die young

this is cross-posted from the other side of paradise, a blog i wrote for class this semester.

every night, you’re terrified of what you won’t become.

i am. i am terrified of the space that lies between could have and have done. i am terrified of the day turning into the night without having anything to show for it except a sunburn. i am terrified of the chance that i have of being here and being nothing. i am terrified of potential and how heavy it weighs, so i run. i become a professional athlete drinking in every experience like it’s about to be the last bit of water before i reach the finish line. i run from the fear of not enough, and sometimes, i run fast enough to forget why i’m running.

the goal isn’t so much to die, but rather to remove the issue of not being remembered by not being here at all. everyone wants to be something, make something, leave something – but if you die young, your obligations become zero and there’s no expectation for you to. death is an option – a seemingly beautifully freeing option – but is it the answer?

perhaps. but maybe it isn’t. maybe there is more to life than the imprint you leave. maybe there is beauty in the simplicity of being. maybe being here, and being you, is enough. maybe being you is enough.

so, do you wanna die young?

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could this be earth?

this was written for “white” by frank ocean (& odd future at the time). i’m not sure what this is other than prose for “white”. listen to “white” below.


if a gravity wave hits a rotating thunderstorm, the thunderstorm can spin up into a tornado. nothing around the thunderstorm receives a warning beforehand. what gets swept up, gets swept up. i looked at her. i was swept up.

when someone puts their hands on you, their lips on yours, their body on yours, there’s little that holds you down. little is more important than trying your best to stop your body from betraying your mind: do you focus on the feeling or the memory? which will be preserved first? which will stay longer? i don’t know where i was, or how i hadn’t been carried away into another world where i could balance the two. i slept, and gravity kept me around.

after the big bang, scientists thought that the universe would slow down in its expansion thanks to gravity pulling it together. it hasn’t, though, and the universe has only expanded faster than ever before. for this to make sense, the theory that the universe contains enough energy to overcome gravity must be true. i revelled in the dark energy, and expanded ever outward. she rested in gravity, and stayed.

in the dark, she pulled me together. i woke to touches lighter than the part of me that stayed in space, and to everything around me being more than i remember leaving it. i fought for my brain to remember rather than my body, but i lost. the silence that was once lonely held me down and i asked questions of love, light, and space. gravity doesn’t give answers.

the thing about a tornado is that the start is hard to remember. i know that there is damage and that new buildings are rising where old ones were levelled. i know what i hoped for before, i know what i  danced to during, i know how i slept after. i don’t remember the start. i don’t feel the same as i used to. my brain doesn’t betray me anymore. i forget things like tornadoes, first loves, and time-specific dreams.

we’ll all fade to grey soon on the tv station.

my youth is yours

what if we say goodbye to safe and sound?

It’s always a whirlwind. It’s a crazy amount of everything you’ve always wanted to feel and everything you’ve been told only “stupid teenagers” do. It’s breathing when another person does and trying to recreate the moment that the two of you stood with baited breath, words hitched on either of your tongues, thoughts running amok in both of your heads.

when the stars start exploding, we’ll be fireproof

It’s “we’ll weather this”, it’s “long distance will work because we’re different”, it’s “I can’t tell my parents about us” and “I want to do this”. It’s every fear every adult has thrown at you, and anything that can and will happen to the 21st century relationship – it’s what you won’t allow to happen to you.

cross your fingers; here we go

It’s every single BuzzFeed article about how to make things work, every single #relateable post from Tumblr that was tweeted about that you saw on Facebook. Every day is a risk, love is risk, art is risk – and you have and always will be determined to create a masterpiece.

we’ve no time for getting old, mortal body; timeless souls

It’s making a decision to never stop doing the little things, a promise to yourself that you’ll never end up like your best friend’s mom, crying over a broken marriage and a broken man. It’s an acknowledgement to yourself that despite all of your only eighteen years here, you know what’s good for you. That you know what you want, what you need; and that what you have has got to be the best of both.

a truth so loud you can’t ignore

It’s the moment you realise that this is not forever, but it is all you have. That you’re more than warnings and false starts, that “you are what you love and not who loves you”. It’s the moment that you surrender to yourself – your young, idealistic, opportunistic self. It’s all you. It’s all youth.

a truth so loud you can’t ignore
my youth, my youth, my youth
my youth is yours


happy tunesday! this piece of writing was based on troye sivan’s “youth”, for which the lyric video was released yesterday. blue neighbourhood is available for preorder here, and several tracks become available upon preorder, including “youth” and “talk me down“. i’m a big, big fangirl. sue me.

love and light,
shalom