a woman of extremes

indeed, the world is a funny place.

at times, we are wild, like branches and fall leaves and endless summer air. the times that cut through one's soul with a thick butter knife, slicing us like poundcake or marzipan candy. our hair curls at the ends, and it would look beautiful on anyone else: on natalie portman, on your best friend's sister, but on you...it looks as though you are five all over again, with freckles on your nose that you always tried to lemon juice out. but they won't.

remember those days when you would sit by pools and drench yourself in lemonade and spf 45 just to feel the sun melt ice cubes and burn your body? those days when it didn't matter that some boy didn't look your way twice, and your job was simply to be.

ah to be. just be. lately, i feel as though i've been acting crazy. i've relied on one thing my whole life, and that thing, that silly stupid little thing called love is not something to rely on. trite realization, i know, but loving oneself is always more important.

and i feel her returning. the leni that i once knew. building herself up, and digging herself out of holes that she once thrust herself headlong into. sometimes it's nice, being at the bottom: wallowing, scraping out dirt from under your fingernails. but now, it is time to stop. because that's not me.

and i feel as though writing again will help renew this sentiment. for once, just once, i know who i am again.

hopefully the rest of these blogs will be less serious. but what can i say? i wax poetic on breakdowns.



peace in your crease,
Leni to the EXtreme.