*coughs quietly* (10.30.17)

Someone turned on the rewind and reflect button in my brain. This is the only reason I can think I'm up at three in the morning when I have work at eight tomorrow. In a way I can't remember since high school, I have become overcome with the desire to look critically at key points and decipher the changes. I'm sure it's the birthday possibly meeting with my trauma for the umpteenth time.

Oh well!

A Look Back:

Name: Hunter
Age:18
Hair color: green
Number of tattoos: almost 1
Love life: Kinda dating maybe?
Job: Professional Kid Companion

I had just graduated high school, I had just quit my part time job at Old Navy to pursue school. I later realized gas and books cost money, so I started babysitting for coin. I also had just gotten my first tattoo, chopped all my hair off, and gotten my first boyfriend. I was so scared and excited for the future. The later it got into the year the more I realized school was hard for me. I didn't come by it easy, and my mental health was suffering. It was also around this time I started birth control, and my monthly menstrual cycle went from seven days of hell to four days of mild discomfort. This was also my first interaction with making doctors appointments.

Name: Hunter
Age: 19
Hair color: silver
Number of tattoos: 3
Love life: Tumultuously in love
Job: Sometimes bookseller

Figuring out school wasn't going to work, I flunked out of one of my only semesters of school. Hands down this is the most shameful thing I've done. I felt like I wasn't good enough and that I was a loser and a failure. That started to show more at home, and in my budding relationship. I learned you can't be insecure of yourself if you're going to love someone else, and gods do I love him. I also learned that no matter what I want, sometimes friendships just don't work. It made me appreciate the friends I have even more. I had just picked up a part time seasonal cashiering job with the bookstore I had wanted to work in since I was eight. All while I spent a week crashing at peoples houses and sleeping in my car. I gained a better understanding of the work behind love, and I lost a chunk of my bumper. I got a promotion and soon realized how much work being a 'grown up' was going to take. My mental health took another dive, but I had a great support system to fall into. I lost family, in so many different ways. I held onto so many stupid grudges that I wish I could have let go of sooner.

Name: Hunter (sometimes sister, and sometimes Bunny)
Age: 20
Hair color: Faded pinky-red
Number of tattoos: TBA
Love life: Happy and counting
Job: Head Cashier, Author

I now dive into the unknown again. Two years feels much larger in my head. I go back to poems and stories and journal entries from this time, and it's like reading in a different persons voice. I was jaded and I absolutely thought I knew everything. I was incorrect, I hardly know anything. While life at twenty is very different from what I had imagined, I'm excited to see what it brings. Who knows, maybe I'll have some life changing revelation. Maybe my book will hit the NYT bestsellers list immediately! Or maybe I'll have worked my way up the book selling chain.

All I know is that I'm wishing you and myself best wishes.

..// Jukebox \\..

Rewind on Spotify

I'm a bad writer (who is totally okay with that.)

Hey there,
Using a blog for it's intended purpose feels weird these days. I used to keep blogs like online diaries, hoping to be plucked from obscurity like Milk and Honey (R. Kaur). Unfortunately that never happened and now I just have a truly remarkable log of all my most embarrassing thoughts, tantrums, and occasional flashes of brilliance. Writing those blogs (and this one) encouraged my love of words and the way you could string them together.
But I have a confession.

I'm a really bad writer.

First off, I don't write enough. I've been working on the same three stories off and on for like 5 years. I'm less then 5k for each one. I post poetry when I get emotional or if I have an extra special thing to say.
Second, my poetry isn't really that great. A lot of it is rushed and ill composed, lacking in theme and structure. Following that, they get repetitive (though arguably Shakespeare wrote like 100+ sonnets about the same 5 people *hint: none of them his wife.) How many poems comparing love/life/ the human soul/etc. to starlight does the world really need.

However I have one thing a lot of 'good' writers lack;
The drive to get better. For a while my poetry was getting pretty good (it's 'cause I started writing them and then waiting to publish and editing.) So, yeah, I'm kinda bad at being a writer, but I can get better.

And at least it's better then pumping out 150+ that are all basically the same (*coughPATTERSONcough*)
-H.L.Vand

Hurts Like Scabs (4.17.17)

You walk into a pitch dark room,
The only light from the open door you came through.
The stale scent of stagnant water hits you first,
Then a tang, like metal, sinks inside your nostrils.
The air is tangible and cold, still it is too dark for you to see.
You recognize the ground is concrete
At the same time you realize you've lost your shoes.
The chill sets deeper in your bones,
You notice you're without your clothes
Completely exposed to this endless dark room.
Through the 'you' shaped shadow you see a pile
Dead center in the room.
Every cell screams for you to stand still.
The grit from the floor digs into the souls of your feet,
Still you push forward into the shadows.
With a creak and a snap, the door closes behind you,
As you knew it would.
So there you stand in the pitch,
Shade coalesces into bonds,
The already cloying air clots further,
You can feel it like memory foam sandwiching you still.
Nakedness, cold fear, and alone.
Wetness rolls down the side of the hollow of your cheek
You're crying-
You didn't even know.

Walk With the Sun, Love With the Moon. (11.16.16)

She is a wildflower,
Sprouting where nothing dares to grow.
The sun light flits over her garden,
That grows on the side of highway 66.

Her eyes shimmer like gold dust in a California river,
Given the chance she'd rather be panning for minerals
Then pining over missed chances.

Because to her there is nothing quite like the air,
Mixed with starlit woods.
Something about the dead of night
Makes her feel alive.

Let's get one thing straight (Think Thoughts.)

My brain is not my friend.
On that note neither is my body.
Both of these offending objects try and kill me on multiple occasions. Normally that processes is attempted like 40 times in the same day. Like today, I've been working my tail off for an 8 hour shift, and I've been doing my best to keep in contact with friends. My brain however, doesn't care. It looks me in the soul and says,
"You're not working hard enough, I wonder if you worked harder people might actually want to spend time with you."

What the hell?
NO!

Listen, I know what that voice is, it's Anxiety or Depression. Some kind of chemical changing my vibe from good to gross in a matter of seconds. No one thinks I'm not working hard, and people love me!
But that doesn't stop the voice.

So, why write this?
Why post yet another homage to my messed up connections?

You might just be thinking the same thing. You might feel useless and hopeless, like no one in the world likes you. Don't believe the hype, you are so wonderful! You're the most wonderful you in the world! The only you.
So don't listen to your bastard track.
You go be the most wonderful you that you can manage.

What Do You Want? (3.7.16)

Out of all the possibilities I imagined as a sad and scared 10 year old, this was never one of them.
Perhaps dying, brilliantly and tragically, at 16 with so much life ahead of me.
Perhaps living, a young genius, whose mind was unrivaled. Published author at 15.
Perhaps lost, homeless and cold, but free. 17 with nowhere to land.

Now I'm 18, I live in my grandparents house, I struggle to finish a single class, I fight myself constantly.
"You cannot do this, not today, lay back down and sleep." Is what my mind whispers to me, cruel and unrelenting.
My heart screams, "This is just a moment," "This too shall pass," and "You are stronger than this,"
Millions of other platitudes recourse around my grey matter, until I am forced to collapse.

I feel lost, like I'm dying and living all in the same breath. Like tomorrow will be the raindrop that breaks the leavy. It never is.
I spout the same nonsense to anyone who will listen. As if repeating the lie will make it true,
"I'm an adult, I know what I'm doing."
A mantra whispered to a pretty boy with soft eyes and small smile. A war cry screeched at siblings, who are more afraid of their future than I am of mine.

I want the world, I want the stars and the planets and the oceans. I want an open apartment, with large windows that look out into the snow globe world. I want the freedom to pursue flights of fancy, and the security to fall.
I want a place for my marshmallow heart to call home.

I'm a scared and sad 18 year old now, so let us imagine once more.
Perhaps successful, living in a new city where I've carved my own path, 29 with so much still to do.
Perhaps mountainous, 22 with eyes cut from sapphires, glinting with righteous fury and thirsting for blood.
Perhaps found, 25 with a hand to hold, a bed to sleep in, and somewhere to be.

In-between the In-between (11.16.16)

Find me in the middle place,
Between closed doors
Above cracked window panes.

A liminal space for you and I.
Carve out time to see you smile,
Look alive, the sun is going on.

Borderlands,
An unclaimed wild for you and I to share.
Jealousy holds no sway.

My jealousy is pushing you away.

Goddess (11.4.16)

Pretty Girl without even trying
Bats her eyes and wins the world.
Lusts over a boy who left her crying,
Smudged her makeup and ruined her curls.

So Pretty Girl got all dolled up,
Wore her high-high heals to worship at that alter in the sky.
Said goodbye to Sad Boy who sent her flying,
Said goodbye to the ones who made he lie.

"I'm no pretty girl," Pretty Girl would bash,
Cause Sad Boy got so scared,
When other Pretty People noticed her.

Pretty Girl loves Sad Boy,
So when the anger fades, the heels come off.
She'll be his pretty girl,
Until she's not.

Bringing It Back Around (10.12.16)

Hey,

Life can really fuck you up sometimes. Not every plan you make will turn out and- yeah that shit sucks. But the mark of humanity is adaptability, so pulling yourself up by the bootstraps it kinda the only way to go.

Life for me hasn't been all bad. I'm 85% sure that I'm in love, which is pretty neat. Probably more then 85% but I digress. I've been mostly on my grind, though less effective then I really want to be. Somehow I've been set adrift. I have a very general idea of who I want to be but damn that shit gets foggy if you're not careful.
Right now all I want to do is drive around with the windows down blaring indie music. Pick up my friends and go to little seaside cafes. The ultimate problem with this plan is plain to see; said friends have lives of their own.
I guess it kinda feels like everyone knows what their doing and I'm just kinda stuck here. All parts of me want to follow my dreams and just say fuck it. However, there is a sense of reality about me still since I surround myself with mainly logical thinkers. I just want to be happy.

Wait- that's not to say I'm not happy right now. This has been one of the best periods of my life. I'm making enough money to support my lifestyle and also give to my friends. I have such a loving boyfriend (He really makes my eyes glow.) I'm also the most comfortable with my looks and my body that I've ever been. I just don't feel like I have a future planned out right now.
Said boyfriend told me that I need to focus on the here and now, maybe he's right?

That's all I have for this, I realized that I hadn't updated anyone in a smidgen to what's going on behind the curtain.

.// Playlist \\.

Fight Sleep - Dagny

Washed Up Together - Knox Hamilton

Drive - Oh Wonder

Talk to Much - COIN

Stupid for You - Waterparks

-Vand.

The Way They Look (10.12.16)

When she looks at him,
She sees infinity and simplicity wildly intermingling.
When he looks at her,
He sees magic and ingenuity hurricane spiraling.

They brush glances like soft fingers trailing
On the curve of a cheek.
Or the quite laughter at,
Some word misspoken.

She loves so deeply,
Her heart a stormy sea.
He loves so fully,
His mind always at ease.

Though you wouldn't see it,
If you saw the two apart.
Watch them move together,
You'll know they're of one heart.

Consort of the Witch (7.16.16)

He leaves kisses like embers
On paper pale skin.

He worships this universe,
And it caresses away his pain.

Under the silver moon there is clarity.
In his body, in his mind.

The tempest heart is stilled.

The liminal space between their
Intertwined fingers

Is where adoration
And Affliction meet.

(5.3.16)

Allow me to speak your praises,
To carve your success out of
My skin.
Let my sacrifice be your original
Sin.
Let the sky thunder and crash
Wondering what storms would come to
Pass.

Greek Tragedy (6.16.16)

Come to me all lovers.
For I know how this
Story ends.

Live in me unhappy
Hephaestus.
With your rough
Hands,
And wide eyed fury.

Sing to me downtrodden
Apollo.
Let your cries end
At my bosom.

Kiss me sad
And lonely.
Until you feel whole.

Don't Panic. Full Stop. (9.7.16)

Don’t Panic.
A mantra well spread
Throughout the the two lobes of my head
Like Jam and PB on bread.
Don’t Panic
A phrase repeat,
Words, simple words,
That turn brave men to meat.
No, Don’t Panic.
There is so much left to do
Feel the heat course through you,
Oh of course this would happen too.
Panic,
Yes Panic.
Sets in quick and sick
Can’t respond to a text
Too nervous to stand or sit.
I’m taking shallow breaths through my nose
Panic spread from head to toe.
Panic. Don’t Panic.
Panic.
Oh No.

Refractory (6.29.16)

He is a child of the sun,
Spurned by a world who would not know him.
His heart is warped wood,
Rotten in some places but still beating.
He still pulses with light.
Whispering to the stars above to
Deliver him from the ache of living.
What he doesn't hear are the stars,
In hushed tones the remind him of joy.
The light shimmer of dew on grass
The droplets reflect the brilliant saccharine orange that reverberated through the mountain tops.
The way clouds roll lazily overhead. 
The fresh scent of wet earth after an unexpected storm.
He weathered that storm, 
And finally he sees the sun on the other side.

Gaslighting. (6.3.16)

I am searching.
I am looking for answers in between lines of code.
Strings of data attaching me,
To the Earth like
Anchors.

I am lost.
I am wondering hapless in the night.
Groping around in the darkness,
For a hand to pull me up.
Away.

I wish for little.
Love in the form of
Soft kisses
And 'good nights'.

Why is it
That my soft heart melts
At the sound
Of a blazing gun?

Ambient Thoughts. (5.30.16)

Phosphoric bones snap and glow,
Giving the world a brand new shine.

Something is glistening, wet and unruly
In the corner of her eye.

The sun lives inside.
A body, hollowed out.

Somewhere along the way
Her soul left her behind.

Through each hazy rain cloud,
A million new ideals drop down.

An unforgiving world is waiting
For their daily dose.

Surface thoughts hide deeper dreams,
Living in oppressive atmospheres.

She breaks.
Like waves,

Like dawn.

Who I am (Who am I?)

While writing a piece on perceptions of people and how we present ourselves, I encountered a problem. Not the same question I wanted to pose when I set out to write this, but an interesting problem all the same.

Why is it that people who are kind and patient are seen as stupid?

Why is it that while writing this piece, I equated my genuine feelings of kindness and patients as naivety? Throughout the piece, I felt like I painted myself in a negative light. And I did! I called myself stupid and naive multiple times.  Why is it that people who are positive and who want to make people happy, are seen as idiots on a fool's errand? I noticed while thinking back to situations in my life that a lot of people are surprised when I am both kind and intelligent(Like the two are mutually exclusive), even myself! Has the world really been painted as so dark that anyone who believes in light is immediately considered an idiot?
More questions than answers, I'm afraid, but maybe one day we'll all see that kindness is truly the smartest option.
As they say, you catch more flies with honey, than you do with vinegar.

Everything is new.

Anger dries my throat. Tears well in my eyes.

I ball up my fists, crushing them against my sides.

A bruise will soon form where the two forces meet.

Words from a broken home knock me off my feet.

My mouth is taut, a line so thin, one would think it would snap.

I inhale once, and let out a heavy sigh that sounds more like a gasp.

The muscles in my hands tense once more as tears dry in my eyes.

Palms now gone flat against purple-green thighs.

All that remains is a bitter after taste.

My cheeks burn where tears rolled their stinging chase.

I breath deep, and let it all go again.

-H

Mid Life and Reclaiming the Crown.

Ladies and gentlefolk we've entered a new era.

Sorry that I haven't really updated anyone on the current state of affairs. Though I guess I haven't really done that at all on this blog. I've been having tons of thoughts and things I've wanted to talk about but they never organized themselves past, "Oh dear, think about this..."

I've attempted to corral them into paragraphs. But so far my life at 18 (which, I'll give, has only been a month or so.) has been a string of tasks to accomplish. That's been helpful in the emotional stability, but not in the expression of emotions.
I'm not sure where this is going, I just want to chill out and read a book or something.

Little life update:

• Turned 18
• Gained a job
• Almost done with high school (Curse you geometry) 
• Bought a mattress 

Yeah, that's the accomplishments of 2k15. 

-H