In the still and the chill of the night.

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.

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.

& 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..."