I want it all.

I've got nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Time to stop being afraid and just go, go, go.

Make my dreams true. No holding back. I'm always telling people: Watch me now, you haven't seen nothing yet and it's because I know my potential and I haven't been living up to it. Haven't been living as much as I want to.

So there's nothing really for me to do but to live up to it because, really after the fact, I have nothing else to do but to grow older, so no turning back now. No growing younger. Going to ball up and do it, everything that I want to do.

It's time to let my potential go. Time to show the world what I've made of.

Watch me now.

Progress

I'm hoping. I'm really hoping that if I continue like this, that I might actually finish my book. Page 74. Yesterday I was at page 71. I have hope that if I keep writing and get back into that beautiful habit, I might be able to double my writing.

With less than 40 pages to go and a few weeks before school kicks in, the challenge is in.

<3 Hoping. I found a quote the day before yesterday of which I thought applied to me, because I am selfish like that and overestimate myself.

"There are two kinds of artists in this world: those who create to enrich their lives, and those who create to define their lives."

I know which one I am.

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.

Back on track.

They can't stop me.

No matter what fate throws at me. I refused to be stopped.
I refused to be beaten down and waking up every morning, feeling hate, feeling self-pity, feeling anything but awesome at who I am. I have worked too damn hard at the person I am today in order to be reduced to being the person I was before, damnit. I refused to lead any life that I am not happy living. I don't care if I have work even more. I will do it. I will achieve my goals. I will let nothing stop me. A few bumps in the road, a few traces of the past coming along, a sense of security being shifted, will not stop me.

I will work my ass off and get my damn phone back, even if I have to pay full price. I will work my ass off and get my permit, and get my licence before the year is out. I will get the classes I need, opened or not. I will keep up exercising, including upper body workouts because this is what I need to start getting in shape, not only for myself, but for my goals of riding, both motorcycles and bicycles, and mastering how to do 4 inch heels, as well as having full confidence in myself when I aim for those guys and girls who are a league above myself with their peak physical bodies and chiseled faces out of a wet dream. I will go after them, even more than I do right now because of the fact that I deserve the best of the best, including hooksups. I will do this, damnit. I will finish my goddamn book, no matter how much it hurts me, reminds me, I am so close. 40 more odd pages and I am done with it. I will finish and I will start pitching, I will actually give my all to getting it published and if it doesn't happen, I will spend the rest of my life doing it till I am a writer. I will re-start planning for grad school. This summer is my summer now. Summer, I am reclaiming you and taking you back from fate! Fate can just watch me because she hasn't seen anything yet.

I am 23 years old, it's time for this to be my summer, no matter how much it burned and turn to ashes. I will rise up and make it my summer, whatever is left of it. Weeks left till school comes in, and I got to get ready.

I will become the person I already am, again, and even better. My summer. My life. Mine. I will do this because I know myself and I know my potential. My potential is endless. Summer better be ready, because I am going to rape these last days with my ambitions. Here I come.

Pages

Fuck you book for making me feel this.

fuck you for making taking up my mind and tearing out my heart and just splatter it all over the keyboard as I write into you.

Fuck you book for doing this to me.

I hate you book.

I love you book.

I hate you for the way you make me feel. For what you make me need and how I go out again and look for it in the empty online networks where I find lust and a glimmer of a hope for a girl and even slimmer hope for a guy.

Also fuck you to the guy walking around work who broke my heart a bit just by looking at him.

You were wearing blue jeans, a light white long sleeve dress shirt casually open and I didn't see you till you nearly passed me. What caught my eye was not your face but the fact that you were walking along. and carrying a book, an obvious norton anthology. I froze, realizing that my wet dream just walked past by me and I could do nothing about it.

My heart broke and harden a bit at work because as you left with your clean shaven jawline and neat dark brown hair, the thought that this was going to be my love life hurt me. That I will see him or her walk right past me and never notice, never take a look back, never realized that I was standing right there, less than two feet away with an equally thick book in front of me, reading at work, the only girl in the casino reading.

Will you always be my missed connection? Will I never read what words you are reading? Will you always be just a picture in my heart? Will I always seek out stumps and pretty faces to replace the hole you leave gaping because you will never look back and whenever I find you and your potential, you will just walk past me because you will never take a closer look or even care to look at me.

not much else to do but accept this reality that I am alone and only in my writing will I find happiness, along with the sound of a motorcycle because sometimes the high pitched rev of that engine gives my heart a jolt and wakes me up from the numb state that I fall into and suddenly I am alive and watching it...ride away from me.

Fuck.

& 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.

hellogoodbye

Whispers hello, I miss you quite suddenly.