I remember what it was like to have heart and harbor the possibility that anything might happen.
Instead I find that I am the instigator, bringing mystery, allured, excitement to everyday life.
What am I doing? Really? What am I doing with him?
He's not for me and yet I continue this almost ridiculous Amelie game with him. Maybe I'm just jealous because I am Amelie, but he is no Nino. He will never figure out who I am and he will never find a way to play with me, like Nino did to Amelie.
I strive for this different type of life that will hold a love that utterly enchants and the only place I find it in is when I do it, and pull all of this anonymous bewildering tricks that do intrigue the person of my interest but at the same time I don't think they can give a damn. Because really who can relate to me on, who can be that person for me to create that type of love for me?
Who is the Nino to my Amelie?
No one.
It hurts.
It pains at me. I remember how magical moments seemed and I want to reach for a bottle to forget.
I'm trying to forget what they meant to me and it comes back at me and I need to forget already. I need to move the fuck on.
I'm going back to my book. That's all that's left for me to do. It's the only way I can move on with my days and get lost in the writing so I don't have to go on living with these stupid memories.
I will find love and live love, and experience it how I want to. In the pages of my books, through my characters. They will have all I never can have, and they will be beautiful.
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
It never fails.
It's always like this isn't it?
Will it always be like this for myself?
See, after all is said and done, I am still her.
That girl, and I won't forget. I can't forget. I hope to have some semblance of hope left like I lavish upon my friends, saying, there is always hope, you just have to have faith. And while I say this, I remember. I remember how they both broke my heart and while we were both going through the pain, the hurt, the anguish of breaking up, that both of you, yeah BOTH, Not Once, but twice, you both left me alone with my broken heart for me to heal all by myself, which I did (wasn't damn easy)and while both of your suffering for me was comforted. Both of you were held while you both cry out your bleeding hearts by another girl. I know this because both of you told me in our last heart wrenching bitter argument while reaching for closure conversations. Hell, it was the reason I left both of you!
How nice I remember saying to the first, to have someone to hold you when you're hurting for me, and our failed relationship. The only reason a lover stops paying attention to his love is because of another lover. And to the second, I told that I knew it already. & he assured me that it wasn't like that, that their relationship wasn't like that. That she was there to work on herself and that he was just taking care of her. But I already knew it was going to be like that eventually, and it did. And ofcourse you both went on with your life, and you both would forget about me and did just like I thought to myself, and your pain would be lessen by the comfort of having her in your life.
Like I said, how nice it must be to have someone to hold you already after we broke up. or you broke up, or you left me for her, or just left me. And you said I would forget, I would be okay because I am a strong person. But you forget who I am, you forgot how big my heart was. How I really do give myself over completely to the person I love because I believe fully in loving a person, and not halfassing it.
The second told me that I had loved him in ways that he could never imagine, and it's true, because I did.
I did and because I gave myself over so completely, sometimes it still hurts even though it's been such a long time.
I wouldn't have thought it possible either. To remember hurts like that, but when I saw what I thought was you walk right past me at work, my world stopped, and I couldn't breathe. And I realized it wasn't you and yet I nearly fell apart at work. I don't know how I kept myself in check, my eyes watered over, and I didn't cry only because I swallowed every bitter taste of hurt, and wiped furiously at my eyes to make them go away.
And then the other one, I am cruelly reminded of each Monday and Wednesday because the guy in front of me has your skin tone, and your inability to grow strong facial hair, and your hair color and mannerisms that were so dear to me.
I hate this. Is this why I dream so much of my writer, because he looks like a guy who wouldn't hurt his girl. He looks like the type of guy who wouldn't leave his girl for another, no matter how pretty, how present, how anything she is. How he really would never hurt his girl because he couldn't bear it. He looks like he would always have a kind smile at the end of day, and be forgiving, no matter how much we had argued. He looks like he knows how to actually treat a girl. He looks like the dream he is and I will never have him.
I fear I will always be that girl who was left for another.
While you two were busy being comforted by your other girls, being held while your heart cried out for me.
I did not have anyone and I still don't. No one held me while both of you hurt me because I was actually faithful because I believed in us up to the very last moment, I did. I really did and I still suffered for it. Like the song, I gave you everything I am, everything I got. But love had it's say and it wasn't for me.
why in the fuck did I have to be reminded of both of you? Why did I have to have dreams, of both of you?
Why did you both have to do the same thing in the end to me? Why? It just makes me want to give up hope and forget.
I shouldn't even be stressing about this. I shouldn't be remembering. I should forget, like you both forgot me.
There's nothing left to say, I was right, and sometimes I wish I was wrong, especially when it came to this but I know how guys can be so well that I can't help look at the reality of the situation.
And my situation is simple: I'm a dreamer now and that's all I'll ever be.
Will it always be like this for myself?
See, after all is said and done, I am still her.
That girl, and I won't forget. I can't forget. I hope to have some semblance of hope left like I lavish upon my friends, saying, there is always hope, you just have to have faith. And while I say this, I remember. I remember how they both broke my heart and while we were both going through the pain, the hurt, the anguish of breaking up, that both of you, yeah BOTH, Not Once, but twice, you both left me alone with my broken heart for me to heal all by myself, which I did (wasn't damn easy)and while both of your suffering for me was comforted. Both of you were held while you both cry out your bleeding hearts by another girl. I know this because both of you told me in our last heart wrenching bitter argument while reaching for closure conversations. Hell, it was the reason I left both of you!
How nice I remember saying to the first, to have someone to hold you when you're hurting for me, and our failed relationship. The only reason a lover stops paying attention to his love is because of another lover. And to the second, I told that I knew it already. & he assured me that it wasn't like that, that their relationship wasn't like that. That she was there to work on herself and that he was just taking care of her. But I already knew it was going to be like that eventually, and it did. And ofcourse you both went on with your life, and you both would forget about me and did just like I thought to myself, and your pain would be lessen by the comfort of having her in your life.
Like I said, how nice it must be to have someone to hold you already after we broke up. or you broke up, or you left me for her, or just left me. And you said I would forget, I would be okay because I am a strong person. But you forget who I am, you forgot how big my heart was. How I really do give myself over completely to the person I love because I believe fully in loving a person, and not halfassing it.
The second told me that I had loved him in ways that he could never imagine, and it's true, because I did.
I did and because I gave myself over so completely, sometimes it still hurts even though it's been such a long time.
I wouldn't have thought it possible either. To remember hurts like that, but when I saw what I thought was you walk right past me at work, my world stopped, and I couldn't breathe. And I realized it wasn't you and yet I nearly fell apart at work. I don't know how I kept myself in check, my eyes watered over, and I didn't cry only because I swallowed every bitter taste of hurt, and wiped furiously at my eyes to make them go away.
And then the other one, I am cruelly reminded of each Monday and Wednesday because the guy in front of me has your skin tone, and your inability to grow strong facial hair, and your hair color and mannerisms that were so dear to me.
I hate this. Is this why I dream so much of my writer, because he looks like a guy who wouldn't hurt his girl. He looks like the type of guy who wouldn't leave his girl for another, no matter how pretty, how present, how anything she is. How he really would never hurt his girl because he couldn't bear it. He looks like he would always have a kind smile at the end of day, and be forgiving, no matter how much we had argued. He looks like he knows how to actually treat a girl. He looks like the dream he is and I will never have him.
I fear I will always be that girl who was left for another.
While you two were busy being comforted by your other girls, being held while your heart cried out for me.
I did not have anyone and I still don't. No one held me while both of you hurt me because I was actually faithful because I believed in us up to the very last moment, I did. I really did and I still suffered for it. Like the song, I gave you everything I am, everything I got. But love had it's say and it wasn't for me.
why in the fuck did I have to be reminded of both of you? Why did I have to have dreams, of both of you?
Why did you both have to do the same thing in the end to me? Why? It just makes me want to give up hope and forget.
I shouldn't even be stressing about this. I shouldn't be remembering. I should forget, like you both forgot me.
There's nothing left to say, I was right, and sometimes I wish I was wrong, especially when it came to this but I know how guys can be so well that I can't help look at the reality of the situation.
And my situation is simple: I'm a dreamer now and that's all I'll ever be.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Books
Yes that's my third. yes, I'm quite proud of that. Yes, I realized that after everything, it's all I'll ever have. Just me and my books.
i'm sorry if I'm a little jaded but I just want to know why every guy I've ever loved, left me for her. Loved her more than me.
Oh well.
i'm sorry if I'm a little jaded but I just want to know why every guy I've ever loved, left me for her. Loved her more than me.
Oh well.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
& it's a holiday for a hanging, yeah.
i wrote this a couple days ago.
I was supposed to post it on OKC because I haven't updated there in awhile.
But I think it's better suited to here. But I'm not sure it makes sense because this was one of those times that I was writing at like 3 am, bleary eyed, tired, and just being overcome by raw emotion that was killing me. But I'm still alive & here it is.
I really should be studying, sleeping, reading, relaxing. Especially after my insanely busy day. But I find myself restless and any attempts at studying for a test tomorrow for the past hour or so have been futile. So I am doing the only thing I can do that can maybe quell my mind. I am writing and since I haven't updated this journal in To quote the ideology of one of my favorite writers (Palahniuk, anyone?) When did the future go from being such a promise to a threat?
This summer was supposed to be my summer of reading and writing and just living life day to day and enjoying my family and friends as much as I can because I am going to move out of state for grad school which will be the fall after this one. Some of you are like big effin' deal, you're moving. Well to me it is because I am actually loved (friends, family) by many and they don't love me just because they have big hearts, but because I loved them right back.
I was supposed to have the type of summer that is spoken about in the movie American Beauty when Lester was talking to his neighbor about how he spent all summer working at a low paying job only making enough to buy a few LP's. He didn't care because all he did was hang out with his best friends who worked with him, and party and just lived everyday as the adventure it was. I wanted that. I wanted to go out and have fun and be cool and complete personal goals in between of it, find perhaps a summer romance if I got a chance. Something light, something fun, something just for the summer. My summer, make a little money,
I got my wish. I found a retail job, enchanting every customer coming my way and then just standing around and joking with my coworkers, my partners in crime as we people watch the hours away at work. Having fun, everything going sweet. Having bookclub meetings in between taking on the city and family meals. Writing nightly, making real progress on my third book, while enjoying greatly the work of other authors.
June came along and he came along with it. My summer romance. I was thrilled, I was lust-eyed, I was ready and knew how to play this game too well. He was much more than what I wanted. Just a really beautiful person inside and out. With blue eyes, cinnamon skin, tall, and the part that made me squee with excitement is that he's a rider, writer, and a reader. That just made me play the full game on him because I was not stopping till he became my 'summerboy' (Lady Gaga song, give it a listen and try to understand). I got what I wanted. I got my summerboy, and more importantly, I finally got a lover with a motorcycle that just made me impatient to climb on behind him. So happy just to ride with him, going nowhere on his bike because I knew that it's going to be years before I even get a chance to touch one and call it my own if I was lucky enough to be in that position to learn to ride and afford that luxury of owning one.
I felt like I could breathe, like I could let go and fly going down that freeway, risking everything, going at a 140 MPH. I could close my eyes and be complete in those minutes where the world became a blurred as we both leaned forward to push it. Because only in pushing it, could we find out that we could actually breathe. That we are alive.
I was supposed to post it on OKC because I haven't updated there in awhile.
But I think it's better suited to here. But I'm not sure it makes sense because this was one of those times that I was writing at like 3 am, bleary eyed, tired, and just being overcome by raw emotion that was killing me. But I'm still alive & here it is.
I really should be studying, sleeping, reading, relaxing. Especially after my insanely busy day. But I find myself restless and any attempts at studying for a test tomorrow for the past hour or so have been futile. So I am doing the only thing I can do that can maybe quell my mind. I am writing and since I haven't updated this journal in To quote the ideology of one of my favorite writers (Palahniuk, anyone?) When did the future go from being such a promise to a threat?
This summer was supposed to be my summer of reading and writing and just living life day to day and enjoying my family and friends as much as I can because I am going to move out of state for grad school which will be the fall after this one. Some of you are like big effin' deal, you're moving. Well to me it is because I am actually loved (friends, family) by many and they don't love me just because they have big hearts, but because I loved them right back.
I was supposed to have the type of summer that is spoken about in the movie American Beauty when Lester was talking to his neighbor about how he spent all summer working at a low paying job only making enough to buy a few LP's. He didn't care because all he did was hang out with his best friends who worked with him, and party and just lived everyday as the adventure it was. I wanted that. I wanted to go out and have fun and be cool and complete personal goals in between of it, find perhaps a summer romance if I got a chance. Something light, something fun, something just for the summer. My summer, make a little money,
I got my wish. I found a retail job, enchanting every customer coming my way and then just standing around and joking with my coworkers, my partners in crime as we people watch the hours away at work. Having fun, everything going sweet. Having bookclub meetings in between taking on the city and family meals. Writing nightly, making real progress on my third book, while enjoying greatly the work of other authors.
June came along and he came along with it. My summer romance. I was thrilled, I was lust-eyed, I was ready and knew how to play this game too well. He was much more than what I wanted. Just a really beautiful person inside and out. With blue eyes, cinnamon skin, tall, and the part that made me squee with excitement is that he's a rider, writer, and a reader. That just made me play the full game on him because I was not stopping till he became my 'summerboy' (Lady Gaga song, give it a listen and try to understand). I got what I wanted. I got my summerboy, and more importantly, I finally got a lover with a motorcycle that just made me impatient to climb on behind him. So happy just to ride with him, going nowhere on his bike because I knew that it's going to be years before I even get a chance to touch one and call it my own if I was lucky enough to be in that position to learn to ride and afford that luxury of owning one.
I felt like I could breathe, like I could let go and fly going down that freeway, risking everything, going at a 140 MPH. I could close my eyes and be complete in those minutes where the world became a blurred as we both leaned forward to push it. Because only in pushing it, could we find out that we could actually breathe. That we are alive.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Turn around.
Life likes to play games.
I wrote this blog before. Too many times I've thought it. But now it's for a different person that I have in mind when I feel this.
I miss him.
I do. And it just kills me because I know he misses me too.
Would it be better if he was an asshole to me so I could forget more easily? Severe that connection?
It hurts because I know what I can do when I miss him like this. My phone is right there. He'll pick up. No matter what the time. He'll talk to me till I'm smiling into the phone.
Fuck.
I'm going to read and try to forget.
But I still miss him.
I wrote this blog before. Too many times I've thought it. But now it's for a different person that I have in mind when I feel this.
I miss him.
I do. And it just kills me because I know he misses me too.
Would it be better if he was an asshole to me so I could forget more easily? Severe that connection?
It hurts because I know what I can do when I miss him like this. My phone is right there. He'll pick up. No matter what the time. He'll talk to me till I'm smiling into the phone.
Fuck.
I'm going to read and try to forget.
But I still miss him.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
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 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?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Again with the music.
Some lyrics just echo your own truth back at you.
& You can relate more to that music than when anyone else says, "I understand. I know where you're coming from. I can relate to that."
& you just listen to those songs on repeat and let your own truth seep further into yourself and bury yourself into the isolation of what it is like to be that lyric. & how sometimes you just want to bombard the other person who is to blame for your relating to that song with the lyrics, hoping that they'll understand. That if only they could relate to you when you became that lyric, that every thing will be alright if they could understand that song, those lyrics, because those lyrics became you, you when you are thinking of them.
The killer part is that those lyrics that become you are your favorite songs. Played on repeat, and hold that special place in your music library. But no one else seems to get. Maybe some people closed to you know about them, but most people would think it's just another song.
It's not just another song. & the ones we can relate to, come up again and again, became versatile and applying to ourselves even when we are referring to someone else. The band's original intention lost on you because you made the lyrics reflect your own personal truth.
I said once that music is love. It is. But Music is Life itself.
Is this more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you anything that you want to hear, because that's just who I am this week... (For now, actually for once in a long time, I know exactly what, really who I want :/
Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be her {my meaning by "her" is to be your next girl.)
I'm just a notch on your bedpost, and you're just a line in a song.
I'll be your number one with a bullet.
& by next week, I will be writing about someone else.
& You can relate more to that music than when anyone else says, "I understand. I know where you're coming from. I can relate to that."
& you just listen to those songs on repeat and let your own truth seep further into yourself and bury yourself into the isolation of what it is like to be that lyric. & how sometimes you just want to bombard the other person who is to blame for your relating to that song with the lyrics, hoping that they'll understand. That if only they could relate to you when you became that lyric, that every thing will be alright if they could understand that song, those lyrics, because those lyrics became you, you when you are thinking of them.
The killer part is that those lyrics that become you are your favorite songs. Played on repeat, and hold that special place in your music library. But no one else seems to get. Maybe some people closed to you know about them, but most people would think it's just another song.
It's not just another song. & the ones we can relate to, come up again and again, became versatile and applying to ourselves even when we are referring to someone else. The band's original intention lost on you because you made the lyrics reflect your own personal truth.
I said once that music is love. It is. But Music is Life itself.
Is this more than you bargained for yet? I've been dying to tell you anything that you want to hear, because that's just who I am this week... (For now, actually for once in a long time, I know exactly what, really who I want :/
Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be her {my meaning by "her" is to be your next girl.)
I'm just a notch on your bedpost, and you're just a line in a song.
I'll be your number one with a bullet.
& by next week, I will be writing about someone else.
Monday, April 26, 2010
& the heart strings are pulled.
I looked at my past blogs yesterday.
& skimming through them, I realized I don't remember half the guys who were calling me, texting me, giving proof to the fact that I burn through guys.
& I was looking and found that way back in December, even then I was talking to who I am "talking" to now and writing about him.
Truth was, I was smitten in high school and it wasn't for nothing. In high school, more than any other place that I have been in, I followed the philosophy of relating to an absent person more than building relationships to anyone around me.
It was I never spoke to Mikko. I was terrified first of any dejecting talk he might have aimed my way (just because I expected it. I expected the worse from everyone, to start mocking me any moment for never wearing the right clothes, for carrying a book, for never doing my makeup/hair, for anything that I criticized about myself) So instead, a typical fantasy trait of mine, I build up this fantasy of myself and relating to others. Mikko included. I extended this to any crush heavily.
I would picture that just one of the guys would be different. Just one would think that makeup wasn't required in order for a person to be truly beautiful. That they would see beyond my facade and discovered the brilliant bleeding heart that was me underneath. That I would be 'discovered,' by one of these guys who would take the time to get to know me for me and would like me for who I was and think I was just the coolest girl ever because I didn't give any drama. I wasn't/still aren't the type of girl to nitpick and wouldn't dare to judge. I wouldn't even ask them to take me on dates. I couldn't picture myself on dates. I would see this guy and me coming over to his house (HAHAHAHAHA <---right like that ever happened in high school or afterwards because my parent's are still like x_X when I go over to a guy's house) and we would just talk. we would sit somewhere or lean against the kitchen and talk about whatever was on our minds. For me, it just being together and having the bond between us like a secret that no one would know how strong it was.
Even back then I was sexually liberated because to me, virginity wasn't this huge of a deal. It was just something everyone did and it would be our secret that underneath the black was a beauty who was more than willing to get down on her knees. With every crush it was different. I don't remember my daydreams much but they were always like that. It was beautiful, this idea of a relationship I had.
& I'm confused. I'm happily confused. I'm trying to not be stubborn and step out of my comfort zone.
I'm scared.
I'm scared more about this than any time I go meet up with a complete stranger I never saw before and get into his car to be driven away into the city.
& I hate that what I'm scared of isn't that he's not right for me. But that we'll communicate much and after weeks, months, however long it is that he'll meet this super spectacular girl in person & immediately get with her and forget that I'm in his pocket (cell) & that I'm not her.
I'm scared I'll never be 'her', not just for this guy, but for any guy.
My optimism bubbles over everywhere but as soon as it comes to me and my relationships, I tend to expect being forgotten about.
O_O
Music is LOVE. Music is LIFE. Music helps me when no one else can. I just heard "If I fell," and the lyric just made me open my mind. I know what's wrong. Why I am overthinking, and wondering, and questioning, and shooting myself down at the same time.
"If I give my heart to you, I must be sure from the very start..."
& skimming through them, I realized I don't remember half the guys who were calling me, texting me, giving proof to the fact that I burn through guys.
& I was looking and found that way back in December, even then I was talking to who I am "talking" to now and writing about him.
Truth was, I was smitten in high school and it wasn't for nothing. In high school, more than any other place that I have been in, I followed the philosophy of relating to an absent person more than building relationships to anyone around me.
It was I never spoke to Mikko. I was terrified first of any dejecting talk he might have aimed my way (just because I expected it. I expected the worse from everyone, to start mocking me any moment for never wearing the right clothes, for carrying a book, for never doing my makeup/hair, for anything that I criticized about myself) So instead, a typical fantasy trait of mine, I build up this fantasy of myself and relating to others. Mikko included. I extended this to any crush heavily.
I would picture that just one of the guys would be different. Just one would think that makeup wasn't required in order for a person to be truly beautiful. That they would see beyond my facade and discovered the brilliant bleeding heart that was me underneath. That I would be 'discovered,' by one of these guys who would take the time to get to know me for me and would like me for who I was and think I was just the coolest girl ever because I didn't give any drama. I wasn't/still aren't the type of girl to nitpick and wouldn't dare to judge. I wouldn't even ask them to take me on dates. I couldn't picture myself on dates. I would see this guy and me coming over to his house (HAHAHAHAHA <---right like that ever happened in high school or afterwards because my parent's are still like x_X when I go over to a guy's house) and we would just talk. we would sit somewhere or lean against the kitchen and talk about whatever was on our minds. For me, it just being together and having the bond between us like a secret that no one would know how strong it was.
Even back then I was sexually liberated because to me, virginity wasn't this huge of a deal. It was just something everyone did and it would be our secret that underneath the black was a beauty who was more than willing to get down on her knees. With every crush it was different. I don't remember my daydreams much but they were always like that. It was beautiful, this idea of a relationship I had.
& I'm confused. I'm happily confused. I'm trying to not be stubborn and step out of my comfort zone.
I'm scared.
I'm scared more about this than any time I go meet up with a complete stranger I never saw before and get into his car to be driven away into the city.
& I hate that what I'm scared of isn't that he's not right for me. But that we'll communicate much and after weeks, months, however long it is that he'll meet this super spectacular girl in person & immediately get with her and forget that I'm in his pocket (cell) & that I'm not her.
I'm scared I'll never be 'her', not just for this guy, but for any guy.
My optimism bubbles over everywhere but as soon as it comes to me and my relationships, I tend to expect being forgotten about.
O_O
Music is LOVE. Music is LIFE. Music helps me when no one else can. I just heard "If I fell," and the lyric just made me open my mind. I know what's wrong. Why I am overthinking, and wondering, and questioning, and shooting myself down at the same time.
"If I give my heart to you, I must be sure from the very start..."
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Adonde?
Where is all this anger coming from?
I was pissed off. Again. Briefly today. I don't think anyone noticed but for ten minutes, all I wanted to do was break something beautiful. I wanted to mutilate and pound and just fuck the shit out of anything that was considered beautiful, including myself. I just got very angry during class & so I wrote.
I wrote in my book, and gave my anger to my main character, poor pitiful little fuckshit geek younger brother Jules with an asthma problem and pimples coming complete with thee yearning for a girl he could never have who will always be living in the shadow of his douchebag older brother who will never be more than a jerk. I gave it to him and read what I wrote and then laid back in my chair and thought...
I am writing a VERY violent book in terms of suburbia and urban settings. No swords. No shields. No epic battles. No royal treachery here. It's all about the losers and winners of high school and how certain choices just rippled through out your whole life. it's about the pummeling and hate between two brothers, even if one is not aware of it and how a little glass jar which holds your brand name coffee brand can become the object of a fight fantasy, a key to winning a fight.
& all of this macho things coming out of me, I think it is me. I've always been neutral in terms of being either girlish or boyish in personality, never super girly (& now only in terms of appearances because I will never squeal over the latest vogue magazine.) And yet all this coming out, it's just because I"m not denying it anymore. it's not I'm becoming a tomboy. it's because it is me. Since I was little, I would read these "male authors", never was into the babysitters club, was into survivor stories and fantasies. This having a motorcycle as my cell wallpaper, and reading palahniuk, bolano, it's just me. Coming to terms of all aspects of my personality. This anger, by taking it out via working out, This is how I deal with things, and fuck society for labeling it male or female. I'm not about to sit down and boohoo over a dish of ice cream. I am stronger than that.
& I still don't know why I've been so angry of late. It just occurs. I guess because I don't go easily into mood swings & control my temper that it is only alone that I let my feelings out. Either through writing it out or through exercising it out.
It's me. I get to know more about myself every day. I tend to look for those self actualizations which can make me into a happier person. & this is a self actualization. I do have male traits to my personality & I accept them. I just hope that one day my family will accept me for me.
My sexuality. My love of bikes.
I won't find out or risk it till I'm on my own.
Which I hope will be very soon. Because I think a girlfriend would be very sweet to have at this point because guys are just confusing me.
Everything except for their cock.
One day, I will come out. One day I will be me. & to hell with what everyone thinks.
But that day won't be today or until I can support myself. & this will be soon. Soon. I will be that person I dreamed of being and be honest about it.
I was pissed off. Again. Briefly today. I don't think anyone noticed but for ten minutes, all I wanted to do was break something beautiful. I wanted to mutilate and pound and just fuck the shit out of anything that was considered beautiful, including myself. I just got very angry during class & so I wrote.
I wrote in my book, and gave my anger to my main character, poor pitiful little fuckshit geek younger brother Jules with an asthma problem and pimples coming complete with thee yearning for a girl he could never have who will always be living in the shadow of his douchebag older brother who will never be more than a jerk. I gave it to him and read what I wrote and then laid back in my chair and thought...
I am writing a VERY violent book in terms of suburbia and urban settings. No swords. No shields. No epic battles. No royal treachery here. It's all about the losers and winners of high school and how certain choices just rippled through out your whole life. it's about the pummeling and hate between two brothers, even if one is not aware of it and how a little glass jar which holds your brand name coffee brand can become the object of a fight fantasy, a key to winning a fight.
& all of this macho things coming out of me, I think it is me. I've always been neutral in terms of being either girlish or boyish in personality, never super girly (& now only in terms of appearances because I will never squeal over the latest vogue magazine.) And yet all this coming out, it's just because I"m not denying it anymore. it's not I'm becoming a tomboy. it's because it is me. Since I was little, I would read these "male authors", never was into the babysitters club, was into survivor stories and fantasies. This having a motorcycle as my cell wallpaper, and reading palahniuk, bolano, it's just me. Coming to terms of all aspects of my personality. This anger, by taking it out via working out, This is how I deal with things, and fuck society for labeling it male or female. I'm not about to sit down and boohoo over a dish of ice cream. I am stronger than that.
& I still don't know why I've been so angry of late. It just occurs. I guess because I don't go easily into mood swings & control my temper that it is only alone that I let my feelings out. Either through writing it out or through exercising it out.
It's me. I get to know more about myself every day. I tend to look for those self actualizations which can make me into a happier person. & this is a self actualization. I do have male traits to my personality & I accept them. I just hope that one day my family will accept me for me.
My sexuality. My love of bikes.
I won't find out or risk it till I'm on my own.
Which I hope will be very soon. Because I think a girlfriend would be very sweet to have at this point because guys are just confusing me.
Everything except for their cock.
One day, I will come out. One day I will be me. & to hell with what everyone thinks.
But that day won't be today or until I can support myself. & this will be soon. Soon. I will be that person I dreamed of being and be honest about it.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Echoes
Why do I miss him?
Why is that sometimes I'm at a certain place, eating something, looking at something for me, to explore as a person, to shop, to experience, enjoying myself & suddenly out of nowhere, I get this thought like a tiny bomb went off in my fucking head.
"He would love that song like I do & would enjoy it throughly in the car with me."
"He would have made him silly sick with this food I just ate."
"He would have love what I just did."
>_>
It's over. I've move on to a point I think, & yet he still lingers. Will he always linger? Or will he just fade into the background once I find a relationship & not a hookup. I'm glad for the experience of what he put me through, I appreciate that I knew what was a relationship. I don't regret any of our time together, the good & the bad. He helped me realized what to do, or not to do anymore when it comes to relationships & after it, I just realized that the person i was with him was no one compare to the person I am now.
He'll always be my first boyfriend, my first love, but beyond that I wish that any yearning for him would just go away. I don't want to miss him anymore. I know that I don't need to, that I'm beyond that. I believe it's just that connection that I made. The fact that I really thought he was my forever & was dead set upon it. The fact that I would be one of the few lucky girls to be able to say that my first boyfriend was it for me, that I didn't date. That I love him so much that he decided to make me his wife. My dreams changed to fit the idea of a life we would build together.
I had a hope on the bottom of my soul that one day, you would stay with me.
What can I say? Things changed, even though I didn't want to but it's over, & there's nothing left for me to do but to either live with it & myself or go out & make a new beginning. It takes all of my courage to put down the sexuality & honestly try to make that connection with another. I'm trying, I'm really trying now, I'm not ruling it out anymore. & I think if a certain guy here or one living in another city would look at me as beyond a friend, beyond what I can offer, would look at me romantically, then I know how much they would make me smile, they already do. With their text messages & surprise, I even got a call yesterday & my heart leaped out with a giddyness that can only be called heavily crushing on someone.
But that was yesterday, & at the rate I'm burning through guys, I can only trust the fact that as far as guys go, they'll be a new one I'm talking to next week. & that's okay.
But one day, one day I want to get up from the bed, the floor, the chair, the counter, wherever I end up having sex with the guy, & know that it wasn't just for sex.
That one day, I will actually again experience that feeling you get with sleeping with someone who has your heart, not just your body.
That maybe, one day. I will be able to sing softly to myself as I get dressed & he is off in the bathroom somewhere getting cleaned up. Sing softly a song of love, of hope, of falling in love, of trusting him, of feeling the same.
That I would love to love him.
Why is that sometimes I'm at a certain place, eating something, looking at something for me, to explore as a person, to shop, to experience, enjoying myself & suddenly out of nowhere, I get this thought like a tiny bomb went off in my fucking head.
"He would love that song like I do & would enjoy it throughly in the car with me."
"He would have made him silly sick with this food I just ate."
"He would have love what I just did."
>_>
It's over. I've move on to a point I think, & yet he still lingers. Will he always linger? Or will he just fade into the background once I find a relationship & not a hookup. I'm glad for the experience of what he put me through, I appreciate that I knew what was a relationship. I don't regret any of our time together, the good & the bad. He helped me realized what to do, or not to do anymore when it comes to relationships & after it, I just realized that the person i was with him was no one compare to the person I am now.
He'll always be my first boyfriend, my first love, but beyond that I wish that any yearning for him would just go away. I don't want to miss him anymore. I know that I don't need to, that I'm beyond that. I believe it's just that connection that I made. The fact that I really thought he was my forever & was dead set upon it. The fact that I would be one of the few lucky girls to be able to say that my first boyfriend was it for me, that I didn't date. That I love him so much that he decided to make me his wife. My dreams changed to fit the idea of a life we would build together.
I had a hope on the bottom of my soul that one day, you would stay with me.
What can I say? Things changed, even though I didn't want to but it's over, & there's nothing left for me to do but to either live with it & myself or go out & make a new beginning. It takes all of my courage to put down the sexuality & honestly try to make that connection with another. I'm trying, I'm really trying now, I'm not ruling it out anymore. & I think if a certain guy here or one living in another city would look at me as beyond a friend, beyond what I can offer, would look at me romantically, then I know how much they would make me smile, they already do. With their text messages & surprise, I even got a call yesterday & my heart leaped out with a giddyness that can only be called heavily crushing on someone.
But that was yesterday, & at the rate I'm burning through guys, I can only trust the fact that as far as guys go, they'll be a new one I'm talking to next week. & that's okay.
But one day, one day I want to get up from the bed, the floor, the chair, the counter, wherever I end up having sex with the guy, & know that it wasn't just for sex.
That one day, I will actually again experience that feeling you get with sleeping with someone who has your heart, not just your body.
That maybe, one day. I will be able to sing softly to myself as I get dressed & he is off in the bathroom somewhere getting cleaned up. Sing softly a song of love, of hope, of falling in love, of trusting him, of feeling the same.
That I would love to love him.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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.
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.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Morning
Fuck you subconscious! I will NOT let you ruin my day. Not today. Today is MINE.
Fuck you dreams, with your lingering emotions, playing it out when I'm at my most vulnerable, when I can't do anything about the thoughts. The images.
The fact that in my dream. He was standing right there. In line. Next to me. He was waiting for me. He was holding a magazine, and we were waiting to go into the movies so we could see something together.
-_-
No wonder why I sleep late, to wake up late. I do this to myself. So that for at least a few minutes, I can remember him clearly without any emotional fucktardary bugging me. So I can just enjoy him the way we were. & just hold it there, and wake and remember it was just a dream. & That's all it will be.
I still see him when I'm sleeping. That's not fair. It reminds me.
& I need to wake up. I need to write.
Fuck you dreams, with your lingering emotions, playing it out when I'm at my most vulnerable, when I can't do anything about the thoughts. The images.
The fact that in my dream. He was standing right there. In line. Next to me. He was waiting for me. He was holding a magazine, and we were waiting to go into the movies so we could see something together.
-_-
No wonder why I sleep late, to wake up late. I do this to myself. So that for at least a few minutes, I can remember him clearly without any emotional fucktardary bugging me. So I can just enjoy him the way we were. & just hold it there, and wake and remember it was just a dream. & That's all it will be.
I still see him when I'm sleeping. That's not fair. It reminds me.
& I need to wake up. I need to write.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
wow
I didn't realized how Moody I can be.
Wow. I'm happy now XD It comes and goes and hopefully it will stay
everything seems so less complicated today. & I got myself thinking clearly and what I need to do for myself. to hell with the guys. Guys will walk in & walk out of my life & I just have to remember one thing- Me
& do what I need to do for me to keep myself happy. I need no man to do that.
SO
Without further ado. I'm planning again. :)
Wow. I'm happy now XD It comes and goes and hopefully it will stay
everything seems so less complicated today. & I got myself thinking clearly and what I need to do for myself. to hell with the guys. Guys will walk in & walk out of my life & I just have to remember one thing- Me
& do what I need to do for me to keep myself happy. I need no man to do that.
SO
Without further ado. I'm planning again. :)
Friday, March 19, 2010
I guess it all worked out
The reason I'm not blogging much these days is because happiness with little trivial complications that are nothing, has decided to visit me.
I am happy.
This is my secret blog that turn into my rant against what the fuck is up with my world & what the fuck am I doing? But the longer I don't blog, the longer my happiness has decided to stay. I only hope that everyone else feels the warmth of what life can be too.
& that this feeling stays, and this blog should turn into my nauseating happiness as I gush about books, movies, and all the good stuff that life has to offer like funnel cakes and inside jokes. Memories. Beautiful memories that make up our lives, that make up our daily happiness.
Now all that I want to do is go back to my writing, it beckons me, and I have answered its call. So I'm happy.
I am happy.
This is my secret blog that turn into my rant against what the fuck is up with my world & what the fuck am I doing? But the longer I don't blog, the longer my happiness has decided to stay. I only hope that everyone else feels the warmth of what life can be too.
& that this feeling stays, and this blog should turn into my nauseating happiness as I gush about books, movies, and all the good stuff that life has to offer like funnel cakes and inside jokes. Memories. Beautiful memories that make up our lives, that make up our daily happiness.
Now all that I want to do is go back to my writing, it beckons me, and I have answered its call. So I'm happy.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
I like Myrrh and Cigarettes.
>_> Someone just shoot me. Just do it >_> First I'm bitching about how this guy won't leave me alone and is like I want to date you and I'm like being a really, cynical bitch, and I'm like what a dork who is getting clingy, eww. and then he txts me "thank you for staying up with me last night" meaning that we text until we fell asleep, while we both got our shit done, and I found it sweet because I know what that feels like, the absence of not having anyone "special" to txt before sleeping, and I was touched, and then he stopped texting for awhile and I missed his constant bothering texts of "what you up to???" xD So someone just shoot me for being so damn indecisive.
I'm an idiot. a sexy fish idiot. Whatever. we'll see how it goes.
I'm an idiot. a sexy fish idiot. Whatever. we'll see how it goes.
And I feel fine.
Sometimes I just take a good look at myself and the way I am and I scoff at how different I am and I enjoy my lifestyle. I am a selfish whore who loves the attention, above all the attention. Sometimes I think it's because of fact that I didn't realized or blossom into the social butterfly I am now till very late, 18. or so. And still even then it was one or two guys over the year before I got involved in a serious relationship.
Even with that view and how I am happy, sometimes I just look at myself and think that's fuckup, even for me.
Like the fact that I got more excited in getting a text back from a guy who apparently didn't even get the meaning of my text, from a fellow whore/player/ and I know that if ever gets what I want to do, that we will, and then we would say goodbye. Love them and leave them, and I get more excited about that, about him
than the guy who is literally trying to move the moon and stars for me in order to woo me, to date me, and to him I'm being a little bit of a bitch.
And I think it says about me how what I really want is to have fun, and I will but some part of me tells me to watch out because once I'm done having fun, I don't know if there will be anyone who is ideal for me.
Maybe I want too much when it comes to relationships which is why I'm not bothering. Is it so wrong to want someone completely mind-blowing, completely extraordinary?
And the guy who wants to date me, isn't. But I'm giving him a chance anyway, just because he's giving me attention beyond my sexuality.
But I'm still hoping for Christopher, the fairy tale guy, the ultimate fantasy, and I guess until I get my chance, I won't know.
Even with that view and how I am happy, sometimes I just look at myself and think that's fuckup, even for me.
Like the fact that I got more excited in getting a text back from a guy who apparently didn't even get the meaning of my text, from a fellow whore/player/ and I know that if ever gets what I want to do, that we will, and then we would say goodbye. Love them and leave them, and I get more excited about that, about him
than the guy who is literally trying to move the moon and stars for me in order to woo me, to date me, and to him I'm being a little bit of a bitch.
And I think it says about me how what I really want is to have fun, and I will but some part of me tells me to watch out because once I'm done having fun, I don't know if there will be anyone who is ideal for me.
Maybe I want too much when it comes to relationships which is why I'm not bothering. Is it so wrong to want someone completely mind-blowing, completely extraordinary?
And the guy who wants to date me, isn't. But I'm giving him a chance anyway, just because he's giving me attention beyond my sexuality.
But I'm still hoping for Christopher, the fairy tale guy, the ultimate fantasy, and I guess until I get my chance, I won't know.
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