adventure, allison ryder, choices, comfort zone, communication, diary, difference, experience, family, friendship, growth, hate, identity, impact, judgment, life, love, moments, pain, people, personal, perspective, photography, poet, relationships, silence, social media, thoughts, trust, truth, words, writing
I think social media should be taken for exactly what it is; an outlet, a display of adventure and adoration, a tool of expression, to cultivate talents and passions and engage others into our work and ideas. they say everyone relationships, friendships, family did better before social media and certain technology advancements but that’s mostly a reflection on the downward spiral of people not the poison of social media. it’s only poison if you allow it to be; if you display every private nook of your life, if you take everything personal, if you make assumptions, if you disregard or disrespect the differences between us all, the differences in our beliefs and desires, if you use it as a tool to bully and hurt. it shouldn’t be a poisonous platform that disrupts amicable situations, breaks relationships, kills people, or defines friendships. what it becomes depends on people and how we allow it to define and disrupt our better judgment. we’re all guilty of taking something to heart and forgetting we’re all just people behind equipment claiming a voice, or writing our diary, or portraying how we see the world, or asking for help, or celebrating our struggles and happiness, or telling our story. like I write and I vent, generally mostly, and I photograph and I enjoy language and quotes, and it’s self reflecting and engaging during 3 Am feedings.
a lot of people took a slightly general status I made to heart and assumed and questioned when regardless of my Facebook rants, much like this one, I’m an entirely direct person with anyone I have an issue with, life’s far too short not to be, but nevertheless this prompted the writer in me and the way things like this make me ponder about life and people and all the mechanisms that make us work prompted me to think about this, to self reflect on my own assumptions, and to define my own use of these ever addicting apps. just because we have somewhere to share our opinions, and our religious and political views, and our admiration and distaste, and our adventures and love, and our feelings – we shouldn’t forget that the real feelings and adventures and disputes and conversations are happening off these pages. or at least they should be. these apps are just blank scrapbooks and diary pages to fill and monitor with life – away from disrespect or difference or opinion or personal attacks. life shouldn’t be happening on social media so don’t let it ruin yours, don’t allow its distinct differences and raw emotions make you forget human interaction and communication is always where you’ll find the truth. you knew your friends had different views before they posted that meme and you know sometimes people vent and it has nothing to do with a specific entity and you know you wouldn’t like it if women spoke to him the way men speak to you, and you knew who she was long before she posted those pics, and you knew they would be hurt that you went to that special place without them, without an invite and yet, I watch friendships crumble and relationships burn, and families cry because of these words and pictures. I’ve watched myself become undone, as someone who takes everything way too personally because of social media. but after being on the reciprocating side, I declare that it’s just an adult playground or junkyard of ideas and notions and emotions we have nowhere else to place. it’s a comfort zone for identities and for the unpopular beliefs or shy voices. but it could all disappear tomorrow and we’d be left with the most important parts; the people, the memories, the tangible photos and souvenirs of a life well lived.
my new motto for everyone I know is you get what you give because my son deserves all of me so I cannot go around giving to people who do not deserve an ounce from me; not my attention, energy, or arguments. -AR
I distinctly remember you putting on a show in the car and me gazing at you with a stupid smile on my face. you would notice my focus of attention and ask what I was staring at. But you knew and I knew, and yet, a million verses of poetry would spin through my mind but you paralyzed me. Falling for you was like bungee jumping and remaining suspended in air. You were only interested in the kind of bungee jumping you could run away from, not stay free falling with. You were interested in crumpling bedsheets under moonlight and being home by sunlight. You weren’t interested in my cups of coffee over warm conversation, much less my heart. And yet, falling for you was as easy as breathing, even though I knew all of these things. Because despite these things, you captured me in a way I didn’t intend to be caught.
No one ever told me there would be people who would scar me in ways that would make me want to feel pain because that’s what I believe I’m worth. No one told me that there were words that would provoke me to have lunch over the toilet bowl to make it more tolerable. No one ever told me how easy it was to hold it in and that the most dangerous addictions and methods were always easy. No one ever told me to love myself before loving someone else or else that toxic, cheating, manipulative partner would depict the definition of love with a mirrored self-reflection that was ugly and worthless. No one taught me about inner strength and self-righteousness in all their talk of Hamlet and the Pythagorean Theorem. They say those kinds of personal issues aren’t meant to be learned through textbooks but are meant to be instilled in the home. But I’m just a thirteen year old foster kid, bounced around in a broken system full of parents looking for a pay day while I’m looking for a parent. I take the beatings; the bloody nose and broken ribs because I’m too clumsy to make it a week without falling up or down the stairs, whichever excuse the hospital believes this time. Turning a blind eye is what makes the broken system turn. So what do I know about love and self-respect and what a family should teach you? I walk these halls obediently with my nose in textbooks to learn about how the United States came to be and the importance of language but no one wants to educate me on friendship and identity. Our bright minds are supposed to pave the future, not end up splattered on the train tracks because we didn’t know there was another option. Because we didn’t know there were other ways. Because we didn’t know anything more than how to grammatically write our suicide letters and mathematically compute the probability of our dangerous methods working out exactly how we imagined. I’m just a thirteen year old foster kid getting kicked around a broken system, how was I supposed to know anything outside of these walls?
allison ryder, cancer, death, difficuly, doubt, fear, fight, friendship, fuck cancer, hurt, identity, judgment, life, loss, love, pain, people, poetry, questions, relationships, remorse, silence, time, truth, wordporn, writing
Love was hard with cancer. It was a poison you had to carry around as it weighed heavy on your heart. But you’d rather fight the battle in solace and silence than have someone look at you in that pitiful way. Life threatening ailments have the tendency to cause people to act out of character. They do things because they feel bad for you. They look at you in that “I pity you” type of way, mostly because no one would ever admit to pitying a cancer patient.
But back to love. Love is always hard, relationships are difficult because people are complex. It could all be so simple but as humans we tend to color every circumstance complicated. How can you trust someone is in something for the long-hall? You never can truly know that. You have to trust at face value and hope it works out forever. It’s scary, terrifying even. Now you want to add cancer to the mix. People run away at their own feelings, let alone the thought of caring about someone with a terminal illness.
And yet all some of us want is to live out our days to the fullest extent that we can, we want to love today and be hopeful of tomorrow. We want things to go smoothly with little stress but it rarely works out that way. Life happens. It messes up your perfect vision and challenges your desires. It breaks you and often times, it hurts. So we’re left adjusting to the turmoil and just rolling with the punches. But for us, ͏life is a timetable- how long will the good last, when will I relapse, can I trust remission. Again, there’s no definitive answer here. There’s zero trust. You just live and hope the people in your life could find comfort and security in the simplicity as well.
As for love, I have no idea. I can’t imagine lying about your body demolishing itself is the way to begin a healthy relationship but at the same point, why is it any of their business? I’m sure they didn’t push every secret and aspect of their life to the front at the start. But really it’s not about lying, it’s about wanting someone to look at you and truly see you, not look at you and see cancer. The worst thing in the world you can do is fall in love with someone and watch them change their i love you face to an i feel bad for you face. The second worst thing is when they stick with you because you’re a ticking time bomb instead of because they actually want to build with you. It’s difficult to separate the cancer from your own reflection, let alone your identity through someone else’s eyes.
it’s exhausting being the nice person, always saying yes even when I don’t want to, bending over backwards, trying relentlessly for all the people I care about only for them to turn around and make no effort and say no because when it comes to you, they don’t have to. it’s exhausting to live in people’s shadows where everything is their way or the highway. you lose yourself. because while they’re smiling with their lives and what they want, they broke you in an irreparable way. it’s exhausting making people feel like they matter just so they could ignore you, or not invite you, or not take the 5 seconds it takes to text you back like an adult. it doesn’t matter if you know someone two years or twenty two years, people are selfish and horrible unless you fit their lives the way they want you to. and they’re horrible to the people who would do anything for them and by the time they realize that, you’re at that point where you’re like now you mean nothing just like how you made me feel when I tried.
trust is the hardest thing in the world but it starts with one small step. have faith that the person you like / love would never intentionally hurt you – that in a darkened world, growing dimmer everyday, that they are different. believe in the best of them. believe that you deserve honesty and faithfulness and their love because you do. believe that all of you is enough. trust is the hardest thing in the world, especially for the broken hearted and for those burned, beaten, and broken in the past. but it starts with one small step and from there, builds and grows something amazing.
being alone has always comforted her,
much like the silence.
her mind never shut off
so the silence was nice-
vacation, freedom, escape..
being alone made her happier.
this was the first time,
she was not simply alone
but she was lonely..
here she felt
the heavy presence
of the absence
of her forever.
neon lights turn to dimmed lights,
broken bulbs on street lights,
mirror effect. parallel streets.
walking down the street like-
with confidence and with heart.
partying and carefree,
dependent on the bottle.
the other one, pensive
with a heavy heart,
pen and paper in hand.
that bottle is an aphrodisiac
but that pen holds the substance.
mirror effect. walking down
two different streets, until they meet,
and neon lights turn to dimmed lights.
broken bulbs to full lampposts.