He wants to play our lovegame.
Don't think too much...
Just one thing.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
reality
I miss my grandma.
:(
Why did she have to die?
I miss her. I miss her. I miss her. I miss her. This isn't helping. I miss her. She understood me. She didn't need to define me. She didn't need to control me. She didn't need to do anything, to advised me, because she knew me. She knew me in the way that she knew who I was and the potential I had, have, to be this person, without needing to change me. She knew that what I was doing was the right choice by me, no matter anyone else's opinion on it. Herself included. She loved me. I still love her. I miss you grandma. I wish so much. I love you. I miss you.
:(
Why did she have to die?
I miss her. I miss her. I miss her. I miss her. This isn't helping. I miss her. She understood me. She didn't need to define me. She didn't need to control me. She didn't need to do anything, to advised me, because she knew me. She knew me in the way that she knew who I was and the potential I had, have, to be this person, without needing to change me. She knew that what I was doing was the right choice by me, no matter anyone else's opinion on it. Herself included. She loved me. I still love her. I miss you grandma. I wish so much. I love you. I miss you.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Prompt
This post was partly prompted by Mikko's own post of charm.
How he wrote that some people have it and others don't. Simple to it, nothing more.
I don't know why he wrote that post but I have an inkling. But either way it made me think, made me reflect, made me analyzed. I may be a copycat in some ways but sometimes it's just my own way of trying to share my side of the story.
Charm. Such a small one syllable word. A word when used in describing someone tells alot about them.
I have been described by this word, many times. But only in recent years.
I have blossomed into a person, a personality, a perspective that I yearned for when I was younger, in my middle school years. When I was 11,12,13, 14. My most awkward years when I was painfully aware of just what type of person was I. Charming wasn't it.
I dreamed of a better self in those days. Dream of myself as being a charming beautiful woman who everyone adored, who everyone wanted, who everyone thought she was just the bee's knees. Always on the go, always having fun, always lovely, her social calendar full and yet she still made time for people.
I think I have accomplished that. To a point. I know there are other aspects I have to improve on myself to become that ultimate dream of myself as a person since I was young but I won't fully be able to be that person till I am independent. But right now, I am as closest I will be to that person, personality wise, while still being dependent. (Physically, I need to keep working but that's on hold till I feel 100% healthy)
I think I have accomplished that because of the fact that my social awkwardness. Well, it's gone. Nearly. I realized that I will never be that girl who sat alone at lunch anymore. That I will not be that girl who takes herself to the movies or to eat with only her book for company. I do not have to do that. Unless I want it to be that way.
Because now I will always have no end of friends to join me. All I have to say is I want to go here, who's coming and look there's one, two, three, hell sometimes as many as four or five people coming along. And sometimes I know there would be more if our schedules were all so delicious free.
I became that type of girl that I was so jealous of in High school & middle school. That type of girl who made making friends look so easily. Who was always so loud, so overly energetic, so awesome, so perfect.
I am not perfect. I never will be. But in ever other aspect I have become that girl. Too loud, too much energy, too easily befriending people.
I didn't realized that I had become this person but I still remember what it was like to not be this person.
To sit by myself at lunch and not by choice. To crave that whoever would just talk to me.
I sit back and look at myself and just shake my head in amazement at the fact that I do have quite a social circle, even though I say I do not. But it's not a lie anymore. I do have friends who care about me. Who keep me company, no matter how sick or lonely I feel and who I try to take care of to the best of my abilities.
And now I think I just made a new one. Sure it's a guy. It's always a guy with me is what I find these days.
But I think that it's not going to be romantic or sexual. I admit to the fact that he did ask me out. Despite the beliefs of my friends who say he likes me in that way. I doubt. I really doubt and trying to see things truthfully. Looking at it from my side, I see him as someone who could teach me how to ride...A motorcycle that is. But also as a new friend because he isn't from around here and that sucks, being the new kid. Not knowing anyone, not hanging out with anyone. But it's the beauty of it too. Making those new connections. New friends.
Finding out life and what's the city is all about and the people in it. Welcoming the
experience and leaving the place a different person, a different mindset. With the ability to see oneself's potential and direction much more clearly in life. Which is why I love traveling.
So despite whatever my friend's tongues have to wag and wager upon that he likes me in that way, I will not believe it till it is confirmed from him but I will also not delude myself into putting expectations. I will have a friend, a friend new to town, a friend who happens to be a rider,and kind to me but that's it. Que sera sera.
And in the meantime I will concentrate on my goals and ambitions. On being the best person that I can be. Relationship or not, I will define my life and live it the way that makes me happiest and in the manner of living out and being the best person who I can be.
How he wrote that some people have it and others don't. Simple to it, nothing more.
I don't know why he wrote that post but I have an inkling. But either way it made me think, made me reflect, made me analyzed. I may be a copycat in some ways but sometimes it's just my own way of trying to share my side of the story.
Charm. Such a small one syllable word. A word when used in describing someone tells alot about them.
I have been described by this word, many times. But only in recent years.
I have blossomed into a person, a personality, a perspective that I yearned for when I was younger, in my middle school years. When I was 11,12,13, 14. My most awkward years when I was painfully aware of just what type of person was I. Charming wasn't it.
I dreamed of a better self in those days. Dream of myself as being a charming beautiful woman who everyone adored, who everyone wanted, who everyone thought she was just the bee's knees. Always on the go, always having fun, always lovely, her social calendar full and yet she still made time for people.
I think I have accomplished that. To a point. I know there are other aspects I have to improve on myself to become that ultimate dream of myself as a person since I was young but I won't fully be able to be that person till I am independent. But right now, I am as closest I will be to that person, personality wise, while still being dependent. (Physically, I need to keep working but that's on hold till I feel 100% healthy)
I think I have accomplished that because of the fact that my social awkwardness. Well, it's gone. Nearly. I realized that I will never be that girl who sat alone at lunch anymore. That I will not be that girl who takes herself to the movies or to eat with only her book for company. I do not have to do that. Unless I want it to be that way.
Because now I will always have no end of friends to join me. All I have to say is I want to go here, who's coming and look there's one, two, three, hell sometimes as many as four or five people coming along. And sometimes I know there would be more if our schedules were all so delicious free.
I became that type of girl that I was so jealous of in High school & middle school. That type of girl who made making friends look so easily. Who was always so loud, so overly energetic, so awesome, so perfect.
I am not perfect. I never will be. But in ever other aspect I have become that girl. Too loud, too much energy, too easily befriending people.
I didn't realized that I had become this person but I still remember what it was like to not be this person.
To sit by myself at lunch and not by choice. To crave that whoever would just talk to me.
I sit back and look at myself and just shake my head in amazement at the fact that I do have quite a social circle, even though I say I do not. But it's not a lie anymore. I do have friends who care about me. Who keep me company, no matter how sick or lonely I feel and who I try to take care of to the best of my abilities.
And now I think I just made a new one. Sure it's a guy. It's always a guy with me is what I find these days.
But I think that it's not going to be romantic or sexual. I admit to the fact that he did ask me out. Despite the beliefs of my friends who say he likes me in that way. I doubt. I really doubt and trying to see things truthfully. Looking at it from my side, I see him as someone who could teach me how to ride...A motorcycle that is. But also as a new friend because he isn't from around here and that sucks, being the new kid. Not knowing anyone, not hanging out with anyone. But it's the beauty of it too. Making those new connections. New friends.
Finding out life and what's the city is all about and the people in it. Welcoming the
experience and leaving the place a different person, a different mindset. With the ability to see oneself's potential and direction much more clearly in life. Which is why I love traveling.
So despite whatever my friend's tongues have to wag and wager upon that he likes me in that way, I will not believe it till it is confirmed from him but I will also not delude myself into putting expectations. I will have a friend, a friend new to town, a friend who happens to be a rider,and kind to me but that's it. Que sera sera.
And in the meantime I will concentrate on my goals and ambitions. On being the best person that I can be. Relationship or not, I will define my life and live it the way that makes me happiest and in the manner of living out and being the best person who I can be.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Anyone would do tonight.
Self doubts, nostalgia, and failure have been plaguing me all day.
It started with the failure of a little thing known as an instruction permit test. For which I am supposed to be studying for in order to get my instruction permit so I can get my licence so I can drive and taste a little bit more of that freedom that I crave so much.
Failure wasn't possible for me and it happened. I don't know why I wasn't able to get it. I don't know why I failed. I read it. I studied. Failure is not an option but it brought me back to the reality of myself.
That I can fail. That I am not perfect. And with that, today came to me in the form of unhappiness and yearning because I woke up with him in my mind, another dream of him. Another dream where he is still with me and we are happy, and just joyfully being us. And I need to come to terms with it. I hate dreaming of him because it reminds me of how painful my reality it is. How unbearable is the fact that no one in the whole goddamn world calls me their sweetheart.
I was lonely for a relationship. It entered my being and surrounded me, engulf me in it's draining emotions, and I try to forget. Try so hard to forget how it felt to be happy in a relationship. And ended up trying in the wrong place. In my sanctuary. In my hammock with a book in my lap, swinging softly in the breeze. Knowing that no one would interrupt me.
Big Mistake. I remembered how one magically night years ago when I didn't realized that it was magic but just plain seducing, I dared. My sense of risking it all not having gone anywhere. I did risk it.
I was reading there one summer evening, being all of myself at at age 18 turning 19, I thought I had the world in my hands. I felt beautiful, school was out, I had a summer job, and my first boyfriend who I hadn't at that point have sex with yet because he was a virgin and I was playing out to see if he was really mine to keep in a relationship. Seeing if he like me for me, and not for my body.
It was one of those hot sticky but windy nights where everything feels wet. My uncle had just moved from Seattle and was currently living with us. It was because of this that I took this risk. Such a huge risk. He was sleeping in the living room till he found his own place, so I knew that once my parents had retired to their room, they would not come out again.
By this point because of my work hours, I would make it a habit to read late into the night on the hammock, deliciously enjoying a book under the desert sky. My parents never suspected anything that when my boyfriend got out of work at 11:30 (I still remember) that I called him. I called him and told him to come over. He did, riding his bike from his work to my house since he didn't have his car yet. I snuck him through the side gate in my backyard.
Everyone has stories, memories, of lovely romantic, star dazzling evenings in their relationships of how they were wined and dine, taken dancing, frolicking on the beach, just beautiful romance days that are remembered sweetly with a sadness if the relationship ended or a secret smile of knowing, of appreciation if the relationship was still alive but with a different kind of passion fueling it.
But what they tell you is not the full story. They just tell you, it was one of the most romantic nights in my life. And they expect you to understand, to feel what it was to be them on that night and be treated by a person so wonderfully that the word enchanting meant what it meant.
My night didn't involve money. Didn't involve going out. It didn't involve music or food or entertainment. What it did involved was a summer dress used as PJs because it was becoming frayed, the smell of fast food in the air coming from his uniform. The giggles of a girl high on happiness as she watched her first boyfriend distractedly looking around, being a nervous wreck because if they were caught, who knew what the consequences were except for that they were bad, very bad.
The coaxing of shy murmurings to climb into the hammock, to take off his shoes, to take off his work shirt, and climb in with me on the woven fabric. His smile so boyish still, his eyes reflecting the same level of mischievousness that was felt because we were old enough to have an adult relationship and feel the seriousness of each other, and yet young enough to still feel like teenagers rebelling with that night.
What surprise me was how little he knew and how I opened up his world. He had never even been on a hammock before, much less the luxury that was mine. A stolen hammock, different, sturdy from the ones that are seen in ads because it is durable, more like swinging on a thick mat than the image of strings woven together that are so often brought to mind.
He didn't even know how to get into one, how to climb in one. I had to stop the hammock, get out, show him how I climb in or else he would have tipped us both over with his crazy legs trying to jump in. Trying to be quiet and stifle laughter at his naive, and hiding the bit of shock that it gave me.
I settled myself into it first, getting comfortable with my book, lazing around, and caught him staring, looking me up and down, watching how he blush by the faint light of the moon as he realized I caught him checking me out. I smiled and beckoned. He climb in so slowly, afraid to disturb the illusion I had created, the aura changing from playfulness and giggles to one of unmistakable desire, unsaid feelings of love, and a thin layer of fear of taking a risk with each other's hearts.
I don't even think we talk much beyond idle chatter of how our days were. Soon the talking stop and the soft kissing and whispered conversations cut in by the inability to stop tracing each other's body due to our urges. Minutes. Hours. Nearly the whole night was spent with each other in that hammock, swinging, moving, murmuring silly notions, kissing, revealing new things about each other that we didn't know before. Lovely, beautiful, desire, passion, love, yes love, form our connection that night and when he left, well past 4 in the morning, I could have cried because I wanted him back. I wanted the night to be young again. I wanted him and me in the hammock, an ignored book between us. I wanted my fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone, wanted him showering me with those warm kisses everywhere on my face, behind my ears. And it wasn't just about lust. It was so much more than that. For the longest time it really was just that feeling of 'holding hands'.
It was about wanting to feel loved and know that I was. That in the night, there was nothing else between us. It was just us, him on my mind, and I on his mind only. No one was more important, nothing else matter. We were all that we needed or care for. He was really my everything and I was his everything.
I was. He was.
And today I was no one's everything. Not even close. All I can hope is to not be forgotten. To be someone's tonight and let them be my tonight. All this came back to me because I went outside to deal with my moodiness, the restlessness I felt at myself for being so stupid. For not passing that test.
And on that hammock, I closed my eyes and heard the way the wood groan softly as I swung from side to side, and I could almost feel him right there next to me, I could see him. And it hurt because I knew that unlike that night, if I open my eyes there would no one there. No missed phone calls from that special person, no texts, no voice mails, nothing for me because no one was thinking of me in terms of being their everything.
I did what I always do. Even back in high school, middle school when the waves of loneliness, of . I push the feelings as far away as I could and read obsessively so I could forget. I could forget my own reality. My own pain. I could forget my own personal demons.
All I can think of now is that I need to write. Or read. Maybe the knock the fuck out with a sleeping pill or two. It's always better in the morning and besides I have to live up to my own philosophisy anyway.
Because I do relate to absent people than build relationships with those around me.
Not that it's by choice. And it will be better in the morning.
It has to be.
It started with the failure of a little thing known as an instruction permit test. For which I am supposed to be studying for in order to get my instruction permit so I can get my licence so I can drive and taste a little bit more of that freedom that I crave so much.
Failure wasn't possible for me and it happened. I don't know why I wasn't able to get it. I don't know why I failed. I read it. I studied. Failure is not an option but it brought me back to the reality of myself.
That I can fail. That I am not perfect. And with that, today came to me in the form of unhappiness and yearning because I woke up with him in my mind, another dream of him. Another dream where he is still with me and we are happy, and just joyfully being us. And I need to come to terms with it. I hate dreaming of him because it reminds me of how painful my reality it is. How unbearable is the fact that no one in the whole goddamn world calls me their sweetheart.
I was lonely for a relationship. It entered my being and surrounded me, engulf me in it's draining emotions, and I try to forget. Try so hard to forget how it felt to be happy in a relationship. And ended up trying in the wrong place. In my sanctuary. In my hammock with a book in my lap, swinging softly in the breeze. Knowing that no one would interrupt me.
Big Mistake. I remembered how one magically night years ago when I didn't realized that it was magic but just plain seducing, I dared. My sense of risking it all not having gone anywhere. I did risk it.
I was reading there one summer evening, being all of myself at at age 18 turning 19, I thought I had the world in my hands. I felt beautiful, school was out, I had a summer job, and my first boyfriend who I hadn't at that point have sex with yet because he was a virgin and I was playing out to see if he was really mine to keep in a relationship. Seeing if he like me for me, and not for my body.
It was one of those hot sticky but windy nights where everything feels wet. My uncle had just moved from Seattle and was currently living with us. It was because of this that I took this risk. Such a huge risk. He was sleeping in the living room till he found his own place, so I knew that once my parents had retired to their room, they would not come out again.
By this point because of my work hours, I would make it a habit to read late into the night on the hammock, deliciously enjoying a book under the desert sky. My parents never suspected anything that when my boyfriend got out of work at 11:30 (I still remember) that I called him. I called him and told him to come over. He did, riding his bike from his work to my house since he didn't have his car yet. I snuck him through the side gate in my backyard.
Everyone has stories, memories, of lovely romantic, star dazzling evenings in their relationships of how they were wined and dine, taken dancing, frolicking on the beach, just beautiful romance days that are remembered sweetly with a sadness if the relationship ended or a secret smile of knowing, of appreciation if the relationship was still alive but with a different kind of passion fueling it.
But what they tell you is not the full story. They just tell you, it was one of the most romantic nights in my life. And they expect you to understand, to feel what it was to be them on that night and be treated by a person so wonderfully that the word enchanting meant what it meant.
My night didn't involve money. Didn't involve going out. It didn't involve music or food or entertainment. What it did involved was a summer dress used as PJs because it was becoming frayed, the smell of fast food in the air coming from his uniform. The giggles of a girl high on happiness as she watched her first boyfriend distractedly looking around, being a nervous wreck because if they were caught, who knew what the consequences were except for that they were bad, very bad.
The coaxing of shy murmurings to climb into the hammock, to take off his shoes, to take off his work shirt, and climb in with me on the woven fabric. His smile so boyish still, his eyes reflecting the same level of mischievousness that was felt because we were old enough to have an adult relationship and feel the seriousness of each other, and yet young enough to still feel like teenagers rebelling with that night.
What surprise me was how little he knew and how I opened up his world. He had never even been on a hammock before, much less the luxury that was mine. A stolen hammock, different, sturdy from the ones that are seen in ads because it is durable, more like swinging on a thick mat than the image of strings woven together that are so often brought to mind.
He didn't even know how to get into one, how to climb in one. I had to stop the hammock, get out, show him how I climb in or else he would have tipped us both over with his crazy legs trying to jump in. Trying to be quiet and stifle laughter at his naive, and hiding the bit of shock that it gave me.
I settled myself into it first, getting comfortable with my book, lazing around, and caught him staring, looking me up and down, watching how he blush by the faint light of the moon as he realized I caught him checking me out. I smiled and beckoned. He climb in so slowly, afraid to disturb the illusion I had created, the aura changing from playfulness and giggles to one of unmistakable desire, unsaid feelings of love, and a thin layer of fear of taking a risk with each other's hearts.
I don't even think we talk much beyond idle chatter of how our days were. Soon the talking stop and the soft kissing and whispered conversations cut in by the inability to stop tracing each other's body due to our urges. Minutes. Hours. Nearly the whole night was spent with each other in that hammock, swinging, moving, murmuring silly notions, kissing, revealing new things about each other that we didn't know before. Lovely, beautiful, desire, passion, love, yes love, form our connection that night and when he left, well past 4 in the morning, I could have cried because I wanted him back. I wanted the night to be young again. I wanted him and me in the hammock, an ignored book between us. I wanted my fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone, wanted him showering me with those warm kisses everywhere on my face, behind my ears. And it wasn't just about lust. It was so much more than that. For the longest time it really was just that feeling of 'holding hands'.
It was about wanting to feel loved and know that I was. That in the night, there was nothing else between us. It was just us, him on my mind, and I on his mind only. No one was more important, nothing else matter. We were all that we needed or care for. He was really my everything and I was his everything.
I was. He was.
And today I was no one's everything. Not even close. All I can hope is to not be forgotten. To be someone's tonight and let them be my tonight. All this came back to me because I went outside to deal with my moodiness, the restlessness I felt at myself for being so stupid. For not passing that test.
And on that hammock, I closed my eyes and heard the way the wood groan softly as I swung from side to side, and I could almost feel him right there next to me, I could see him. And it hurt because I knew that unlike that night, if I open my eyes there would no one there. No missed phone calls from that special person, no texts, no voice mails, nothing for me because no one was thinking of me in terms of being their everything.
I did what I always do. Even back in high school, middle school when the waves of loneliness, of . I push the feelings as far away as I could and read obsessively so I could forget. I could forget my own reality. My own pain. I could forget my own personal demons.
All I can think of now is that I need to write. Or read. Maybe the knock the fuck out with a sleeping pill or two. It's always better in the morning and besides I have to live up to my own philosophisy anyway.
Because I do relate to absent people than build relationships with those around me.
Not that it's by choice. And it will be better in the morning.
It has to be.
Monday, May 17, 2010
there's something about
the sweet roar of a motorcycle engine when it is being rev up that just makes my heart race and my head turn so quick that as I strain to locate the sound.
I don't understand it but I don't question this attraction to it that just makes me get up out of my seat and get going.
It's crazy. And I love it.
Is this another way to self actualized?
I don't know. But I can't deny it any more. It's not like I have to be born liking something in order for me to like it. So yes, it's a new infatuation. One I've denied because of the remaining shreds of traditionalism I've had.
But now, all I want to do is fly. Nothing is going to stop me. Especially not myself. Not going to happen tomorrow. Or a week from now. But one day, I will, and in the meantime I will take that motivation and put it to use, and do things my way. Happiness comes whichever way :)
I don't understand it but I don't question this attraction to it that just makes me get up out of my seat and get going.
It's crazy. And I love it.
Is this another way to self actualized?
I don't know. But I can't deny it any more. It's not like I have to be born liking something in order for me to like it. So yes, it's a new infatuation. One I've denied because of the remaining shreds of traditionalism I've had.
But now, all I want to do is fly. Nothing is going to stop me. Especially not myself. Not going to happen tomorrow. Or a week from now. But one day, I will, and in the meantime I will take that motivation and put it to use, and do things my way. Happiness comes whichever way :)
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Of friendships and relationships
I am trying to understand. Really I am, but you must understand me too.
I didn't see myself becoming this person, this social butterfly where, wow oh wow, my phone is going off, and suddenly, I am invited by everyone and their mama to go places, not to forget about my own family social duties and my own agenda. I mean how much of a social life can I have?
Much more than I thought I would ever have. And these people, they care about me. They love me. I love them back. I really do have a circle of friends and I adore it.
BUT I realized that you don't.
And because of that, you spend most of your days alone, and here I am, some days, some nights, I get the hour or two before bed to myself and I think I need more me time because I am not getting my writing done. So please try to understand and not take it personal when I turn you down. We are friends, not a relationship. Thank you.
I didn't see myself becoming this person, this social butterfly where, wow oh wow, my phone is going off, and suddenly, I am invited by everyone and their mama to go places, not to forget about my own family social duties and my own agenda. I mean how much of a social life can I have?
Much more than I thought I would ever have. And these people, they care about me. They love me. I love them back. I really do have a circle of friends and I adore it.
BUT I realized that you don't.
And because of that, you spend most of your days alone, and here I am, some days, some nights, I get the hour or two before bed to myself and I think I need more me time because I am not getting my writing done. So please try to understand and not take it personal when I turn you down. We are friends, not a relationship. Thank you.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Ahem
Excuse me, excuse me. Excuse me!
EXCUSE ME!
He has officially invaded my psyche.
Fuck.
I dream of him. And it was beautiful.
He didn't start out in it, rather it was me and my little asian princess, my Nessarini and I in a larger version of her house, and we went out to ride around in the midwest apparently, nothing but fields of grass on both sides of the lone ride. But then, I don't know how, in the miles of switching driving back and forth, there was Mikko and Tessie, and that dork in the backseat. And we wound up eating at a restauran, and it was sweet until we left, and Nessa and I ditch everyone, making them walked back to the house.
Once inside the house, Nessa went into a different room and never came out. I look into the telescope and found Mikko and Tessie out on the road still walking.
Then that dork showed up. No shirt on. Apparently he was sick and we were somehow in the same bathroom, me hyperventing, on the verge of being sick, and him being sick with the shits. Eww. I know, and we were sharing a bathroom, and by the time we got cleaned up, somehow we ended ditching most of our clothes. Go figure. From the shits to sex. Only in my dreams and only in reality because people are disgusting like that, haha.
We wound up in this very long living room, and I was still heaving a bit and he was talking to me and I couldn't hear him over my dry heaves. He came closer and I stopped heaving long enough for him to say sarcastically, now that was a good breakfast, and for me to respond, oh Yeah! It's not like it was going to be give up food poisoning or anything.
We laugh and then we wound up having a near hump fest, making out against the wall, luscious lips and wandering hands which stop my heaving and made me blush, and then we stopped the hump fest. We stop because he and I became aware of the fact that we were holding hands. He was holding my left hand with the freckle because I kept staring at the freckle and thinking, he is not holding my hand, it doesn't mean anything, it doesn't matter, it was an accident, I'll just let go and we can go back to messing around, and I did it. I let go of his hand and took it away and he just smiled with an expression of playfulness on his face, and took my hand again. I let go and move it and every time he would grab it, no matter how much I tried to squirm out of it. And every time he would grab a hold of it, he would peck me on the cheek, my neck. He must have done this a dozen times without a word between us and I finally stopped squirming out of his hand holding and I smile like one can only smile in dreams, so bright that it shone up the room. I radiated, could see our own aura like that in the sims2 when you reach your 'zone'. And he kissed me, one of those long kisses that happens in movies that just make you swoon and he dipped me. And I was happy.
And I woke up.
Damnit I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep to that dream.
I know that nothing will happen between me and dork because it has become clear, and yet my psyche shows that even though try as I might detached myself from this silly crush I have on him, that I'm still yearning for this. Not the sex. Not the hump fest. Not the dating part of going out. Or being given gifts. because apparently what I really want is just
holding his hand.
EXCUSE ME!
He has officially invaded my psyche.
Fuck.
I dream of him. And it was beautiful.
He didn't start out in it, rather it was me and my little asian princess, my Nessarini and I in a larger version of her house, and we went out to ride around in the midwest apparently, nothing but fields of grass on both sides of the lone ride. But then, I don't know how, in the miles of switching driving back and forth, there was Mikko and Tessie, and that dork in the backseat. And we wound up eating at a restauran, and it was sweet until we left, and Nessa and I ditch everyone, making them walked back to the house.
Once inside the house, Nessa went into a different room and never came out. I look into the telescope and found Mikko and Tessie out on the road still walking.
Then that dork showed up. No shirt on. Apparently he was sick and we were somehow in the same bathroom, me hyperventing, on the verge of being sick, and him being sick with the shits. Eww. I know, and we were sharing a bathroom, and by the time we got cleaned up, somehow we ended ditching most of our clothes. Go figure. From the shits to sex. Only in my dreams and only in reality because people are disgusting like that, haha.
We wound up in this very long living room, and I was still heaving a bit and he was talking to me and I couldn't hear him over my dry heaves. He came closer and I stopped heaving long enough for him to say sarcastically, now that was a good breakfast, and for me to respond, oh Yeah! It's not like it was going to be give up food poisoning or anything.
We laugh and then we wound up having a near hump fest, making out against the wall, luscious lips and wandering hands which stop my heaving and made me blush, and then we stopped the hump fest. We stop because he and I became aware of the fact that we were holding hands. He was holding my left hand with the freckle because I kept staring at the freckle and thinking, he is not holding my hand, it doesn't mean anything, it doesn't matter, it was an accident, I'll just let go and we can go back to messing around, and I did it. I let go of his hand and took it away and he just smiled with an expression of playfulness on his face, and took my hand again. I let go and move it and every time he would grab it, no matter how much I tried to squirm out of it. And every time he would grab a hold of it, he would peck me on the cheek, my neck. He must have done this a dozen times without a word between us and I finally stopped squirming out of his hand holding and I smile like one can only smile in dreams, so bright that it shone up the room. I radiated, could see our own aura like that in the sims2 when you reach your 'zone'. And he kissed me, one of those long kisses that happens in movies that just make you swoon and he dipped me. And I was happy.
And I woke up.
Damnit I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep to that dream.
I know that nothing will happen between me and dork because it has become clear, and yet my psyche shows that even though try as I might detached myself from this silly crush I have on him, that I'm still yearning for this. Not the sex. Not the hump fest. Not the dating part of going out. Or being given gifts. because apparently what I really want is just
holding his hand.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Looking at the brightside.
It's never me.
This was how I felt in high school. Middle school.
Had that crush on that special guy, watch him all year, wanting him, liking him, even though I didn't know him, memorizing the few words he said to me, memories of my happiness shining so bright at the fact that he acknowledged me. That he spoke to me, that he was nice, and that maybe he did noticed me but he didn't want to admit that he liked me because I wasn't like the other girls. Never was. But that was okay, I kept dreaming of the day that he wouldn't care, him and any other guy after I had a crush on. That, maybe for once they would noticed the slightly pudgy but pretty girl who definitely was a brain, and didn't care for the social effects of it. That he wanted her, wanted me, and that was all he cared about.
It never happened. So many times my dreams would be shattered in front of my own eyes, me chatting with a girl in class and see it happened right before my eyes. The guy would come over and I would get butterflies and then he would approached my classmate. And asked her out right in front of me.
I became nothing more than furniture right then, invisible, not acknowledging the fact that although they were flirting, playing, over a few feet was a girl who's hopes were crush by her crush.
And it's still the same. Nothing has changed.
It's shoved in my face, right there. So clear to see that I am invisible.
That he will chose her over me. Has chosen her over me. This crush of mine, so silly. I should have never crush on him in the first place, because I predicted this.
I thought why should I bother? Sure his texts make me smile but since that's all he does, it won't go further, especially since he hasn't hinted at meeting up, but I have patience. Besides there's no one else out there, but I knew the way he (didn't) text me that he wasn't attracted to me.
I knew it.
And now he has all but admitted he likes someone via facebook. And guess who it is? I don't know but I can tell you who it isn't. Me.
But that's okay. No, really it's okay because it's when reality hits a bit closer to home that I tend to lose myself in my writing, in my dreams, in my relating to absent people than those around me.
I'll be fine. I just should have known better. I'll smile when he gets in a relationship and think 'good for him!' Good for her! I hope they're happy because I am. I am and will be happy with myself. I will not fall into the thought that a relationship will be the answer to my problems. It's just temporarily loneliness. And that temporarily loneliness I will used to my advantage. I will used it in my writing. I will give my pain to my characters and they will be complete with it, and after I finish writing, I will be content with myself and smile at what I have done.
Most of the time. But some of the time, it's not that bad really, I'm just letting it out so that I can let in the new, the self-actualizations, the happiness, so I can remember how
Destiny calls me.
And how destiny will have to come after me because I will be too busy, too fast, too much of everything involved in my life to making it the happiest I can make it that destiny and my dreams will have to catch to me. Because there's nothing else I can do but make the best possible life for myself and enjoy it. Enjoy my destiny, enjoy my living in the moment, just face it, and live it. Do it.
And when I see those couples, when I hear those songs, when I see those updates, and it hurts. All I have to do is grin and bear it, and remember how I am me, and I am an amazing person, and that they have made their choice, and it isn't me, so good luck to them, bravo, and I will do just fine.
Mr. Brightside-The Killers.
This was how I felt in high school. Middle school.
Had that crush on that special guy, watch him all year, wanting him, liking him, even though I didn't know him, memorizing the few words he said to me, memories of my happiness shining so bright at the fact that he acknowledged me. That he spoke to me, that he was nice, and that maybe he did noticed me but he didn't want to admit that he liked me because I wasn't like the other girls. Never was. But that was okay, I kept dreaming of the day that he wouldn't care, him and any other guy after I had a crush on. That, maybe for once they would noticed the slightly pudgy but pretty girl who definitely was a brain, and didn't care for the social effects of it. That he wanted her, wanted me, and that was all he cared about.
It never happened. So many times my dreams would be shattered in front of my own eyes, me chatting with a girl in class and see it happened right before my eyes. The guy would come over and I would get butterflies and then he would approached my classmate. And asked her out right in front of me.
I became nothing more than furniture right then, invisible, not acknowledging the fact that although they were flirting, playing, over a few feet was a girl who's hopes were crush by her crush.
And it's still the same. Nothing has changed.
It's shoved in my face, right there. So clear to see that I am invisible.
That he will chose her over me. Has chosen her over me. This crush of mine, so silly. I should have never crush on him in the first place, because I predicted this.
I thought why should I bother? Sure his texts make me smile but since that's all he does, it won't go further, especially since he hasn't hinted at meeting up, but I have patience. Besides there's no one else out there, but I knew the way he (didn't) text me that he wasn't attracted to me.
I knew it.
And now he has all but admitted he likes someone via facebook. And guess who it is? I don't know but I can tell you who it isn't. Me.
But that's okay. No, really it's okay because it's when reality hits a bit closer to home that I tend to lose myself in my writing, in my dreams, in my relating to absent people than those around me.
I'll be fine. I just should have known better. I'll smile when he gets in a relationship and think 'good for him!' Good for her! I hope they're happy because I am. I am and will be happy with myself. I will not fall into the thought that a relationship will be the answer to my problems. It's just temporarily loneliness. And that temporarily loneliness I will used to my advantage. I will used it in my writing. I will give my pain to my characters and they will be complete with it, and after I finish writing, I will be content with myself and smile at what I have done.
Most of the time. But some of the time, it's not that bad really, I'm just letting it out so that I can let in the new, the self-actualizations, the happiness, so I can remember how
Destiny calls me.
And how destiny will have to come after me because I will be too busy, too fast, too much of everything involved in my life to making it the happiest I can make it that destiny and my dreams will have to catch to me. Because there's nothing else I can do but make the best possible life for myself and enjoy it. Enjoy my destiny, enjoy my living in the moment, just face it, and live it. Do it.
And when I see those couples, when I hear those songs, when I see those updates, and it hurts. All I have to do is grin and bear it, and remember how I am me, and I am an amazing person, and that they have made their choice, and it isn't me, so good luck to them, bravo, and I will do just fine.
Mr. Brightside-The Killers.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
When he came along.
Thank you to the black color Kawasaki bike rider who decided to ride by my house and turn at the corner.
You will never be aware of this but at the moment you decided to cruise on down by my house, there was a young woman who despite her early morning and quick jog, was still feeling the blues from the late night before. She was, at the moment, curl up in a fetal position in her bed, hugging close her only source of comfort, her old raggedy teddy bear, not having the motivation to get up to get her day started, to even eat.
She was feeling sorry for herself, overthinking and bullshitting herself into believing that she will never amount to do anything. Never make her dreams come true, and she felt ugly. She was telling herself, no wonder why no one wanted to date her, she was UGLY. Unattractive, and no man would want her, she was lucky to be in a relationship, but like anything else she did, she told herself, it turn to shit, and everything else would turn to shit that she tried and that just for the moment she was fooling herself into believing that she was doing anything worthwhile to her life.
This and a million other negative thoughts were going through her mind.
Then she heard the sound of the engine, it cut through her, and in that moment, she had to see it.
To see something so beautiful, so full of meaning to her. It brought her out of her slump. (And yes I am referring to myself in the third person haha.)
It brought her out, because cruising by, she didn't just see a guy on a motorcycle turning the corner. She saw her freedom in the way he lean towards the corner. She her independence, her confidence, riding on the seat. How if she could learn to do that, she could be beautiful in the sense of not only fully trusting herself to be able to do anything, but also confident enough to take on the world.
It was a promise she made to herself, not to be scared of anything. To fulfill her potential, and to not keep her desires a secret anymore. It was more about her being herself, than just the fact that the rider might be cute. It was about a hobby, and a form of self expression to the world, not that she was a badass for doing this, she didn't think of herself that way (really she didn't.) It was just her, she wanted to know. She wanted to ride, she wanted to be more of herself, and find herself and her self-actualizations through her metal wet dream, her future in form of a motorcycle. It was about herself. About doing things she only dream of, of making herself happy, make her dreams, her reality, and not letting anyone telling her that she couldn't (he was such an idiot in that sense for telling her own limits to her) and not letting herself stop herself.
About being knowing herself enough to be able to reach her potential, and not stopping herself from it. Not anymore. Just doing it. Dong it and lettin og, and looking forward to the days when she has her licence in her wallet and knows that she did it and be proud of herself, just the way she feels when she's writing and knows that she has 2 books done, safely stored in her email and her computer. Her work. Her dreams. Her potential. Her self-worth. Not proving anything to anyone, but doing it for herself, and that's what brought her out of her sadness. The vision of her fuel-injected suicide machine in all it's beauty and her accomplishments behind it, and behind her, giving her hope. Giving her happiness. Giving her the chance to know herself and live life like she wants to, because that's what it is all about.
So thank you to the black kawasaki rider, even though you'll never know. Thank you, for reminding me to not 'carry the world upon my shoulders', to actually lived. Life's too short and I have self-actualizations to realized, dreams to make realities, places to travel, ambitions to meet, and above all, people to love and appreciate because they love me back and I don't ask for it.
I will not chase my dreams. My dreams will have to chase me to keep up.
You will never be aware of this but at the moment you decided to cruise on down by my house, there was a young woman who despite her early morning and quick jog, was still feeling the blues from the late night before. She was, at the moment, curl up in a fetal position in her bed, hugging close her only source of comfort, her old raggedy teddy bear, not having the motivation to get up to get her day started, to even eat.
She was feeling sorry for herself, overthinking and bullshitting herself into believing that she will never amount to do anything. Never make her dreams come true, and she felt ugly. She was telling herself, no wonder why no one wanted to date her, she was UGLY. Unattractive, and no man would want her, she was lucky to be in a relationship, but like anything else she did, she told herself, it turn to shit, and everything else would turn to shit that she tried and that just for the moment she was fooling herself into believing that she was doing anything worthwhile to her life.
This and a million other negative thoughts were going through her mind.
Then she heard the sound of the engine, it cut through her, and in that moment, she had to see it.
To see something so beautiful, so full of meaning to her. It brought her out of her slump. (And yes I am referring to myself in the third person haha.)
It brought her out, because cruising by, she didn't just see a guy on a motorcycle turning the corner. She saw her freedom in the way he lean towards the corner. She her independence, her confidence, riding on the seat. How if she could learn to do that, she could be beautiful in the sense of not only fully trusting herself to be able to do anything, but also confident enough to take on the world.
It was a promise she made to herself, not to be scared of anything. To fulfill her potential, and to not keep her desires a secret anymore. It was more about her being herself, than just the fact that the rider might be cute. It was about a hobby, and a form of self expression to the world, not that she was a badass for doing this, she didn't think of herself that way (really she didn't.) It was just her, she wanted to know. She wanted to ride, she wanted to be more of herself, and find herself and her self-actualizations through her metal wet dream, her future in form of a motorcycle. It was about herself. About doing things she only dream of, of making herself happy, make her dreams, her reality, and not letting anyone telling her that she couldn't (he was such an idiot in that sense for telling her own limits to her) and not letting herself stop herself.
About being knowing herself enough to be able to reach her potential, and not stopping herself from it. Not anymore. Just doing it. Dong it and lettin og, and looking forward to the days when she has her licence in her wallet and knows that she did it and be proud of herself, just the way she feels when she's writing and knows that she has 2 books done, safely stored in her email and her computer. Her work. Her dreams. Her potential. Her self-worth. Not proving anything to anyone, but doing it for herself, and that's what brought her out of her sadness. The vision of her fuel-injected suicide machine in all it's beauty and her accomplishments behind it, and behind her, giving her hope. Giving her happiness. Giving her the chance to know herself and live life like she wants to, because that's what it is all about.
So thank you to the black kawasaki rider, even though you'll never know. Thank you, for reminding me to not 'carry the world upon my shoulders', to actually lived. Life's too short and I have self-actualizations to realized, dreams to make realities, places to travel, ambitions to meet, and above all, people to love and appreciate because they love me back and I don't ask for it.
I will not chase my dreams. My dreams will have to chase me to keep up.
You know what
Fuck you subconscious. I am through with my personal demons haunting me and limiting myself, so bye.
I wanted everything.
I have been sitting here for the past two hours.
I told myself I would write my novel since the night is mine.
I didn't.
I spent two hours DOING NOTHING. KNOWING NOTHING. Because everything I've work so hard for this last semester. This rebuilding of my life, to make myself a better person, a better friend, to achieve my goals, my self-actualizations amounted to tonight.
Ugly. Fake. Loser.
Liar Liar. Dirty girl. Shameless.
This was coming. I know it the moment I felt my smile weary on my face.
I miss him. He's not here. He won't ever be here again.
He changed my whole world.
fuck. i can't even write this.
I told myself I would write my novel since the night is mine.
I didn't.
I spent two hours DOING NOTHING. KNOWING NOTHING. Because everything I've work so hard for this last semester. This rebuilding of my life, to make myself a better person, a better friend, to achieve my goals, my self-actualizations amounted to tonight.
Ugly. Fake. Loser.
Liar Liar. Dirty girl. Shameless.
This was coming. I know it the moment I felt my smile weary on my face.
I miss him. He's not here. He won't ever be here again.
He changed my whole world.
fuck. i can't even write this.
Monday, May 3, 2010
breathes
I am calm in form of a person.
I will not be frustrated by her depression.
I will help her anyway I can.
I will be her friend because she is my friend.
We will get through this.
I will be a better friend because life has handed her shit after shit and she doesn't deserve any lack of faith from my part.
I will be her friend.
I will not be frustrated by her depression.
I will help her anyway I can.
I will be her friend because she is my friend.
We will get through this.
I will be a better friend because life has handed her shit after shit and she doesn't deserve any lack of faith from my part.
I will be her friend.
What I forget
I forget that my mom never took one step into a high school. She left her education unfinished at 7th grade in Mexico that is. She left so she could work. My dad left school because it was dumb for him and started working to take care of himself and his independence because even though my grandma offer education, he turned it down because he couldn't stand living under her thumb. Too immature to grasp that education can equal a career, a career a nice lifestyle while not having to kill himself to earn it.
I forget that their education only extended itself so far by choice or by not having one.
I forget and get irritated sometimes at their ideas of who I am watching or listening lectured online isn't my teacher or my class like they assumed, they don't know what I'm doing, what I'm reading, what I'm writing. What I'm doing. They don't understand and they won't be able to.
They don't know why it irritates me when they barge into my room, time and time again, asking questions, handing me clothes, calling me for stuff. Why is it that I am annoyed because I have to stop what I'm doing and sometimes I come back to my writing and I can't remember what I was going to write, academically or creativity wise.
I forget that they think I can go back right to my work because it's on my computer, waiting. I forget when I get irritated at having to pause right in the middle of a lecture online. I am impatient. I forget when I need to remember their backgrounds and realized that I'm the first in my immediate family to go to college, graduate, continue in Univ. & I'm doing it by myself out here, with little help and what help there is available does not extend to me because I am not family and even then, help for me is only how much I'm willing to help myself.
I am trying to do that, every day. I am trying to improve myself, to improve my life, to hold onto the hope that even though there is little hope, that I can provide for my parents. I am traditionalist in the sense of my family morals and I believe that is good but I keep my hope and try to remember. I keep my hope and I continue to write in that hope.
I forget that their education only extended itself so far by choice or by not having one.
I forget and get irritated sometimes at their ideas of who I am watching or listening lectured online isn't my teacher or my class like they assumed, they don't know what I'm doing, what I'm reading, what I'm writing. What I'm doing. They don't understand and they won't be able to.
They don't know why it irritates me when they barge into my room, time and time again, asking questions, handing me clothes, calling me for stuff. Why is it that I am annoyed because I have to stop what I'm doing and sometimes I come back to my writing and I can't remember what I was going to write, academically or creativity wise.
I forget that they think I can go back right to my work because it's on my computer, waiting. I forget when I get irritated at having to pause right in the middle of a lecture online. I am impatient. I forget when I need to remember their backgrounds and realized that I'm the first in my immediate family to go to college, graduate, continue in Univ. & I'm doing it by myself out here, with little help and what help there is available does not extend to me because I am not family and even then, help for me is only how much I'm willing to help myself.
I am trying to do that, every day. I am trying to improve myself, to improve my life, to hold onto the hope that even though there is little hope, that I can provide for my parents. I am traditionalist in the sense of my family morals and I believe that is good but I keep my hope and try to remember. I keep my hope and I continue to write in that hope.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Truly Me.
It seems that every since I came back from Utah, something clicked.
I realized what I was doing. And more importantly what I wasn't doing.
It came to me that the person I wanted to be, that person I dream of so desperately when I was a teenager, when I was in middle school and found myself sitting by myself for lunch or even high school. I remember the first day, I didn't sit with anyone because of those people I did know, no one wanted to sit with me. And even back in middle school when I tried to join the "artsy" group table, the different kids, there was this one bitch who even asked me, was like I don't like you sitting here, you don't belong.
-_- I remember sitting along sometimes and thinking, this sucks but it's okay, they won't remember me anyway. It doesn't matter because one day they will wake up and find that they will have no friends or just fake friends. I won't be like that. I will care for my friends and have plenty of good times with them. I will actually go out to movies and to eat, and to their houses, and when I have my own place, I will throw little parties, social gatherings, where we would just sit and chat. (Even back then I couldn't picture myself owning a TV) Where we would eat food, and chat, and listen to music, and play silly games like charades (because I never thought of alcohol having the ability to exist in my life lol) Just talk about life, and go to art festivals and just be the social butterfly with a heart that I knew lived within myself.
I remember my other goals, sitting there alone, even when I had a book open in my life, I would see the image of who I had the potential I had to be walk by in the form of my daydreams.
I dream of all my potential and told myself one day I will be that beautifully happy intelligent woman who has taken her life and turn it into something meaningful. Something beautiful. Something real. Not a loser.
I realized that although I've accomplished many of my goals (Tall. Check. Beautiful. Check. Social Butterfly-still working my way there, mostly in the dating aspect but could be consider check, In-shape-just now started working on it and will continue to work on it till I have a body I am comfortable with, Independent-soon, grad school soon, licence's soon, books, halfway there. traveling-sortof check. All that I thought would make me into the happiest person I can be, the person I know I have the potential to be to live the best life I can. I wanted to be that person so bad & thought that by this time, my age, I would be complete in my dreams.
I'm not. In the bigger picture, I am. I am living a mostly happy existence that I would have never thought possible. But I have become lazy because of this happy existence.
I have conformed on a few of the goals that I shouldn't have. And when I returned from Utah, I realized that I don't have that much time before I become independent and I want to be truly me, the picture of me that I have in my mind by the time I am independent so that with my independence I will be the epitome of awesomeness that I owe to myself to be. I deserve to be happy. Truly happy, with myself, and my life. significant other or not, doesn't matter but I also need to discover the balance in dating.
I'm working on it. Everyday, little by little. I am working on the promises I made to myself. I have already accomplishment so much but I still have a way to go. And even if I had do done everything, I will never be complete. 'Never be complete.' I will always work on myself.
I love myself. It took me years to say that. But I realized that I do. I love who I am and I am happy with that. I just need to work on my life and my body shape to be healthy and be able to support another fantasy of mine but that's another story everyone but my family knows and it's staying that way.
I love myself and I will live my life to my happiest that I can, and work my way to the potential I have in myself. My daydreams will become my reality. All of them. Just a matter of time :D
I realized what I was doing. And more importantly what I wasn't doing.
It came to me that the person I wanted to be, that person I dream of so desperately when I was a teenager, when I was in middle school and found myself sitting by myself for lunch or even high school. I remember the first day, I didn't sit with anyone because of those people I did know, no one wanted to sit with me. And even back in middle school when I tried to join the "artsy" group table, the different kids, there was this one bitch who even asked me, was like I don't like you sitting here, you don't belong.
-_- I remember sitting along sometimes and thinking, this sucks but it's okay, they won't remember me anyway. It doesn't matter because one day they will wake up and find that they will have no friends or just fake friends. I won't be like that. I will care for my friends and have plenty of good times with them. I will actually go out to movies and to eat, and to their houses, and when I have my own place, I will throw little parties, social gatherings, where we would just sit and chat. (Even back then I couldn't picture myself owning a TV) Where we would eat food, and chat, and listen to music, and play silly games like charades (because I never thought of alcohol having the ability to exist in my life lol) Just talk about life, and go to art festivals and just be the social butterfly with a heart that I knew lived within myself.
I remember my other goals, sitting there alone, even when I had a book open in my life, I would see the image of who I had the potential I had to be walk by in the form of my daydreams.
I dream of all my potential and told myself one day I will be that beautifully happy intelligent woman who has taken her life and turn it into something meaningful. Something beautiful. Something real. Not a loser.
I realized that although I've accomplished many of my goals (Tall. Check. Beautiful. Check. Social Butterfly-still working my way there, mostly in the dating aspect but could be consider check, In-shape-just now started working on it and will continue to work on it till I have a body I am comfortable with, Independent-soon, grad school soon, licence's soon, books, halfway there. traveling-sortof check. All that I thought would make me into the happiest person I can be, the person I know I have the potential to be to live the best life I can. I wanted to be that person so bad & thought that by this time, my age, I would be complete in my dreams.
I'm not. In the bigger picture, I am. I am living a mostly happy existence that I would have never thought possible. But I have become lazy because of this happy existence.
I have conformed on a few of the goals that I shouldn't have. And when I returned from Utah, I realized that I don't have that much time before I become independent and I want to be truly me, the picture of me that I have in my mind by the time I am independent so that with my independence I will be the epitome of awesomeness that I owe to myself to be. I deserve to be happy. Truly happy, with myself, and my life. significant other or not, doesn't matter but I also need to discover the balance in dating.
I'm working on it. Everyday, little by little. I am working on the promises I made to myself. I have already accomplishment so much but I still have a way to go. And even if I had do done everything, I will never be complete. 'Never be complete.' I will always work on myself.
I love myself. It took me years to say that. But I realized that I do. I love who I am and I am happy with that. I just need to work on my life and my body shape to be healthy and be able to support another fantasy of mine but that's another story everyone but my family knows and it's staying that way.
I love myself and I will live my life to my happiest that I can, and work my way to the potential I have in myself. My daydreams will become my reality. All of them. Just a matter of time :D
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