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.

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.

An epiphany with a song.

Sometimes there is that gem of a song that you have been listening for years because it's a great song on it's own with a sweet beat and nice vocals. And then days, months, years past, and the song is still there being great but then you just find yourself in a place, on a night, listening to music and the song hits you. And it hits you again and again and the lyrics just grabbed at you, and you just find yourself relating and going, I never figured that one day I will be in a situation that I could sing this song with my actual heart behind it. and this was just a cool song and now it means the world. Now it describes me and I just wonder at how the songwriters knew. How they knew that people would find themselves relating to this and what had they gone through in order to be able to write down so well, to capture it, and to form it into a song that just makes you breathe and realized that yes, this song is you, and yes it is other people too in their own way, and that out of everything, that life goes on, and that you're not the only one with those feelings. And now finding myself there with those words. I get it.

Am I more than you bargained for yet
I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear
Cause that's just who I am this week
...
I'm just a notch in your bedpost
But you're just a line in a song
...
Drop a heart, break a name
We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team
...
Wishing to be the friction in her jeans
Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him
...
We're going down, down in an earlier round
And Sugar, we're going down swinging
I'll be your number one with a bullet
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it.
...
Just pull it. Just fucking pull it.
.

I can honestly say I get it. I actually relate, and not just fake relate to it like many teeny-boopers middle schoolers who related to the love game, or who wanted to make a bad romance. No, you don't you're only 11-12 years old, and you don't know what it's like to be a dancer in the dark, and if you do. I'm sorry, but I'm not talking about the exception, I'm talking about the majority, the normal girls.

But I can honestly say that I relate to those lyrics. :/ And I had my motherfucking epiphany, sitting here, typing up my homework, and the song comes on and I'm listening to it, singing along, not even paying much attention to the lyrics when I hear that, I'm (he's) just a notch on your bedpost and he is, you're (I am) just a line in the song, I really am.

If it comes to anything, that is just what he is going to be, and all my potential might be just that but I'm just letting this out. just writing it out, get it out of my system. Because I'm just going to take it as it comes, and let the chips fall where they will, and I'll be right there to step it up.