What I forget

I forget that my mom never took one step into a high school. She left her education unfinished at 7th grade in Mexico that is. She left so she could work. My dad left school because it was dumb for him and started working to take care of himself and his independence because even though my grandma offer education, he turned it down because he couldn't stand living under her thumb. Too immature to grasp that education can equal a career, a career a nice lifestyle while not having to kill himself to earn it.

I forget that their education only extended itself so far by choice or by not having one.

I forget and get irritated sometimes at their ideas of who I am watching or listening lectured online isn't my teacher or my class like they assumed, they don't know what I'm doing, what I'm reading, what I'm writing. What I'm doing. They don't understand and they won't be able to.

They don't know why it irritates me when they barge into my room, time and time again, asking questions, handing me clothes, calling me for stuff. Why is it that I am annoyed because I have to stop what I'm doing and sometimes I come back to my writing and I can't remember what I was going to write, academically or creativity wise.

I forget that they think I can go back right to my work because it's on my computer, waiting. I forget when I get irritated at having to pause right in the middle of a lecture online. I am impatient. I forget when I need to remember their backgrounds and realized that I'm the first in my immediate family to go to college, graduate, continue in Univ. & I'm doing it by myself out here, with little help and what help there is available does not extend to me because I am not family and even then, help for me is only how much I'm willing to help myself.

I am trying to do that, every day. I am trying to improve myself, to improve my life, to hold onto the hope that even though there is little hope, that I can provide for my parents. I am traditionalist in the sense of my family morals and I believe that is good but I keep my hope and try to remember. I keep my hope and I continue to write in that hope.

& 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..."