Stuff

“You literally look like a puppy.” “You...

Sat, 12 May 2012 03:41:21 -0400

“You literally look like a puppy.”

“You literally look like a panda.”

I'm still not sure how to use this thing...

Sat, 12 May 2012 03:15:54 -0400

But I’ve always used Tumblr as a rant sesh— so why stop now?

I’ve been thinking tonight about the end of the world and, I guess, death in general. That’s kind of a weird thought. I want to be believe, very badly, that after death there will be something after waiting for us. But what if there isn’t? What if we die, and we’re just… Dead? As if… Our existence meant nothing but to the time we spent on earth.

This is truly haunting me. I miss my grandma. I’m scared.

I’m scared to never see her again. I’m scared that everything I want to believe in doesn’t exist, that there is nothing more after death and life goes as far on as I can see. I wonder if she’s nothing now but a part of the dirt.

I don’t think I can afford to think like that. I don’t really want to, at least.

Sometimes (it sounds crazy, I know), I can feel her with me. Maybe it’s my mind trying to find its safety, I don’t know, but when I’m in trouble, I can really feel her with me. I can feel something, maybe someone, lifting me out of my lowest lows and telling me things are going to be all right. Are things really all right? I miss her so much.

It’s funny, the little things we take for granted when someone we love goes away. I wish she never went away more than I’ve ever wished anything in my life. I miss her walk… Well, more like shuffles. I always would disregard my curfew completely and my grandma would stay awake until I would come home— usually around this time: 3AM. I would hear the prominent push and creak of her old wooden door opening and the slight shuffling of her feet moving down the hallway in a half-asleep daze. What 69 year old woman stays up until 3AM waiting for her granddaughter to come home? My grandma.

I miss her voice. All my life, every time I’ve tried to reenact a Filipino accent, it belonged to my grandma. “Are you com-port-able here?” “Toray, you get some pood prom the pridgey-der.” it still makes me laugh, even when I’m on the verge of tears.

I guess my main point is there has to be something out there, right? Somewhere where all our loved ones go and they are not such a “diminished thing” (thank you, Robert Frost).

I just miss you is all.
If the world were to end tonight, I would certainly regret not going to confession in ten years.
If there is a heaven, there is no doubt in my mind that that is your new home, and I don’t ever want to miss the opportunity to see you again.

I love you forever and always, Victoria N. Cuvin 10/04/11

I’ve really got to stop staring so hard at random people.

Fri, 11 May 2012 15:36:32 -0400

I’ve really got to stop staring so hard at random people.

it’s crazy how much I miss you already.

Thu, 10 May 2012 16:26:36 -0400

it’s crazy how much I miss you already.

You are my forever.

Wed, 09 May 2012 03:38:37 -0400

You are my forever.

Nostalgia is burning through me like these bridges I’ve...

Wed, 09 May 2012 03:12:32 -0400

Nostalgia is burning through me like these bridges I’ve built between us. (See what I did there? See?)

Okay, Inspiration, Have At It.

Wed, 09 May 2012 02:47:24 -0400

It’s easy to go off on someone, like, “Hey you, you broke my heart. I hate you.” Easy. You know? Going off on someone. Saying meaningless nothings like, “Hey you, you’re nothing. You never were.” Easy. You know what I mean?

It’s like, every day is a new inspiration. I chose you. Inspire me. Oh, you just want to get along with me? Okay, cool. I’ll just pick a fight with you or conjure up some story about my ex-boyfriend(s) that’s bound to cause some conflict. Eh? You see what I did there?

No. Baaaaad.
Bad idea. Bad life decision right there.

However, amidst the tragedy… bad life decisions are what make for good stories…

This is killing me.

Wed, 02 May 2012 10:50:34 -0400

This is killing me.

A Post Promised of Robots

Wed, 02 May 2012 08:27:57 -0400

Robots.

Please don't read this and judge me

Wed, 02 May 2012 01:33:53 -0400

I’ve made up so many awful things about you in my head, I’ve started to believe you are a terrible person.

July 4, 2011 we got lost. It was packed. You smoked outside my car. I oogled over Josh Turner’s voice. I ended up sunburnt that day, but I’m pretty sure this is when I knew I loved you.

August 12, 2011 you told me you loved me. I think, maybe. You whispered it and buried your face in my shoulder. I told you to shut up.

There are a lot of things I don’t know, a lot of things I don’t understand. I don’t understand why I thought you wouldn’t call, why something so physical would keep you calling, why I became the way I did, why I am the way I am now.

“But I really liked you.”
And I slept with you to prove my doucher-penis theory.

You weren’t even a doucher.
Or you weren’t then.

You see, it’s not that I wasn’t interested then; I really was, but I was also interested in everyone else. I guess I was just waiting for something better to come along, someone better to come along.

Then
Suddenly
I realized

It was you. There was not a soul better.

But by the time I’d realized this, I’d made it clear I wanted nothing more than physical. Nothing.

But I was wrong.
I turned into a stage five clinger.
Dropping everything for you,
Changing my moral insides for you.

It hurt when it ended.
Mostly for me—
Only for me.

I guess
I realized

You stopped caring, a long time ago.
And these thoughts in my head
Of this awful guy

Who tricked me
Who lead me on
Who hurt me
Who uninspired me

Never existed.

I hurt myself.
And I’m sorry.

istillneedthis

Sun, 22 Apr 2012 12:10:25 -0400

istillneedthis

Refraining from posting everything I feel to where I know you will see it is probably the hardest...

Thu, 19 Apr 2012 11:59:24 -0400

Refraining from posting everything I feel to where I know you will see it is probably the hardest thing I’ve done in awhile. Even harder than not eating past eight ;)

I’m partially annoyed, thinking of all the reasons you could have ignored me.

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 15:20:05 -0400

I’m partially annoyed, thinking of all the reasons you could have ignored me.

ineedthis

Sat, 07 Apr 2012 01:16:47 -0400

ineedthis

I Think...

Sat, 07 Apr 2012 01:14:29 -0400

I think I have a lot on my mind tonight. You see, I really should be working on this lab report, but that’s not working out in my favor. I’m at home tonight. It’s a Friday night, which I want to say is odd for me to be in, but it’s really not.

My room is oddly vivacious. I can feel myself all around me, and I believe it would be hard for anyone else to disregard this statement walking into my room. There are pictures everywhere ranging from age five to sixteen. I can look at any picture on my wall and instantly be in a different time. This is so distracting, all I do is reminisce lately. It’s crazy to even think about myself as any time of grown up. I don’t really think I am. I’m still goofy. Goofy looking too. I’m okay with this.

I’m just driving myself crazy, alone in this room. Thinking. I have Pursuit of Happiness stuck in my head. I can never sleep. “Night Terrors”~

because its not so noticeable, this is Am-Lit book and I’m...

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 15:14:39 -0400

because its not so noticeable, this is Am-Lit book and I’m in the library. AKA the signal-wavering abyss that prohibits me from talking to the like of my life at the moment.

I want to have the same last dream again. The one where I wake...

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 14:18:18 -0400

I want to have the same last dream again. The one where I wake up and I’m alive.

-Angels and Airwaves

XOXO -Gossip Girl

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 12:19:45 -0400

You know how Serena uses the media to get to her dad? Well I’m using the media to get to you.

“In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow...

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 01:34:45 -0400

“In vain, I have struggled. It will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”-Jane Austen Pride And Prejudice

The Fourth Post

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 01:18:53 -0400

I’m sorry, I’m in a writing mood; and I’m kind of hoping that no one ever sees this.

I’m in the midst of writing a story. I did not realize until recent that my genre expands only to teen romance and non-fiction. That’s not exactly a deep range. How do you change the things you write about? They say one is to keep to what they know best. What do I know best? ~~The bottom of a Jack handle as of late.~~ I don’t want to write about you anymore.

This is the last time.

this IS the last time.

Is this the last time…?

I’ve said that before. I’ll probably say it again tomorrow night as well. The half-empty pizza hut cardboard and sticky bottle of ~~jaeger~~ diet coke(?) are sitting behind my laptop, waiting to be cleaned. That’s not what artists do though: clean. I can still use that excuse, right? wrong.

I used to think I was a victim. I had a boyfriend who hit me. My best friend left me.

Why did I let anyone influence my well being in the first place?

“The question that he frames in all but words
Is what to make of a diminished thing”

-Robert Frost

What is it we make of a diminished being? A firecracker of a girl turned dust. No one turned the girl to dust but herself.

This isn’t about you. You think it’s about you, but this isn’t about you. You want to take the blame for me and maybe that’s why I would run to you.

I lost that spark. That fire. The vivaciousness, the ferocity in my eyes. I know she can see it, and forgive me love. It is of no one but myself that I can blame.

…Tomorrow I will write of robots.