Tick Tock...

In the midst of change and thinking about major changes that will be happening in my life (riding, driving, senior year at school, grad schools, library internship, work place change, little one starting school herself)I am going to let these changes become my life. but just because the changes are happening to me doesn't mean I'm going to let them over come me and overwhelm, not anymore. In the face of change, I will make some of them myself. Making my personal goals to go parallel with them and some of these new personal goals, developments are from my part and I hope that they will keep me here and present in my life and be able to focus on the days and not just the bigger picture.

Aside from starting to jog or at least thinking about taking it up again and SOON. Like tomorrow or this week soon (it's time) I'm also starting another bookclub.

That's right another one.

No, this one won't be with my friends.

This book club is with my sister. I wrote about her before and how sometimes it feels that I don't know her anymore because sometimes I really don't. This is my effort to communicate with her and build a better connection, a better relationship with her. I don't want to leave for grad school and have an okay relationship with her. She's my sister and I should have a bond with her that is unshakable even with distances between us.

So I started a book club with her. She'll read the book first and then I'll read it, and I'm thinking of creating a small group page somewhere, just for me and her so that we can put our thoughts on it or however. I'm hoping this will work. I know she likes to read, she just doesn't do it. I have hope. I'm hoping but I'm scare this won't work. I'm scared of failing this and losing her. These are really my last days to connect with her before she gets too old and starts to disconnect from me and connect more on her friends. She's 12 now. She'll be 13 when I leave. A teenager. I don't want her to be just another sullen teen, not like me. I don't want to leave her and have her be like me. I want her to be a well adjusted person just like Tessie is for being so young and I know I had a lot to do with that but will it work again?

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.

Tiss Tiss Tiss Tiss...

I did it.

I let go.

I sent him a message. I laid out all my cards on the table.

Was it stupid of me?

Yes, VERY stupid.

So why did I do it?

Because it was killing me. If one of those, damn if I do, damn if I don't. & I rather not live with the regret of not doing it rather than the regret of doing it.

Whatever comes out of it, will come out of it. True intentions will be revealed or at least I'll know my place. & I rather know my place than have it unknown so I can stop overthinking, and filling up with these expectations and the fact that I rather relate to an absent person than build relationships with those around her. If I don't stop this now or reveal my feelings, I can spend months doing this. Playing the question game back and forth. Talking through technology. Never picking up the phone. I have done this in the past. It was nice, but it wasn't substantial.

I don't know where I'm going with this. I just know that I did this. & in a manner this is stepping out of my comfort zone because before I would have kept texting this over how ever many months he decided to stick around, and would have milked it for all it was worth and then just end up in the same place again. But it's okay.

I did it. I put myself out there. Now if I get shot in the foot about it. Oh well. I have to take a risk or else I won't be living.

Living is easy with eyes closed

I need to find my core. Need to find my own place. Need to be able to smell the daffodils and go to Innisfree.

I was so proud of myself for how I handled today. It was such a happy day too and then I came home. Big Mistake. If I had known it was going to bring me so down I would have made some bullshit excuse to stay at the library or anywhere. It wasn't that home wasn't bad, or that there were chores and crap to do, it was just that I came home and logged into my myspace to check a message. pretty normal, right? Yeah, but what I saw, whom I saw, photos of my past coming alive in the present, recently taken pics, and I know I should just delete our mutual friend forever and just forget. And I was forgetting, every day being easier, most days becoming the norm where the time passes without a thoguht of him. Like it should be. Because by now I should just move on and go. Go live. But it still affects me, songs, they bring back memories, and some of my very favorite songs that I have been listening to forever, I can't sing to because I will think of him all through out the song. And I know that I should just say fuck him, he's an idiot who didn't know how good he had it with me, and I know that he moved on, even before he left me for her, and he forgot about me long ago. Stop caring and I hate my heart for still thinking of him. For looking at the photos and saying to myself, I don't know that house. I didn't get a chance to. I should be there, sitting, with them, and I'm not and I never will be. And I wold have been alright, been better at handling these photos, the memories, if it wasn't for this early morning.

Early morning; I woke up, don't know why because I was having a wonderful dream in which Mr.Viking paid me a visit and we were just sitting across from each other on the floor, talking. That was it. And I woke up, couldn't fall back asleep. I started reading my current book; Belong to Me by Marisa de lo Santos. And it was going great, I was really enjoying it until a new character emerged, A new character who was dying already of cancer. And the waiting, the frustration. It just got to me, and I whispered down to the book, whispered into it. "I miss you grandma..." I really do, you were the one teaching me how to cook, even though you lived 300 miles away. No one else bothered, parents too busy, household too busy, and it was all by phone, and i was just trying to help, to cook dinner, and I just needed a bit of instruction, what spices to put, which ingredient is boiled first, how to make those salsas. How to cut that, and you answered every time and guided me through and they came out delicious, every time. Why wouldn't they? I'm real good at listening and you were good at directing, and I miss you and I haven't cooked anything since. Not anything complicated because sometimes being the kitchen it hurts, knowing I can't call you anymore and that damn book, she was dying,and there was nothing that could be done about the cancer, just like in real life. and I should be writing this in my private journal, my new journal, beautiful as it is, but I don't want to. I want to fill that with my hope, and just past these entries once I paste them out into the back of the book, as an afterthought, because that's all they should be to me. Afterthoughts of no real importance, and I should be happy. No real problems now. Nothing holding me back, so why do I keep holding on? I need to let go. I need to just be strong enough to let go.

And I want a cigarette still. and a drink. and maybe a fuck (for which the possibility is too real and oh so tempting). But maybe maybe I'll be strong enough to throw off those urges. maybe not. I just need to breathe.

Destiny is calling me.

Listening to: Mr. Brightside- The Killers, I've just seen a face-The Beatles.

Reading: A scanner darkly- Philip K. Dick.




Truth: I'm scared that it's Just a hookup. And nothing more.

Truth: I'll be okay with that. but not really, and I don't want to get attached and I know I'm overthinking and just let it flow, see where the dice finally land BUT I need to write this out to get it out of my system. To just admit that for once, I don't want it to be just a hookup and I'm scared it is. & it's just going to make me wonder whether I'm just good for hookups but not for dating. There I said it, just a good fuck, nothing else. Is that just going to be me?

I Hope NOT. I really HOPE not, and if it is, if I don't find that person that just meant for me or CP, then I'll know I'll happy and find substitutes for it. Substitutes in my writing, and live out my life to the best without another chance at the big L, and not lust but Love. So I hope and after today, after unbelievable, I saw him, chances of chances on campus, and then ran after him, literally took off and left my best friend calling me a bitch for ditching me (xD I SOWEEE xDDD I love you Mikko, haha) but I just couldn't let it go. i had to go, because i didn't want to live with the regret what if I just let him go, let him walk by. It's that determination that drives me, not towards guys but everything in general, people just don't take opportunities standing still, they go, run, fly after it with their heart and hopes, and I did. & it was nice, beautiful, sweet, rad, cool, nothing out of the ordinary normal conversation between a girl and a guy, two people connecting on a level of knowing something is happening but not knowing what and I was happy to leave it at that, not over think it, over-analyzed and just get his number and he has mine.


And then he called me. Tonight, a few hours ago. And I missed it because I wasn't paying attention to my phone and now I'm just thinking, what does he really want? Why is he calling me??? Hookups don't call. They say they're going to call and they don't. & he didn't say anything but bye after exchanging info and "he keeps calling" (me back again) & is it just a hookup? & if it is, then why do I care so much if it is?
I can't. I shouldn't. I know my boundaries way too well, and the only thing I can do is see what tomorrow brings.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

It feeds my soul.

I write. That's not secret anymore.

What is a secret is my state of being when I write. What people don't know is when I'm writing, I give all of me, no holding back, and it's the reason I do it at night with my door lock. I tend to get as emotional as my characters are when they are going through situations.

& I thought my second book was hard to write. This one is proving to be a trip, making me listen to those songs I shouldn't be listening for my own good. Songs that bring back heart ache, bring me back to a place of pain, a place of where I should be getting over from. & I take that hurt and I try to put in my writing. But once I stop typing, it's still there.

& I just hear the lyrics over and over again.
Do you even know how much it hurts?

You gave up on me to be with her.

Lyrics that haunt me. Burn through me as I write.

& what really makes me just want to die, just die, is that he didn't even say he was sorry. Didn't say any of that. What he did say was that he found the love of his life, and that he was getting married, and it wasn't going to be to me, and she was right there listening to him, break up with me, over the phone. Listening because I was on speakerphone and he said those same exact words to me. To me, he told me I was the love of his life. He and I talked about our children, names, about how after I got my B.A. we were just going to get the hell out of town, both of us, and start anew, with me in school, and him working. It was beautiful, and it still hurts, and it's been a year and it explains why I'm so fuck up.

& why I cling, desperately hold onto every inside joke, every word, every speech, every little dorky geeky little reference that my dream guy makes. Because every time I hear him giggle, actually giggle like a little boy, and say wow, and then reference this armor racing snail arms dealers that his sister wrote about him, about him, I forget. I forget and I laugh and I smile, and I think there's hope for me yet. There's still hope. & it's a stupid dream really, but I dream it because if I don't, I don't want to know, I really don't.

I just hope that my books are enough to get to a place where I could make my dreams a reality.

I hope with a broken heart.

Some nights are longer than others.

I'm okay, I'm happy, I'm smiling. Cheerful most of the time, and I love my life. But even though I just had a very beautiful day, the night came. Night came and I am busy busy busy, with learning how to Lindy Hop, having a quick dinner with my best friend and his boyfriend, my friend. And it was beautiful. Then I came home, and I started working on my letter. Listening to the Beatles, writing, brainstorming, hoping to find the right words to make him go 'wow'. Then If I fell, the Across the Universe song came on. I was still typing, thinking, and then I was sad in two seconds flat. I held my face in my hands and I let out a sob, and I felt my heart break, even if for just a moment. There were no tears, just pain. Pain of knowing that I was left behind, pain that he loved her more than me. Just a brief moment, still wanting him, still thinking about him, still needing him. He made me afraid, he made me strong, he made me return back to who I was before him when he left me for her. He made me turn a full circle, back to the independent, happy go lucky, knowing myself girl, but stronger, much stronger, much more confident than who I was before. I am happy, most of the time. But sometimes I still can't stand the pain. Sometimes it still hurts, sometimes I still miss him, miss the memory of us. Sometimes I can't handle it. I can mostly, think about our memories that we have and go whatever, good times, I learn from that relationship to move on to my next, but sometimes I mourn. Sometimes I want him back. I need him back, even if just one last time, even if just for lust, sometimes I just want one night with him to discover what we never discover in our relationship, what was missing. I know I will never get my chance and I shouldn't. But I still wonder what would it have been like to spend the night with him, and wake up with him right there. Next to me. three years and it was over, too soon, yet it went on too long too. The relationship only survive so long, those last few months because I really gave it all, really clawed in there, and dragged the relationship on, even after it was dead. At least I know now that I have above all, confidence and determination.

With those two traits I will go on. I will write more and more, I will get publish. I will read. I will make my life as happy as can be for me. I owe it to myself. I loved him, but it's over. Now there is only hope. Hope in the form of a letter out to a young man who I never stopped caring about, after all these years.



LISTENING TO: Across The Universe - If I Fell

If I fell in love with you
Would you promise to be true
and help me understand?

'Cause I've been in love before
And I found that love was more
Than just holding hands

If I give my heart to you
I must be sure
From the very start that you
Would love me more than her

If I trust in you
Oh, please
Don't run and hide
If I love you too
Oh, please
Don't hurt my pride like her

'Cause I couldn't stand the pain
And I would be sad
If our new love was in vain

So I hope you see that
I would love to love you

If I fell in love with you

<3

These feelings

Of dislocation, of restlessness, of dissatisfaction with my life, they went away. For the whole of one day. But they come and go now. In my solitude they haunt me. The feeling that I'm not living life like I should. I was very very happy just last week, happy with everything and everyone and having really good days, really happy days. Somehow over the weekend, it started going to shit. Even though nothing change. I hope I'm just having an off week or something because I want to feel like I use to; happy.

Dislocation? Restlessness? What is this?

Why do I feel like this? Tonight, it slowly started sinking in, maybe I'm just tired? I just want to drop everything and leave. Travel. Do something, be someone else instead of who I am. I don't know what lead to this and it's freaking me out a bit. I have so much going on, and most days I'm happy, really happy, content to be with myself, but there are moments, rare like this when I can't seem to get my focus on anything. >_> WTF? I don't like feeling restless, feeling like I'm not doing anything with my life, I know I am, then why do I feel like this? Maybe I just need a day to myself? I'm going to try to give homework another shot, if not I'm going to sleep.

Maybe.

Years. It's been a long while since I saw him. Everyone indulges me in my fantasy of him. I can't help but smile, feel giddy, beam, really just glow at the thought of him. My friends joke and laugh because he's such a dork, that it's ridiculously funny, and to me ridiculously endearing. I've always felt that way about him, ever since I knew of him. Even before I fell hard for my ex, even when I was with him. I never gave up hope for my daydream. My ex knew this. And at first, when our relationship was getting serious, my ex could tell that I love the daydream more than him. Maybe that's why he's an ex? Maybe he felt that he could never live up to that fantasy. I didn't expect him to. I found this postsecrets online. Three of them, at separate times, and each time I saw them. I broke down. I was never the type to fully sob your heart out dramatics, always my cries were silent, a souvenir of the shy quiet girl I was.
The first one made me get angry and just broke my heart, knowing that there was someone else out there who felt just like I did.
"Why didn't he fight for me? I wanted him to fight for me. He was supposed to fight for me." In my mind I saw it as choosing me over her. He was supposed to chose me. A part of me will always love him. He was my first serious love, a part of me will always take him back. The next secret is "I cheated on my husband, only so he would let go." This is true, because I would have never let him go. Any dumping would have not been by me. He left me. He dump me. He said "It's over." He hurt me, brought me down to a new low, especially so soon after my grandma's passing, and my dog's passing. Some days and nights, despite the cheery smile I put up, all I could do was stare at his number on my phone. Some nights only get so dark. The other secret which made me heal is "Letting go of the woman I love, in hopes she will be happier with someone else is the worst, best, hardest thing I ever done." I knew him. I knew him better than anything, even after he left me for her, I still knew him. Told him so in a text, to stop hiding behind her, that to stop putting up the front, that I knew he was falling to pieces too, just hiding out behind his stone face. I called him out to his emotions in that text and he called me back. He asked me how did I know that it was a cover, a front. Like I said, I knew him. You never stop knowing a person, especially after that type of relationship. It still hurts me sometimes. I still want him to come home to me. Still want to feel his arms around me, singing to me, showing me how childish he could be in his goofy singing, he let his guard down with me. We thought we were forever. He let me go.

And after everything all I had to hold me, to believe in, when I had no hope, no faith, not even in myself, not even in my librarian, what did I have? A picture.
A picture of my daydream. The only picture we took together. I would stare at it, and fall asleep, never failing to make me feel at least okay and a bit peaceful thinking on those times. My friends call my daydream an emotional dependence, my security blanket. I've tried so many times to forget my daydream. Years. Almost did when I was in love with my ex.

I know no one will believe me if I say so now. I think I wrote it somewhere in my old journals. I was a freshman. 14 years old and writing my first novel, a young adult fantasy, that surprise, surprise, I finished when I was 15/16. But while I was writing it, more than any of the dozens of crushes I had at school. I felt happy, believing in this idea that there was a guy out there for me. A guy just like me, who love to read, and who at that very moment, was writing his novel too. Someone just as lost as I am in books, writings, mangas, movies, music. Someone who knows what it's like not to be able to relate to other people. I love him. Had too much heart, too much love, for this imaginary soulmate of mine. Funny how even though, I love the blond, blue eyes, I wanted my soulmate to have brown eyes just like mine, so I would know that he didn't think mine were ugly, common, just because their brown because he would have them too and know the beauty that can be found in the everyday. In a everyday person like me. I love him. I didn't know him. Didn't really care, as long as he was mine.
A year later is when I first heard of my daydream. I didn't know he was only a few years older than me. I just heard it was a good book. I was in Wal-Mart when I saw it on the shelves and pick it up to read the synopsis. When I turn to the author flap and saw him, I didn't drop the book, but I don't know how long I stared at his photo, thinking, he has brown eyes too. Everything that came after that; the obsessions, the letters, the photo, it just reaffirms my daydream. I love him, and it's stupid for me feeling so, real stupid. I love him. I Love the idea of him, and I won't give up hope, not till I get my chance, a real chance.

So maybe now this prayer,
the last one of its kind.
Won't you please come get your baby?
Maybe.