Personal Essay - My Heart is Where Home Is

 

My Heart Is Where Home Is

The older I get the more often I realize how nothing can prepare you for the difficulties of growing up. Don’t get me wrong, life can be fantastic at times. It can also be a horrific self induced nightmare that leaves you laying in bed, cradling yourself and crying out your mother. Thinking about college as a wide-eyed junior in high school had me excited for the future. I thought, “Finally, I’ll be alone. I’ll have life-long friends and consistent hot and heavy one night stands. Life is gonna be great!” Well to all the wide eyed high school girls who've possibly thought this, please understand that’s far from the case. Sitting in my pea sized dorm on this Friday night, I felt the urge to describe how my life’s gotten so complicated since I slowly became the baggy under-eyed woman who really isn’t happy with her life.

I know I’m not the only person in the world that has really really bad days. There are people out there struggling, fighting and suffering much more than I am. I acknowledge that and sympathize with them. Although that doesn’t mean that you can’t take a moment to cry over a terrible interaction with the deli guy who messed up your order. I mean come on, I really, really hate cheese I don’t want it NEAR my bacon, egg and hot sauce no matter how strange that sounds. But seriously, why do the horrible moments in one’s life always seem to be the most impactful? From the deli guy messing up my order, to finding out my dad has a terminal disease. Why must these moments keep me laying awake at night? Why can’t we remember the peaceful moments?  Like the days I find heads up pennies, or hold the door open for a stranger and they genuinely smile back and say, “thanks darling.” Simple moments where my brain stops rattling and I’m not suffering from terrible headaches, or as I like to call them: brain bombs.

Being away from home in a completely new environment seems to have be the cause of my consistent brain bombs. My life at home is simpler, I have friends that I trust, family that reassures me and a boyfriend I love and miss like crazy. People like to say “Home is where the heart is,” but I think a better way to phrase that is: your heart is where home is. Living away in a new city has made my body feel hollow. My heart isn’t with me anymore. My heart is home, two hours away sleeping with my boyfriend like I should be doing. God my heart is such a slut..I’ve been thinking about in high school I hated the people. I never had any real friends who cared about me. Sure I had friends there who would care if I never texted back or stood them up for lunch, but they never cared about me. Nothing was keeping me home, so leaving for college two hours away felt like the right thing to do.

My boyfriend, Hero (yes his name is fitting), is the only person that’s ever made me feel like something other than a bore. I met him a week after I committed to a college two hours away from home, where he would be finishing his last year of high school. Hero actually cares about me. He kisses me, and asks me how my days been. I can tell by the way he looks at me when he talks to me that my response is important. When we facetime he always calls me “mad cute” and sometimes I make it seem like I don’t agree, but somehow he’s genuinely convinced me that’s he’s right. I am mad cute!

Ever since I left to go to school, I dream everyday of coming back. I can’t live in this hollow shell of a woman anymore. I need my heart back in my chest. What people don’t tell you about college is that it’s super lonely. I don’t have friends or family here. Which means that once again I’m back to the way I felt before I met Hero. At school I don't have someone that comforts me, and helps me feel a little bit better on days where my brain bombs are worse than usual. College feels like home did...So why does home feel like college was supposed to feel? It’s because my heart is where home is, and my belongs to Hero. The feeling of true love is hard to describe. Don’t believe what Nicholas Sparks or Nora Ephron, it’s really hard to explain unless you’ve felt it. If I had to try, it’s merely the feeling of calmness. The termination of brain bombs, that relaxing moment right after you’ve thrown up, or the way ur face feels after you’ve stopped crying.

I could care less about my house when I visit. My room is simply where I sleep. The only time my room actually has meaning, is the moment Hero steps inside of it and we attempt to share my lumpy twin sized bed. Some people may just read this and call me “a silly girl in love.” To that I’d reply: yes, I am a silly girl in love. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I can’t wait to go home.  

Poetry Collection - A Study of Aging

A Study of Aging

“How It Feels To Be The Moon”:

When the Sun dimmed his lights,

My thoughts became craters.

There is a surplus of darkness,

and I have begun the glow a lustrous white.

For once I am seen!

I shine my light onto Earth,

Although what I see is not what I thought.

Where have you gone?

Why not look at me?!

I am here so bright, ones eyes wrinkle beneath my rays!

Yet you’re not looking,

Why?

Alas, I am reminded.  

It is now night.

The eyes once opened, have closed for rest,

My thoughts must stay with me again this slumber,

True, it may be for the best.

“Turning Seventy Nine”
Everyday at quarter to one, I go and visit the mirror.
There lives an old woman of maybe seventy five.
Youth stripped down leaving fragile bones suctioned onto a wrinkled blanket.
I would never dare propose a hello or goodbye,
Too paralyzed in the trance she pulls me into.
Her demeanor is chilling.
Belligerence swirls inside her eyes,
She's not a harmless old woman, of maybe seventy five.
She's lost some battles, I can surely tell
She's been left to rot,
Another box on a garage sales self.
This poor old woman,
No one seems to care,
If she dies, if she lies, or even if she stares.
The park bench is where she will go, I know I'll find her there one night.
Cold and freezing,

Although today, she is safe.
Still living behind my glass mirror
But it won't be long until,
This poor old woman, of maybe seventy five
Turns seventy nine.

“Sundays At Age Sixteen”

Today is the day smog is replaced by sun.

It is 6:05 now and my eyesight is sharp, and my mind is jelly

On days which drip rage, the smog creeps beneath my bedroom door

Through my ears, it settles.

But today is Sunday.

The smog is lifted.

My dining room is silent

The ringing inside my ears has gone away

I feel relaxed from my fingers to my toes.

I sit in my grandmother’s chair and study the sun.

Birds flutter towards my window, then hush away.

The solitude comes in rushes on Sundays.

My overbearing thoughts have disappeared,

Yet I crave their return.  

Somehow madness feels more comfortable than loneliness.

Inside my smog I keep myself company with my made-up world,

Where lovers meet,  

Where friends are at peace.

Fake realities and lives I create, to keep me warm.

On Sunday they take their coffee breaks and visit their children across town.

I am alone

My shoulders shake from warmth,

But I haven't decided if I like that yet.

“March 29th and the thoughts inside my mind”

It was March 29th,

I was in the lunchroom with my left side, my right brain,

We discussed school work and laughed about boys

Innocent blabber about insects crawling on top of our lunch plates.

But little did we know,

In the next 5 minutes,

Our voices we’re hushed.

We stood still like dust.

I felt the urge to scream, cry, shit my pants, and sob

My emotions fell over me,

Like the brick wall outside.

The brick wall that’s supposed to protect us from any harm, right?

My left side and I share looks with hopeful eyes, with whatever flicker remains in our deteriorated smiles

Five more minutes have passed.

We’ve stopped talking.

I receive a text from my mother

I can hear her shaky voice through the coding on my screen

I reply back love notes and white lies.

I wish to seep honey for her,

but only salt builds up inside.

Ten minutes passed,

We are under the tables now, all four of us.

I can't hear anything outside, but we must take precautions,

We must comply to prevent more losses.

We must comply because our second amendment tells us:

We are free, and freedom comes with a price tag.

Freedom to me isn’t hiding under my table clutching my best friends soaked shirt.

We are teenage girls

We should be mixing vodka and coke,

Not tears and sweat

I am a sixteen year old girl

I should be receiving my first college admission letters, not my first bullet hole.

So why is it-

That instead of going to English class and learning about One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,

I’m underneath a classroom desk being told to hold my knees to my chest.

“Silly Boys!”

Silly girls are lovers drowning in puddles and praying for the hands of their hero.

Silly boys’ lies sneak out underneath their fingertips while rescuing silly girls-

poisoning their brains with sweet and sour candy.

Silly boys are dark clouds creeping towards a glistening patch of sun.

Overlap each other to find Their One-

To rip apart and sell out like used car parts.

An engine for you, sir!

A tire for him!

Nothing left for her but

bare.

used.

skin.

The patch of sun turns into a rain cloud.

It's dissolved into the dark grey sky.

I feel her dropping cold wet goodbyes.

Silly boys sneak up to girls at parties.

Hold down their feet and kiss them closely.

“She can't kick if we kiss her!”

Silly boys’ mouths are like milk cartons.

Hoaxes dribbles down the sides, stinking of spoiled milk.

It fills the floor, and I drown in it.

A$AP Rocky's Injured Generation Tour Does Not Disappoint

                            

           "You know, I used to live in Harrisburg.." Rocky spoke to the hundreds with his signature smile, "THAT AIN'T PHILLY!!!" a voice rang out from the crowd. Rocky chuckled and agreed, "Yeah, that sure ain't Philly." 

            A$AP Rocky's tour for his latest album, TESTING, had been hyped up by him and his AWGE posy for months now. When I got my ticket in November, I was trilled. Even though TESTING may not be considered his best work compared to AT.LONG.LAST.A$AP and LONG.LIVE.A$AP, it's still a monumental album in his career. This album showcased a new Rocky, one who is experimental (hence the name). TESTING did deliver, according to Hot New Hip Hop's article, Rocky's album first week album sales were in the 70,000's. To anyone who listened to Rocky's album, what did you think of his new exploratory side?

           As for the concert itself, it brought the same excitement as the album. Opening with a favorite of mine, "Distorted Records", the crowd launched into excitement and the jumping began. Rocky came onto the stage with a mysterious TESTING themed ski mask. To the crowds pleasure, he later removed it revealing his charming and irresistible smile. Rocky played the crowd pleasers, "Praise the Lord," "F**kin' Problems, and "Wild For the Night" that lead to multiple mosh pits, heavy screaming, and of course, some underwear throwing. When we got towards the middle of the concert, Rocky decided to get more romantic with the crowd and lied in the middle of his stage. He serenaded us all with his hit song, "L$D" while trippy pictures and videos filled the scream above.

           The stage set up was impossible to overlook. With car's hanging from the ceiling, a ginormous  screen with consistent moving images and videos, and a long runway with a circular end, you could see Rocky from anywhere within The Liacouras Center. I personally got very lucky and pushed my way to the barricade of the stage and was welcomed by the people around me. When you think general admission concert, you usually imagine loud, annoying people around you shoving in any direction they can. Although I found at this concert the people around me were very welcoming. I even made friends with some girls behind me and intended to stay friends after the concert was over.

           Overall, if you're lucky enough to see the pretty boy himself, A$AP Rocky, I highly recommend you do so on his Injured Generation tour. Promised with madness, fun, sweat, and tears, you will surely have a night you'll never forget.