Update

Hello Strangers,

Long story short, I’m dabbling a little between blog sites, I tend to post more on my site over at blogger: http://aeryamorosity.blogspot.co.uk/   – Simply because personalising the blog there is easier.

So you may not hear from me here very often anymore – not that you did anyway. But you know where to find me now – bring your friends over too 🙂

Take Care,

-Aery

Borderline Personality Disorder

There’s a parasite in my brain,

Like a mosquito,

It drinks away my sanity, humanity and hope.

So that I am left dry

Detached from what makes sense…

And left to question:

Is my personality only disordered?

Or is there some other part of me hidden

That makes me – me.

Waiting to be resurfaced when everything is reordered…?

…If it ever can be.

 

See my insanity works like this –

It is split into two

The first goes like this:

I’m happy, I am, with my whole soul

I’ll laugh and yesterdays sorrows

Won’t hinder my tomorrow

And I’ll dream as write, the thousands of

Bright sparks in my mind,

And I’ll applaud all my friends, for the

Wonderful, beautiful people they are,

And I’ll jitter and joke about every

Thought on my mind

But mind you…

 

I’m miserable. With tears in my eyes.

I’ll cry about last year’s sorrows,

And hope that there’s no tomorrow

As I dream about death and question all

The things I thought I was…

Because now I am blank,

Forsaken and

Empty,

On why I’m even feeling this hollow.

And my friends they are, the worst people on earth,

Who only ever fail me with their ugly words.

And I am alone, with naught to say.

 

Because to say this is normal – is abnormal.

Especially when, without warning,

All this happens within hours.

Within a day: I am both happy and sad,

Not lightly or briefly,

But intensely and indefinitely.

I’m hot and I’m cold,

Clear and confused,

Poor in control

But rich in all that I feel.

But not why or how I come to feel.

And this is all insane.

 

My insanity goes on,

With more than just my mood,

 

The second goes like this:

I love and I hate and I loathe and I care,

But I don’t – not all the time,

Just when I feel fit, and you satisfy me,

 

This can take everything and nothing,

You’ll be my hero and savour

Wear a wreath on your head and act like the God

That I praise you to be, because you are

All that and more to me!

You’re like the sun I strive towards and the

Air – which an asthmatic could never overdose on

But know I will overdose on you and the addictive drug you’ve become.

And feel all my love because when I feel love

I feel it by its whole breadth and depth and

drowning, overwhelming, suffocating

weight.

But wait…

 

I could be infatuated but never truly in love

But it will feel so…

Real.

Don’t be fooled. I doubt it is

Even if I believe it is

Because I will promise you years and then give you days

And Suddenly-

I’m sick,

of you.

 

You – a cruel being, who is insufferable,

And you’re making me suffer;

Something, for which I’ve never asked

And your love,

My love, is too much for me to bare,

And I bare witness that you tried, but it will never be enough,

Because I feel nothing towards you and the sight

Of you, is like dust: dead and deviant

For my heart’s desire.

And it’s not you I desire… I never did.

 

But all this is fairly sane, as love itself

Is untamed. But the problem arises when you,

Leave.

My heart will shatter, its broken shards all techni-coloured,

Illuminating my face with rays of reds and blues.

Black and white.

My estranged lover, you misunderstand:

I’m not telling you to go, but I can’t have you stay,

My actions show: I love you, but, my mouth tells you: I loathe you,

I need you to hug me and hold me, but please my dear,

Don’t touch me.

But I beg you, please love me,

Yet, listen, because I hate you.

So darling, don’t leave me.

I know I am insane.

 

See the bug in my brain is more than borderline insane.

He is in fact, completely inhumane,

He does worse than snatch my happiness away,

Instead he floods me in waves which

Engulfs me.

Becomes me.

Destroys me.

As every mood, emotion and feeling

Comes and Goes In Waves, With Unpredictable Rhythms

Of Which I Have No Control Over,

So they come and go, and they swallow me whole.

They call it Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder.

But really is really just my emotions?

Yes – they go from great to unpleasant,

From joy to grief

And love to hate,

But so do the people in my life,

They stay and they leave,

Care and they don’t.

And so do the dreams that I have,

They wander and wave,

I will and won’t…

So is it really just my emotions

Or should this curse simply be called:

Unstable Life Disorder…

The Root of All Flaws

[Dedicated To My Wonderful Friend Rhi]

As humans we are flawed. Some of us have minor things we may consider flaws within ourselves – we may irritate others with our vexatiously loud chewing; speak out of line and go on a tangent a tad too often, or even bite our nails to the point that strangers may wonder what incurable disease our fingers may have contracted.

For many of us, we have a whole plethora of flaws, and a reasonably large amount of us may not even be aware of any of them; – I am not one of those people. I envy those who can go so blithely unaware of their faults, as the saying goes: ‘Ignorance is bliss’. But I am one of those people who is painfully aware of everything I may do wrong that it haunts me at any given moment. I can be seated in class staring at my charming little doodles when it suddenly occurs to me that I am incredibly awkwardly clumsy. I could be preparing dinner and out of the blue the thought that I fumble with my words all the time strikes me. I may even be sleeping soundly when I abruptly wake up in distress so I can contemplate my inability to sit still.

As much as I may sound afflicted by these minor flaws however, I can actually tolerate them. It’s my bigger, personality flaws that really seem to sink my soul.

Recently in a conversation with a close friend, she absently mindedly brought up some of my flaws, then when I expressed how self conscious I was, now that she had materialised them in conversation, she told me it was okay because she could ‘deal with them’. The problem was that I was already aware of them… but some how her saying it to me hurt me more than I could’ve anticipated, and somehow made them more real and pressing.

There are two major flaws that I am aware of; the first being that I am: Uptight (as fuck – as the kids say these days), and the second being: I rant a-hell-of-a-lot.

But here’s the thing, like most personality traits that may be considered flaws, there are reasons, situations and various things that have encoded these traits into our being. I struggle to know whether I am simply making excuses or if I am genuinely right in believing that there are roots to my flaws, so I’ll explain what I believe may have caused me to contract these troublesome flaws of mine, and plant the seed for you to decide.

Ranting too much: The reason I may rant an awful lot now is because, as a child whenever I’d cry or get myself into trouble, I was expected not to cry, even when I was being yelled at or even had a spanking. I’ve never really understand why parents do this – surely, as annoying as crying is, it’s a sign of remorse, no? As well as that, being the youngest meant that no one really cared all too much what I thought about any given situation or had the time to ask what was on my mind. Anyhow, this meant that growing up, anytime I was upset, perturbed or angry, I kept it to myself. No matter how big it may have been. When I finally came across friends who encouraged me to share my woes, my feelings were suddenly validated and thus the overflow of words – which may be considered ‘ranting’ – was set free. And ever since I’ve probably never been able to stop, it’s my way of coping and allowing myself to realise that the emotions a I feel are real, and are meant to be felt. Yet I know that ranting in itself is an unfavourable quality.

Being up tight: Despite many factors coming into this particular one, some of the main reasons I feel are fairly obviously. As a child of a large family, calamity and conflict was always around the corner. I had nieces and nephews who were three or more years younger, thus sometimes I felt it was my duty to protect them all from it. I remember at the age of 10 or so the police coming over to our house, despite being so young I knew it was wrong for the children to have to see and get involved in all of it, so instead I distracted them with games and sweets. It was an innocent act at the time, but as I look back, I wonder if it was right for me to have to do such a thing in a household full of adults? Moreover, growing up I quickly had to learn that there was no space for a child’s naivety in such a house, whenever arguments arose and I had tried to voice my childlike opinion or let my young emotional self overwhelm me, I was quickly blamed, punished and pushed aside. There was no time for me behave like a child in a house full of adults. I had to grow up. And I haven’t been able to go back to being a child ever since.

So those are the roots I believed to have cause my flaws, and I must say, my flaws themselves, through much effort, are slowly being pulled from the ground but it may be years before I can properly untangle myself from this over grown garden of weeds.

But  what do you reckon? Am I making excuses? – Actually, in retrospect, maybe I don’t want to know… maybe, as all of us are flawed human beings, we shouldn’t have to explain ourselves to other people. And maybe… just maybe:

We shouldn’t find people who will ‘put up with’ and ‘deal with’ our flaws,

Perhaps, instead we should find  someone who will appreciate us despite our flaws….

– Love Aery x

 

 

Pursuing the Arts

The University of Arts London (AKA: UAL), came to my college recently and spoke to a group of Fine Art and Photography (me) students. p

-And I hate them! Why? Because they have completely destroyed the (almost) serene calm and (nearly) perfect balance I had created in my life!

And now they’ve left me to stress and sob over whatever remains left of it.

 

Allow me to explain…

Prior to now, I had not planned to go Uni; unless it was to study psychology. However, upon studying AS psychology I quickly came to learn that this subject just wasn’t for me. Although I love connecting with, analysing and understanding people and the way their mind and behaviour works, psychology requires too much memorisation and not enough of the expression, creativity and freedom I yearn for. To be frank, I already had a hunch psychology wasn’t for me, there are seldom subjects that I thoroughly ever enjoyed: Media which I studied at GCSE level, and Photography which I excelled at within my Fine Art GCSE and continue to display a passion for right now as I study it as a single subject at A-Level.

Since Psychology was no longer a contender, Uni ceased to be an option for me any long. I mean, I didn’t know what else I would study. I didn’t see the point in studying ‘Useless’ subjects like art and film. because getting a degree in them doesn’t entail securing a career involving them. More than that, they aren’t viewed as very respectable subjects. Especially Photography. Most people believe that if you point a camera and take a pretty picture you’re officially classified as a photographer – Which in this day and age is pretty standard – annoyingly.

So my plans for post-college were merely to get experience and simply get a job and work my ass off; probably via an apprenticeship. Simple enough.

But No. UAL had to come and ruin that for me. They had to come and make me question everything. Seeing their facilities and all these images of dedicated students struck a chord with me. It Inspired Me. I mean it was absurd that there was even a whole University – let alone the largest one in Europe – dedicated to ‘Useless’ subjects. It was insane. They were so serious and enthusiastic about it, about ‘Useless’ subjects. Did they even realise how ‘Useless’ what they were teaching was? Did I even realise how beautiful it was, to see people care so much about what I love? – Probably not, at least not consciously; not even when I signed up for their spring school.

Not even when I happened to stumble across one of their sites in London today while on my very own photography shoot. (I wonder now, if it were some sort of sign?)

To be honest, I think it only internalised when I found myself aimlessly exploring their website. Seeing the amazing photography work their students created… and I sat there thinking:

This is what I want to do with my life…

Photography – not the take a camera and capture some random aesthetics shit, that you and I, and the whole contemporary world, knows it as. No, I want to invest myself into a photography where I take powerful, meaningful, introspective images: ones that tell stories and depict lives that we would never otherwise understand or imagine; with beautiful and haunting abstract images. This is what I’ve always wanted to do.

Between you and me, I, like many others am a victim of Sexual abuse. And despite finally accepting and overcoming it (after many, many, many years), I had decided in my head that I was going to conquer it completely some day… using photography. In my head I knew that in the future, using a camera and a great deal of work, I was going to embark on an emotionally-challenging project about sexual abuse and past traumas. Somehow I was going to attempt to illustrate what kind of devastating effects it has and unravel the stories of many victims like me via images. And this would not only be my way of growing past it, but also my message to the world. However little the audience may be, someone would have seen my work and taken something, anything, from it. This is what I wanted.

And I decided this back when I did the photography segment of my art work… which was based around identity. At the time, it was too vast a subject to even bring up in the rather juvenile GCSE setting. So I kept it in mind.

And have ever since.

So I suppose, photography has been a deep ambition of mine for a long time now. And seeing the work of the UAL students resurfaced this spark in me. I crave the opportunities it offers me.

Yet my biggest problem remains:

The tuition fees for a subject that is viewed as ‘Useless

It’d be one thing if I simply studied a subject that no one cares about. It’s another thing entirely, to pay to study a subject that no one cares about. My family are so sceptical of pursuing the creative arts and fear that it will get me nowhere. Honestly, I fear the same too. But then to pay for a subject that may not assist me in life at all; it’s like buying a million dollar vintage vase and then placing it in storage for eternity. A complete waste.

However, recently I visited the William Morris Gallery near my college. To my surprised, what hit me more than the pretty things on display dedicated to this man, was William Morris himself. From the gallery I learned of man who was brought up in wealthy environment, expected to pursue a secure practise for his future. Instead, he defied all odds and chased the arts instead, becoming a successful artist, interior designer and so much more. The more I read about him, the more my heart sobbed and my appreciation for all that is beautiful in art transpired.

When I first debated about attending UAL, William Morris did come to mind. My heart told me to have the same courage he did and do as he did. But my mind warned me that he and I are not the same and I am not born of wealth like he was.

Thus the dilemma still remains and I feel a huge sadness burden my heart.

 

I’ve suddenly realised how poetic my writing has become, I don’t know what’s happening. I guess this is where I end this post because I honestly have no idea how to end it. I just felt I needed to digest and get all this off my chest.

So I’ll just leave you with something William Morris said that was rather quite beautiful:

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A Small Act of Kindness On The Bus

Hello strangers,

The other day I was on the bus, on my way to college when something comforting happened which I feel I must write a short post about…

I was on my way to college, seated quietly by the window. I watched as every building, face and car blurred to the back of my mind and became another meaningless moment in my life which I’d likely never recall again. People constantly got on to and got off the bus as my headphones continued to trap music into my mind and pass the time a little faster. However my attention was diverted from my music and the world beyond the window when these two guys walked on; my eyes drawn to the lanyards that hung around their necks which hinted that they attended the same college as me. My college was full of delinquents and many of whom couldn’t be bothered; these two guys fit the scene perfectly. As I drew my eyes away from their lanyards one of them noticed me….

For some unexplainable reason I feel that time slowed suddenly, as he looked back at me and our eyes met for a brief second before I turned back to the window and time resumed again. His eyes were soft and green.

Things went on like normal. People got on. People got off. The bus drove on and the world continued to blur onwards. A woman with three children walked on at one point and she placed her buggy on the bus, her older son stood by her and talked to her; the one in buggy just sat quietly in his seat and the last child (who was the middle child) stood right in the centre of the bus. The guy from my college and his friend were talking as the bus driver let the last of the passengers at the stop on. The doors closed and I noticed the guy from my college suddenly acknowledge the boy stood there, he looked to the front of the bus and then back at boy. It was then I noticed that the boy wasn’t holding on to anything and in a single quick moment all the following happened at once:

The guy from my college held his hand out – the bus driver put his foot on the pedal – the bus jolted forward – the little boy violently jerked backwards and almost fell… only to be saved by the guy who kindly supported him with his arm…

The boy stood there leaning on the guy’s arm for several minutes before he looked back and realised it wasn’t his mother who had helped him. The boy looked startled at first but then just started laughing as if to say ‘who are you?’ the guy simply started smiling back at the little kid, in a friendly awkward kind of way. The boy then ran back to his mother and from behind his body he would look at the guy and smile and receive a smile back. I sat there myself smiling stupidly at this little scene that had unfolded before me and was unnoticed by everyone else… except me…

I kept seeing that guy around my college with his one friend that was with him on the bus. I kept seeing him and seeing that one kind gesture on the bus replay in my mind. I wanted so much to walk up to him and tell him I saw it, and tell him that what he did was a small but significant act of kindness that goes too often unappreciated. But I appreciated it, deeply. It made my day and gave me a little spark of hope that still remains with me even now. I wanted to say all that but my shyness and newbie-status at my college made me refrain…

Perhaps this why I’m writing about it, so that someday when you see someone do something kind, you’ll have the courage I didn’t to tell the person they did good and we need more people like them in this sometimes cold world. Sometimes it’s just nice to know that someone noticed and appreciates it…

2015

Dear Stalkers,

2015 is already here!? I know, I know, I’m late!

I found myself reading plenty of blogs on the night 31st of December, all talking about the new year to come; reminiscing the year that had just passed. And me? I sat there thinking I should be writing something about 2014 too….hahahaha. nope. 

Yeaaahh…I couldn’t hold the thought! Maybe because I put the ‘pro’ in procrastinating… or maybe because  2014 was for the most part, one of the worst years I have experienced so I couldn’t help but thinking 2015 would only be the same. My damned pessimistic personality was probably wining the war that was taking place in my head that night. But here I am, feeling somewhat more optimistic again, trying to find a more positive outlook.

I won’t even try to deceive myself into believing that 2014 did have good moments that could push out the bad. 2014 was undoubtedly a crap year for me, however 2015 doesn’t have to be the same.

2015 could be the year of solution, the year of ‘New equilibrium’. The year of dealing with my problems and finding peace – if only for a limited amount of time. Last year, I kept going through a cycle of disequilibrium and recognition yet very little was done to repair the disruption! This year, I will find a solution to my problems! And more than that, I will try to find my confidence! I know that life will constantly throw obstacles at me, but unlike last year, I won’t be sobbing on the floor shoving pizza and ice cream down my throat every time things get difficult. Instead this year I’ll face these obstacles head on and find a solution!…. and then shove pizza and ice cream down my throat – you’know, as a reward!

 

So this year my resolution is:

To deal with my problems as best possible!
And here’s to the new year; may 2015 be the year of New equilibrium for us all!

(P.S what’s your new years resolution?)

– Love Aery

Craving the stars

Dear Stalkers,

Life has been kind of difficult as of recently. I know, I know, ‘You’re only 16, what could you possibly have to deal with that is so difficult!?’ but us teens struggle with life too; and I have a tenancy to relapse all the time. My fear of death and my optimistic and often happy persona are the only things keeping me going. That and the fact that I have endeavored into the wonderful world of reading once again and fallen in love with the fantastical, magical novel: “The night circus” once again. This book truly makes it’s reader feel as though dreams are palpable things.

Most people when at this stage of emotional turmoil – like myself – would often go on a holiday or comfort themselves by binging or running away from their problems. I, on the other hand just find myself with my head in the clouds; thinking about things that I cannot have but imagine them so deeply and vividly that I trick myself into believing it, even if only for a few moments. And I feel as though the book has made these illusions even more immersive and possible.

However my own dreamscapes aren’t as intricate and non-nonsensical as the ‘Crque De Reves‘. Usually, my own illusions consist only of the simplest of pleasures:

I long to feel the soft breeze play with my hair and caress my cheeks whilst the grass mimics the comfort of a bed from beneath me as I lay outside vulnerable yet feeling safer and more fulfilled than I have for the last three years.Silhouettes of trees frame my unfathomably dazzling view of the moon that hangs high above the world on a single flawless summer night. And the stars! The stars that compliment the moon look beautiful beyond belief! Each, individual tine speck of wishing wonder like glitter or fairy dust that has been split across the vibrant hues of the night sky.

As I inhale the woody incense of the outdoors, the moss hidden between the trees and thick sent of pine cones and musty leaves, the sound of crickets and whistling of the wind running through the labyrinth of thick grass would act as a sweet lullaby. Or I could have the song ‘Handsome ghosts by Blood Stutter’ playing quietly in the background, layering over mother nature’s own melody. 

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That’s all I desire. To sleep among the stars just for one night, carefree and infinite. That’s all I can think about as of lately.