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?

Don't compromise everything you are

When I was 21 years old to the day, my birthday. I did nothing for it. I spent the morning babysitting, and then Carolina showed up to do my hair. To make me so pretty & she did.

She did something to my hair, place it high in those oh so fashionable styles reserve for weddings and galas. She spent the whole morning with me. She did my makeup, putting on eyeliner which even though by then I was into makeup, but not as much as I am now. I was still getting the hang of it. So she did it. & we were happy. We were both in loved and waiting for our boyfriends to come home from work. & she wished me a happy birthday and left me with a hug and un beso.

I was dolled up and for my outfit, I wore the custom made polka dot dress my aunt made for me. She had cut out the fabric and everything and send it with all her love from LA.

I was complete with my little white heels which were new back then, shining with my red toe nail polish freshly done.

I put on pearls & was complete.

& then everyone came home, my parents bringing me a little cake from the store, my mom blowing up red balloons for me since they are my favorite in balloon colors.

That's when he made the entrance. I heard him from inside. I went out to him and his jaw dropped. I don't think he's ever seen me so beautiful. His parents and whole family were with him, doing I don't know what. They had caught up with him to tell him something. His dad check me out. His brother did. His best friend. I saw the way they looked at me & smile. But I only smile sweetly at him. He was still fresh from his work, smelling of chicken and flour. He took me right there, with his uniform on, food stains on his forearms, and in the classic movie ballroom dances, he dipped me and kiss me.

We didn't go anywhere, even though it was a milestone birthday. I don't think we did anything but sit around the kitchen and talk. I don't remember watching TV or even listening to music. I don't remember my presents. I was 21.

What I do remember was his playfulness. His kindness. The fact that he had made me canolis from scratch. The fact that he must have told me he love me, and that I was beautiful so many times that day, and that he was so very lucky, so lucky to have such a pretty litte future wife to go home to. His Mrs. Bunny.

It got late, ofcourse time didn't stop and he left. Left with promises of a weekend date which he fulfilled. He always kept his words and was never cheap, not with me. I forced him to be cheap because I knew he couldn't afford me. Couldn't afford to take me out to all the places we wish we could eat at. I didn't care. it wasn't about the money, I pitched in most of the time, & later was paying for everything. I didn't care. I was a good girlfriend. I told myself that. If I took care of him, not just financially but anyway I could. he would stay with me. & I wanted him to stay because I truly loved him. I just wish that when moved on without me, that he had given me one last kiss to remember him by. I try to recalled the last time we kiss & it's faded into a blurred of other times his lips met mine.

I miss him still, especially in the dark hours of the night. I yearn for him. Want him when I'm talking to others, try to put him out of my mind when some sweet nothings are being said to me in order to get me to give them what they want from me. They remind me & it hurts at times, but not so much anymore.

But I'm not losing hope, every day, every time I talk to someone new, I know that I am worthy of a person of better character. Of a guy who would stay because he cares for me, not just my body.

I only wore that dress, that outfit that day & once again I wore it when I went out with my friends.

I'm wearing it right now, such a pretty dress which I love so much shouldn't be kept in the closet. I'm pulling out all my old outfits that I used to wear when it was just me. Because they made me happy because I thought and still think, they're just grand, simply smashing, no matter what anyone else thinks or if they're not in a fashion trend anymore. I don't care.

It's time. My dresses, skirts, outfits, they can't stay in the closet forever. Neither can I, hiding behind my sexuality. Now I just need a way to find how to make a golden boy fall into infatuation with me, not just lust.

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.

Just don't.

I'm acting out against my own stupidity. About to make another mistake, one I will regret. Breaking another rule just because I developed a crush on the friend of my hookup and hating myself for it does not mean that I have to act out against it and find myself some even more extreme action to get my mind off it.

The extreme action: a married man. and he keeps talking to me.

I keep thinking of who am I becoming. Flirting with a married man. How stupid have I become and I just hate my ex for making me into this person. By making me feel so insecure about myself that I need to feel that I have to prove to myself that I can do this, can do that, prove that I can be anyone I want to be and have anyone I want, including married men and women.

Just because he left me for her. Just like the song, nothing can save me now.

and the only hope I had to redeem myself, I only fuck it up by hooking up with his friend. FML. the girlfriend was right, just like always. And I hate it.

I just hope that after I come out of this, by myself, that the people important to me will still be here, no matter how much I fuck up, or more precisecly who I fuck.

I don't need to be judged. I judge myself. i admit to my mistakes, harder on myself than the words of anyone else because it hurts. hurts knowing I might have blown my chance at something by burning through the game. The point of the game is no attachment, so how did I end up liking his friend. -_-

I'm just going to fade out into my books. Fini.

Hate hate hate this.

I hate it when emotions sneak up on me. I would absolutely be horrified if this happened anywhere when I was with someone/in public.

I was emailing a friend about Burned by Ellen Hopkins (Just a stunning book). As I was telling her, I remembered that I was reading that when he left me for her. And before I could even blink I was heaving sadness into my hands, cupping my face, my mouth so that no one could hear me.

hate hate hate. I was perfectly fine, happy that she emailed me and then bam, I'm trying to muffle my brief sobs. Why must I remember that? Why. I loved the book and looking back on it, I can remembered how I cling to it. to anything. I remembered how I cling because I couldn't get up. I couldn't do anything. I spent a week lying in bed, sleeping 16 hours a day, only getting up to eat food I didn't find taste. and when I went to the bathroom, it was only to dry heave over the toilet and vomit nothing but a clear white looking like water liquid, trying to vomit the distaste of the whole affair. It was ugly. very ugly. I worried everyone. I lost a lot of weight. I went down from a size 16 to a size 14 in two weeks because I didn't realized I was starving myself. I couldn't eat. I couldn't swallow, I would get nauseous if I ate anything heavier than a yogurt or a banana a day. Yeah that's what I was eating. One banana or one yogurt a day and some water. It was all I could stomach.

Stupid how one thing can bring you down. I clung to that book. I read burned and it took me the whole week, not because it's difficult. it's actually a very fast, very short read. But I've read Burned because I would be reading it and just glazed over whatever I read, I had to go back and concentrate on what I actually read because I didn't know what I read. Or then i would read something and I would have to put the book down because I couldn't go on.

I know if I read it again and I want to. I love Hopkins, it's only going to make me cry.

And I'm sick for still wanting him sometimes. He broke me and I want him back. So strong. so weak. too much. too little.

All I can do is write and wait. wait. wait. for the day that I might be okay, and find a man who will treat me like I am a flower and he is a bee and his world is me.

Where are you, I think I know who you are, prince charming with glasses, and always a good book in sack, prince charming with outdated slang, prince charming, king of the geeks. When are you? because you're not here on my time, with me, when you should be. But you still make me smile. he still holds the ability to make me laugh with his bad jokes and his geek boy manner and maybe that's why I cling to him, when I should just cut my losses and go. live. forget about relationships and just concentrate on reading and writing for the rest of my life. Sounds like a good enough plan to me.

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

Thinking this is how it's out to be.

I miss writing out in my journal. I miss writing it out with a pen, and not typing it in. I wasn't going to write about missing writing longhand in my journal. I was going to write about the very off-week I had, but somehow I forgot about that and remember my journal. How I use to tape things in it. How I use to draw in it. Make it mine, and I went looking for it today. The journal I last wrote it. A damask fabric bound diary with beautiful embroidery, a gift from a coworker long ago for secret santa.
I can't find it. I can't find it. I know I only had a few pages to write in before I ran out but it was still a few pages and now I can't find it. I can't find that. I can't find my little black book where I wrote down my book list of books I wanted to read.

While I was searching I found this other diary that I never wrote in. My uncle gave it to me long long ago, while I was still in high school. The year 2003 is clearly mark in it. I think I'll start writing there. I never wrote in it, well because at that time I had a different diary I was writing in. Better late than never, but I keep hope I'll find both the purple diary and the black book of lists.