Last Sunday, I spent 2.5 hours on Third Sis’ now-abandoned blog, onionsoul. She used to go by Pinknerd and wrote there from around 2010 to early 2013. From what I know, now she mostly writes blurbs on her personal Instagram and no longer maintains a blog; shame. We are only two years apart and funny, two to three years ago I simply could not appreciate her write-ups in the same way that I do now; I stopped reading early on. I guess there was a lot of angst and growing pains I could not relate to …until now. In the end the language our hearts speak is surprisingly one and the same.
I am glad she decided not to delete the space entirely, because to me that space has safe keep the voices she had had when she was around my age – twenty-three, but because she wrote from 2010 to early 2013, the voices of her early-twentysomethings now speak to me like a comforting friend who’s been there and done that. She wrote candidly with her typical dry humor and angst-driven sentiments about a multitude of topics that reverberate within my chest – those about love, returning home for good and solitude, among others.
Truthfully we’re not the easiest individuals, though sometimes I secretly wish we are. She takes after our mother too much – too much fire in their souls, it’s no wonder they can never see eye to eye – while I am too emotionally defunct like our father, even if I’m now wired to think like our mother. Sometimes I wish we don’t internalize so much because there is so much anger and sadness trapped inside each of us, and we convince ourselves they mean something meaningful because we create artwork out of them in the form of words and in her case, graphics too.
I’ve screen capped my favorite entries of hers like crazy, neatly tucked in a folder on my Macbook where I take them out on rainy days. I let her words soak and comfort me, filling up each syllable of silence. blogphilic is such an extension of myself that this space has always feel like it’s exclusively mine. But I’ve thought and thought about this and- I think I really want to go ahead and feature her words here. I want our respective twenty-two and twenty-three year-old voices to echo each other in this parallel time lapse, even if in reality I will always be two years behind. I know in truth it’s nothing revolutionary, her sentiments and mine, but I still find her words compelling. She speaks so much using very little words, something I’ve yet to master.
Maybe one day when our timelines at last meet in the same time and space… we’ll write something together? Hmmm.
I hope to feature a write-up of hers once-a-week but this so-called schedule may well change; I’m testing the waters on what I feel and think about this, so you’ll have to wait and observe. She writes rather interestingly, numbering each entry. If the numbers don’t align it means they did not make the cut though none of this would matter here because I am picking her entries depending on the mood that strikes me today.
All my life I’ve convinced myself we are worlds apart, forever standing on opposite ends with polarizing interests. But last Sunday as I laughed and cried my way through her twenty-three year-old self’s words, I realized that I was wrong. We are in fact more similar than different. The fact that she inserts poetry and quotes too, feeds off of them on broken days in the same way that I do, struggles with feeling simultaneously chained and loved – I almost regret that I was always so focused on our differences that I never took the time to look into our essence.
This one feels particularly fitting for today, published on April 3, 2011 at 522 AM;
All I wanted was to be found. Not exactly in the way that a delinquent child wants to be understood, or in the way a person seeks to be loved- but, I don’t know. In that way which you explore your heart of hearts, stumble across dormant potentials and try to wake them up only they won’t. Not immediately anyway.
It’s a doorway to bigger better things, but you can’t locate the knobs.
I want to change this. I want to change me.
— Pinknerd | #711. Now You Wanna Be With Me, Say You Wanna Be With Me