too much, too little

“Never apologize for your enthusiasm. 
Never. 
Ever. 
Never.” 
     -Ryan Adams 

Love is scarce?
Love is fleeting?
Love is blind?
These are just excuses.

Love is shunned.
“Too much” love is exhausting.
“Too little” love is harsh.

So we dumb down our love to a happy medium
Nothing special
Nothing extraordinary
Everything becomes numb, expected, content.

Why should we live inside a bubble, floating, letting the wind carry us
when we can pop it
with just a flick
of a finger

I feel stale
I feel locked,
held back
from the fulfillment
of extra love

and I decide to climb on top of an ice berg
ready to see beyond my vision
and the cold isn’t reaching me because my limbs are already numb
and I’m too busy climbing to see my progress

i’m at the tip, where the cracks begin to merge
it’s separating
neither side can hold me
but i’m so numb
that when my body enters the water
i’m already
frozen

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“hey, nice to meet you. what’s your music taste?”

Ah, the inevitable conversations of our favorite types of _______.

But why do we discuss our favorites? Because we want others to know us better? Most likely. And when someone else doesn’t “agree” about a certain favorite, cool!? We all like different things!?

If favorites are subjective, then that means people can express their love without receiving backlash, right?

Sadly, as long as there are people expressing their love for something, there will always be someone to crush the very reason you love something simply because their opposing opinion clashed with yours.

Music taste. It’s become this be-all-end-all of who a person is and how valuable their “taste” is. I’m in love with music, so much that my “taste” varies explicitly due to my hobby of searching Spotify for all types of artists, genres. I have the widest mind for art, I let everything that makes me feel something significant in; my taste is based on feeling, not originality, quality, or worth. I feel that the more people base their taste on the mechanics of how it works compared to others, the less they will have the ability to feel the power of each individual works of art, and appreciate them for why they exist. Opinions are beautiful, powerful, and necessary. But the most unproductive act someone can take is putting someone down for having a favorite, for loving a song that may sound similar to another, for enjoying an artist even though they are popular, for releasing a piece of positivity into this already conflicted Earth.

There is no solution, people will still but heads based on various opinions and favorites. However, maybe something as simple and wonderful as music should become a peaceful  road sign, rather than a destructive road block; we can agree to disagree. And maybe we can learn to expand our way of thinking just enough to let the light shine on things we would’n’t normally open the curtains for.

 

xo, liz

sunday

happy mothers day to my glorious mother who has inspired me to write and love

this sunday is most likely the last sunday where i will not work, at least until school begins again

dad is roasting a chicken, I’m sipping on some wine

and it’s 3:22pm

the air is refreshing and wonderful

the light coats my guitar, illuminating the sound that lives within its strings

i remember how beautiful my life is right now

and how delicate and strong i am

how i love to sing and write and play and eat and drink and read and watch and admire

and understand.

 

you know those days where you think a little extra about everything? I couldn’t put down the word love. Everyone sees this word and throws it around like it’s a fucking frisbee. Yet it’s the single one word that no one can explain. There are reasons why you love, but how could we not know how to describe it? Is it indescribable? Or are we just cowards. We can’t explain it because we are too afraid to see what exactly comes out of our mouths. Or maybe we just don’t have a fucking clue. We have no idea why it happens and it’s impossible to stop. If love was on sale with this tagline, I’d keep walking. So why do we want to surround ourselves with love? If love is indescribable, unstoppable, and just flat out terrifying? I don’t know. I don’t think anyone really does. They think they do, but they don’t. Love has become the most valuable teddy bear at the fair. Something to strive for. To win. We are addicted to feeling love. We want to feel good. Newsflash, that’s not love. Love comes with baggage. Love comes with hurt and sorrow and confusion and unbelievable problems. But we still want it. We get hurt countless times, but we keep going in order to find “perfect love” when we know in our hearts it doesn’t exist.

Now I know. I probably have literally no clue what I’m talking about. Because up until now, I thought I’ve never been in love. I kept telling myself that I didn’t feel it. Now I know that all I ever felt was love. I was burned so badly only because my love was fragile and real. The second I realized it, the second everything came back like a flash of lightning. When I was close to him, when I made him laugh, when he hugged me, when he sobbed on me and I didn’t sob back. And I blame myself? I’m human, love is not. Love is so powerful and it surrounded me with steal bolts. But love doesn’t feel bad. No, the greatest part about love is the feeling. The most treacherous part is the consequence. We fear love because of the after, not the during. After the initial spark comes fire. But fire is warm, until it burns you. Ice can help, but too much kills. Fire and Ice: the infinity of love. Maybe there is an in-between. But I only felt the hot and cold. Soon, I hope, I’ll feel everything.

It Took Me Long Enough

I’ve discovered and learned a number of things about myself and the world in 21 years. My child self was shy, scared, observant, quiet. My teen self was insecure, scared, doubtful, still shy. Now my young adult self is more rounded, but a bit selfish. She isn’t very shy, but she isn’t very open. I’ve grown to like who she has become, but realize the amount of work that still needs to be done. But I can’t see myself as this project that I need to get over with. I’m progressive in the way that I feel, learn, understand, connect. I grow day by day, with a careful and messy attempt every step. I don’t face things head on, but when I’m upset, I am only upset. I don’t let things go, which is my strength and my downfall. Shoving problems under the rug does not result well in any situation, but not seeing every perspective can’t move things forward either. What I’m missing is balance. I have tried to see two sides rather than only my own because that’s all I really understand. But it’s possible to understand someone else if you give them a chance to explain and you give yourself a chance to look deeper.

It’s taking me long enough to immerse myself in the idea of true growth. Unlike flowers, the act never stops for us. Flowers keep their shape and beauty for a short amount of time before they die out, especially if no one cares for them. Us humans can’t rely on someone else to care for us. Your body is your responsibility. Your mind and spirit is your landscape. Water it, feed it, illuminate it.

what i feel when i orchestrate words

how does one write their heart

onto a blank piece of nothing

my heart aches from beating so fast

i want everything on this piece of nothing

but how can my insides

become words

that people would want to believe

 

 

 

now i realize that

a writers most powerful instrument

is their words

 

they  fill ones heart

like an arena

but never fall out of tune

 

and the most impressive thing

is that when the song ends

your heart does that thing

where it flutters and aches

but keeps a rhythm

like the song never ended

in the first place

 

 

 

 

 

Dream

Dreams keep us alive

Like a pretty coffee shop

They give us something to look forward to

 

There is no such thing as an impossible dream

Flying is even possible

Because wanting to fly is not the dream

It’s wanting to feel like you’re soaring

Through the mountains, trees,

Over the biggest things on Earth

 

And it’s very possible to feel that

Just walking in a meadow

You can be safe

While feeling like you’re on the very tip of the world