Paper Towns

I have just finished reading Paper Towns, by John Green and it was every bit as beautiful as I had expected it to be. It was heart-breakingly beautiful, bitter-sweetly beautiful, inspiring-ly beautiful and even heart-warming-ly beautiful.

It was, in a lot of ways, quite similar to Looking For Alaska, which was John's first book, but that's okay- more than okay, actually, that's good, really good because Looking For Alaska is one of favourite books for so, so many reasons, and Paper Towns shares these reasons.

What I want to really write about though, is the end of the book. If you plan on reading it, this will spoil both Paper Towns and Looking For Alaska, so turn back now, because I'm sure as hell not stopping.

The end of the book, from when Q and the others find Margo to the very end was, to say the least, thought provoking. Emotion provoking too, but I don't quite know if that's a usable phrase. Margo and Q have this big fight, which unsettled me, because, I realised, I shared Q's idea of Margo and even though I'm sure I knew deep down that Margo would not be Q's idea of Margo, I still wanted her to be. He loved her and so did I and so we both wanted her to be the Margo that he had not quite created in his head, but was still not accurate.

So they fight and then they talk about everything that had happened and things are cleared and explained and made sense- and yet, the actual plot mystery is not what I want cleared up.

And then comes more of the ending, beginning with this:
"She stares at me, her eyes and my eyes and nothing between them. I have nothing to gain from kissing her. But I am no longer looking to gain anything."
That is the type of beautiful that this book is.

The last paragraph, is a long paragraph, which really has few little paragraphs in it, but I'm not sure what one would call it and that's not important right now anyway. It did not make me cry, really, it just made my eyes well up. Q stands and watches Margo leave, thinking about what is happening and Margo is standing with her back to him but has not yet left and all I want is for Q to run to her and hug her and say goodbye again, but he doesn't. Instead, Margo turns back to him and "the physical space between [them] evaporates. We play the broken strings of our instruments one last time." And so, they kiss again, in the dark with their eyes open and it's bitter-sweetly beautiful and this is why I'm crying and then after they kiss, they rest their foreheads together, which makes me cry for a whole other reason, and then Q
"can see her almost perfectly in this cracked darkness."
and then it ends.

Because it ends here, maybe I could imagine that Margo stays and goes home with Q, but I know that she doesn't. I know she is kissing him goodbye but the likelihood is that even though Q is Q and not Miles (from Looking For Alaska) and even though Margo is Margo, and not Alaska and also not dead, Q will always love Margo Roth Spigelman, his crooked neighbour with all his crooked heart.

There is plenty more to be said about this book and plenty more than I have thought about- but this is all I want to say about it for now.

Merry Christmas to everyone. My friends have all gotten me the loveliest of gifts and they are all beautiful and make me happy- but I cannot go without mentioning Dom, who, in his in infinite loveliness, got my NaNoWriMo novel printed and bound and wrote the best foreward to any book that ever was and ever shall be.

Love,
Cíara.

Projects and things

I'm more or less writing this post as a sort of motivation for myself and to actually keep track of what I'm doing with my life and things. I finished NaNoWriMo, and despite how truly awful a literary piece my novel was, I'm still really proud of myself. The thing is, I realised had been channelling everything- all my crappy moods, 'cause it's not really a great time for me right now- into my NaNoWriMo, and then without that to channel everything into, things got pretty bad. But, I do actually have quite a lot of things to be doing, and so I do have more creative outlets.

1) Public Speaking - Ohmydearsweetjesuschrist asdfghjkl. The first round of the public speaking competition- which is for Mental Health Ireland- takes place on Wednesday, and my speech still isn't finished, because Ms. Corr comes up with something new every-single-day. It is fairly effing difficult to learn a speech off by heart if it never stays the same! Honestly, I know I should be glad for a creative outlet and the opportunity to work on speaking in front of people and all, but jesus christ, it's just annoying.

2) Kildare Youth Theatre Writing- Now this, I am super excited about. It's a chance for me to write a play. Really and actually write a play and then have people perform it.  I want to dance just considering it. I am a bit nervous about it, but I'm getting much better at disregarding that. I have to have an application in for this by the 31st of December, so I'm starting to work on it after Public Speaking on Wednesday.

3) Junk Kouture- I think this has to be finished by 31st of January- which suddenly seems all too soon. I decided to do it by myself this year, and actually think I've done more work because of it, but I'm kinda nervous about making and modelling the dress by myself, and to be honest, I feel a bit pretentious. Making it to fit me is just much easier than measuring someone else and all that, but I feel a bit silly. I've really only started work on this, and I can't work on the top part until after Christmas, but I'm sure it will be fiiine. Pictures to come soon :)

4) Less Than Three- This is not a definite, but it's something I would love to do. Two youtubers, Kristina Horner and Hayley Hoover, are writing a book of short stories about people meeting through the Internet, and it's a really lovely idea. As well as their own work, they are also going to take in some short stories from other people who can just write them and submit them by January 31st... so yeah, I'm going to see if I can come up with something adequate. I'm not really sure if I could come up with a good story, but it would a really great opportunity if I was to get into the book.

5) School Journalist- I'm so happy that I got to be school journalist, but now that I am, I have no idea what to do with it. Nothing happens except sport, and I'm leaving that to the other guy. Honestly, I'll probably end up doing a report on Public Speaking -.- I'm on the lookout for relevant news and stuff, but there's just nothing. I might do a feature on people's Mini Companies, as a bit of promotion, and then maybe I'll do a report on eating disorders or a good charity or something. I feel quite guilty for having not done anything yet, but I'm really stuck for opportunity- although, maybe I'm just not looking hard enough.

I also have Mini Company -which I despise- regular school stuff, Gaisce, which means homework club on a Tuesday, Kickboxing on a Monday, and drums on a Saturday, some Tuesdays or Thursdays, and then whatever I do on my own obviously. I would like to do Project for Awesome, but I really haven't a notion of where to start. I'll be starting to learn ukulele when I get mine for Christmas, I have a lot of books I want to read and I really, really need to do my Christmas shopping. All in all, I'm pretty busy, and I'm still writing random scraps of literary rubbish in my diary/journal/notebook/thing-with-everything-in-it that give me some time to vent my thoughts about shitty things so that I can channel all my energy into creative things.

I shall be posting again soooon, because I am having a college-plan crisis, two and a bit years early, and I'd like to spread my thoughts out on the internets. Hope you've enjoyed reading what is essentially a to-do list with detail ^^

Peace and love,
Cíara xo

Singles and Doubles (Changing Things)

Today I wanted to tidy my room and put new sheets on my bed. So I picked up all my clothes off the floor, and I took away all my empty coffee cups.

And then I got two pillowcases and a quilt cover, and put on the new pillowcases and then realised I had to go get a different quilt, and a new sheet.

There was already this big, really white quilt in my room that I had been using because I was really cold the last few nights, but it was for a double bed, so I went a looked in the blanket box for a single one, but they were all double ones. All the sheets were too big too. So I looked in the hot press, but there was only double bed sheets in there too and I pulled an old off-white quilt from the very top shelf, but that was a double bed quilt too and when I tried to put it back up, I was too small to reach.

And I felt really alone. 

So now I'm going to take the quilt I had before that I wanted to change because it's too thin and because I wanted a change of quilt pattern, and fold it over -because it's a double quilt too- and put the cover on it, and then I can pretend it's a new single quilt with a nice cover, but really it's and old double quilt folded over, hidden beneath the cover.

The sheet didn't really need to be changed, anyway, so that's okay.

But I still feel really alone. 

Heart on my Sleeve

This.
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tFN5QUZVtpE

Self explanatory. 

SO MUCH EMOTION

Right, I know I just blogged, but all my thoughts on Steve Jobs, and my ecstaticness from the great day I had with great people and now all this emotion from two vlogs about Lauren and Matt's wedding (two vlogger/wrockers, Lauren is one of my favourite people ever), and John Green and his dedication to signing all pre-ordered copies of The Fault in Our Stars, which got me going with all this love for Nerdfighteria, and some wrock news, which got me going with a lot of love for the Harry Potter nerd community, I am so emotional, ahhhh!!SO MUCH NERD EMOTION!!!!

<3

Steve Jobs.

I'm just home from the loveliest of nights, with the greatest of people, and I'll get to that in a second. First though, something that I only just realised was important to me.

I was just watching today's vlogbrothers video, and of course, Steve Jobs was mentioned and that's what me realise what I've realised. You already know, I'm sure, that Steve Jobs died of pancreatic cancer earlier this week, and when I heard I kind of went, "Oh, really? That's sad" and then moved on. And then someone made a joke about his death today, and I talked about him with Siobhan and Hank Green talked about him in a video, and I knew had to blog.

 When I heard he died, I thought of Steve Jobs, that guy who started Apple, like I'm sure most people did, and that's why it didn't mean much to me. But it had somehow slipped my mind that Steve Jobs worked in Pixar, and then it didn't become the death of some famous person, it became the death of a creator, an inspiration, a real person. Steve Jobs isn't just another name; he's a person. He's somewhere behind all the movies that have made me laugh, cry, smile, and feel happy to be alive. I love Disney, but much, much more than that, I love Pixar. I love the movies, I love the work that goes into them, I love the fact that the movies I loved as a kid still delight me, and also have more meaning to them than they did before. Pixar movies bring out a sentimentality in me, but it's a sentimentality that makes me feel...optimistic.

Honestly, I felt guilty, almost, for not immediately thinking of Pixar when I heard of his death, but needless to say, I'm thinking of it now. I don't know what Steve Jobs was like as a person, but what he's created, and what he's contributed to, just make an amazing person. Pixar is the type of place that is full of the type of people that I aspire to be, creative and hard working and determined, and doing something they love and making art. My sympathies go to Steve's family, but also to his co-workers, both in Pixar and Apple. They have lost an undoubtedly brilliant mind, and an inspiration. It's a shame, that only his death brought me to realise how much a hero Steve Jobs truly is, because I should have realised long ago that this man should have been one of my heroes.

Stuff about people who've died is usually written to make them seem great, and flawless, and that bothers me, which is why I'm sketchy about this. I'm not one to glorify every famous person who dies, so I never comment on them, because I've nothing to say. This one was every bit necessary, and every bit from my heart.

As mentioned, I'm not long home. I went to see the Lion King with all my favourite people (expect Beth -.-), and it was a great evening, and something I think we should do more often! I'm feeling pretty happy just to be alive right now, and I think I'll watch Monsters Inc.

Love, 
Cíara.

Judged by the Internet

Quiz thing I found on Stumble, thought it was worth posting. Might not be 100% accurate, but it's about right

Extroversion (56%) moderately high which suggests you are, at times, overly talkative, outgoing, sociable and interacting at the expense of developing your own individual interests and internally based identity. Accommodation (48%) medium which suggests you are moderately kind natured, trusting, and helpful while still maintaining your own interests. Orderliness (30%) low which suggests you are overly flexible, random, scattered, and fun seeking at the expense too often of structure, reliability, work ethic, and long term accomplishment. Emotional Stability (38%) moderately low which suggests you are worrying, insecure, emotional, and anxious. Inquisitiveness (56%) moderately high which suggests you are intellectual, curious, imaginative but possibly not very practical.

Take Free Big Five Personality Test
Personality Test by SimilarMinds.com

Learning for Learning's Sake

I really should be studying now, but I just wanted to say something.

I'm as pissed and stressed about the Junior Cert as anyone else, but I'm quite sick of hearing "Why do you we need to know Shakespeare to get a job?" or more commonly; "sure, this isn't gonna help ya get a job like."

My initial response is "because you're an illiterate fuck, now shut up" but that's not really very nice, nor informative. Truth to the matter, in most cases the only way Shakespeare is going to help you get a job is because you need it for the exams, to get a good grade and go to college and then get a job with whatever you achieve in college. If you're going to be a teacher (and therein the cycle repeats) or a lecturer or a Shakespearian actor or, I don't know, a Shakespearian analyst or something, then of course Shakespeare will help you get a job. But, my problem, dear children, is why should everything we learn have to do with getting a job? Is getting a job all that's important? Should we know nothing other than what is required for our employment?
Whatever happened to learning stuff, just for the sake of learning it? Since when was knowledge something only used for employment? Why, in this day and age, is the concept of learning something just for the sake of knowing a little bit extra, so foreign?

I'll probably come back to this topic again, but it's back to Irish questions for me. Yay.

Love,
Cíara
xox

...not good.

Just wrote a really shit poem entitled "Fuck"


That basically sums up how my weekend was. Haven't felt this shit in a long time. My whole universe was practically collapsing in my hands.

I've spent the last while thinking about how scared I was. How scared I am. How weak, and ashamed and how so, so, scared I am. How dependant I am. And how I seem to have fucked up the one thing that I thought would be flawless, and shattered the idea that I'm a good person, and shattered a certainty that I- actually, not just me-  never thought would even be in question. I don't think I'll ever stop feeling sorry for this.

Sorry for the crypticness, I just needed to vent.


On the plus side.....

um...

Well, I went to see Hanna- the movie, not a person- and it was really good. I enjoy seeing pretty girls kill people immensely.

Sigh. Bye bye now, children.

Cíara xox

Important World Events/ My Little Life

So, Osama Bin Laden's dead, I've got a day off school and as soon as this is done, it's productive time- maybe.

About the whole Bin Laden thing...I don't really have too much to say. I will say, however, that the vlogbrothers continue to teach me more than school ever could. Ms O'Reilly in particular, who's brief synopsis of Bin Laden's death was just...no. Clearly lacking the common intellectual sense that she thinks she has so much of. I can't say Bin Laden's death has a huge impact on me, because I was five when 9/11 happened and it's so difficult to find a straight story of everything about it that it's difficult to from a full opinion. I mean, I know everything everyone else knows, I'm sure, but there's an awful lot of conspiracy and out-and-out bullshit too. I will share a quote from Hank Green of the vlogbrothers though, that while not really relevant to me because I'm kind of detachted from the situation, is probably as good an explanation as any for how people - or at least, some people- are feeling.

"So lets just say this- the fact that I know I shouldn't be happy about the death of another human being, doesn't change the fact that- I am."

There is a lot to be said about this, and about the morality of it and about whether it was right or wrong to do it without permission, but, my friends, I'm not the person to say it.

Although of course, we all know I'm really a terrorist and my birth set the whole 9/11 thing in motion ;D

As afore mentioned, I have a day off school today. I woke up at about twenty past seven, hit snooze two, maybe three times and turned the alarm off at half seven. Feeling rather surprised about how awake I felt, I resolved to get up in just a minute...and woke up at twenty past eight. And then promptly fell asleep and woke up to my brother informing me it was ten to ten. Yay.
Usually, I would have gone to school anyway, but I was school an extra three hours yesterday. I'm entitled to a day off.

I'm not wasting my day though. I'm going to do a maths question, some music revision sheets, make paper stars and maybe draw something not related to school. Don't get more productive than that, right?

But first, I need to feed my addiction. Coffffffffffee time :D

Peace and Love,
Cíara
xox

P.S. I am aware that I still haven't done Cian's blog. I'll get to it when I'm feeling inspired, kay? <3

Our deepest fear

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

If you ignore the strike through bits, that's some inspirational stuff.

I remembered the first two lines of this the other day, and I couldn't remember where I heard it. So I googled it, and after the reading the whole thing, I've got this distant, fuzzy memory of reading it, for what I think might have been my conformation. Not too sure, but it's strange that it would come back to me now, especially since I rank my conformation waaaaay down on my list of things to be remembered.

Upon reading it, you might think that, sure, it's pretty, everyone fears that they're inadequate, not that they're powerful. Really? So you've never held yourself back from doing something you know you could have done?

We should all shine. We can all be something. I'm always saying that there's always a reason to keep fighting in life, fighting for yourself, or your goals, fighting because sometimes it's all we can do. Fighting to save yourself. But I rarely talk about shining, and I don't think I've ever talked about liberating others to feel good too. If you think about it, you might know someone who does unconsciously liberate other people from fear, and these people should be the ones that deserve a smile, and a hug, for what would appear to be no reason to them, but we would know it's because they shine and cast a glow on those around them. The cynics, the critics, the complainers - and I've been all of these at some point, and frequently- well, they deserve to shine too, and to let go of the negative and focus on everything that is good, because it's difficult, but there always is something good, no matter how small, and finding it is always worth doing.

It's kind of like I'm always singing a different tune, isn't it? Today an optimist, sometimes a pessimist, sometimes saying there's no point in either and that we should all just live. But I'm just a kid, trying to understand the labyrinth, and today's conclusion is that we should all shine like the stars we truly can be when we fight our fear (fighting again, see?) and fill the labyrinth with light.

Peace and love,
Cíara.
xox

Killjoys- Make Some Noise!

Guess where I was on Wednsday? :D

Yes, despite my former statement that I  couldn't go to the My Chem gig, I ended up going anyway. and before I start my recount of the awesome night that it was, I'm going to make a short statment that really shouldn't be needed, but is anyway;
I do not give a fuck if you think they are depressing/emos/fags etc. I never have, and never will. Your opinion of them is irrelevant.

It's so irritating. And whats more, when I say I don't care, one of the responses is that if I didn't care I wouldn't say anything. Idiots, I don't care about your opinion, what bothers me is that you're trying to force it on me with your righteous indignation that if you think a band suck, I should too. Anyway. Moving on.

I  left school at one, went home and then went to Monstereven to get the bus with Siobhan. Then we got the Luas with her sister, and got to the O2 at about three or four, I can't remember. Queueing was boring, and so, so cold. Doors didn't open until half six, but it was worth it.

I got a super awesome "Art is the weapon" tee shirt. I wanted another one, but needed to keep money for the bus home, so I settled for an overpriced wrsitband. Turns out we didn't get the bus home, but anyway.

Most of the people there were pretty awesome, apart from some fat drunk idiot who just annoyed everyone, and some idiot little 13 year old who was there with her mum, only sang the Black Parade, and pinched people when they pushed into her or got in front of her. I'm serious. But here I am, focusing on the bad stuff, what's wrong with me?

The first support band were LostAlone...yeah, they sucked, but the frontman did put on a good show.

Then there was The Blackout. Ohmydearsweetjesus. Did I mention I love The Blackout with an undying passion? They were soooo good! Sean Smith is such a legend.
"Give it up for LostAlone!
Give it up for Gavin!
Give it up for the security crew!
Give it up for Pop Tarts!"

I think he talks to the crowd most out of all the bands I've seen. He's awesome, because it's not the usual stuff you hear from bands, but just random shit. It's like he's actually holding a conversation- albiet with a hell of a lot of people.

They played all my favourite songs, including Spread Legs, Not Lies, which was a surprise. During I'm A Riot (freakin' brilliant song) Sean Smith sang most of the chorus while looking directly at me. Presumably because I was screaming the song back, and most of the people around me were clearly just My Chem fans. Lovvved it :D

And then there was My Chemical Romance, who I think I'll always have a special love for. I honestly can't help but love them. Maybe because when I was eleven and decided that what the majority of what my class listened to was shit, I turned to My Chem. Which doesn't say much in all fairness, because we all know those little idiots who love MCR and Paramore, and just annoy everybody. But, call me an emo, I was seriously insecure for about two years, and I don't care how retarded it sounds, My Chem were a help. Sure, I was a silly little twelve year old, who really knew a lot less about everything than she thought she did, but the fact that I had no confidence is undisputable. 

So hearing songs that I've heard hundred times at home, live with the beautiful band in front of me- it was freakin' awesome. They opened with Na Na Na, great decision. I really love the new album.

It was a long concert, and every second was worth it.
There's more that needs saying but I'm tired.
Cíara xox

Uhm...yeah.

I really have nothing to say, but here's some things that are cool:
http://thehpalliance.org/2011/01/why-the-body-bind-is-my-nightmare/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cyG381LN3dw

I would write what I think about these, but to be honest, I would just end up moping about how even if I try, I can never change and blah blah blah.

I am having the shittiest weekend. Feeling like my whole universe is exploding around my head or something. Whatever.

Fuck.

Good things.

Things that are good:
Coffee with lots of cream and sugar.
Innocent smoothies.
The first text of the day being "Good morning beautiful"
Easons vouchers.
Books.
A full Art and Hobby loyalty card.
HMV voucher.
Superman pyjamas.
Purple underwear with black bows.
A converse box full of pencils and paintbrushes, and an ironfist box full of promarkers.
Johnson's body wash and natural moisturiser.
Blue- blue paint, blue sky, the colour blue, the many different shades of blue, my boyfriend's blue eyes.
Purple- afore mentioned underwear, the sky late last night, my pretty-smelling body lotion, the colour purple in general.
Swings.
Empty roads, especially early in the morning or late at night.
The stars.
The moon.
Music.
Pink perfume bottles.
Trees.
All the random things around my room that remind of stuff.
Thinking of reasons why today is awesome.
Hugs ^^
Wearing underwear like a dude xD
Playing playstation with my little brother and screaming insults/obscenities at the tv.
Sending my best friend a text at two in the morning to say a sincere thank you for playing a part in getting my boyfriend and me together.
My friends.
Memes on deviantArt that make me laugh.


Things that are not good:
Feeling happy and having the mood killed in two seconds flat. Sigh.

The Labyrinth

Gabriel García Márquez wrote a historical novel entitled The General in his Labyrinth, a book about Simón Bolívar. In this book, Bolívar's last words are "Damn it. How will I ever get out of this labyrinth?"
           Anyone who has read Looking For Alaska by John Green knows this. The labyrinth becomes a huge part of the story, particularly between Miles and Alaska. If you haven't read it, you should. It's pure genius.

 When I described this book to one of my friends (Emma, I think) and told her how it had last words of poets, playwrights and other famous people, literary references all over the places, a quote from Marx, but also sex references and being bold, and then Alaska, the larger-than-life, poetic, crazy, beautiful, sexy, unstoppable character, Emma concluded that it sound exactly like my perfect book.

She was right, of course. Sometimes, Alaska reminded me of myself, except she was more than me in many  ways. For one, she's curvier, but let's not talk about my ten-year-old-boy body. Alaska's more sure of herself than I am. She lives her own life, and when she wants other people, she has them, and she radiates such certainty and confidence. She also smokes, drinks and has a lot of sex, but that's irrelevant. (She's also better at maths)
 I've always had crushes on characters from books, but none so much as Alaska, but even that's not why I love her character so much.

What is the labyrinth? Is it the labyrinth of life, or death? What was Bolívar trying to escape? Alaska decides it's neither life nor death, but suffering. To an extent, I agree with her. But it got me thinking.

A labyrinth, as defined by the Oxford online dictionary is ;
A complicated irregular network of passages or paths in which it is difficult to find one's way; a maze.
                               (ie.) You lose yourself in a labyrinth of little streets.
      An intricate or confusing arrangement.

Do we all have our own personal labyrinth? Maybe it is suffering, or maybe it's life, or death. Death, in my opinion, is not a labyrinth, at least not for me. Death is the end, when there's nothing left to be scared of. Life and suffering often go hand in hand, but that being said, life and happiness and go hand in hand, and suffering and happiness can go hand in hand, like yin and yang.

The more one thinks about the labyrinth, the more finding out what the labyrinth is can become a labyrinth itself. "You lose yourself in a labyrinth of little streets." An example from a dictionary, that was meant to do nothing more than define a word in the literal sense, but it's strangely perfect for what I'm trying to say. The "little streets"- the many aspects of life, of a person, of anything that could make up the labyrinth. One street can lead on to another, and this could lead to another, and one street could have many different turn offs, and you can't possibly take all the streets, unless you keep going back, but there's always more streets ahead, and more behind than you realised, but going back can never take you forward.

But is forward the ultimate goal? In the book, the Colonel, a friend, decides that "The labyrinth blows, but I choose it." Would you rather wonder the streets of the labyrinth forever, not going forward or back but merely following any path that goes anywhere, not caring if a turn will double back to a street you've already been to? But I digress- how could we wonder the streets of the labyrinth if we can't decide what it is?

"Difficult to find one's way" is the key. Obviously- if it wasn't difficult, it wouldn't be a labyrinth. 

Perphaps the labyrinth is life. Or maybe there isn't just one labyrinth. Maybe everyone has multiple laybrinths that just add up and become one huge labyrinth, a tangled mass of intrlocking streets that nobody knows what to do with.

When I first thought about it, I came to the vauge idea that the labyrinth was myself, that what I was looking for was the way out of the tangled mass in my head, to emerge clear and certain on the other side and to know, finally, everything I am. I'm pretty sure this wasn't Bolívar's labyrinth, but everything is relative to the reader.

I haven't yet wrote myself out of the labyrinth. Maybe I never will, but imagining the future is a kind of nostalgia, and I don't want to spend my whole life, my time in the labyrinth, imagining what it on the other side. I have to strive for my future, but my future isn't my life. Life isn't a journey, because if it was, it's got a pretty crap destination- death. Living in every second is what counts, and if you finally do get out of the labyrinth, don't ever forget how you got there, because the destination does not matter, perphaps the labyrinth doesn't even matter. So far, the labyrinth is a labyrinth itself, and maybe we're all fighting to get out of it, but when you get out- what's left to fight for?

Cíara, xox