Song of the day?

Should I start posting songs of the day whenever I feel like it?

Would it be annoying?

I’m almost sure I wouldn’t do it every day.

That’d be a lot.

And I don’t think I’d remember.

But every once in a while? Should I?

Without further ado, today’s song of the day:

“Go Crazy” – Chris Brown

lmk what you think everyone!

[INSERT <witty thoughtful title>]

{format <captivating clever opening line>}

I’m not sure what to say today. Shall we talk about identity? Art? Maybe both?

Some people don’t identify as a gender

Some people identify as mermaids

While I am your average binary human

I identify as an artist

And shouldn’t that count for something?

Lately it seems like less and less

Even though music and art are half my life

I hardly ever touch the piano

Or break out my paints and colored pencils

How can it mean so much to me when I don’t do it?

I need to practice my creativity more. My arts

But at least I still spend most of my life with music

Even if it’s not my own, I sit listening through my earbuds

Exploring new artists and genres and singing along to the old (and the known)

Should we have a conversation about music?

If with every post we include a favorite artist or song or just a lyric quote

Will others actually check them out and expand their horizons?

Or will I just put it out there alone?

I rarely share my music, afraid people won’t like it or it’ll be too much for them

I shared it with some people who are gone now

And mostly I just listen to whatever my friends like, cause I’m okay with it

But maybe I’ll share my music with you all too.

Favorite genre: R&B

Top artists (of R&B): uhhh idk so many umm Kehlani, Chris Brown, H.E.R., Ella Mai, Summer Walker, Bryson Tiller, Teyana Taylor, Kiana Ledé, Jhené Aiko, Kaash Paige

And wow haha that’s way tooooo many artists and this post kinda sucked but whatever it’s cool 👍🏻


If we were in kindergarten

{You & I}
You'd chase me around the playground and
Steal my crayons in class

But we're not.
We were never even in the same grade.
And if you draw with crayons now,
I'll never know
Because you're gone

We were interrupted
And cut short
I curse COVID
And adulthood, the future,
That ever-ticking clock
Forcing us all to leave
To grow old and leave our crayons behind

I'm left tracing paths:
Possibilities and trails we might have walked
Literally and figuratively
A complicated scribble of crayon in my brain
A mass of all colors and lengths

I chase your shadow around the playground of my mind
Not sure if I want to catch it
{Memories, smiles and laughs and hikes and k-}

But you're not here anymore

Listening to: “EX” – Kiana Ledé

flesh & blood?

You think I’m not a robot

Because I swim

But maybe you just don’t know

I’m waterproofed, joints double-layered

(eyes filmed over)

I think my humanity is in the way I play with fish and soak in colors

The way I stay too long, burnt and pruney

You’d discern I’m not a robot

Because I cry

But perhaps that hasn’t convinced you

Because the last time I cried in public

Was when I got into a crash

(maybe I was just damaged, leaking)

Is humanity the way my face turns red & blotchy, my eyes puffy?

The times my eyes fill and I refuse to let it flow?

You can tell I’m not a robot

When I laugh

Or maybe you can’t

Like it’s some pre-recorded, programmed message

That plays when the situation is unfamiliar

(a back-up track, faking flesh and blood)

Is humanity in how my face crinkles, my uncontrollable shaking, the occasional times I spurt water from my nose?

The incredible high, unable to stop, surrounded by friends laughing either at your bout or with it?

I know I’m not a robot

Because I hurt

You can’t program the aches of muscles

Crying out when you move the day after a workout

Or the way feelings come crashing down on late nights

(it was a month ago, can’t I stop thinking about it?)

No string of 0s and 1s encodes the way sometimes I can feel a song with every fiber of my being

Or that hollow pang of missing someone, starting in your gut and your heart and filling your whole abdomen until it creeps up your neck and fills your eyes

c r o s s r o a d s

As seniors this year

We’re all at a crossroads

So many questions…

Maybe we used to be sure about our lives and the pandemic has thrown it into shadows and questions

But me… I’ve never known what I’m doing.

I’ve always thought that as we got older, it was inevitable that we’d get our ish together, figure out what we’re doing

I always thought that somehow when I was a senior, I’d know my major. Where I wanted to go to school. Who I wanted to be.

Of course, none of that’s happened for me.

I’m still as clueless as when I was a seventh grader. Possibly even more clueless, because, as a pre-teen, I didn’t care what anyone thought about me. I was simply myself, never thinking about who I was or too much about the future. Never trying to change myself or being embarrassed of my strangeness.

I am a typical example of the identity confusion stage in psychology. 

Does everybody else really have a plan? Knowing where they want to go to college, what they want to be, applying with a major that they will actually stick to? 

I don’t think so. 

But, at the same time, that’s all I think.

It makes my crossroads even more terrifying, standing alone

Too many options and choices

I know I’m lucky that I can be whatever I want to be

But there’s too many careers and colleges and I stand paralyzed

Because the sky is my limit

And, deep down, I’m just terrified that I’ll never live up to people’s expectations

Or worse, my own.

Somebody please tell me where I should go.

(And when they do please tell me why I argue and suddenly decide that I don’t want to go there, that I have more potential? Is that some ugly egotistical monster poking its head out of my chest, rearing and saying that I am better than the average, that I can’t go where everyone expects me to? Why I scream inside myself that I SHOULD GO OUT OF STATE AND BE SOMEWHERE SPECIAL when I know I probably can’t afford it? Places like that don’t give that big of scholarships, stupid. You’re not that special. You know it’s good advice so why are you so angry?)

lmao help


You’ve made it to Chance Avenue;

this road that could lead anywhere — to things you’ve never thought about, ubiquitous experiences, strange phenomena

Me expressing how I feel, which I don’t do nearly enough

I’ve always sucked at introductions. And goodbyes

Hellos in the hallways and goodnights

I remember the most random things… like the lyrics to songs (I never forget them once I know them, once I’ve sung them, is it muscle memory?) and facts I heard once

And yet I can’t remember the first time I rode a bike or the moments I met most my friends

I’m in love with music — R&B and country, rap and indie pop, mainstream pop and obscure artists no one’s heard of. I love it all. Except Imagine Dragons, and most of Billie Eilish (unpopular opinion?). And, somehow, my brother’s playlists

Some people say white is the color of peace, like a dove. I like white; it’s a clean slate

But it’s devoid of life and character. How could that be peace?

I’d say blue is the color of peace, blue — the color of clear skies and summer days, the many hues of water, the quiet broken only by rippling, the calm coexistence of corals and fish and even sharks

It’s my favorite color, the best place… swimming or boating, diving or snorkeling. In lakes or oceans, the Caribbean Sea

I stay forever, my skin burning, drying, peeling, the ends of my hair bleached-blond and broken

I often smell of chlorine, but if I could, I’d choose the ocean breeze

I’m 50/50 introverted-extroverted. As an extrovert, I need external stimulation…

I fill my days, stacking my classes and extracurriculars. So this pandemic’s changed everything; a sport gone and school shortened, and somehow I hardly see my friends more than I used to

I can hang out with them forever and never feel tired of them or drained

But if I don’t know anyone in the room, I suddenly become an introvert. It might be the least logical time… but my extroversion so easily fails me

like a perfect paper airplane, now soaked, picked out of a puddle

~scanning the room~ I can do this. I can be cool and normal.

2 seconds later: nope nope nope abort mission I’m so awkward and this is weird HELP

I need someone here with me

My friends all think that I follow my mind over my heart

But the personality test told me otherwise

They don’t know that I feel more than I show, that I don’t let myself be vulnerable even if I’m screaming inside, that I won’t let them see me cry 

The only emotion they often see from me is my laughter

Smiles and jokes and never telling them when I’m hurt

A friend says I’m one of the kindest people she knows. Has my sarcasm escaped her?

But I digress. Back to the matter at hand:

who am i?

You don’t know. And neither do I.

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