Just breathe.

So I did it, and as soon as I did it, I removed it from my facebook so no one could comment on it but they can still see it on their newsfeed even though it's not in mine anymore.

I don't want anyone to comment on it. I don't want anyone to notice it. I don't want anyone to question me about it but at the same time, I want to be a bit truthful with it, just thought I would put it out there and change it and see if he would noticed it, even though I know he won't changed his for the same reason I don't advertise my changed relationship status on facebook.

Because he knows, like I know, if we do make that changed, the questions, the need to know from our friends and family would be endless and we're not at that point. I don't know if we'll reach that point, I'm not thinking that far ahead. These days, I'm not even thinking, all I'm doing is feeling and not all of it is good, but even when it's bad, and it's hurting me, I rather feel than not feel. I rather not fall back into that state of uncaring, of numbness, of not being able to do anything because I pretended so hard that I didn't need it. Didn't need a heart, didn't need romantic love, didn't need any of that, that I can reach my self-actualizations and this idea of a person of who I am to be, of reaching my potential all by myself because it was better that way. But. He. Reminds. Me.

He reminds me of how intoxicating beautifully it can be. The feelings that I have held back in reserve, ignoring, pretending, not caring, all come up with such an intensity that I am enveloped in emotions I can't control but wash over so gently that it becomes a comfort, even though he is 'officially' gone. But even though he is, he's still here to me, for me, and he keeps calling me back again and every time I answer, I'm not thinking anymore, I am emotions in form of a person.

I don't know what I'm doing anymore and that's okay. I'm coming to terms with it. Coming to terms with him, with his past, with my past, with everything, and right now I just need to find that balance that will make me feel complete, not just in this, but in my writing, in my dreams, and I will be a form of potential that I thought I couldn't reach because I wasn't being love and now I am.

And because of it, I know what I can do now. I can write that novel that I couldn't write back in November because I felt like a charlatan writing a summer romance novel when my heart was dead. My heart isn't dead anymore, but I'm afraid still to tell him, to have him read how much my past meant to me, and I'm not talking about my ex.

I'm talking about that writer and how he touched me with his words and how much he means to me and how everytime I write I feel closer to him. How certain songs remind me of him and just makes me look back at that photo he sent me of him and that one of us, and I'm reminded of my second novel, SR, and how if I open it, I will see how I yearned to be another person and how much I worked to stand out, just stand out and hoped to make myself shine in his eyes as more than a reader, so he could acknowledge me as a writer and even as I write this, I start thinking about my third novel, of which I am full of hope for and I want to write in it, no matter how ugly it is to write it, how ugly it makes me feel because of the subject of it, and I want to write in it to make myself feel complete and to make him aware of just who I am.

I want to breathe in the ocean air and know that one day maybe. Hope alive, and hope burns. And my heart beats again and I hope, and with that hope I love.

This he said to me.

Or rather what I said to him last night on the phone.

Was it another mistake?

It seems like I'm doing everything right, going along the correct path for everything else in my life, except for this, for him.

What I said only attached me closer to him when I should be focusing on disattaching myself because my nature boy is gone.

If that is my mistake, and I am going to continue making these mistakes.

Then, at this point all I can say is so be it.

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 need

to write about him. My lover. My summerboy. My... 2nd boyfriend. Soon to be ex boyfriend by mutual agreement.

It wasn't for long, not long at all but these past few weeks have felt like I could have been months with him. Such intensity that mixed with our passion and concentration of each other and our temporary serious relationships has me into a whirlwind. BUT

I can't write about this now. Not because it's not the time. I should be.

But because I don't have time for it >_>

BOO.

& I really need to write about him.

But if I do then I might miss you, babe.

unexpectedly found myself wanting to lose the game.

Anyone would do tonight.

Self doubts, nostalgia, and failure have been plaguing me all day.

It started with the failure of a little thing known as an instruction permit test. For which I am supposed to be studying for in order to get my instruction permit so I can get my licence so I can drive and taste a little bit more of that freedom that I crave so much.

Failure wasn't possible for me and it happened. I don't know why I wasn't able to get it. I don't know why I failed. I read it. I studied. Failure is not an option but it brought me back to the reality of myself.

That I can fail. That I am not perfect. And with that, today came to me in the form of unhappiness and yearning because I woke up with him in my mind, another dream of him. Another dream where he is still with me and we are happy, and just joyfully being us. And I need to come to terms with it. I hate dreaming of him because it reminds me of how painful my reality it is. How unbearable is the fact that no one in the whole goddamn world calls me their sweetheart.

I was lonely for a relationship. It entered my being and surrounded me, engulf me in it's draining emotions, and I try to forget. Try so hard to forget how it felt to be happy in a relationship. And ended up trying in the wrong place. In my sanctuary. In my hammock with a book in my lap, swinging softly in the breeze. Knowing that no one would interrupt me.

Big Mistake. I remembered how one magically night years ago when I didn't realized that it was magic but just plain seducing, I dared. My sense of risking it all not having gone anywhere. I did risk it.

I was reading there one summer evening, being all of myself at at age 18 turning 19, I thought I had the world in my hands. I felt beautiful, school was out, I had a summer job, and my first boyfriend who I hadn't at that point have sex with yet because he was a virgin and I was playing out to see if he was really mine to keep in a relationship. Seeing if he like me for me, and not for my body.

It was one of those hot sticky but windy nights where everything feels wet. My uncle had just moved from Seattle and was currently living with us. It was because of this that I took this risk. Such a huge risk. He was sleeping in the living room till he found his own place, so I knew that once my parents had retired to their room, they would not come out again.

By this point because of my work hours, I would make it a habit to read late into the night on the hammock, deliciously enjoying a book under the desert sky. My parents never suspected anything that when my boyfriend got out of work at 11:30 (I still remember) that I called him. I called him and told him to come over. He did, riding his bike from his work to my house since he didn't have his car yet. I snuck him through the side gate in my backyard.

Everyone has stories, memories, of lovely romantic, star dazzling evenings in their relationships of how they were wined and dine, taken dancing, frolicking on the beach, just beautiful romance days that are remembered sweetly with a sadness if the relationship ended or a secret smile of knowing, of appreciation if the relationship was still alive but with a different kind of passion fueling it.

But what they tell you is not the full story. They just tell you, it was one of the most romantic nights in my life. And they expect you to understand, to feel what it was to be them on that night and be treated by a person so wonderfully that the word enchanting meant what it meant.

My night didn't involve money. Didn't involve going out. It didn't involve music or food or entertainment. What it did involved was a summer dress used as PJs because it was becoming frayed, the smell of fast food in the air coming from his uniform. The giggles of a girl high on happiness as she watched her first boyfriend distractedly looking around, being a nervous wreck because if they were caught, who knew what the consequences were except for that they were bad, very bad.

The coaxing of shy murmurings to climb into the hammock, to take off his shoes, to take off his work shirt, and climb in with me on the woven fabric. His smile so boyish still, his eyes reflecting the same level of mischievousness that was felt because we were old enough to have an adult relationship and feel the seriousness of each other, and yet young enough to still feel like teenagers rebelling with that night.

What surprise me was how little he knew and how I opened up his world. He had never even been on a hammock before, much less the luxury that was mine. A stolen hammock, different, sturdy from the ones that are seen in ads because it is durable, more like swinging on a thick mat than the image of strings woven together that are so often brought to mind.

He didn't even know how to get into one, how to climb in one. I had to stop the hammock, get out, show him how I climb in or else he would have tipped us both over with his crazy legs trying to jump in. Trying to be quiet and stifle laughter at his naive, and hiding the bit of shock that it gave me.

I settled myself into it first, getting comfortable with my book, lazing around, and caught him staring, looking me up and down, watching how he blush by the faint light of the moon as he realized I caught him checking me out. I smiled and beckoned. He climb in so slowly, afraid to disturb the illusion I had created, the aura changing from playfulness and giggles to one of unmistakable desire, unsaid feelings of love, and a thin layer of fear of taking a risk with each other's hearts.

I don't even think we talk much beyond idle chatter of how our days were. Soon the talking stop and the soft kissing and whispered conversations cut in by the inability to stop tracing each other's body due to our urges. Minutes. Hours. Nearly the whole night was spent with each other in that hammock, swinging, moving, murmuring silly notions, kissing, revealing new things about each other that we didn't know before. Lovely, beautiful, desire, passion, love, yes love, form our connection that night and when he left, well past 4 in the morning, I could have cried because I wanted him back. I wanted the night to be young again. I wanted him and me in the hammock, an ignored book between us. I wanted my fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone, wanted him showering me with those warm kisses everywhere on my face, behind my ears. And it wasn't just about lust. It was so much more than that. For the longest time it really was just that feeling of 'holding hands'.

It was about wanting to feel loved and know that I was. That in the night, there was nothing else between us. It was just us, him on my mind, and I on his mind only. No one was more important, nothing else matter. We were all that we needed or care for. He was really my everything and I was his everything.

I was. He was.

And today I was no one's everything. Not even close. All I can hope is to not be forgotten. To be someone's tonight and let them be my tonight. All this came back to me because I went outside to deal with my moodiness, the restlessness I felt at myself for being so stupid. For not passing that test.

And on that hammock, I closed my eyes and heard the way the wood groan softly as I swung from side to side, and I could almost feel him right there next to me, I could see him. And it hurt because I knew that unlike that night, if I open my eyes there would no one there. No missed phone calls from that special person, no texts, no voice mails, nothing for me because no one was thinking of me in terms of being their everything.

I did what I always do. Even back in high school, middle school when the waves of loneliness, of . I push the feelings as far away as I could and read obsessively so I could forget. I could forget my own reality. My own pain. I could forget my own personal demons.

All I can think of now is that I need to write. Or read. Maybe the knock the fuck out with a sleeping pill or two. It's always better in the morning and besides I have to live up to my own philosophisy anyway.

Because I do relate to absent people than build relationships with those around me.

Not that it's by choice. And it will be better in the morning.

It has to be.

Ahem

Excuse me, excuse me. Excuse me!

EXCUSE ME!

He has officially invaded my psyche.

Fuck.

I dream of him. And it was beautiful.

He didn't start out in it, rather it was me and my little asian princess, my Nessarini and I in a larger version of her house, and we went out to ride around in the midwest apparently, nothing but fields of grass on both sides of the lone ride. But then, I don't know how, in the miles of switching driving back and forth, there was Mikko and Tessie, and that dork in the backseat. And we wound up eating at a restauran, and it was sweet until we left, and Nessa and I ditch everyone, making them walked back to the house.

Once inside the house, Nessa went into a different room and never came out. I look into the telescope and found Mikko and Tessie out on the road still walking.

Then that dork showed up. No shirt on. Apparently he was sick and we were somehow in the same bathroom, me hyperventing, on the verge of being sick, and him being sick with the shits. Eww. I know, and we were sharing a bathroom, and by the time we got cleaned up, somehow we ended ditching most of our clothes. Go figure. From the shits to sex. Only in my dreams and only in reality because people are disgusting like that, haha.

We wound up in this very long living room, and I was still heaving a bit and he was talking to me and I couldn't hear him over my dry heaves. He came closer and I stopped heaving long enough for him to say sarcastically, now that was a good breakfast, and for me to respond, oh Yeah! It's not like it was going to be give up food poisoning or anything.

We laugh and then we wound up having a near hump fest, making out against the wall, luscious lips and wandering hands which stop my heaving and made me blush, and then we stopped the hump fest. We stop because he and I became aware of the fact that we were holding hands. He was holding my left hand with the freckle because I kept staring at the freckle and thinking, he is not holding my hand, it doesn't mean anything, it doesn't matter, it was an accident, I'll just let go and we can go back to messing around, and I did it. I let go of his hand and took it away and he just smiled with an expression of playfulness on his face, and took my hand again. I let go and move it and every time he would grab it, no matter how much I tried to squirm out of it. And every time he would grab a hold of it, he would peck me on the cheek, my neck. He must have done this a dozen times without a word between us and I finally stopped squirming out of his hand holding and I smile like one can only smile in dreams, so bright that it shone up the room. I radiated, could see our own aura like that in the sims2 when you reach your 'zone'. And he kissed me, one of those long kisses that happens in movies that just make you swoon and he dipped me. And I was happy.

And I woke up.

Damnit I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep to that dream.

I know that nothing will happen between me and dork because it has become clear, and yet my psyche shows that even though try as I might detached myself from this silly crush I have on him, that I'm still yearning for this. Not the sex. Not the hump fest. Not the dating part of going out. Or being given gifts. because apparently what I really want is just

holding his hand.

Looking at the brightside.

It's never me.

This was how I felt in high school. Middle school.

Had that crush on that special guy, watch him all year, wanting him, liking him, even though I didn't know him, memorizing the few words he said to me, memories of my happiness shining so bright at the fact that he acknowledged me. That he spoke to me, that he was nice, and that maybe he did noticed me but he didn't want to admit that he liked me because I wasn't like the other girls. Never was. But that was okay, I kept dreaming of the day that he wouldn't care, him and any other guy after I had a crush on. That, maybe for once they would noticed the slightly pudgy but pretty girl who definitely was a brain, and didn't care for the social effects of it. That he wanted her, wanted me, and that was all he cared about.

It never happened. So many times my dreams would be shattered in front of my own eyes, me chatting with a girl in class and see it happened right before my eyes. The guy would come over and I would get butterflies and then he would approached my classmate. And asked her out right in front of me.

I became nothing more than furniture right then, invisible, not acknowledging the fact that although they were flirting, playing, over a few feet was a girl who's hopes were crush by her crush.

And it's still the same. Nothing has changed.

It's shoved in my face, right there. So clear to see that I am invisible.

That he will chose her over me. Has chosen her over me. This crush of mine, so silly. I should have never crush on him in the first place, because I predicted this.

I thought why should I bother? Sure his texts make me smile but since that's all he does, it won't go further, especially since he hasn't hinted at meeting up, but I have patience. Besides there's no one else out there, but I knew the way he (didn't) text me that he wasn't attracted to me.

I knew it.

And now he has all but admitted he likes someone via facebook. And guess who it is? I don't know but I can tell you who it isn't. Me.

But that's okay. No, really it's okay because it's when reality hits a bit closer to home that I tend to lose myself in my writing, in my dreams, in my relating to absent people than those around me.

I'll be fine. I just should have known better. I'll smile when he gets in a relationship and think 'good for him!' Good for her! I hope they're happy because I am. I am and will be happy with myself. I will not fall into the thought that a relationship will be the answer to my problems. It's just temporarily loneliness. And that temporarily loneliness I will used to my advantage. I will used it in my writing. I will give my pain to my characters and they will be complete with it, and after I finish writing, I will be content with myself and smile at what I have done.

Most of the time. But some of the time, it's not that bad really, I'm just letting it out so that I can let in the new, the self-actualizations, the happiness, so I can remember how

Destiny calls me.

And how destiny will have to come after me because I will be too busy, too fast, too much of everything involved in my life to making it the happiest I can make it that destiny and my dreams will have to catch to me. Because there's nothing else I can do but make the best possible life for myself and enjoy it. Enjoy my destiny, enjoy my living in the moment, just face it, and live it. Do it.

And when I see those couples, when I hear those songs, when I see those updates, and it hurts. All I have to do is grin and bear it, and remember how I am me, and I am an amazing person, and that they have made their choice, and it isn't me, so good luck to them, bravo, and I will do just fine.

Mr. Brightside-The Killers.

breathes

I am calm in form of a person.

I will not be frustrated by her depression.

I will help her anyway I can.

I will be her friend because she is my friend.

We will get through this.

I will be a better friend because life has handed her shit after shit and she doesn't deserve any lack of faith from my part.

I will be her friend.

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.

& 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..."

Tiss Tiss Tiss Tiss...

I did it.

I let go.

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

Was it stupid of me?

Yes, VERY stupid.

So why did I do it?

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

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

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

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

Sometimes

You get a phone call and you realized that it's not just about you you you. but that it's about the other person as well. That for all my crying, I'm lucky he didn't come back or else I would end up just like her.

I wish I could make her feel better and make her demon go away and let her be. I can't. All I can do is hear her cry to me over the phone and just listen. Not even put in my two cents because when she calls me like that, it's not what I'm saying, it's just the comfort to her to have me listen. She just wants someone to listen and tell her it's okay. Not someone to judge her. At least I'll always have that. I love her and I HOPE more than I hope for myself for her to be okay.

Just play it how it is.

If I just follow my own rules. I should be fine.

The more I talk to guys the more I'm reminded of the reasons why I should play and not become involved.

Seriously, married men. Like what the hell, you have your wife at home, and she's beautiful. You said I do to her, back it up! Idiots!

Older, much older divorce men. Yes, we know you went through a painful divorce. yes, you are single and available and are ready to play because your divorce left you scared. BUT, must you go after girls young enough to be your daughters? Seriously? You're how old? And you're looking for girls in what age? I know, I know, you don't want to discriminate in age but really, now you're just being perverted.I know they joke about me and going after youngsters, but I don't go for guys a decade younger than me at least. Perverts!

And then there are the "single" men. How the hell do you think you're kidding? And are you that dumb? Or do I play being the dumb blond too well? Do you really think I'm that stupid. *roll eyes*. It's obvious you have a girlfriend. If not here in the city, that you're attached to someone, but long distance or not, she's still your girlfriend. You're just losers for being scared of your own relationship. Either play the field right or have enough balls to break up with her before you get caught. Because you will get caught. the game will only come back to hunt you. Cowards!

Then there are actually single guys. Le sigh. I understand that at this point, you're all have been attached at one point with someone pretty serious. But just because you had bad experiences means that shouldn't try again. Grow some balls guys, there are plenty of single girls who would love to have you.

Me included eventually. As soon as I find that the hand that mine fits into. That and when I stop thinking of that guy I met through my hookup. That'll fade out, I hope.

Rules:

1.No playing with guys who are married/engaged/are boyfriends (attached)

2. No one older than 6 years or younger than 4.

3. No one shorter than me. No one of a smaller body frame (to an extent)

4. No latinos. Sorry, don't do my own race, I know them too well.

5. No one into drugs. (smokers okay. drinkers not so much.)

6. No fucktards. No creeps. If you give me the weirdo vibe, bye.

7. No one too good looking because they know how well they look and I don't need to feel that you're thinking you're having sympathy sex with me. Um-no. Also because you're so good looking, I know you're taking advantage of that and your numbers tend to run double digits. No thank you on the STD's either. Average guys are better anyway.

8. No dorks. Just because I tend to get attached to you. (case in point: hookup's best friend >_> goodlord why do I keep thinking of him?! -_- Boo. Just thumbs down. Is it bad that I'm hoping to bump into him when Spring semester starts? I've never blogged this much about a guy. Why him? he probably has a girlfriends. Dorks like him always do. And besides I played with his friend. -_-

The retracted rule that was formerly rule #9: No hooking up with friends of hook ups.

It gets weird fast. But only if your original hook up is a douchebag. I'm better playing this by ear and see how it develops because sometimes this opens up alot of guys :P But a must is keeping it to yourself unless you want drama by comparison. Sometimes it's nice to be known as easy and sometimes it's not.

Just see how it goes.

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

Maybe.

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

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

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

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

Ask her.

LISTENING TO: And I love her- Beatles

For the longest time I've been avoiding relationships. At first I was having fun with no strings attached, but like before, that got old, and fast! I still drool over any cute guy or girl that passes me by, but today Mikko, my best friend asked me what exactly it is that I want. I started describing that one night stands are nice, but I want a friends with benefits, but as always with friends with benefits, the friends part is quickly forgotten in favor of the benefits part (I know this from experience as well. So he asked me whether I wanted a boyfriend and at first I said no, because I don't want the commitment. I don't want to be grounded down so into a relationship. He asked me what I was scared of, why didn't I want to commit and I realized that I am not scared of commitment but I'm afraid of losing myself, my individuality, my personality to that relationship, like I did before. My ex became my whole world. He was my world. When it ended, I had to rebulid mine and in rebuilding it, I couldn't believe just how much of myself I lost because of my ex, because of that relationship. I was sacrificing myself for him. I had stopped writing, stopped alternating jewelry, stop any interests, like being a wannabe into the greaser culture, dancing, just stuff and clubs I wanted to be a part of, I stopped. I rarely saw my friends.
This is what has been stopping me, not wanting to lose what I have regain to another relationship. I don't have to lose it, I realized now. A relationship so center on itself, with the individuals losing their personality to it is just bound to go wrong. Another aspect of the fact that I was really in denial to what I wanted is because I know who I want, but to quote Love Hina (manga by ken Akamatsu "I haven't seen that person in years. He probably doesn't even remember what I look like". He's just a fantasy and the chance of him and being together are ultra slim to none. So even though I am up in the clouds, over the moon when I think of him, I keep my feet on the ground, and keep my options open. So Mikko, thank you for asking. I can answer your question: I do want a boyfriend, and this time I won't make the same mistakes. Who know where it will go?