vulnerability

I have been pressuring myself a lot lately, to write for this blog I created. I chose to show my face and allow some of my friends to follow me. I am not at the point where I am comfortable sharing my thoughts with everyone I know, and I even find myself regretting the handful of people I did tell about this public journal of sorts.

I have been writing since I was very young, creating stories, keeping a journal and soon writing little excerpts on a hand-me-down laptop and saving them, never letting anyone read them. I wrote on my computer when my thoughts were too fast for a pencil. When I felt that my inspiration was on fire and hot. Typing was the easiest way to get something off of my chest.

My writing took flight freshman year of high school when my English teacher taught me so much about a subject that I would grow to love and make my major in college.

I made mistakes, and learned something that is crucial to being a writer. Being original and looking into yourself first, instead of others for worth and inspiration is the most important thing when writing. Don’t compare yourself to others, no matter how much better they seem in your mind. I learned this the hard way, but it needed to happen because now I know. I still remind myself of it very often.

Now, with high school done, and five journals to account for it, I started ‘Lonely vessel’ to reach out to people who may be feeling alone in life; like I find myself feeling sometimes. I created this blog when four years of my life had come to a close and new beginnings awaited me; and the unknown. I want to keep writing these next four years, but I want to take another step forward, and have others read my thoughts and fears and anything I have to say at two in the morning. My naked thoughts will be here for anyone to see.

I want to have the same honesty and depths that an anonymous writer would have. I don’t want to have this pressure of what others may think of me, especially the ones I know who are reading this. These words are who I am, so, it makes me very vulnerable indeed. It’s like taking a piece of my heart and soul and interpreting what I feel with letters and words and punctuation.

I have really been trying these past months to do new things, and face my fears. This is a fear I’ll face gladly, but slowly. It’ll take some time, like most things in life that are worth anything.

So, if you’re reading this, hello. I acknowledge you, I am intimidated, but I’m not afraid.


nicco

Listening to:

Gymnopedies 1. Lent et douloureux

romantic misery

No matter how many songs people write about the moon, it’s going to stay up in space, in solitude, without feeling the warmth and comfort of the romance that people think that the moon somehow has. It didn’t ask to be a symbol of love and passion, surrounded by only space and a chill of loneliness. It didn’t ask young lovers to look up at it and kiss their beloved, unknowingly sending a pang of hurt, causing another crater to appear on its once smooth spherical astronomical body. The moon, although in constant pain, remains in his usual position. Crying until red because of the pain he puts himself through just trying to get a closer look at what something he can never have looks like. Sometimes people observe the moon’s pain, but see it as beauty, and sometimes they don’t even notice it at all. What good would it be if anyone knew the truth? He’s up in space. Alone. Two hundred million miles away from the fascinating creatures who can feel and love. One day the moon will be gone, and people won’t notice because the moon’s dead remains will take a while to appear evident on earth. Just like a star that has been dead for a while. Its light will shine until it’s too late.

 


nicco.

 

listening to:

Lullaby-Sleeping at last

 

New beginnings

my ultimate fear is change. change can be good or bad, but all the same, new beginnings scare me.

i’m finishing my senior year, saying goodbye to a place that has been my home for four consecutive years, and walking into a world that is unknown.

i’m currently typing, staring into a screen, hoping to reach out to a lonely vessel, anyone. not knowing what i’m actually doing, fearing that this site will collect dust and not be read by anyone.

you are here though, you are reading this. that is why i’m wandering through blindly, so that i may help others see. or so that i see.

my name is niccola, and i have never owned anything perfect, so this blog won’t be perfect, which is good because i am broken. broken things can still be beautiful. it really just depends on your perspective.

today i dropped my lovely new phone, face down on the pavement. when i picked it up there were an abundance of spiderweb-like tears in the glass. i have never shattered my phone before, and when i picked it up i was speechless. it’s been a couple of hours and i have already given each streak a meaning and i know why it fell.

i think its beautiful now, even though its sharp and should probably be replaced asap.

the point is, with change and trials you can choose which side to look at it from. each perspective is different, but there really is more to a shattered screen than its appearance, you just have to look at it closely enough.


nicco