Greetings & Salutations!
Welcome to The Thorny Daze. I go by the pseudonym Harley Rose
This blog is a garden one that will bloom, blossom and grow as time goes on. Here we don't judge. Here we're honest, and we can talk openly about a wide range of topics.
Original stories, poems, sketches, paintings of mine will be shared here.
And together we can connect.
Please take a seat in my garden of words... 'cause this is only the beginning.
Our Garden of Eternity
When I say 'Our Garden of Eternity' I wanted to have a mysterious opening to my website regarding walking on a line in-between the world of the living and the world of the dead.
My whole life, and even to this day even at my happiness, in my most healthy and positive mindset the darkness lingers with much disturbing thoughts. I am proud of myself, and I can achieve much. We have a lot to come, but the Garden reflects that growth takes eternity as just as every flower, every tree, patch of grass, one must grow. I can become the best version of myself, and I forever still feel never satisfied empty not with myself or how I am growing, but with life, and everything "normal" that a human should live to do... Brings me to have such horrid thoughts that then society views me as selfish.
The Thorny Daze, my Thorny Rose is a Garden that for now and forevermore will be a place for honesty. The honesty I cannot tell friends, family or even a therapist, will be shared here.
This is the place for honesty, whether it's life or death. War torn, boyfriend/girlfriend/partner troubles, the garden is always open for discussion.
The Woman
After a long and endless day, a beautiful woman arrived back at her empty home.
She walked with long black hair, Blue eyes that looked dead with beautiful white pale skin, and she was dressed in all black.
The inside of her home is dark. Even with the lights turned on. The house has furniture but isn't finished. It has decorations and little homey things, but all scattered or in boxes. You would think that she just moved in but she has lived within this home for five years. She has never had the energy to make a lively home.
She walks into the bathroom and washes her face in the porcelain sink. As she lifts her head.. Her reflection shows within her cracked mirror. Not only is her own heart and soul broken but so is her reflection. What an appearance of a poet with no love. No want. No beauty inside or out. Society is a selfish being.. Or is it the woman?
Once finished, she soon lays herself on the couch and turns on her television.
Rerun after rerun.. hours pass.
It's now dark outside. The sun has set. And the woman mumbled to herself "Future isn't anything great, every day is the same. When will this all stop?"
The beautiful woman then took out her phone, opened her notes app and wrote down her thoughts, something she often had...
"I'm in love with my future,
Even if the two of us disagree...
The youth in the light is so tragic.
My rebellion is what paints the walls red,
As a sound bounces, two souls connect
Without a wire, I can't wait to meet them...
As I look and apply my lipstick, my mirror is cracked
I don't really mind it
For my reflection is nothing raw,
For my reflection can no longer lie to me or my future
If the made-up illusion is distorted"
The woman then tosses her phone across the room, but soon she misses it. "I can't do anything right. I can't feel anything right." she spoke in a broken whisper.
She gets up to go use the bathroom and get ready for bed. Her mirror was still cracked and broken. Her reflection is an illusion, a painting of what the outside world wishes to see. Then the woman realizes that she loves who she is on the inside and the outside, and that's more important than the mindset of society.
The lights in the house all soon turn off as she closes the bathroom door and all you could hear is a creaky door move and lock. The Woman was never seen again, as her spirit stays within each of us. Latching onto us. Hanging onto all of our insecurities. Until we become whole.
Your Title
2024, Jan 3rd
"New year, new me" said every single person who has ever lived.
I sort of want to crawl into a hole and never come out! I'm honestly not doing well, the burden of being a strong person is that we never give up. I was cut so many times, I fell too many times to count, I'm twenty years old with a seventy-two-year-old soul. The mind of a twenty-five-year-old and the life of a twenty-three-year-old.
2024, Jan 6th
I feel as if my mind is clinging, I'm spiraling down a hole. Darkness consumes me. Compelled with loneliness, compromised by my peers. I've met more tragedy and sorrow than most people my age. And yet I hold onto the idea that life can be beautiful.
I can't just help but think and think;
"How far can I go until I fall?
Deep enough that'll be like a never ending rabbit hole,
One that will lead me to Earth's core?
I can't bear to be seen,
Just go away and leave the door closed.
Funny one minute, obviously the next.
It feels as if I have a bee buzzing in my ear,
And it'll sting me the minute I feel at peace.
Undressing, but quickly covering myself up
Too insecure that I shatter my mirror with just one look.
How strong am I really?"
2024, Jan 13th
- Beware -
Beware of what they call 'Beauty'.
Real life isn't at all a rainbow
You'll become transparent
Invisible like your soul
You'll be very alone even within a room full of people,
I'm losing myself as I drown into a boiling pot...
You had a dream, one of a life.
Humans are evil creatures,
Even those who appear to be kind.
Soon you're walking into the salon with all the gossip,
Forcing yourself to trust someone else with scissors,
They can make you unique or transparent like themselves...
I'm sitting wearing a man's suit,
I am a woman but who really cares!
Society would have me forced into a corset
One not allowing me to breathe,
Your eyes will become dead and lifeless one day,
Washing you away with that monochrome crowd...
Beware of what they call 'Freedom'.
Real life isn't at all a rainbow
You'll become transparent
Invisible like your soul
Protesters are judged even when they're peaceful,
I'll walk away with my pride while you just fade away…
URGH, "MEN"
We all have that one boss. We all that one teacher, parent or just somebody in our life that is male and is just so 'urgh'!
At my current job where I work as a hostess, I will admit it's a bit of a boy's club, and I'm one of the only three female employees. The other two are the owner and her assistant. Normally my coworkers don't bother me, they're chill, it's a job. But my manager, not General Manager, my manager is giving me genuine issues and is a pig. To some guys, his few gestures could be jokes, but to a female, it could be him "slaughtering" me. Okay, I admit it, I'm twenty, and everyone else is in their mid-twenties and forties but if I'm assertive, speaking up for myself, and just working, why is he telling me I'm being 'aggressive' when I'm not. I'm speaking in a same tone and manner as he, and any male, but I'm aggressive.
He is my boss, my manager, so I know he is in charge. As a "manager" I respect him for his title, but when you use your title as a crutch to act like you're almighty and can-do-no-wrong, then we will have some issues.