Better than knowing.

Should. could. would. Didn't. Don't. Won't. Must. Need. Lust. Love. Crushes. Classes. Homework. Dances. Pep Rallies. Lunchtime. Cliques. Friends. Relationships. Passion. Kisses. Embraces. Fury. Hate. Spousal Rape. Violence. Domestic Abuse. Bruises. Cuts. Bleeding. Control. Gain. Lost. Self-Inflicted harm. Drugs. Alcohol. Parties. Sleepovers. Sleep deprive.

This is high school. This isn't a drama watch on TV.

These are 14, 15, 16 years old. I've seen. I've read. I've heard. I know and now I must write. Her story. My book isn't so much about the reality of how things should be done, how situations should be handled. No one needs another book telling you how to live your life, what to do if you ever are in that place that you didn't want to be because you weren't meant to be that person. That person who could associated, described with those types of words.

Rather my book is about her. It's about him and how he loved her from afar and never came near her, couldn't save her from herself or her abuser, who was his brother. About how they grew up into people and the lives they had before them planned gone with the innocence of their sheltered lives.

Welcome to their reality, their lives, although if you saw them on the street, in your neighborhood, in the market, you would think, oh dumb kids, always getting in the way when trying to be adults. They didn't want to be adults. They didn't want to know the meaning of ugly words that became their lives. Those dumb kids, well they survived, which was more than what anyone expected of them, including themselves after what they went through.

Chances gone by.

I'm sorry for every meal we will never eat together.
I'm sorry for every bite of chocolate, popcorn, cherries, grapes, finger food that you would never get a chance to feed me.
I'm sorry for not being able to shared another ice cream with you.
I'm sorry for the hugs I will never get to give you.
I'm sorry for all the times that you won't get to embrace me and hold me strong in your arms.
I'm sorry for every time that you won't be able to run your fingers through my hair. I'm sorry for the mornings we won't wake up together.
I'm sorry for the nights we won't end up together. I'm sorry for missing the phone calls, the texts, the emails, the comments on our social pages that we won't get a chance to miss.
I'm sorry for never seeing all the places we would have lived in together.
I'm sorry for all the plants we will never have a chance to kill unintentionally as learn to take care of our garden.
I'm sorry for missing the pets we won't have that we would have called our children before we might have had children.
I'm sorry for not being able to be there at every birthday, holiday, anniversary year after year, and watch us age together.
I'm sorry for all the gossip you will never be able to bring home to me.
I'm sorry for never being able to come home to you.
I'm sorry for not being able to share another eskimo kiss, a butterfly kiss, a warm kiss, a french kiss, a neck kiss, a brow kiss, a kiss on the cheek, and all the types of kisses we will never share.
I'm sorry for all the miss kisses they would never have the chance not to share.
I'm sorry for all the songs we won't get to hear together.
I'm sorry for not having the chance to serenade you playfully and have you sing to me endearingly.
I'm sorry for all the fun dates and the so-so okay dates we won't get a chance to go out on.
I'm sorry for the walks, the bike rides, the drives that we'll never take together. I'm sorry for the road trips, vacations, weekend getaways that will never be planned. I'm sorry for the times when I would see you show up at my door to come see me, just me.
I'm sorry for never being able to have never-ending conversations about nothing in particular at all.
I'm sorry for missing out on the passion that fueled our kisses and made us see sparks in each other.
I'm sorry for never being able to hear your tone of voice just after you woke up.
I'm sorry for every time I will never get another chance to look into your eyes as you look into mine.
I'm sorry for not being able to touch at your dimple as you smiled even more widely at me so I could be able to feel it.
I'm sorry for not being able to kiss your dimple, and every little freckle of yours.
I'm sorry for not watching another movie with you.
I'm sorry for not being able to get to know you better.
I'm sorry for all the questions, the habits, the dreams, the person that I am that you will never get to know.
I'm sorry for all the times I will never get to cup your face in my hands.
I'm sorry for the times you will never get a chance to hold me.
I'm sorry for never being able to hold your hand.
I'm sorry for all the I Love You's that would never be said, murmur, whispered, shared together.
I'm sorry for missing out on the love we were going to have.
I'm sorry for all the memories we will never have.

Hope dangles on a string, like slow-spinning redemption..

So today's SofD was Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional for many reasons, reasons close to me, reasons I already wrote about to someone else to clear myself and just put them down concrete. I'm okay now since I have made peace with myself but while I was mopping and just going on about my day while listening to that song, I realized that I hadn't heard that song in a long long time and while I was singing it softly to myself it reminded me.

The problem with memories is that it always brings a sense a nostalgia, a yearning that I can't shake away because I do remember.

And unexpectedly who was on my mind wasn't even a real person.

I remembered how I used to listen to that song, hours after hours on repeat, and who I was when I used to listen to that and more importantly what I was writing.

And for a moment today I was reconnected with that person I was, that writer, writing her first book. When I wrote that first book, those characters of mine who are both extensions and not of myself. Those characters that I spent so much time on and who still linger on my mind, who I can see so clearly even though I haven't touch the first book in years and I think it is time. Time to get back to my writing, not just what my current work, but my past ones too, and to move on and start writing that fourth book, and the fifth, and the sixth, and the seventh, and the eighth too.

My writing needs me. My book needs me. I expect so much of myself, so many books to write and I think about it with a sense of peace that I rarely get when thinking about anything else. My writing, it's what I do. If I don't have my writing, I have nothing. I am nothing. I am just another person going through the motions of life, and I don't feel like I'm reaching for anything if I don't have my writing, but I do have it.

It is passion and while there are other types of passion which has kept me away from my writing, it didn't really. I chose to step away from my writing and now that I have lived outside of my books, have experience a different type of passion, still experiencing, I am ready to go back to my writing like before, to my readings, to my life, and the working on myself to be that person I know I am meant to be. I will make my dreams a reality. I feel it and along the way I will reconnected with the old writing and prepare to work on the new.

...

I can't even write it here.

Maybe I do need a new blog place.

Really life?

Now tonight was just fuck up.

Fuck you very much life.
I love you but I could have done without that fucktardary.

Just breathe.

So I did it, and as soon as I did it, I removed it from my facebook so no one could comment on it but they can still see it on their newsfeed even though it's not in mine anymore.

I don't want anyone to comment on it. I don't want anyone to notice it. I don't want anyone to question me about it but at the same time, I want to be a bit truthful with it, just thought I would put it out there and change it and see if he would noticed it, even though I know he won't changed his for the same reason I don't advertise my changed relationship status on facebook.

Because he knows, like I know, if we do make that changed, the questions, the need to know from our friends and family would be endless and we're not at that point. I don't know if we'll reach that point, I'm not thinking that far ahead. These days, I'm not even thinking, all I'm doing is feeling and not all of it is good, but even when it's bad, and it's hurting me, I rather feel than not feel. I rather not fall back into that state of uncaring, of numbness, of not being able to do anything because I pretended so hard that I didn't need it. Didn't need a heart, didn't need romantic love, didn't need any of that, that I can reach my self-actualizations and this idea of a person of who I am to be, of reaching my potential all by myself because it was better that way. But. He. Reminds. Me.

He reminds me of how intoxicating beautifully it can be. The feelings that I have held back in reserve, ignoring, pretending, not caring, all come up with such an intensity that I am enveloped in emotions I can't control but wash over so gently that it becomes a comfort, even though he is 'officially' gone. But even though he is, he's still here to me, for me, and he keeps calling me back again and every time I answer, I'm not thinking anymore, I am emotions in form of a person.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore and that's okay. I'm coming to terms with it. Coming to terms with him, with his past, with my past, with everything, and right now I just need to find that balance that will make me feel complete, not just in this, but in my writing, in my dreams, and I will be a form of potential that I thought I couldn't reach because I wasn't being love and now I am.

And because of it, I know what I can do now. I can write that novel that I couldn't write back in November because I felt like a charlatan writing a summer romance novel when my heart was dead. My heart isn't dead anymore, but I'm afraid still to tell him, to have him read how much my past meant to me, and I'm not talking about my ex.

I'm talking about that writer and how he touched me with his words and how much he means to me and how everytime I write I feel closer to him. How certain songs remind me of him and just makes me look back at that photo he sent me of him and that one of us, and I'm reminded of my second novel, SR, and how if I open it, I will see how I yearned to be another person and how much I worked to stand out, just stand out and hoped to make myself shine in his eyes as more than a reader, so he could acknowledge me as a writer and even as I write this, I start thinking about my third novel, of which I am full of hope for and I want to write in it, no matter how ugly it is to write it, how ugly it makes me feel because of the subject of it, and I want to write in it to make myself feel complete and to make him aware of just who I am.

I want to breathe in the ocean air and know that one day maybe. Hope alive, and hope burns. And my heart beats again and I hope, and with that hope I love.

=/

Fast forward to midmorning after my realization that love isn't a mistake. It never is, just the situation is fucked up a bit. But that's okay. because I realized that for as much as I cared about him and the way I adore him and know he adores me, that I do need to get my life together. To let it fall apart completely in whatever our relationship was to each other and just let it come apart so I can rebuild new.

For as much as I fear disattachment and hate the feeling I get of loneliness for which he always takes away with simply one text, I do have to disattached myself from him. Now preferably because if I don't, it will just hurt the longer I hold onto it.

And I know myself, I know my potential, not only to other elements of my life, but to love, I know my potential and my potential is endless and I can really hold onto every bit and make him feel like he's not further away than around the corner, even though he will be living more than a thousand miles away because I pay attention. I give my full attention to love and that's dangerous because of the sacrifices I make for it.

And I don't know what to do. I know what I should do and yet I'm following my heart, and not doing it.

Thinking. Feelings. I need a mediator for my head and my heart.

Is it?

Lust can be a mistake, over and over and over. We make mistakes based on lusts and bodily urges that are fleeting and disappear once our satisfaction is attained.

But as I wandered in between the market aisle this morning, somewhere between the soaps and laundry detergents sections I realized that love, love can never be a mistake. The situation may be all types of messed up but the love itself isn't a mistake and never will be.

This he said to me.

Or rather what I said to him last night on the phone.

Was it another mistake?

It seems like I'm doing everything right, going along the correct path for everything else in my life, except for this, for him.

What I said only attached me closer to him when I should be focusing on disattaching myself because my nature boy is gone.

If that is my mistake, and I am going to continue making these mistakes.

Then, at this point all I can say is so be it.

is it stupid

that I wore my hair today like he likes it, in a million tiny curls at the edges? Wore it and that summer dress he loved and that confused him for most of the day?

is it stupid that I wore my hair like that and every time I passed a mirror I thought, if he was here he would loved this. Just adore it because he couldn't stop playing with my hair and keep himself from kissing my hair, my forehead, and I hate that I wore it like this today and I hate that I have to remind myself that he's not here.

I feel his absence and i need to get used to that and go back to being just me.

Just Let it sink in, it's all over me.

I want to run away.

It just hurts. I'm numb. Dead. Inside. And I know better than anyone that I shouldn't be feeling this way. I didn't think it was possible to feel this way again but the familiar numbness is back and everything that is coming at me, it's just coming at me waterdown because I'm not getting it.

I don't get the point of anything at this moment. My mom tells me stories, chatting, gossip, Sammie trying to teach me to fingerboard, my friends telling me of their days, and somehow it doesn't come through.

"Oh, that's nice."

"Oh that's sweet."

"Well that's good."

"Yeah. Cool."

And I'm hoping that they will believe my disinterest. Even my library job, such wonderful opportunity I got, finally going to dip my toes into my field, been waiting on this for years. And it brought me just momentary excitement. Maybe because I know that it was in due time coming to me that I expected it. But I expected to be radiant about it. It happened so quickly, as apparently everything else does with me these days.

And so did he. Too quickly and yet he's still here even though he's gone. And I'm afraid, scare really because even though I only knew him for such a short time, I know him on some levels. Know what type of guy he is and how girls get attached to that very very easily.

Like I did. I just looked at his facebook, which I shouldn't do. And I saw that two of his ex's just said hi to him and it hurts because I want him to myself.

And it just makes me realized how stupid I'm being. How selfish I can be.
How I want him and then don't. How I claim to be non jealous and usually am because I've learned to let go of that for the most part. I had to in the past but with him, I see them and I can't understand why he would pay attention to me. Why did he pick me?

I just want him right now. I don't know anymore. I know I shouldn't be wanting him. I know I should start dis-attaching myself. Start letting him go because it'll only hurt more in the end but I don't want to. It hurts just thinking of myself that way. Thinking of not replying back. of sending him back a cold letter saying goodbye. Faking non interest to hurt him, to make sure he goes away for his own good. I can't picture myself becoming distant and yet I should. I know I should. There are so many things I should do. My books, writing, editing, querying. My readings, summer readings. Studying for my permits. Researching grad schools and setting up my fall schedule already for this semester, as well as taking care of my book-club, friends, birthdays. so much to do and yet I can't concentrate because I don't care. I really don't care. I just want him to come back to me. Just to hold me again. Hold my hand, squeeze it like he meant never to let go but I know. I know. I should but I don't. I can't express myself, I don't care. I just keep hearing those same lyrics echo...

"If I'm strong enough, I will give you up. And If I stay away, you'll find the girl who'll make you great. A girl more like you..."

I just hope I'll hold a special place with the rest of them. But I doubt.

I really doubt.

I'll just be another girl saved in his photos even though I really tried to avoid taking pictures of us together because I know how short a time 'us' are supposed to be. I took one picture of me and him and you can't even tell it's us that much since it's so dark but I can't deny the fact that I stare at it and wonder how it could be that me and him actually happened to become an us.

I need to let go of that.

It has to be just me being me and him being him, now that he's gone.

He's gone. I can't. I can't I can't I can't allow myself to dream.

It just hurts. And now he's not calling me. And I need to take that in as my reality. That he isn't and he won't. And I will resist the urge, no matter how great to pick up the phone and say hello.

How the hell did this happen?!?!?! It was only two/three weeks. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

Oh I know how this happened.

He held my hand.

:(

What I need

I'm everywhere at this moment.

All I really know for sure right now is that it's affecting me more than I thought it would.

I tried to play it off cool

as being relieved.

as just wanting to get laid.

as just being friends.

as just another cool person.

As anything else but for how i really felt.

And I don't understand.

How it happened.

How I can be singing again sad songs and taking comfort in their truths because it applies to me.

How I can feel so stupid for being so stupid and allowing myself to fall when I told myself I wouldn't. But then he came along.

Stupid. Just stupid. falling for someone like this. And I know I'm going to be singing more songs softly to myself as the days come along in hope of comfort and remembering and hoping that I'll forget because I know that he will. And I have to prepare myself for that. Because as much as I want to believe him.

I can't. I won't remind him either of me.

I don't want to remind him.

I don't want this hope. This hope which only hurts.

-_- it hurts.

Will he hold your tiny face in your hands?

I keep trying to write and it's not coming out.

I want to write about him.

Want to be able to express what I feel in words.

And I can't.

And I know why I can't.

It's because I can't let go.

I don't want to let go.

I don't want to say goodbye.

Not yet. And I really don't have to. But I know. I know what I should do. For my own damn good. But I don't care if it's for my own good or not. I just want. want want want. Want time to be kinder. Want to steal time. Want to really get to know him before I let go. I am not ready to let go and yet I have to be. C'est la vie and I can't do anything about it. BUT

To answer my title question, yes he did.

He held my face in his hands. Many, many times, countless times. Just such vibrant memories of it, of him doing it. And knowing that is all I'll have now.

Just memories, turning bittersweet in time as the pain kicks in.

It was crazy. Insanely different, fast, just wow. Took my breath away. I didn't realized how it could be.

But it just was. It was just being.

Being me. Being him. Being together.

And now we will just be. Be us. Be apart. Back to being not together. Back to him being just him. And I'll just be me. It'll be just me.

but like the song lyric echoes in my mind, "yeah you're better off for leaving. You're better off for leaving..."

It's my mantra. What I keep telling myself. That he is better off for leaving. Not because I want him to but he is. He'll be a better person without me, he'll be able to find that person meant just for him. I would have ruined it anyway. It's better this way.

And if it's not one song, it's another which haunts me. Acoustic version of it right now, I can't stand the angry original one right now.

"If I'm strong enough, I will give you up, and if I stay away, you'll find the girl who'll make you great. A girl who will make you great. A girl more like you."

Who won't be me.

"So why did you have to go and pick me when you knew we were different completely?"

It just all comes back full circle, doesn't it?

I need

to write about him. My lover. My summerboy. My... 2nd boyfriend. Soon to be ex boyfriend by mutual agreement.

It wasn't for long, not long at all but these past few weeks have felt like I could have been months with him. Such intensity that mixed with our passion and concentration of each other and our temporary serious relationships has me into a whirlwind. BUT

I can't write about this now. Not because it's not the time. I should be.

But because I don't have time for it >_>

BOO.

& I really need to write about him.

But if I do then I might miss you, babe.

unexpectedly found myself wanting to lose the game.