Ghost

There's a ghost of the feelings I had back in January creeping through my body. I've been thrown back to the heartbreak and struggle today.

I hate it.

I keep thinking it'll get easier. That I'll learn to cope better or something. People always tell me to focus on the positive. Even though I try so, so hard to do that, the negative has a way of sneaking back in without me realizing it until it's too late.

I'm tired and burnt out. I know my body is being physically affected by all the emotional. I don't know when I became this beat up, stressed out girl who doesn't trust herself anymore. In high school, I took the bad in and then held my head up to face it head on. There was never a thought of "I can't do this." There were certainly thoughts of "I don't want to do this," but never "can't."

Now it seems my life is full of can'ts.

I don't trust myself anymore. Being by myself means my thoughts go wild and I start panicking. It's a scary feeling.

But worst of all is the loneliness. The constant feel of having no one. The loss of family. And the fact that my heart is still in a hotel room that felt more like home than anywhere in Utah ever has.

Blank

There are times when I open a new file and stare at the blank screen for ages. The need to write is there, my imagination is itching to produce something, but I can't think of a single thing. So I stare and I stare and then I stare some more.

It's quite possibly the most frustrating thing in my life.

I think of all the books I read and, yes, even the fanfiction stories I read, and I can't help but be disappointed. How many times have I read a story that affects me and stays with me forever, even after I've finished it? How many times have I cried or cheered or ached for fictional characters? Why can't I think of something like that? Those are the stories that inspire me, that comfort me, and make my life that much more interesting. Where has my creativity gone?

I've been listening to Billy Joel's "Piano Man" a lot lately, and I think I've finally figured out why. Here are all these bar patrons who have failed dreams, who can do more, but instead they are all gathered to drink in their lack of success. When I stare at that blank document, the fear that I could end up that way is never more real. This passion, this desire to do what I love could lead to complete failure, and that's the last thing I want to see happen. To inspire even one ounce of the emotion I feel when I read something great is what I really want to do.

So I continue to stare at the white screen and pray it will be covered in text soon.

When Sydney Gets Bored

Yesterday I had the misfortune to find myself unbelievably bored. (Yes I should have been doing homework, but that's beside the point.) So I decided to crochet. And this is what came out of it.

What are they? They're slippers!

There isn't a real sole so they're just to wear around the house and keep your feet warm. And I just used some extra yarn I had. At least I'm somewhat productive when I'm bored.

Home

Tonight, I really miss home. I miss my friends there. I miss the feel of a real city. I miss the way you can see the beach on clear days. I miss the feeling of being completely surrounded by people who love me. I miss the diversity.

Most of all, I miss my family and that feeling of belonging that comes with being near them.

If I didn't have to worry about school or money or anything else, I'd be in my car and driving down I-15 right now.

I miss my parents.

I miss my little brother.

I miss the comings and goings of a family unit. I miss the crazy get-togethers. I miss talking with my mom in person about whatever is on my mind. I miss the quiet moments I get with my dad. I miss screaming to extremely loud music in the car with my brother before we go out somewhere public and he embarrasses me somehow.

They say home is where the heart is. I know exactly where mine is.

People

There comes this moment when you realize that some people are going to think whatever they want of you simply because they can't deal with the truth. They're going to hear what they want to hear, think what they want to think. And no matter how hard you try to see the good, how much you try to save the relationship, it's not going to change.

That realization hurts.

There could be hundreds of good memories in your past, but they're just that: memories. You start to wonder at what point to stop fighting because all you're doing is hurting yourself and reaching for something that doesn't exist. And then you start to worry that maybe, just maybe, they're right. Maybe you are a bad person. Maybe you do hurt people maliciously.

Because if you didn't, why then do the majority of people seem to walk out on you without a glance backward?

Struggle

I haven't written a lot lately. I think it's because I've been so determined to just go with it and accept what is. But there are some days when I can't fight back the negativity.

I've been doing well for the most part. Every now and then I catch a little "I wish I was in California" thought floating across my mind. Or I catch myself panicking about the future. I can usually push it back and move on. That is, until this morning when I woke up completely sad.

The fact that it's Friday the 13th hasn't escaped me.

I don't usually put stock in stuff like that, but today I can't help it. I keep thinking it's summer and I should be at home, at the beach, with my family. But then I remember that I can't go to school there, I don't have a job there . . . nowhere that I really belong. I don't feel like I really belong here either. What am I supposed to do with my life when I actually finish school?

What do I have going for me?

Ekphrasis

\ˈek-frə-səs\ - a literary description of or commentary on a visual work of art

Winter semester, my English professor told us about the sonnet challenge he had dedicated himself to. He created a blog and every single day, for an entire year, he writes a sonnet.

Of course, I was intrigued by this. But . . . I hate poetry. Why would I want to write sonnets?

Well, that's where ekphrasis comes in. I am challenging myself to write a short ekphrastic piece every day for the next year.

And I'm excited!

So, what does that mean? Well, I'm going to set up a separate blog where all the pieces, along with the photo or piece of art will be posted. Because that's what ekphrasis is: literature based on visual art.

Here's where my plea comes in. I'm asking you - yes, you, reading this blog - to send me pictures. Something you find on the internet, your favorite painting, whatever you want will work! Remember, I have 365 pieces to do here, people. I need art! Please!

So, give me a bit to set up the blog and get the ball rolling. But in the meantime, send those pictures to sydneywright11@gmail.com. I will love you forever!!

Guess What?

This semester needs to be over. I'm so done with it and all the crap that has come with it. I don't even care about my classes anymore. The pile of assignments I have right now is about to receive a very angry and impolite tirade about how it needs to shove off. And I'm not exaggerating.

And as for people . . . I constantly feel like I'm always having to second guess myself because I decided to question something or because I don't want to do something. You step one toe out of the expected line and you will have at least three people jumping down your throat about it. Even the people you think are your best friends or who you can trust the most are suddenly at the front of the mob.

Here's the deal: people are all different. Not everyone does the exact same thing, not everyone has the same views. That's the way we were created. All the people moaning about their own opinions not being accepted need to step back and realize they may be the exact same way.

Overall, people just need to get off their high horses and get rid of the condescension. There is absolutely no need for it.  There gets to be a point when you can't ignore it.

I'm done. And forgive the total rant post, but it needed to be said. School needs to die. People need to stop being fake and rude. And I am ready to quit.

Cadbury Egg: Memory #4

There was one day my first year at BYU that I had the worst possible day. Everything went wrong in my classes, with my homework, with my friends, with myself. The only thing I was looking forward to was getting to go swim laps with a friend at the sports building that night.

Even that went wrong.

I got kicked out because my bathing suit was exposing too much of my chest. When I asked Doug what he wanted to do, he decided to stay behind and keep swimming. I fled with extremely hurt feelings and barely able to keep myself under control. After changing and starting the cold trudge back to my dorm, I finally lost it and called my mom.

I ended up sitting under a little overhang by the back entrance and spilling everything to my mom. I sat there and sobbed quite unattractively, praying no one would pass by.

Of course, someone did. A girl walked right by me, giving me a brief glance before rounding the corner. I continued to sob into my phone, now a bit embarrassed, when she came back. She walked right up to me and held out a Cadbury Creme Egg.

"I hope you feel better," she said.

I know I must have looked stunned as I took it from her and thanked her. She smiled and then continued on her way. I couldn't help the small smile on my own face as I looked down at her gift.

Now, every time I see a Cadbury Egg, I smile.

Airport: Memory #3

At the end of my freshman year at BYU, I flew home for the summer. Although sad to be leaving some amazing friends, I was elated.

I got to go home.

I sat at the airport for hours, endured the terrifying plane ride, and then set off into the craziness that is Los Angeles airport, all the while texting my mom with my progress.

As I stood in baggage claim, waiting for my two enormous bags, I could feel the anticipation literally buzzing through my body. I wanted to run to the curb and to my family with a triumphant "Screw my luggage!"

But I didn't have to.

Because I heard my name and when I turned, my mom and my brother were both running through the crowds toward me.