to be late to class and of all the people that could have walked through that door, it was him. It felt fated. I walked through the chilly early morning air towards him and he smiled. We were the only two people outside. When we met in the middle, he pulled me straight into his arms. No hesitance. Just wrapped me up and held me there. I was on my tiptoes and had my arms hung around his shoulders and I remember thinking how easily we fit together. He mumbled something about me being late for class and I said “Oh well.” He laughed, let me go, and said he’d see me later. I walked away feeling like I’d been struck by lightning.

It was a good hug – the kind of hug you find yourself thinking about eight years after it happened.

It got me thinking about how important moments are; tiny pieces of time that seem so insignificant but can potentially haunt us for the rest of our lives, drawing us back to another time, another place, another life. You never know which ones are going to stand out, which ones are going to engrave themselves in your memory and follow you around.

I’m only realizing now, eight years later, that I may have loved that boy in some way. He may have been the first boy I ever loved, and I’m so thankful that I’m able to tie such a good memory to the moment I felt love for the first time.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think life is about moments, both good and bad. You never know which ones are going to stick with you, but if you try and create more positive ones than negative ones, looking back on your life will be exponentially more enjoyable.

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11 months.

You know that scene in The Nightmare Before Christmas where Sally jumps out of her window and hits the ground so hard that her limbs fall off and she just kind of lays there in a shattered heap for a few minutes before she collects herself, pulls out a needle and thread and stitches herself back up again? I feel like that’s where I am right now. Last year I was just a torn up mess laying helplessly and hopelessly on the ground, waiting for someone to find me or for the wind to  just blow me away. Now I’m getting myself together. I’m pulling my strings nice and tight and double knotting them. I’ll be back on my feet in no time – albeit a little wobbly at first.

I just realized that the first month of 2013 is already over and I never even made a proper post about my hopes and dreams and all that other bullshit. It’s okay, though. The way I see it, January is just a hangover month – a time in which we rid ourselves of the weight of the prior year, forgive ourselves for our failures, figure out why we made the decisions we did and (hopefully) learn from them, pop an Advil, throw on some shades, and embark on the next 11 months. I hear water helps.

I don’t really have any specific goals outside of just living my life. Going on adventures. Seeing my friends. Drawing pictures and writing songs. Doing more of what makes me happy and getting the hell out of Kansas. I also want to learn how to long board but that’s neither here nor there.

I feel really good about this year. I have lots of plans and lots of travelling and lots of people to see and I don’t know. I feel good. And feeling good feels good.

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eighteen.

It’s so easy for me to manipulate my feelings with words. I can talk myself into anything and it usually doesn’t take much convincing. I used to think that if I wrote something sad, it was because I was feeling sad, but it never occurred to me that maybe I was feeling sad as a result of writing something sad – as a result of dwelling. I used to think writing was a way of ridding myself of sadness, of getting it somewhere outside of myself, but it honestly usually just makes things worse. 

Isn’t it strange how sadness is a universal experience, yet happiness is so personal? You can always identify with someone’s sadness, you can always find some sort of truth in pain, but it’s so much harder to understand someone’s happiness. I often find myself agreeing whole-heartedly when I hear of someone’s grief, sympathizing with every emotion and sometimes can even feel them reawakened within myself, yet when I hear of someone’s bliss I can only listen. I can only observe. The things that make us happy are so unique to who we are, but the things that make us sad are so… standard. 

Just goes to show how momentous happiness is. It should never be taken for granted.

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seventeen.

When is it going to be my turn?

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sixteen.

Crossing state lines in the middle of the night, you and I.
Steal a glance to my left, you always look your best when you’re tired.
And I know I shouldn’t think it, but I do.
Is it me or do you feel this friction, too?
Let my heart lead the way as our world fades away in the rear-view…

Sometimes I get so lost in the world I’ve created in my head that I can’t find my way back to reality. I like it here, though. The weather’s always perfect.

I thought it was worth a shot. I mean, I actually tried this time. You were the first person that made me give a damn about someone other than myself – the first person that made me realize that the world couldn’t revolve around me because it so obviously revolved around you. You’re the star of the show. Your heart is the only one that matters. How could I have been so silly?

It was my fault, really.
I clung to every drunken word like they actually meant something.

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