I used to live alone before I knew you.

Ear Candy: "Hallelujah" by Imogen Heap

A fair warning: This is perhaps even more crazy, off-beat, nonsensical, and cryptic than everything else I write, so make sure you have your thinking pants (as opposed to the coveted drinking pants...) on.

And away we go.

My life is a paradox. I find myself in a very peculiar spot right now, where in a time that I am finally finding myself in a place that I can call home, surrounded by people who love me, I have never felt more alone. I can't help but fear that the people around me will see that I am pretending, that I am not cool or funny, or pretty, or fun, and that they will see me and grow tired of me and leave. People are always leaving me, especially when perhaps I need them the most? I like to think of myself as a strong person (which after that last sentence sounds ludacris, I am sure...) but I think that I (and perhaps everyone else?) assume that being a strong person means never having a moment of weakness. I have always been the strong one, who doesn't cry, who everyone else can lean on, and who carries others when they can't walk. So when I need to fall, why do I beat myself up? For being human? For having a momentary moment of weakness? I feel like an idiot when I get upset.

I am a complex set of crazy contradictions; I am so confident, and I love myself, but I am always scared the no one else will, and I will be left alone. I am terrified of being alone, but that is when all my best thoughts come out. (Is that then a fear of myself, and knowing what I really think?) I hate people who fish for compliments, but I love getting them. I like to think that I am pretty, but in reality, I think I am weird looking, and that you could do much better. I think I'm amazing, but I always doubt that anyone else will. This blog stands as a reminder that I am that ridiculous teenage girl who is wracked with doubt and insecurity, the same girl that when I see her, I wonder why she can't see herself as wonderful as we do? I pride myself on knowing who I am, but I am constantly changing, so how can I know myself? And if I can't even figure me out some days, how can I ever expect anyone else to venture into the jungle I call my thoughts and expect them to make it out alive? I hate people with big egos, but I hold my self in high esteems most of the time.

This blog is a contradiction! It is purely emo, but I am a [mostly] happy person! Althpugh I suppose I can attribute that to the fact that I only write when I have something to say, and nothing breeds words quite like discontent and pain. I have never been speechless from misery, although have often found myself speechless with joy. I always mean to sit down to write what I think, but sadly, the thoughts tend to run away from me before the computer can trap me, and I am never as eloquent as I like to think I am.

If you have such a big heart and a sweet smile, andso much charm and strength, what makes me worth your time? Who is the adventure? And why do I always asume that the adventure can only be one half? That one is the adventure and the other is the British man in a safari hat (preferrably with a monacle on his eye) trying to make sense of the whole thing? Maybe we are all our own jungle.

I love to think of myself as an adventure. I hate to disappoint. I love to love, and snuggle, and giggle, and be crazy, and be near people I love, and to have them know I love them. I love kisses (even the ones that get me written up, hahaha...) I love my family, even if they are crazy. I love myself, even if I am crazy. I love my friends, especially because they are crazy. I love the people that take the time to read the nonsensical ramblings that I put into writing. And I always appriciate the people who take the time to try to make me make sense, I know that it is not an easy task...

If you love adventures, I love you.

~E