Are you for real?

The Sweetest Kill

2011-11-21T22:26:00.000-08:00

All of those little conversations, how they added up so quickly. All the while-- I knew he was the one for me, and I couldn't have him because he had a girlfriend. We had conversations about nothing. "Why are you up so late?" I would say. He would reply, "but you're awake too. Why are you up so late?" Nothing. We had conversations about nothing, yet they meant the world to me. I had the biggest crush on him, though I knew he could never be mine.

I wanted to stop talking to him. The pain became too intense. I needed him to be mine, and I knew he wouldn't. I was amazed with his face and everything he said and did. I wondered if he knew how strangely obsessed with him I was. He was like a beautiful statue in a museum that appears to be flawless, and it's not real, but you are in awe of its beauty anyway. I was in awe. I started to think about him constantly. I wondered why he was with that girl and I wondered if he would be happier with me.

We didn't even live in the same state. We somehow ended up friends on Twitter or Facebook. I really don't even know how he came into my life, but he was there, and I couldn't stop talking with him. I don't know why, but there was this intense connection I had with him even though we never really talked about anything very intense. He was my dream boy. I daydreamed about him all of the time. I wanted to meet him and just spend some time with him. Having sweet thoughts of him made my life better. It made my day go by quicker while I was at work or school. I knew it was probably unhealthy for me to fantasize about someone so much who could never be mine, but I did it anyway.

It seemed like he had a great relationship with his girlfriend. By his Facebook posts, it seemed they were happy together. They had all of these disgusting cutesy pictures together that made me sick. Each picture he posted hurt me. I know it was weird, but that's what happened. She was pretty. She seemed like a simple girl. Probably nice and easy to get along with. I figured they would get married and be together forever. I needed to get over my silly obsession with him. It's not right to fantasize about being with some other woman's man.

I never thought they would break up, but they did. I watched as his posts got dark and desperate. I didn't acknowledge his break up at first. I figured they would get back together. Just because they broke up didn't mean that I could have him. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but I was glad they broke up. I wanted to talk with him about it, but I didn't want to know all of the details.

Then he started making flattering comments on my pictures on Facebook. I thought he was just doing that to distract himself from his break up. Maybe he was. I don't know. I'll never know. Anyway-- I sent him a message.

I said- "I see you are going through a break up. Are you ok?"
He said "How did you know? I'm getting there."
I said- "Because you are shamelessly flirting with me. Is it helping you to feel better? Do you want to talk about it?"
He said- "Wow, you are good! No. I don't want to talk about it."
I said- "Wish I was there to give you a blow job and make you feel a little better HAHA JK."
He said- "Ok now I'm tempted to go visit you."
I said- "I would love to visit SLC. I've never been there before."
He said- "When can you come here?"
I said- "August 19th I am on vacation from work"
He said- "I'll be in NYC for a convention that week"
I said- "Ok, then I'll go to NYC"
He said- "Ok, I'll let you know which hotel I'm staying at"

I knew that I had to do what I could to see him. Luckily, I had money saved up at the time, so I could just book a flight to NYC and see him. I was determined to meet him, and just spend some time with him.

The next two weeks went by slowly. It felt like an eternity. I was so nervous to see him. I couldn't believe I was going all the way to NYC just to meet this guy. I knew it was crazy, but I needed to see him. The night before I left Denver to meet him in NYC, he told me- "Why aren't you here yet? Your clothes should be in a pile next to my bed right now." I said- "Just let your mind wander in anticipation for me." I tried to play it cool, but I was really going crazy over meeting him.

When my plane landed in NYC, I was so worried that he would decide that he didn't want to see me. When I got to the apartment in Brooklyn that I was staying at, I changed my clothes a dozen times, and I kept messing with my hair. It was hot outside. The sweat dripped down my back. My face was flushed. I wanted everything to be perfect.

We agreed to meet at a bar by The Hilton Midtown. I noticed his face immediately. He was nervous. He was more nervous than I was. Why was he so nervous to meet me? I wondered. He told me he was nervous. He was all sweaty, and so was I. We talked like old friends. I had never even heard his voice before that night.

We kissed like we had been lovers all along. I felt like I knew him already, and he told me that he felt like he knew me. We kissed on the stoop of that bar all night. We could not keep our hands off each other. "Lets go into the bathroom," I said. He said, "no, we can't, not like this. I like you, and when we have sex, I want it to be special. I want it to be meaningful." I agreed, although I wanted him right then and there. We held hands. He held me so tightly in his arms. It was nearly 3 am, and we stared into each other's eyes, and couldn't say goodbye. "I feel like if I say goodbye right now, we will never see each other again," he said. I said, "we will see each other again, I promise." He said, "will you come out to SLC and visit me? I'll send you a plane ticket." I said, "Yes. I want to be with you. We will see each other again." He said, "will you move to SLC?" I said, "yes, I will." Then he went back to his hotel, and I got a cab back to Brooklyn.

I felt like I had just had a life-altering experience, and I knew I would never be the same. I couldn't sleep that night. I just thought about him, and how perfect everything was. I had this major knot in my stomach just hoping what happened was real, and that he would finally be mine. Just mine. I wanted him all to myself. I did not want to share him with the rest of the world. I woke up the next day, and I couldn't believe what had happened.

The next two weeks went by quickly, and we were miserable without each other. "Fuck your job. Come out here and be with me," he said. I said, "ok, please give me some time to figure shit out, and I promise I will move out there and be with you." "This is crazy," he said. I said, "I know. Are we doing the right thing?" He said, "we just have to follow our hearts. You play things too safe. You need to take some risks." I said, "yes, you're right. Please just give me some time to get my shit together so I can be with you." He said, "ok, when? When can we be together?" We agreed that I would move out there 4 months from then. He said that was too long, but I was scared. I was terrified. I've lived in Colorado my whole life, and I had just agreed to move to another state to be with someone I had only met once.

I applied to The University of Utah and soon received my acceptance letter. The time was getting closer. I was sick to my stomach every day. I was about to abandon my job, my college, my family-- all for this guy who I was ridiculously obsessed with.

I wasn't sure at the time, but I know now that I was in love with him. The entire time I had started talking to him, I was in love with him. I felt sure that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies. I even told him that. He told me he wanted that too. All I wanted to do was move to SLC and spend my days making soup, being his wife, and being pregnant with his baby.

I hated my life in Colorado, and I was ready to start my life with him. I wanted to run away from all of my problems here. I felt like he was the solution to my problems. He treated me better than anyone else ever had. He was my dream boy. I felt like he was so perfect for me. He told me that he felt like we were perfect together. Everything was moving too quickly. My head started to spin wildly. I had a nagging feeling that something was majorly wrong. Was I about to make the worst mistake of my life?

I sent him beautiful violet flowers. I sent him a dozen chocolate covered strawberries for his birthday. I was under his spell.

"I don't want you here, I need you here," he told me. "I'm trying," I said. He said, "I've been taking Vicodin, and I need to stop. I need you to help me. Can you help me?" I was shocked. All I could say was, "yes, I'll help you." Then I cried. I cried for days. I was about to leave my entire life behind to take care of a drug addict. "I can't save you. You have to save yourself," I said.

We argued about it. "You're not my mother," he told me. "I don't want to be your mother!" I told him. The life I had built for us in my head was quickly breaking down. Then it just burst into flames. He was talking to another woman on Facebook.

"Who is she? How bad is it? Fix it. Fix it right now," I demanded.

"What? Who? What do you mean? It's not like that. I don't talk to her like I talk to you," he explained.

"Fix it then. I need to be the most important woman in your life. This isn't going to work unless I am the most important woman in your life," I said.

"You are the most important woman in my life," he said.

"Not with her around, I'm not. I don't like her. I don't want her around," I said.

"I can't just get rid of a friend for you. You need to stop being so insecure. I don't have anything going on with her. Stop being crazy," He said.

On a Facebook post, she invited herself to visit him in SLC, and he said she could visit. I flipped the fuck out. I could not stand her, and if I was moving there, then she would be visiting both of us, and I didn't want to see her. She was constantly after him on Facebook, and I know he liked the attention, and kept her around to feed his ego. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach.

I confronted her about it. She acted coy, and lead me to think they were more than just friends. He denied it. We argued. Then he said, "I think we are done." I said, "yes, I think we are. I thought you were so much better than this."

That was pretty much the end of it.

"I loved you. I should just be with someone who loves me more than I love them. It would be less painful," I said.

"Are you drunk," he said.

"Yes, I'm drunk," I said.

"I'm not with her. I'm not with anyone. Come spend the weekend with me," he said.

"No, I cant!"

"Then why are you contacting me?," He asked.

"BECAUSE I'M DRUNK," I said.

We had a few more horrible interactions like that, then it was over.

I hate how it ended. I wish there was somehow to fix it so we could've just ended things on a good note.

I wanted to believe that he didn't have anything going on with that other woman.

I wanted to believe that I could fix him.

I wanted to fix him.

I wanted to just be with him and love him forever.

I figured I would get over him and meet someone new and think the whole thing was silly.

I will always love him.

I will always miss him.

I will always be amazed by everything about him...

and I will always regret that things didn't work out.

... and I have to accept that.

Sweetest Kill- Broken Social Scene
I thought you were the sweetest kill
Did I even know?
And all the times we thought we did
Was it just for show?

If they try to pull you out
Would you even go?
I thought you were the sweetest kill
Did you even know?

I held your hand into the light
Scars were on the back
And all the time we were the right
Was it just retract?

And they can try to put you down, wear you out
Get you through the idea of the luck

I thought you were the sweetest kill
Did we even know?

All the time we get by
Tryin' to figure out our lives
Like a fade out

All the time we get by
Tryin' to figure out our lives
Like a fade out

When we took the level ten
Was it just a twelve?
And when we went to where we've been
Was it just for self?

And they can try to wear you down, put you out
Get you through your will: that won't work

I thought you were the sweetest kill
Could I even know?

All the time we get by
Tryin' to figure out our lives
Like a fade out
All the time we get by
Tryin' to figure out our lives
Like a fade out
All the time we get by
Tryin' to figure out our lives
Like a fade out

I break you through this world
I break you through this world
Let me break you to this world
Can I break you through this world?

what is your dream job?

2010-07-16T19:11:00.001-07:00

To be a lawyer by day, and a drag queen dj by night.. I'd also like to write professionally.. be a socialite sometimes.. I have lots of dream jobs

Ask me anything

The Speed of Pain

2010-05-08T00:38:00.000-07:00

Last year was the best year of my life. I had never experienced true happiness before last year. Every day was more exciting than the day before. I laid around for hours basking in absolute happiness and eternal beauty. All of the optimistic shit that came out of my mouth, I actually felt and believed.

I've spent years being unhappy. ENTIRE years. I laid helpless in bed gazing out my window into a world I would never be a part of. I was debilitated. I had all of these brilliant thoughts trapped inside of a sick body.

So I was happy... and I enjoyed every moment of it because I was afraid it would go away. On the happiest of days I told myself, NO-- YOU WILL NOT BE SAD AGAIN. I REFUSE IT. I WILL FORCE MY WAY THROUGH ANY UNHAPPINESS I ENCOUNTER.

I was ridiculously in love with two men at once. I had a friend who's soul moved so closely with mine it was difficult to tell where he ended and where I began. And it ended. All of it.

Things started to fall apart and I tried desperately to gather the shards of glass on the floor to reassemble my life without cutting myself. But I didn't try hard enough.

I didn't want to go out that night. I had a bad feeling about the evening. I shook it away and I went out anyway. Going out is really hit or miss... some nights just aren't fun.

I can't even remember the first half of that night. I was dancing with these new friends I had, and I was trying to relate to them, but they mostly annoyed me. I hated them, actually. "Who the fuck are these people?" I thought.

I'm thinking about that night again tonight.

The summer was ending.

I was drunk and everything seemed to go on without me. I felt the bass beating deep within my chest and I felt nothing. I watched the lights flash needlessly. I watched my "friends" dance and know nothing about me. I was immobile. Pathetic. I felt that old familiar chill. It's always going to be like this, isn't it? I had a moment of happiness and it was gone... back to going out with strangers I hated. Back to strange relationships with strange men that didn't last. It was like waking up from a dream.

At that moment, I wanted to die. I wanted it more than anything. I wanted to lay down and die. I fantasized about slitting my wrists, ODing, hanging myself, shooting myself in the face... all snapshots.. over and over.. faster and faster.. swirling around in my head. My heart raced and a smile overcame me. I felt calm and certain. I wasn't afraid to die like I was the other times. I felt hopeless. I welcomed death with open arms. The only thing that frightened me was this determination to die. Maybe I should tell someone? Maybe I should think about it more? Because I actually wanted to do it. The only bit of energy I had left to try was to try to kill myself.

Reaching out for help is a new thing for me, and I don't enjoy doing it at all, but I did it anyway. I can't even recall what I said at this point.

Everyone was telling me to go home, but I couldn't move. I sat on a bar stool all done up with my head spinning and wondering what the fuck was happening to me.

Someone took me home. I don't remember who. I remember opening the car door and running to my house as I burst out into tears before I even reached my door.

I called a stranger. Some guy I had stopped talking to but started talking to again out of the sheer need to spill my problems onto someone who I didn't care about. I was gasping for air and crying very deeply into the phone.. into this strangers ear. He was trying to talk some sense into me. I think he was delighted to be with me during this desperate moment in my life. I think he thought it would bring us closer. He may have even found the experience to be beautiful. I needed to be comforted by someone who I was not invested in because the people I was invested in were gone, and I wouldn't dare put that kind of pressure on someone who I actually cared about.

I cried and cried and cried until I got it all out. I didn't even pay much attention to the things the stranger was telling me. I hated him. I hated everything about him and the stupid things he was saying. "Can I take some sleeping pills now?" I asked him. "No" he said, "please don't take any sleeping pills." "I need them" I told him. He said, "no.. no you don't Sonia (he liked using my name)" I hated when he said my name. "Ok.. I just took some sleeping pills... talk to me until I fall asleep," I demanded.

"I'm sleepy now... I feel so much better... mmm... I feel so good... good... good... goodnight"

I felt at peace and I believed the next day would be a new and better day...

That was the last time I was happy.

Life got worse. I fought hard. I didn't give up. I'm exhausted. I've spent the past 8 months fighting for my life... fighting for my job... my friendships... my romantic interests... I've tried everything. I've rearranged my furniture and my perspective a million times. I've spent a considerable amount of time crying in my bathtub. Ashamed. I was happy... I did it... and I couldn't get it back. I failed. I failed myself and I failed everyone who have ever had to see me sad and wished I wasn't.

This isn't the most miserable I've ever been, but it's close.

If I could just get some good sleep...

I miss being happy. I remember it less and less each day.

Love Will Tear Us Apart

2010-03-09T23:53:00.000-08:00

I remember the smell of fresh cut grass and deep summer nights descending into dreaded mornings with nothing to hold onto but the love in my heart. When this blows over... and we're somewhere else... all good things come to an end... and I don't want to remember ever feeling that frightened.

"Somethings gotta change... quickly... I can't go on much longer like this"

"I wish I had something optimistic to say to let you know that things will change and we'll be ok... but I don't..."

"I don't either"

...

"I can't do it anymore... I hate this... all of the pain... I can't..."

"SHUT UP... STOP IT AND GO HOME"

"No... I can't... I just can't"

"Don't do this"

...

"I hate you... Don't ever do that to me again"

...

"I love you. I wish that I could say it but I can't. I'm sorry"

... I waited so long to say "I love you" and I couldn't even SAY it. I still can't. Not like that. The only way I can explain it as is a deep agonizing pain. It's an unpleasant squeeze. Something so pure and gentle shouldn't feel so awful. It's obvious and probably always was despite our foolishness. We were kids just last year, and somehow we're all grown up and apart. A little is never enough.

I could have pulled harder, but I pushed further, and we were both so busy. "Brilliant minds need time to breath before they reunite with new ideas to share... distance makes the heart grow fonder... blah blah blah" We're both planets orbiting around the sun.

Do I have the energy/patience/desire to resuscitate another friendship? Will it work this time?

Fucking jealousy stings every goddamn day and this has been the worst 6 months of... I don't know... it's been fucking bad and I hate your decisions, but I get it.

"I miss you" doesn't have any weight anymore. I think it too much. I say it too much. My hand is too cold waiting in the wind for you.

When I speak of you, it feels like I'm talking about a dream I had.

I have no desire to recreate that summer-- though lovely it was and I couldn't have made it through without you.

I feel like you're already gone and I let you and I should've tried harder to make you stay... but I don't think you would've.

We'll always have that connection. It will always be meaningful-- but I hate catching up with you and feeling disconnected from you.

Skeleton- Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Love my name
Love left dry
Frost or flame
Skeleton me
Fall asleep
Spin the sky
Skeleton me
Love, don't cry
Love, don't cry
Love, don't cry
Skeleton me
Skeleton me

Soon comes rain
Dry your eyes
Frost or flame
Skeleton me
Fall asleep
Spin the sky
Skeleton me
Love, don't cry
Love, don't cry
Love, don't cry
Skeleton me
Skeleton me
Skeleton

formspring.me

2010-02-16T16:56:00.003-08:00

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/Soniamonia

formspring.me

2010-02-16T16:56:00.001-08:00

If you could have been the author of any book, what would it have been?

The Bible.

Ask me anything

Life Is Unfair. Kill Yourself or Get over It.

2010-01-13T21:57:00.000-08:00

I'm done with you. Finally. Done with the fantasies of a life that will never be ours. I probably won't ever see you again. That part still makes me sad, but I am more accepting. Ready to do it all over again. Better this time. With someone better. That's the key to moving on. Knowing that I can be with someone better. I fantasize now about who I want to be with instead of our life together that you didn't want. It's embarrassing. To think of myself all caught up in you. Silly girl with my mouth zippered shut in your bed. At your feet. Kissing your ass. Missing what was never mine. I needed it at
the time. Thank God I'm someone else now. I won't forget you. I'll always feel inspired by my time with you. I don't hate you. It's unfair. Life is unfair and I think that's how it's supposed to be.

Silver Trembling Hands

2009-11-20T13:27:00.000-08:00

"I'm in the holiday spirit, I want to go to ice skating... lets go ice skating," I demanded. I knew you didn't want to go. I have to twist your arm to get you do anything... but I knew you would eventually go.

I had to bribe you with a blow-job but you went with it. You hated it at first. Or maybe you liked it, but you played the whole tough guy routine and acted like you didn't. You leaned against the wall looking more cool than I had ever seen you look before. I teased you. I zigzagged as I skated. I spun around clock-wise with my arms out... looked at you.. smiled.. spun counter-clock-wise. I tried to look cool-- like a real ice skater..or a fairy... or Cinderella or something.. but I'm a goofy and clumsy girl. I nearly fell and waved my hands around trying to keep my balance and laughing so hard I nearly pissed myself. I didn't fall! I was so proud! I looked over to see you still leaning against the wall and looking cool and laughing at me. I covered my mouth with red velvet gloves and I laughed at you laughing at me... then I lost my balance and fell on my ass.

I got up and skated over to you so fast. I wrapped my arms around your neck, and I hugged you so tightly. Then I moved my arms to your waist and held my face against your chest. You patted my head gently and I looked up to smile to lock eyes with you just like a dog seeking approval from it's owner. "You're such a silly little whore," you said, still patting my head. I moved in to kiss you. You hesitated, but I forced my lips on yours anyway, tangled my legs with yours.. my skates with yours... I pulled you down and I tried to make you fall for me... but you didn't. None of this ever happened. If you knew that I wanted this for us, it probably would've made you sick.

And YOU... you're so traditional, but you decided to spend the holiday season with a non-traditional girl anyway. You wanted to put up a tree, and we did. We drank eggnog and decorated the tree using all of your favorite ornaments and listening to all of your favorite Christmas music. It warmed my heart as you spoke so passionately about all of the things you love about Christmas. I told you about how my dad tried to kill himself a few days before Christmas one year. I told you about how it used to make the holidays sad, but I look fondly on that situation now. You didn't get it. You looked at me with pity and apologized to me for the "bad things" that happened in my life. You changed the subject and suggested we watch one of your favorite Christmas movies, so we did.

We had a few glasses of your favorite red wine in our matching Christmas sweaters we bought together as a joke, and we talked about our mutual fondness for the snow. We made love and I gave you what you needed. "I'm glad you're here," you said. "Me too... me too.." I said as I held your sweaty head against my chest as you drifted off to sleep. I love you. I love you in the cheesy romantic Christmas movie kinda' way. It's deep.. and it's real... and I'm loyal.. I swear I belong to only you, but that night, I gazed out of the window as slow yet thick snow flakes softly kissed the ground, and I thought about ice skating with someone else. It doesn't really matter though because none of this happened. I'll text you something generic on Christmas, and you'll reply back with something generic as well and a little funny, then we'll engage in a short and very polite text conversation... and that's it.

It was either Christmas Eve or Christmas one year... a few years ago. I can't even remember what was going on during that time, but I distinctively remember flying through the snow like Santa in my Jetta across the icy roads in an anti-depressant and whiskey haze without a care in the world. Looking back, it scares me that I was that absolutely careless. I was speeding in the snow! What the fuck?! My mind wandered and I hit a snow bank a few blocks away from my apartment. With my car atop a mound of snow, I stepped out of the car in my pink furry boots drunk as fuck. I stared at the car, the snow, pushed on the car a little bit, then I laughed hysterically. I would've just left the car there, and walked a few extra blocks to my apartment because I honestly didn't give a shit. My cousin was with me. I put his life in danger. It wasn't the first or the last time. I hit a snow bank because I was driving drunk and neither of us acknowledged it.

Some guys helped dig my car out of the snow. When I got back to my apartment, my cousin and I laughed hysterically some more, and we continued to bring the incident up throughout the night to evoke more laughter.

"Haha... dude... remember when you drove your car into that snow bank?"
"Omg.. yeah.. haha... I was SO drunk!"
"You were drunk? You didn't seem drunk"
"Yeah... I was wasted... I could barely even stand... I told everyone I didn't drink much and I was fine to drive"
"Oh..."

That's actually how I've spent the holidays most years as an adult. When I was a child, my parents were always fighting during the holidays, and I knew as soon as it started to get cold, that the fighting would get worse. I used to dread the holidays. When I was a little girl, I escaped inside of all of those wonderful Christmas cartoons, and I hoped to some day understand the miracle of Christmas.

My parents grew up poor, and it was always a big deal to them that I had a big tree decorated with all of the ornaments of my choosing with the most spectacular lights. They also always made sure to get me tons of presents. I had everything I wanted. Big expensive gifts. Cheap little gifts. My parents faught while decorating the tree, during Christmas shopping, and on Christmas day.

There was usually a fight Christmas morning, and my dad would say he didn't want to go anywhere for Christmas. My mom would get upset and yell at him. Sometimes he would accompany us to whomever's home Christmas was going to be at, sometimes he wouldn't. My mom would wipe away her tears and say, "let's go honey, we don't need him." My heart would race and I would get sick to my stomach sitting on the couch on Christmas squeezing my little fists, patiently watching my parents abusing each other, and knowing it was wrong, and that life shouldn't be like this.

I swear to fucking god, Christmas will never be like that again. This year, I won't be spending the holidays ice skating and falling in love and falling on my ass, but I'm not spending the holidays giving in to some downward spiral either. If my parents want to fight, then I'll just go home. The only thing I know for sure that I will be doing this holiday season is thinking and dreaming about the miracle of Christmas because I've still yet to experience it.

Silver Trembling Hands- The Flaming Lips

She keeps feeling for the blindfold
She keeps wishing for the secret society to fall
She keeps watching for the jaguar
With the silver trembling hand

Dagger
Night fight
Tomorrow
She forgets about the fear

When she's high
When she's high
When she's high
When she's high

She puts diamonds on her forehead
They remind her how the animals
And trees and insects call
Is it wrong not to believe?
Nature makes us all compete

Daggers
Night fight
Tomorrow
She forgets about the fear

When she's high
When she's high
When she's high
When she's high

Fear is not the end of this

2009-11-03T19:29:00.000-08:00

I still don't want to walk away. There are plenty of signs that I should, and plenty of signs that i shouldn't-- so I'm not going to... yet. It's definitely more difficult to walk away this second time around. I imagined greatness, but reality has far exceeded my silly fantasies. So what am I supposed to do?

This is real. It was getting comfortable, which is good sign for relationships in general, but not for this one. Comfort means that if we get any closer, we're both open to getting hurt. It's scary. Looking back, I've wondered at which point I should've put my guard up to avoid feeling this for him. I think it was impossible upon first meeting him. It was all so magnetic. As much as I've denied it-- that's what happened. It could be over at this point, but I think I've kept my mouth shut long enough to penetrate his soul without him knowing. I wish he would stop trying to fight it. It is useless to resist it.

I'm not a good girl. I'm not the best girl either-- no matter how many times my mom says it. There's better for him out there as there's better for me. I want him the most. I want to be better for him. I've always struggled with monogamy, but I think I have a better idea of it now. Monogamy has always felt like something I was forced to do because it was going to hurt my partner if I cheated. I always felt like a prisoner. I may be more mature now, or more secure with myself... whatever the case, I think I get it now. All of these other men are distractions from me, and I would be relieved to ditch them all if he would just give in.... I think. I wish I could tell him.

I hate relationships where the connection is right but the time is off. He's not ready for a serious relationship...blah blah blah dumb dumb dumb. Maybe I'm not either, but I always believe there is not a perfect time for anything, but now is the best time for everything. Now, dammit. I'm sick of waiting for you.

I'm sick of growing closer to you only to feel you pull away each time I leave. You're so fucking sweet when it's too early in the morning to keep your defenses up. Or is it guilt? You're nice to me because you feel guilty for feeling nothing for me? I don't know. I may never know because you won't let me in, and I'm too afraid to ask you to. I hate that walk from your bed to my car when I have to distinguish feelings for you. I hate feeling used. I wish you would give in so that I can give in too. Why do you tell me not to leave in the morning? What's the point of even trying if this "probably isn't going to go anywhere," as you say. Do we need this as a filler just to get us from point A to point B? It feels like that most days for me. Other days, it just feels so wasteful to be investing in something that "probably isn't going to go anywhere." If you really are "incapable of loving me" as you say-- why even bother with any of it? Is that true or do you just talk shit out of fear? I'm sick of trying to get over someone.

I'm not going to leave you. I'm not done yet.

I know with time, if I don't try at this, he will become a foggy memory, and I'll laugh at how attached I am right now. That's the saddest part for me.

Live- I Alone

It's easier not to be wise
and measure these things by your brains
I sank into Eden with you
alone in the church by and by
I'll read to you here, save your eyes
you'll need them, your boat is at sea
your anchor is up, you've been swept away
and the greatest of teachers won't hesitate
to leave you there, by yourself, chained to fate

I alone love you
I alone tempt you
I alone love you
fear is not the end of this!

it's easier not to be great
and measure these things by your eyes
we long to be here by his resolve
alone in the church by and by
to cradle the baby in space
and leave you there by yourself chained to fate

oh, now, we took it back too far,
only love can save us now,
all these riddles that you burn
all come runnin' back to you,
all these rhythms that you hide
only love can save us now,
all these riddles that you burn yeah, yeah, yeah

It's you that I adore I'll always be your whore

2009-09-12T15:37:00.000-07:00

Awhile ago I had this idea about love and relationships and I think what it comes down to (at least for me) is the choice between two types of lovers. In my life, I've encountered many different types of men, but they can all fall into one of these two categories.

Type 1 lover. This is the lover I've loved mostly because he treated me well. This is your typical "nice guy." He buys flowers for no reason at all. He opens doors and pulls out chairs. Type 1 lover is the puppies and kittens lover. In my experience, Type 1 lover is the guy I'm not overwhelmingly attracted to, but I have a relationship with because it seems stupid to pass up an opportunity to be with someone who is good to me. "Why do you always date bad boys? Find a NICE GUY and settle down," my mother always suggests. Type 1 lover is there for you when Type 2 lover upsets you.

Throughout my life, people have told me things like "don't you want to be with someone who treats you well? You deserve to be with someone who treats you well..." BLAH BLAH BLAH. I've thought about this mucho for the past few months, and I've made my decision.

Now let's discuss Type 2 lover. This is the lover I probably shouldn't love, but I can't seem to keep my mind or hands off of him. He drives me mad-- and I simply wouldn't want it any other way. This is the lover who people tell me I should run away from, but I refuse to. This is the type of lover who makes me anxious and angry and I may even hate him occasionally. Type 2 lover is the guy who is unpredictable. He sometimes opens doors for me. He's sometimes considerate, and other times a total selfish bastard. He may have a drinking problem, and a slew of emotional problems but he's the absolute dominance in the world that brings me satisfyingly to my knees. He's the kind of guy who makes me want to rip out my own eyeballs just to offer him 2 more holes to fuck me in.

Type 1 lover is the one who does everything he's supposed to. He follows the road and swerves occasionally, but never veers off the road. I find it trite. He goes to bed early and I want to stay up all night. I want to go to bars and dance on tables and break bottles and laugh. I want to do things I'm not supposed to, and I don't want some fucking guy lecturing me on the consequences of my reckless behavior. I want my friends to lecture me on my reckless behavior, but not my boyfriend.. does that make sense? Probably not, but that's what I want. Get up on this table and dance with me, or at least watch-- don't cautiously wait below spotting me in case I fall or telling me I need to get off the table because I'm going to hurt myself.

If you're a Type 1 lover, please do not be offended. You are a wonderful man, and I'm certain the world is a better place because of you-- I just don't want you to be my boyfriend. Don't worry-- there are plenty of women looking for a man like you, and you're better off with a nice girl than a woman like me.

Call me crazy... call me fucked up... but I want to be with the type 2 lover. I've never thought to myself: "gee I wish I could find a guy who's going to drive me crazy and treat me like shit." I've always wanted to be with a man who treats me well. My ideal lover is the Type 2 lover who, despite his emotional problems, can treat me well. Type 1 lover is the safest bet in town. Type 2 lover is the long road home. I love alternate routs-- even if I get lost along the way.

My relationships with the type 1 lover have not been relationships that I hold near and dear to my heart. Once those relationships ended, I was glad. I was happy to never see those guys again. I missed the friendships I had with them, and the attention, and the flowers-- but I'll never miss those guys. I'll never miss the emptiness I felt when I had sex with them.

My relationships with the type 2 lover have been difficult, but rewarding. I eventually had to end those relationships because those guys were way too fucked up, but I'll always treasure the happy moments we shared together. So today, I'm going with the type 2 lover, and I hope, with all of my heart, he will treat me well, and all the work we put into it will be worth it, and we will have a fruitful relationship together forever.

All Traces Disintegrate

2009-09-06T14:11:00.000-07:00

Lying alone in my bed with everything to do and staring at the ceiling closing and opening my eyes unable to sleep any longer while my mind is set adrift on memory bliss of you. I toss and turn wanting to forget, but giving into the urge... again.

How warm and right his body felt against mine. I caressed his torso as my check pressed into his back as time passed by too quickly. Falling asleep as just my finger tips touched his stomach. Then rolling over to my other side with my back facing him while trying to get into a comfortable sleep. His hand reached for me and he pulled me closer against his body surprising me. You don't love me but you want me, don't you? I arched my back and strained my neck offering it to his lips.

It wasn't about love, and it wasn't about lust either: it was something different, and it's happened before and I don't know what it is yet. My thoughts raced as my fingers traced designs upon his stomach. "That tickles," he said. I removed my fingers and said"I'm sorry," then brought my fingertips to his stomach again. He moved my hand. "I don't like to be tickled," he said. "I don't like being tickled either... I won't do it again... I promise," I said. I rubbed his legs with mine, as I softly breathed against his back. I caressed his arms and as much of his body as I could cover with my hands. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I don't know..." was all I could reply.

Then I would lie on my back knowing I had things to do as the afternoon light shone through. I stared at the ceiling trying to figure out a plan. Should I leave or is my lover ready to go again? I wanted to sleep, but I aimed to please him so.

Audio clips and snippets of moments swirl around, but at a slower pace than once before. It's all finally fading and becoming less meaningful now. Concerned, he said, "you feel hot." To which I replied, "I'm burning with desire for you..." I'm saddened as I watch these things that once burned so brightly are swallowed into the ground and are absorbed back into the earth never to be found again. I sift through the sand for the lost jewels as I know it really doesn't matter. It will all mean nothing some day just as all of the other intimate moments I've shared with others mean nothing. Nothing ever becomes of those moments, so why should I give them any value? I tried to push it away and now I'm cradling the rigamortis-filled memories one last time before they're laid to rest. Ashes to ashes... dust to dust... my dear.

People who don't value you don't deserve to receive certain parts of you. "Mmm... mmm... " I hummed quietly as I slithered around on my back while I caressed the hair on the back of his head and directed his face between my shaking thighs. "Oh... God..." I breathed as I took his hand in mine and squeezed it. Then when it was his turn, he squeezed my hand the same way... and none of it really matters... does it?

I wanted to give it away one last time and I tried like hell but I couldn't. I can't fuck someone I want to make love to. And I'm mad because I wanted to make love to him and he wanted to fuck me and I wanted to let him.

You carelessly give away parts of your soul when you engage in activities like that-- all for that high. Some of the highest of highs are responsible for the lowest of lows. "Sell something to someone you love.. not someone that you don't.. even though..." I try to remember. I couldn't wait to get under you and now all I have is to get over you. You hate me? Well I hate you too because I'm so much better than this, and I think you are too.

Traces- Built To Spill

Daylight can never really hide what’s alive
I know it's hard sometimes
For you to tell where you end
And where the world begins

You do your best to avoid assimilation
Guess that's the best you can do

And all the parts of it that matter change
All traces disintegrate

At night
My mind gets on this
Train of thought
And can't get back off
And when you know
How few things there are worth knowing
I suppose anyone who tries could forget

Responding now
To trains that crash before you
Never thought crashing could happen to you

And all the parts of it that matter change
All traces disintegrate

Built To Spill Wherever You Go

2009-07-27T17:35:00.000-07:00

I can't recall the entire conversation. I wish I did. My mom crept into my room one evening. "The phone is for you," she said quietly and seriously. I carefully took the phone in my hand and whispered "hello?" It was him. My first love. The boy who owned my entire heart for so long. The boy who I had never completely gotten over. I was so happy to hear from him. He talked to me like nothing bad had ever happened. He seemed like the boy I knew when I had first met him! I was 17 at this point.

He mentioned something about doing some thinking, and told me he was with that girl, Elena was her name, for a couple of years, and that he never really loved her like he loved me. He asked so charmingly, "do you still want to marry me?" My heart sunk. He knew how to get to me. Shocked, I think I told him "I don't know." He said, "I still love you and want to marry you." I said, "really?" He said, "of course," like it was set in stone. My hands were shaking... no... my ENTIRE BODY was shaking uncontrollably. My mind was blown. I wondered, should I seriously do this all over again? After it took so long for me to move on? Had I ever even moved on? Yes.. I thought... yes... this is my one and only true love. I acted cool and collected, and I told him to keep in touch.

"Murals make it right, how can that explain
Nobody can tell what the hell they're even saying
No one sees it's easier to change
No one sleeps and no one stays awake
No one complains"

I quickly made arrangements for my dad and I to travel to Las Vegas for an entire week. I have no clue what I told my dad, but I managed to convince him to take this trip. I carefully chose the absolute cutest dresses I could find for the occasion. It was the summer of 2000.

"And I'll find wherever you go
And I'll help with things you don't know
And I'll get you out of the show
And I'll find wherever you go"

I was nervous yet hopeful. He said he didn't believe that I was actually going out there. I called him the night before my flight, as I was carefully ironing all of my clothes, and he sounded weird again. I had a bad feeling about it all. "I hope you're not coming out here for me," he exclaimed. I tried to play it cool, and I told him I was NOT just going out there for him. WHAT THE FUCK? I was just going out there for him!!! Was this another one of his tricks? He always did this to me. I would finally accept that things were over, and he would call me out of the blue ready to do it again... better this time he always promised. Fucking liar... but I know I would regret it today if I didn't go.

I can't remember many details of this trip. What I remember most are the emotions I experienced, and that it was definitely a defining moment in my life. Out of the entire week I was in Las Vegas, I only spent one day with him.

"It's things you have to give and never come around
There's opportunity to tread instead of drown"

I wasn't supposed to drive the rental car, but my dad said I could AS LONG AS I DIDN'T WRECK IT. At that point, I had been in a couple of car accidents, had a handful of traffic violations and such, and my dad reminded me of my vehicular indescretions every chance he got. I promised him that I wouldn't wreck the rental car. The car was a small red 2000 Pontiac Sunfire.

I met up with my first love, and he acted like we were just old friends. I honestly didn't even feel in love with him anymore. I just felt obsessed with this unattainable goal. I was upset. I had picked up a smoking habit the summer before, and he nagged me about smoking and tried to throw away my cigs. We hung out at his apartment where I met his mom for the first time. She was really sweet and excited to meet, as she said "the girl who I've heard so much about for so long!"

It was all very uncomfortable, but I put the moves on him anyway. I figured I may as well have sex with my first love. After all we had been through, I HAD TO HAVE SEX WITH HIM at least. I made out with him. I threw myself at him. He was uninterested. He suggested that we hang out with some of his friends and get stoned. I agreed to. We hung out with his friends, he ignored me, and I was stoned out of my mind in an unfamiliar city. We did not have sex.

"Remarks will make the living settle down
They call them markets instead of towns
They like how it sounds"

He drove my rental car to his apartment. I asked if I could stay at his apartment with him, and he said "no" so sternly. I tried to talk him into it, but I was unable to. I drove back to my hotel stoned out of my mind.

The next day I called him and the line was busy. I tried to call him several times, and the line was still busy. He finally answered at one point, and he said he would call me back. I waited an hour, he didn't call, so I decided to drive around the city alone.

My mind kept wandering. Was this really happening? I felt so fooled... so cheated... so mad at myself... so confused... so mad at him. I was driving aimlessly down Tropicana Avenue in and out of consciousness when suddenly, a jeep made a wild turn in front of me, and slowly, I felt my face being sucked into the steering wheel. My first thought was, I'm going to die!

I wasn't wearing a seat belt. Everyone had nagged me to wear it. I always wore a seat belt when I had first started driving, but I had lost hope for any kind of happiness in my life, and I honestly didn't care if I died in a car accident, so I just stopped wearing a seat belt. I was fearless. I welcomed death. I wanted to be put out of my misery. My life had been endlessly disappointing, and it was really inconvenient for me to awake alive each morning.

I grabbed the steering wheel, and I tried to hold my head away, but my face slammed into the steering wheel anyway. The airbag sprung from the center of the steering wheel and whipped my head back. I thought it had broken my nose. when the car had stopped, I touched my face for blood, and there wasn't any. I just had scratches up and down my arms. I thought, MY DAD IS GOING TO BE PISSED! I looked out of the window at the jeep I had hit, and I dashed out of the rental car as quickly as I could to see if the person driving the jeep was ok.

The driver was sitting inside of the jeep with his head tilted back with blood streaming down the side of his face. "I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry!" I screamed, always assuming everything is my fault. The Las Vegas police arrived at the scene, and I explained to them that it was all my fault and I was sorry. The police were so nice to me. They asked if I was ok, and I said yes, and they asked me to explain to them what happened. IT WASN'T MY FAULT!

The police asked to see the rental car information. Oh shit, I thought, I'm not even supposed to be driving the fucking rental car! I knew I was about to get busted. I showed them the information WITHOUT mentioning that my name wasn't listed on it. They took a brief look at it, called the rental car company, and told me that they would pick up the car because the car was totaled, and I could just get another rental car- just like that. "Can someone pick you up?" one of the police officers asked. I was so happy that it wasn't my fault, and I wanted to get the fuck out of there as soon as possible, so I lied and said yes. I thanked them for all of their help, and I wandered down the street to call my first love and tell him what happened.

I was so excited to tell him about the accident. I thought it would bring us closer together. I told him about the accident and... he laughed at me. "What should I do?" I asked. Obviously annoyed he said, "I don't know, get a cab back to your hotel, I have to go... bye." I was so upset. I didn't even KNOW how to get a fucking cab! I walked for a little while, then I came up with the brilliant idea to hitch-hike back to my hotel.

I bravely stuck out my thumb, and I got in the first car that stopped. In the car was a middle aged Mexican man. "Where do you need to go?" He asked. I explained to him that I was in a car accident and needed to get back to my hotel. He lectured me on the way to my hotel about the dangers of hitch-hiking, and I pretended to agree but I mostly ignored him. It wasn't the first time I had gotten into the car with a stranger, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last time I got in the car with a stranger.

What a fucking vacation. I was scared as hell as I walked to my hotel room to tell my dad the good news. I waited patiently. He finally walked through the door, and I quickly cut to the chase. "I have to tell you something," I said. He was abnormally excited, and he said something like, "oh yeah? what's up?" I said, unable to look him in the eye, "I wrecked the rental car... but it wasn't my fault." He laughed and quickly said, "I don't care, I just won over 2 thousand dollars baby!" I said, "wow that's great! I'm so soooo sorry dad!" He said, "it's ok.. I'll go get another rental car," and he left.

I stayed in that evening. I watched some movies, and I decided to help myself to a bottle of Strawberry White Zinfandel. I got drunk and passed out. I kept trying to call my first love, but he didn't answer. I spent the rest of the week crying, eating ice cream, swimming, and wandering the streets of Las Vegas heartbroken.

"Most of us are wrong, most of us agree
Must have been the wrong message we received"

My dad was upset that I was heartbroken, and he lectured me about falling for losers. My dad is endlessly wondering why I always fall for losers. I've explained to him time and time again that women tend to fall for men like their fathers, and if he had been a better husband to my mom, then I wouldn't keep falling for losers. He always listens for a second, I can see the guilt in his eyes, then he abruptly changes the subject only to bring it up again at another time (usually when I've had my heartbroken). It's always the same.

I called my first love one last time while I was at the airport in Las Vegas waiting for my plane to board back to Denver. "I'm at the airport... I'm going back home," I sadly said. He made some excuses about being really busy and sorry that he was only able to see me for one day. I told him it was ok. I didn't even feel the need to yell at him. I had grown accustomed to taking responsibility for everyone's mistakes. The feisty girl I used to be was long gone. I was exhausted. I had decided to be everyone's punching bag, and maybe, eventually, they would all run out of anger and they would love me. "I love you," I whispered into the phone. He didn't say anything. (At least that's how I remember it). I want to say that he told me he loved me one last time, and that was the end of it; but if memory serves, that was it. I said I love you, and he didn't say anything back, I hung up the phone, and that was the last time I ever talked to him.

"If you gotta choose I've gotta change

And if you've got the truth I've gotta trade
And if you've got a feud I've gotta fade
My heart will wear you out, yeah
My heart will wear you down, yeah
My heart will wear you down"

Digital Ghost

2009-07-25T10:54:00.000-07:00

It's difficult to pin-point when it all started. If I had to guess, I would say... 12. At the "tender" age of 12. Ever since I can remember, perhaps at about 4 years old, I can recall having crushes on boys. I always wanted to have a boyfriend. I had my first boyfriend when I was 12.

I was always told that a boy had to ask a girl to be his girlfriend, but that always seemed ridiculous to me. I couldn't just wait around for a boy to ask me to be his girlfriend. So I met a boy I liked, and I asked him to be my boyfriend. I can't recall many of the details, but if memory serves, he told me he loved me right away, and I told him that I loved him too. I guess I may have loved him in a way. I do know that I did feel a great surge of emotions for him that was all very new for me. I remember waiting all day for him to call me the next day after meeting him. I recall that it was the same feeling that I still experience when waiting for a guy to call me. He was my first kiss, but it was just a peck, no tongue. I can't remember who broke up with who, but the courtship lasted roughly a month (much like most of my adult relationships). He was like training wheels for me, and I remember thinking having a boyfriend was so awesome, and I wanted to find another boyfriend as soon as possible.

I briefly dated my best friend's cousin who I had a major crush on for quite some time. He was a total player. I knew he was a player before I dated him, but I wanted him anyway. He was always talking to other girls on the phone, he acted so aloof, and never had any time for me. He was my first real kiss (tongue and all). He inevitably broke up with me because (I later found out) he was trying to get with this girl named Monique who I eventually became enemies with.

I retreated to the mall to find a replacement boyfriend. I met a guy who I didn't really like, and I blabbed to my best friend that all I wanted to do was get back together with the ex. It's all so silly and quite adorable now, looking back, but it's not so cute and funny thinking about how this pattern has repeated itself over and over for the past 14 years.

One lonely night, (still 12 years old), I was up late being a sweet suburban diva, watching music videos on Mtv, and dreaming about being in love... (the real adult kind of love) when I received a mysterious phone call from who seemed to be a stranger. Being the curious little minx that I've always been, I talked to him. He was so charming, and I kept asking him who he was, and he kept avoiding my question.

I can't recall how many times we talked before he revealed his identity, but I was already super-extra-infatuated with him. It turned out that he was my ex's best friend. Apparently I had met him before, but I didn't remember meeting him. He told me that he thought that I was beautiful, and he was glad when his friend broke up with me because he wanted to talk to me.

My best friend told me that she was interested in him. I was having so much fun getting to know him, and really connecting with someone for the first time in my life. I knew that I had to ask him to be my boyfriend before she could. I wasn't going to wait around for him to ask me out. She told me that she was going to hang out with him at the mall the upcoming weekend, so I knew I had to do it before then. I think I talked to him earlier that Saturday, and I remember the conversation like it was yesterday. I was slightly afraid of rejection, so I decided to ask him in the form of a hypothetical question to limit my chance of rejection. "Would you ever go out with me?," I shyly asked. He replied, "yes," to which I immediately replied, "ok... so will you?" He said "yes," and i think I said "cool." He told me that he was going to ask me out, but couldn't figure out how to do it, and he was glad that I did it. We chatted briefly about being happy, and I told him that I had to get off the phone. He said, "ok... I love you." I told him that I loved him too, I had a billion butterflies in my stomach, and we stayed in love for the next 5 years... maybe longer. Maybe you never stop loving your first love.

We were both so young, and didn't know what the fuck we were doing. It was a rocky courtship, but very romantic. That's when my commitment issues started. My mom always told me to keep my options open, and I did. I always talked to other boys, and told him about them. We both took turns hurting each other. He moved to Las Vegas only 4 months after we had started dating. We stayed up all night on the phone talking about everything, both crying about him having to move, and eventually falling asleep together on the phone nearly every night.

He asked me to marry him. We both agreed that we were so young and immature, so we should date other people until we turned 18, then we would try it again, and get married if everything was still good. 6 years seemed so far away. He told me all of the time that he wanted to marry me and wanted me to have his babies. We talked about what our wedding would be like, and how we would raise our children.

We tried to stay in touch when he moved to Las Vegas, but the phone bills from our late night long distance conversations amounted to too much ($400 sometimes), and he had to stop calling me so much. He sent me flowers for our 6 month anniversary. It was a HUGE and beautiful arrangement. I kept trying to get my parents to go to Las Vegas so that I could see him.

We only talked about once a month if that. He wrote me the most romantic letters that I still have today. We both met new people, tried new relationships, but they never really worked out, and we both kept dumping people so that we could be together again, then we would fight, and break up. It wasn't for 3 years, when I was 15, that I was able to see him again. I finally managed to get my parents to go on a vacation to Las Vegas.

Everything with us was all lovey-dovy romantic the month before I was to visit him. I bought all new clothes, and I was so worried that he didn't love me like he did before, or that I didn't love him the same. I worried that I would go all that way to Las Vegas, possibly lose my virginity to him, and he would hurt me.

I'm surprised that my parents went along with this courtship. I exclaimed to my mom that I loved him so, and that I wanted to marry him. She was against the relationship, but she said she just wanted me to be happy, so she allowed us to see each other.

I was so nervous to see him. I don't think I've ever been that nervous in my entire life. It's all blurry now, but I think his sister dropped him off at the hotel that I was staying at, he went with my parents and I out to dinner. After dinner, my parents wanted to gamble, so they left us in the rental car while they went inside a casino to gamble.

We talked, held hands, and made-out only coming up for air to see if my parents had come back. It was all sweet, but I had this nagging feeling that I was not the only girl in his life. He was not the only boy in my life. Always wanting to keep my options open, I made friends with a Palastinian boy online who lived in Las Vegas, who I had planned to see as well. I told him about this boy I was talking to. He was jealous, and told me not to see him, so I agreed to not see him. I was just using him to make my first love jealous anyway, so it wasn't a big deal that I wasn't going to see him.

We went swimming, drank smoothies, and fooled around in my hotel room while my parents were away. Some major element was missing. He kept trying to get me to take my clothes off, but I refused. He was mad. He was someone else. I felt deep sadness that this moment I had been fantasizing about for years was not as great as I had hoped it would be. This person who I had built up in my mind, and thought I had felt so much love for... who I thought I would eventually marry... was not the same person.

I was sad to leave Las Vegas. He had this fabulous life there, and I had to go back home where I was not nearly as cool as he was, and didn't have as much fun as he did. All I had was a handfull of online friends who I had never even met. I was so depressed, and for the first time in years, he didn't care. He was distant and unwilling to work on our relationship. I don't blame him. It was so painful for both of us to have a long distance relationship, and it wouldn't be for 3 more years that I could even think about moving out there.

When I had returned home, I called him, and I told him how much fun I had and how much I had missed him. He seemed uninterested. It was time for some investigation. He was mine, and I wasn't going to let him go. I made friends with some of his friends online, and one of his friends revealed to me that he had a girlfriend! At that instant, I knew that he had been going back and forth between the both of us while I had been there on vacation. That little player! But how could I complain? I was playing the same damn game, but NEVER with the intention of hurting him in any way.. just wanted to make him a bit jealous was all because I was an insecure girl, because I still am, because it hurts too much to be completely vulnerable to someone, because my mom always told me to keep my options open.

I called him and asked him immediately if he had a girlfriend. He said no, then I told him that I knew about her, that I had her phone number, and I was going to call her and ask her. He then told me that he started going out with a girl 2 days after I had left. I cried and yelled at him. He hung up on me. I called back repeatedly like a crazy person. His sister eventually answered the phone and yelled into the phone "stop calling here and leave him alone you fucking bitch!"

At that point, I knew that it was definitely over. Our on again off again love-filled 3 year relationship was completely over. I didn't know what to do, what to think about, how to live my life... where to begin without him always lingering in the back of my mind. My mom told me to leave him alone. I agreed to. I knew I had to finally let go... forever. I told my mom I would be ok, and I disappeared to my bathroom with a glass of water.

I spent all night in the bathroom vomitting and refilling my glass of water so I could vomit more all night long. It was all embarassingly dramatic, but that's what happened.

I wanted to get him back. I thought about him being with the new girl, sharing OUR love with her. Seeing her, touching her, kissing HER EVERY DAY AND NOT ME. I wanted to lose my virginity to him, but now, she would be the one losing her virginity to him. I slept a lot. I watched a lot of t.v. I kept waiting for him to call me again. I decided to pitch a tent in my backyard, and hang out there and think and try to get over him. I needed to be alone. I had just purchased the latest Radiohead cd, Ok Computer. I listened to that cd all night long in the tent, I cried, I stared at the stars, and tried so desperately to let go of this person who I held so near and dear to my heart for so long.

I had been talking to several guys online and trying to forge connections with them. None of it was the same as I had with my first love, but I tried anway... I had to. I talked to a guy who was 20. I was 15, but I told him I was 17. I was talking to him before I had gone to Las Vegas to visit my first love. I even secretly sent him postcards from Las Vegas. I didn't even realize it then, but looking back, I was such a major player.

That courtship was fun, and helped me get over the loss of my first love, but it only lasted a few months because I had to admit to him that I was only 15 years old. He wanted to continue to talk to me, but he explained that it was probably illegal, couldn't go anywhere, he felt like a pedophile, and we should stop talking. I told him I was deeply sorry, and I agreed that we should stop talking. I felt horrible, and decided that I should never lie to a guy again.

At that point, thoughts of my first love were becomming more and more blurry each day, and I was, of course, ready to meet someone new. I really wanted the same kind of love that I had with my first love. I still romantasized the idea of a reconcilliation, but I knew it wasn't going to happen. I managed to move on with my life, met new guys (never really loving any of them), still played the game while perfecting my moves with each new encounter, and I lost my virginity. Much to my surprise, my first love came back.

To be continued...

Digital Ghost- Tori Amos
It started as a joke
Just one of my larks to see
If somehow I could reach you so

I swam into your shores
Through an open window
Only to find you all alone

Curled up with machines
Now it seems you're slipping
Out of the land of the living

Just take a closer look
Take a closer look
At what it is that's really haunting you

I have to trust you'll know
This digital ghost
But I fear there's only so much time
'cause the you I knew is fading away

Hands lay them on my keys
Let me play you again
I am not immune to your net

Find me there in it
I won't go even if in
Your heart only beats ones and O's

Switch you on my friend
Pull you from that rip current
But only you can fight against this

Take a closer look
Just take a closer look
At what it is that's really haunting you

I have to trust you'll know
This digital ghost
But I fear there's only so much time
'cause the you I knew is fading away

Fading
Fading
Away

Semi-Charmed Life

2009-07-19T22:05:00.000-07:00

Relationships are confusing, so why do we feel compelled to analyze them? No matter how long or short the relationship, we search our minds, and bother our friends for answers-- but there aren't ever any answers to satisfy our broken hearts.

I used to have more neurosis, motivation, and time to attempt to figure shit out, but now, I have to tell myself it wasn't meant to be, I'm thankful for the fun, and I have to move on AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE SO THAT I CAN GET MARRIED AND PREGNANT BEFORE MY EGGS DRY UP.

Perhaps I finally get it, and I should've been doing this all along. Maybe I'm so insensitive, bitter, and old that I can't bring myself to waste any more time romanticizing someone unworthy of my endless charm and insatiable sex drive and stop trying to find logic in something that didn't work out. It's over and that's that. I'm analyzing... again... obviously... but I can assure you, I'm doing it much quicker than I've been guilty of doing in the past.

Top 10 Break-up rituals (in no particular order):
1. Drink a bottle of wine
2. Take a bath (to cleanse myself of him)
3. Cry (only if necessary)
4. Pass out in the bathtub
5. Go for a run (to rid myself of the anger and frustration of another failed relationship)
6. Re-arrange my furniture (to change my perspective)
7. Schedule a hair-cut (I need to look hot to find another man)
8. Delete his number from my phone (including all text messages and delete the call log so I can avoid retriving his phone number when I inevitably miss him)
9. Delete him from all online social media circuits
10. Listen to break-up appropriate music

... once all the rituals have been completed (in roughly a week), I'm back on track and it's time to get back out there.

or not...

STOP BEING A HOPEFUL ROMANTIC AND TRYING TO FIND POSSIBILITY IN SITUATIONS THAT ARE HOPELESS!

Easier said than done.

Some men are easier to get over than others. I don't know if there's any rhyme or reason to it, but for whatever reason, some men really penetrate my soul. It doesn't matter how mean or nice they were, how long we associated with one another, or how attractive they were-- some just loiter in my head and heart and refuse to leave. It's all internal... it's chemistry... I think... and it doesn't make sense.

You pathetic little girl. You're a classic co-dependent. You're insecure. You must really hate yourself. Stop your bullshit and move on. You deserve better. You're beautiful. You're awesome.

Mistakes are always made in relationships. I always try to take responsibility for my actions and learn from them so that I can increase my chances of having a fruitful relationship some day.

I wasn't on top of my game. Even when I am on top of my game, things still may not work out. I want things to happen organically. I despise traditional dating rules. However, I know the more men I meet, the more my chances are increased of finding someone worthy of my undying love and affection.

BUT I'M EXHAUSTED. I want to settle down finally and I'm afraid that is going to come across as desperate. HOW MANY MORE TIMES DO I NEED TO DO THIS?

No more 10-hour-long-break-ups. If you want to have break-up sex, lets do it as soon as possible before the break-up sets into my head and my ego is bruised, my self-esteem is drained, and I hate you. No, we can't be friends. I wanted to have a relationship with you, and now you are useless to me, so just don't even ask. I can't be friends with you because I've been around the block enough times to know that only means you have the permission to call me when the bar closes and you haven't found someone to go home with, and you want to have sex with someone you know can give a good blow job. I know there is no hope of reconciliation in a booty-call. I know I'll awake feeling like a used whore the next day. So let's have hot sex one last time, exchange some pleasant parting comments such as "you're a talented person.. good luck with your endeavors... have a nice life... I had fun.. thanks," then fucking leave the premises and I don't want to fucking see or hear from you EVER again.

Well of course I WANT to see and hear from you. I wanted to hang out longer to see where things went. BUT it's best that we don't have any contact so that I can get over you. If we should cross paths, we shall acknowledge one another, have a 5 minute artificial conversation such as: "hey.. how's it going? yeah? good... well... have a nice day/night/Merry Christmas/whatever-the-fuck." Then, you should probably leave the place you are at where you ran into the person AS SOON AS POSSIBLE because you will inevitably become very self-conscious, and feel obligated to show the other person that your life is so awesome without them. Worst case scenario, you are tempted to START IT ALL OVER AGAIN AND GOD FORBID THAT FUCKING HAPPENS! So just get the fuck out of there. You're better off. I promise.

One of my biggest break-up pet peeves is when they ruin music for me. Music is a MAJOR part of my life, and I quite enjoy listening to music with my lovers. It's a requirement even. Music enhances the courtship. It's all lovely until you break up and one of those songs comes on somewhere, and all you can think about is how wonderful that moment was when you listened to that song together. I used to really love that song. It's one of my favorite songs. You made it better... then.. YOU FUCKING RUINED IT FOR ME. "...I want something else, to get me through this semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby, I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye..."

Third Eye Blind - Semi-Charmed Life
I'm packed and I'm holding
I'm smiling, she's living, she's golden
She lives for me, says she lives for me
Ovation, her own motivation
She comes round and she goes down on me
And I make her smile, like a drug for you
Do ever what you wanna do, coming over you
Keep on smiling, what we go through
One stop to the rhythm that divides you
And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse
Chop another line like a coda with a curse
Come on like a freak show takes the stage
We give them the games we play, she said...
I want something else, to get me through this
Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby
I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye
The sky was gold, it was rose
I was taking sips of it through my nose
And I wish I could get back there, someplace back there
Smiling in the pictures you would take
Doing crystal myth, will lift you up until you break
It won't stop, I won't come down
I keep stock with the tick-tock rhythm, I bump for the drop
And then I bumped up, I took the hit that I was given
Then I bumped again, then I bumped again
I said...
How do I get back there, to the place where I fell asleep inside you
How do I get myself back to the place where you said...
I want something else, to get me through this
Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby
I want something else, I'm not listening when you say good-bye
I believe in the sand beneath my toes
The beach gives a feeling, an earthy feeling
I believe in the faith that grows
And the four right chords can make me cry
When I'm with you I feel like I could die
And that would be all right, all right
And when the plane came in, she said she was crashing
The velvet it rips in the city, we tripped on the urge to feel alive
Now I'm struggling to survive, those days you were wearing that velvet dress
You're the priestess, I must confess
Those little red panties they pass the test
Slide up around the belly, face down on the mattress
One
And you hold me, and we're broken
Still it's all that I wanna do, just a little now
Feel myself, head made of the ground
I'm scared, I'm not coming down
No, no
And I won't run for my life
She's got her jaws now, locked down in a smile
But nothing is all right, all right
And I want something else, to get me through this life
Baby, I want something else
Not listening when you say...
Good-bye, good-bye, good-bye
Good-bye
The sky was gold, it was rose
I was taking sips of it through my nose
And I wish I could get back there
Someplace back there, in the place we used to start
I want something else

Bouncing Off Clouds

2009-06-07T22:08:00.000-07:00

It's romantic... the way we share coffee and pastries. I expect it now. He always leaves the last bite for me. I love how sharing a pastry leads to sharing a bed. I love the morning after beauty mark exploration in the gentle Sunday sunlight. "I love this one on your lip...I never noticed it before, but now, I'll never forget it," he claims. I smile as though I believe him. It's inevitable... it always plays out and yet.. I still get nervous with each corner we turn.. wondering... if we'll ever make it home....

Courting men has been and most likely will always be my favorite pastime. It's something to live for, something to cry for, something to yearn and beg for. Love is the sun in which everything must revolve around, for some... for me. Definitely.

Maybe I was born this way, perhaps my dad didn't love me enough as a child- but either way--

I love men. All different kinds of them. I like when they're all sweaty and nervous. I like when they're in control as I slowly yet surely plant the seeds of love deep within them. Deny it if you will. Why fight it? I always wonder. Sure, the possibility of getting hurt. But wouldn't you hurt more wondering what could've been? Sneak a couple caramels in your pocket from the candy store, little boy, and slink away before you get caught! I would hurt. I would suffer a terminal pain I'm sure I could never recover from. I suck blood until there's no more left to suck. If love doesn't last, wouldn't you eventually be glad for the gulps you swallowed from the glass?

Fantasy is a major component, but it needs to be fulfilled. I want to play out the fantasy over and over before the actual event takes place. I love to convince myself it's absolutely impossible. I won't allow myself to believe it happened until the next morning. During the next day, I congradulate myself on accomplishing more than I had actually fantasized about.

I replay it all in my head. Instant replay style. What was good? What would I change? Always amazed at how easy it was. Sex is easy though. It's easy to plant the seeds of love. The hard part is having the patience to nurture the seeds as they slowly blossom into love. Do I care? Can't use too much water or too much sun. It needs to be a healthy combination of everything necessary to live then slowly, piece by piece, take it away. Whether the flower begs for more to blossom or whether it decides to die has little to do with me. I wish I had more control over that part, but I don't. I did my part. Blossom or die? Blossom or die? Blossom or die? What do YOU want to do, little boy?

I believe it needs to be overwhelming at first, even a little obnoxious, annoying, and obvious. Easy. It needs to definitely seem easy to them. When it's all over, there's nothing easy about it. It's easy for me. Even with all of the effort. It's like exercise. I've done it so many times. I can love a marathon.

You can listen if you want, or you can continue to plug your ears as I sing:

"Make it easy, easy, easy
We could make this easy,
easy love easy,
We could make this easy, make this easy
It’s not as heavy as it seems
Make this easy, make this easy
It’s not as heavy as it seems"

So you fancy a girl to sing, do you?

I can sing. I can sing a song and make you think that it's the first time I've ever done it without telling you- and I can pretend like it's no big deal when actually- I've done it several times before for many others just like you, and I'm growing quite bored of that song. Do you still like it as much? Now that you know? You probably like it more but won't admit it to yourself because what you thought was securely yours is public property and no one loves a hoe but now you need something you now know was never ever yours.

... and that's how it's done for the most part. I'm the sweet and vulnerable one-- prick, sting, suck, leave-- and onto the next.

Whenever I feel lonely, I think of all the men who are jerking off to the thought of me, and I welcome a peaceful sleep.

Currently Undergoing Maintenance

2009-05-30T15:04:00.000-07:00

I feel like my entire life has been leading up to this moment. I've run out of time to fuck around. I'm angry. I am changing the way I've been doing everything. I can't procrastinate anymore. It's ridiculous how the procrastination has progressively gotten worse throughout the years. I've been growing more immature in many ways. No more.

No more travels to never never land, Peter Pan. You can't go to OZ either, so throw away those ruby slippers, grow the fuck up, and stop whining.

But it's just law school? No, it's so much more than that to me. It's not just about achieving a goal, or choosing a profession I think I'd be good at. It's about engaging in my main purpose in life. The very reason I was born. I'd rather die than not fulfill this obligation. I hope that if i slack in any way, I hope, with all my heart, the universe will torture me in my sleep until I complete these tasks. Torture me more harshly than I was tortured before I started my undergraduate studies.

Anyone can get married and have children, and as much as I desire to have those things, this is a much more powerful desire. It's hard work to be a good mother and wife, and I think I can do those things and there is still time for those things. I am running out of time to do other things.

I have so many fucking goals, and they torment me every moment of every day. Little by little I am working each day to inch closer to achieving these goals. I've been so fucking distracted by social "needs" and romantic "needs." I wanted to robotically race through school, but I knew that was the wrong way to go about it. I didn't want to be socially retarded once I finished school because I realized long ago, the more socially capable I am, the more successful I will be-- so I needed to take my social engagements as seriously as my academic pursuits. Every single thing I've done in my life has been carefully planned and executed for a particular purpose. EVERYTHING.

Am I FINALLY ready? Is it time for me to go on? With all of the academic preparation, social experimentation, and self-exploration involved- it's hard to realize the time has finally come to drive this finely oiled machine I've so carefully constructed. Every day I am bargaining with myself. "One more year? please? I'm scared. I can't. I'm not ready. I could just die. I could just die. I could just die. Why do you torture me so? Is this really what you want? Have a baby instead. Be a mom for awhile. You need a partner to help you. You're so fucking out of your mind, you can't possibly handle this."

Life is inconvenient. There is no "right" time to do anything. Some times to do things are better than others, but there is no such thing as a perfect time. Eventually, you have to say to yourself- "I am ready, I can do this." All we can do is prepare, battle fear, and get out there. I am more than capable of achieving my goals.

Practicing law and being involved in politics is what has always felt right to me. I feel like everything that's ever happened to me in my life, good and bad, has been to prepare me to be a leader. I've explored other options, but everything else takes backseat to my one true dream. I want to make a major impact in this world to benefit all of humanity. I want to work day and night until the day I die to achieve my goals. It isn't about money or increasing my social status-- it's about fulfilling my purpose in life. If I can't do this, if I don't get into law school, if I can't move to Brooklyn-- I just want to die. Not in the sense that I will literally put a gun to my head, but the disappointment would be so great, that I would probably have to lock myself away from the world for awhile, only to return when I've come up with a new plan.

I've tried, throughout the years, to tell myself, well, if going to law school doesn't work out for me, I can do anything. I don't want to do anything else. I know it will always stick in the back of my head and torment me- so I need to do it right. I need to do everything I possibly can to dramatically increase my chances of fulfilling my dreams.

This summer, I'm doing some more preparation so that everything falls into place. Most of this is technical. I need to study for the LSATS, apply to Brooklyn Law school, secure my Fall graduation-- and once these things are done, I need to prepare my move to Brooklyn. Though I've been preparing my entire life for all of these things, it all seems so inconceivable. I want it all so badly. I simply won't settle for less. I must remember this is all very possible. My dreams are so close.

I am undergoing the most rigorous preparation I've ever forced upon myself right now. No more bitching. No more whining. No more excuses. No more unfounded fears. No more clinging to vices. No more carlessness. No more distractions. No more excessively impulsive behavior. I scream at myself daily to do what I must. It's the only way I can get things done. It hurts- I do things- then it feels good. Perhaps I should've been doing this all along, but reguardless, I've made it this far, and I'm grateful.

I'm particularly proud of a recent discovery of a definite way to mind-fuck myself into completing tasks. When I feel overwhelmingly scared, I go for a walk. I tell myself at the beginning of the walk, that throughout the walk, I will feel sorry for myself, feel scared, bitch, whine, go crazy, cry if need be-- and by the time I get home, I will feel stronger than I was before I started the walk. I have faith in this process, so it works. I now know that there is a very simple way that I can overcome these every day stresses, so I definitely don't worry as much as I used to.

I'm on my way... to save the day... it won't be long now... I promise.

Bitch, I'm the REAL DEAL

2009-04-24T18:35:00.000-07:00

Im weary of writing a stream of consciousness blog here. This blog was intended to be more adult, more professional... but that's not real is it? My obsession with reality- ill try to explain it the best I can. For as long as I can remember, I've felt that my sense of reality is different from everyone else's.. everyone's reality is different from everyone else's. We're all living in our own worlds. Are you living close to mine? Are we in the same galaxy? The milky way doesn't feel like home and what kind of name is the milky way anyway? I don't know.. no one really KNOWs anything. I try to avoid speaking like I know what the fuck im talking about b/c i don't... and YOU don't either do you? No. I don't care how old you are or what the fuck you've been through.. you don't know. Im experimenting with being as raw as possible. Its much more difficult than i imagined it would be. Why do we hold back from the truth? We are afraid i guess. Afraid of the consequences. Rejection. What do I have to lose? Everything and Nothing can hurt me unless I allow it to. I do allow some things to effect me. Stay.. go.. love me.. hate me.. just be real. If you have something to say then say it. I don't care how it comes out. I looked into the mirror the other day and the person staring back at me was familiar... i remember her.. this is the me that I am most happy to be. I can't remember when i last saw her or when she went away, but im glad she's back and now that i am conscious of this person who i prefer being, this skin im most comfortable in-- im going to keep her around. Maybe it's all playing out how it should. We go on these journeys being different people all to figure out who we're supposed to be and who i am today may not be who i am tomorrow. This shell im in is who i like the most, but i'm remaining open to change and growth.. just not regression. There's no need to cloud thoughts w/ who I used to be or feel bad for naive mistakes... no need to look behind me. Im keeping my head up.. looking forward. Thinking about love.. as always. Endlessly trying to figure out this mysterious phenomenon. This is clumped together.. i know.. and im not finishing many thoughts.. but if you want to know, then you must conform. Im not bending to your lack of reading comprehension skills. How do you repay someone who's helped you change your entire life? Am I really "forever in debt to your priceless advice?" Can you remember thoughts you had when you were 3 years old? I can. I remember being infatuated with a ramp next to a church I used to live by when I was 3. I saw it on daily walks with my mum.. and... I finally got to see it and it wasn't nearly as wonderful as I had imagined. I felt like it was some sort of zig-zaging slide... but it wasn't. I remembered learning about death from killing worms my dad and I were going to use for fishing by drowning them in my bubbles one summer afternoon. I was 2-3 years old. The worms turned white and stopped moving. I KILLED THEM, I thought... I took their lives away. I felt sad for a moment and apologized to my father for my experiment gone wrong. What would happen if... if I put them in these bubbles? Was I bound to be a chemist or just a curious child genius? All of the above. Wanna know why I cover my mouth when I laugh? Because my teeth are huge.

And Then I Dreamt of Yes

2009-04-04T12:42:00.000-07:00

“Run away with me,” I demanded. I’ve lost interest in asking. “Meet me here... You should do this… You should come with me.” It’s the only way to get people to do things with me because yes or no is not an option. I have to trick them. The only option is ok, and the instant reaction in everyone’s mind is to be compliant-- to say ok.

My demand was delivered to him in part to humor myself, but also, on the off chance that he would say ok. What’s the worst that could happen? I often ask myself. The worst that could happen is someone saying no. I can handle no. I am rejected at least fifty times a day by this world. “You have a 50% chance of someone saying yes or no,” a mathematical asshole may say. I ain’t no good at math, but in my experience, it’s a 90% chance of a yes or ok answer, and only a 10% chance of a no response. I have absolutely no statistical evidence for this but that is the estimate my memory is currently delivering. Yes! Yes! Yes! People mostly tell me yes. When someone says no, there’s no need for me to dwell on it. It’s not about me. We all suffer a ridiculous amount of rejection throughout our lives to the point where we want to say no all of the time because we’re certain whatever it is isn’t going to be worth the rejection and the heartache that inevitably follows. People usually want to say no, but they want you to like them, they want to be compliant, so they say ok and go along with you.

There was silence. Any other person may interpret silence as a no answer, and decide to back out to avoid rejection- but not me. I interpret silence as cognition. I interpret silence as an invitation to continue my seduction.

“Come with me or you will regret it for the rest of your life,” I exclaimed. I was getting impatient. He’s going to say no. It was a shot in the dark. He’s not the type of man who does anything without thinking it to death first. Fuck him for being unwilling to enjoy his life. I was trying to do him a favor, and he’s too fucking scared to realize it. I used to be him. Still, it was worth a try for me because he needed to run away-- he needed me. It could have been a delusion of mine, but don’t we spend our entire lives living in our own delusions? If all of our delusions are reality, and that is all we really ever know, then isn’t it worth it to live in the fanciest of delusions?

I was trying to avoid the inevitable “I should’ve gone with you” talk with him later. I’ve heard it far too many times. I’m sick of giving boys opportunities no one else would and getting turned down because they’re too afraid, only to hear from them years later slurring drunken late night regrets into my ear in the wee hours of the morning while my eyes are rolling. “That ship has sailed,” I laugh as I tell them insincerely and annoyed. Their disappointed eyes make my heart sink each time, but honestly, I have no desire to give second chances to missed opportunities years down the road. That may be a storybook fantasy for some, but I entertain no such delusions. There’s a lesson to be learned, and I hope the next time an opportunity arises, I hope they have the balls to say yes. I crossed my fingers and hoped he would give himself a chance to be happy. It wasn’t even about me at this point. Ok, it was 90% about me, but I know I wanted him to be happy.

It wasn’t about me being his girlfriend or making him my boyfriend. I wanted him to be with me. I wanted to simply enjoy life with him away from the ordinary and boring rules of conventional relationships. I didn’t feel the desire to be tied down, and I didn’t desire to impose that on anyone else. I have a tremendous obligation to the rest of the world, and I can’t be restrained by a man. I wanted to watch him blossom into a flower. I wanted to run my fingertips down the length of his jaw and linger at his chest and feel his heartbeat quicken at the touch of my palm as I sit on his lap and circle his heart with my fingertips. I was getting ahead of myself. I must play it all out in my head to see if it will be worth it before I move forward.

“… but I know that you’re so confused and afraid… I just want to be one true thing that don’t fade…” I sing to him softly yet confidently while I caress his cheek as he’s falling asleep. Give in to me. I transfer my dreams, my delusions, to my fingertips, onto his skin, penetrating into his bloodstream and into his mind. Give yourself to me. You know you want to. You want me. You NEED me.
…………….

“Would it be ok if I sleep with you tonight? I just… I.. am… I… I’m cold and I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I said nervously. Silence. I hated the way he always made me wait for a response. “Yes.. Ok.. I think that will be ok,” he finally said. He fell asleep almost immediately. I pretended to sleep while feeling lonesome for him. I wanted to be lying atop of him… his hand in my hair and my ear to his chest, and that is the only way I would be able to fall asleep. I watched him sleep as I plotted. I wanted to sing to him, but wasn’t brave enough to. What would happen if I just went for it and got on top of him? Would I startle him? Would he reject me? I was lucky enough for him to run away with me, how could I ask for more? Why must I be so needy and greedy for him? Maybe I should start by touching his hand, then hold his hand in mine, and see if he responds well to it before making my next move.

Where was the careless girl who demanded that he run away with her? How could I consider throwing myself at him? Why would he want me? I’m loud, awkward, unladylike… delusional. He’s a painting hanging so righteously, and I am just a silly tourist loitering outside nervously smoking and terrified and feeling unworthy of even entering the museum just to look and never purchase him.

People are not paintings. We’re all fluid, flawed, weak, attention whores desperately seeking love and any form of validation we can get and we’re all pretending we’re not. Some need more than others, some show it more than others, and some fake it better than others-- but we’re all vulnerable and so afraid of asking for the things we need the most. We spend hours fantasizing about things that will never happen because we never even try to get them. Some things we fantasize about happen and it’s never as sweet as the fantasy. You want it, you get it, then you don’t want it anymore because it’s not as good as you wished it would be, so you dream of something else that will eventually disappoint you. Fantasize constantly, but keep your fantasies simple, expect rejection as a possible outcome, expect disappointment-- but try and maybe you will be pleasantly surprised.

I dream of you. You dream of me.

Say yes. Run away with me. Be with me. Come with me?

Dandy Warhols : And Then I Dreamt of Yes

Well I’ve been down now
Like I never got started
Guess you want your world just a certain way
And I can tell you this
I’ve been outsmarted
And that hurts me more than it hurts me, how much I miss

I find that I'm spent
I never regret it
And I said things that I know right now I never meant
Well I’ve been down now
Guess you want your world just a certain way
Well I’ve been down now
Guess you want your world just a certain way

Well I’ve been down now
Like I never got started
Guess you want your world just a certain way
And I can tell you this
I’ve been outsmarted
And that hurts me more than it hurts me, how much I miss

Well I’ve been down now
Well I’ve been down now
Well I’ve been down now
Well I’ve been down now

Glass Showers Bring February Flowers

2009-02-08T18:14:00.000-08:00

I stepped into the shower this afternoon with a mindful of uncompleted tasks and unfulfilled desires. As soon as the water hit my chin, flowed down my neck, and broke off into little rivers streaming down my body- I felt safe. I felt… happy even. I stood there for a moment, breathing a sigh or relief, and turned around to let the wonderful warm water arouse my scalp and soak my hair. The entire experience was completely cathartic. It was the water, the smell of my new shower curtain, bleach, and cocoa butter. It was the sight of the gentle winter grey shining through the window and reflecting upon a spotlessly clean bath tub. It was a baptism. I watched the steam rise into the chilled air. The sins of yesterday left my body and evaporated.

I cannot recall the last time I had such an experience. I tried so hard with no avail to partake in such activities while living with my parents. It was impossible to enjoy any aspect of living under my parents in their basement. Like a husband unaware of alternative options holds his wife’s head under water as if it could really solve anything, my dad would’ve kept me in that basement forever if he could.

But my dad was nowhere in sight as I carefully washed my hair. I could not hear him mumbling words he didn’t completely understand, clumsily stomping across the floor upstairs, or exchanging cruelties with my mother. I didn’t have to worry about climbing the stairs in hopes of escaping, but knowing that I had to get past the thick clouds of judgment, resentment, hate, and rage before I could leave. Even when I did bravely trot across that bridge, the sweet taste of freedom was soured knowing that I would eventually have to return. My dad is having a difficult time dealing with my departure. It isn’t the first time I’ve moved out of my parent’s house, but hopefully it will be the last time I will ever have to move out of there. You have a difficult time dealing with everything, dad, why don’t you just kill yourself already… or have you already exhausted that option?

I washed the chamomile shampoo out of my hair as I washed the memories of the past year out of my mind. There’s no point lingering on such thoughts for too long when happiness in my life is abundant. From the moment I had made the decision to move back home, I was itching to leave. I thought of the possibility of, but didn’t completely realize until now that I was going to have to crawl my way to the door, pick myself off from the floor and fling myself out of the door.

I squeezed the excess shampoo and water from my hair, then squeezed an ample amount of aloe conditioner into my palm and massaged it into my thirsty hair. Reality sinks in. I took a moment to feel truly grateful for everything that is going well in my life right now. I realized today that this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I am even happier than the times that I thought I was the happiest. Like the time in my last apartment when I smoked a few bowls, read sad poetry out loud from the thickest literature book I own while pacing back and forth in my underwear, then sitting upon my kitchen counter and staring into my fridge while giggling at my own jokes and listening to music on random blaring. I was surrounded by possibilities without a care in the world. I am happiest when possibilities are plentiful. As I stared into the fridge I felt guilty for a moment for being so careless when I had stacks of tasks to adhere to, but I quickly allowed myself to enjoy the moment. I am definitely happier than I was at that moment. This time last year, I was barely able to feed myself.

The water rinsed the aloe conditioner from my hair as I lathered my body with love and cocoa butter scented soap. My mind wandered into fantasy. I am in love with a man who truly appreciates me for who I am. All of my desires are multiplied when we speak to each other, and he is the sum of all of my desires. I stare into him as narcissus stares into his reflection in the pond. I want to shower with him. I want to lather his body with love and cocoa butter scented soap. Afterward, I want to lie beside him on my bed, and trace unguided shapes upon his chest with my fingertips like a teenager to a Ouija Board. I want to engage in narcissistic love with him all day. I want to resist the urge to let him ejaculate all over my glasses, then handcuff him to my bed and keep him there until I need him to cook me breakfast or feed me grapes or something of that nature. Could that fantasy become a reality? The water begins to get cooler.

I turned up the hot water and wondered how long I had been in the shower. My voyage through the past, present, and future was coming to an end. I hate this part. I don’t want to wake up. I rinsed the remaining soap from my body, turned off the water, and hesitant yet hopeful, I stepped into my new life.

Sovereign Beauty

2009-01-20T13:26:00.000-08:00

I have little time to spend writing currently, so I am going to share a poem with you until I can write more. I wrote this poem a few years ago while I was frustrated that all of the boys I was meeting were total losers.

Sovereign Beauty

The fury of a splendid woman
To all that's jejune to her pink sparks.
Abrasive to the brave.
Sweet like turpentine.
Her flair leaves even Jezebel in wonder.
How doth her majesty evoke such upheaval?
With slovenly dark tresses,
And somber eyes fixed in a sultry gaze.

Piss + Drunk + Love

2009-01-15T14:41:00.000-08:00

I wanted to stay home for New Years Eve. I wanted to watch TV, whine and chug wine straight from the box, and tweet until I passed out. I decided that was an unhealthy way to start the new year, and I should get all dressed up, get off my sad ass and have a good time even if I had to fake it. I kept imagining myself at the club sitting alone, drinking cocktail after cocktail watching everything get blurry and obnoxious, while gazing at my cell phone every 5 minutes waiting until I had been out long enough to tell myself “at least I tried.” I played out the worst case scenarios in my head during the day, but nothing could have prepared me for what actually happened that night.

I didn’t get home until 6 a.m. the next day, and I’ve still yet to retrieve the panties I had carelessly left behind in my car. It was a wild night to say the least. It was definitely a New Years Eve I will never forget. When I slipped on that pair of black panties that night, I didn’t imagine I would return home not wearing them.

One of my longtime friends was spinning that night and I agreed to go listen to him at the club he was spinning at. I stalled while getting ready to go out as I tried to talk myself out of going anywhere. A night listening to music with an old friend is a fairly safe deal. I didn’t even try to find someone to go with me. I just wanted to go out for a couple hours, suck down a couple drinks, shimmy a bit and forge some connections with a few people I had no intention of ever talking to again and go home. I slipped on some jeans under my dress to ensure that I wouldn’t be as cold as I’ve been during past New Years Eve outings. I joked with myself about my vagina being a Rubik's Cube, and I would definitely not be getting any action that night. I sipped on some liquid courage in the form of a smooth combination of diet pomegranate 7-up and rum to get me out of my house.

I finally made it out of my house and on my way to the club where my friend was spinning at about 10:30 p.m. I wanted to get there late so everyone was already wasted, and socialization would be easier. I parked a few blocks from the club, and I walked hesitantly towards the club. It was an oddly warm winter night, almost as warm as a cold Colorado summer night. I smoked a cigarette before I said “well here goes nothing” and paid the cover charge and went in. I quickly purchased my signature cranberry and whiskey cocktail and worked my way towards the back of the club to observe the scene. The music was shockingly good, and I was feeling great.

I immediately encountered an awkward looking man who obviously didn’t understand the rules of New Years Eve conversation: party talk only, no long winded life stories. That man, whose name I can’t remember and didn’t even care to ever know, followed me around all night long desperately cramming my mind with details of his life that I couldn’t force myself to give a shit about. He inevitably asked me out on a movie date for the following day to which I immediately declined. I wanted to be polite to him, but I also did not want him to ruin my evening. I managed to lose him before midnight rolled around so he couldn’t look at me with puppy dog eyes, and I couldn’t sympathy kiss him and regret it during and after.

As midnight quickly approached, I made my way up close to the stage where cheap plastic confetti filled champagne bottles were being passed around like desperate women are on New Years Eve. Completely giddy, I grabbed a couple and was thrilled that I would be popping party favors rather than kissing a stranger out of sheer sympathy and loneliness. The countdown was in full-effect and I positioned my little bottle towards the crowd. 5...4...3...2...1... POP… HAPPY NEW YEAR! Everyone was screaming and dancing around. The bass was booming hard just how I like it. I had butterflies in my stomach and I was happy. Before I could plot my next move, I became face to face with a familiar stranger. He was the brother of a man who I was casually “sleeping with” 3 years ago.

Wide-eyed and smiles galore, I waved and yelled “HI!” Before I could ask how his night was going, he planted a sweet little kiss upon my lips. I figured why not? I’ve already fucked his brother, let’s keep it all in the family… or something? And I returned the kiss slightly deeper than the one I received. Before I could realize what had just happened, the familiar little stranger disappeared. I am unsure if it was just an impulse he acted upon, or if he thought that since his big brother had fucked me, it would be ok for him to at least get a sweet little innocent kiss… right? Right! As much as I have denied it and will continue to deny it, I liked it. I thought it was endearing. I love to receive gifts that I didn’t realize I needed. I liked this familiar stranger. He was a younger and softer version of his brother. He was even kind enough to warn me about his brother. “He’s an asshole,” the little brother had told me. Not that anything could have stopped me from pursing him, but it was a nice gesture nonetheless.

Kissing the little brother was a bit strange. I don’t know what was more strange: the fact that I kissed a boy who’s brother I used to fuck, that I liked it, or that his brother had kissed me in the same surprise manner 3 years ago on New Years Eve . My mind drifted off to the boy’s brother, our surprise kiss that made my soul tingle and my heart yearn for him in every way possible, the filthy New Years Eve appropriate sex we had that night, the awkward conversations we had the following morning, and the trashy drag queen breakfast we shared together. That New Years Eve will always remain one of the best I’ve ever had.

I flashed forward to the following New Years Eve after everything with the boy’s big brother was nothing more than a bittersweet memory for us both. The boy’s brother had moved away, and at that point, I hated him and I was glad he was gone. I spent most of the New Years Eve night dancing, drinking, and taking multiple trips to my car to get stoned with my cousin. Around midnight, I hazily gazed around the premises to see if I recognized anyone. I quickly noticed a familiar face- it was the boy’s brother. He decided to move back, and no one had warned me. His girlfriend was there with him, and she and I somehow ended up having an awkward 5 minute conversation before I fled to my car to smoke a bowl. I grabbed a bottle of champagne with me as my cousin and I raced to my car. Completely frustrated, confused, and slightly heartbroken, I hoped in the backseat, aimed the champagne towards my dashboard, popped it open, and it sprayed all over my clothes and the interior of my car-- and that was the best part of that New Years Eve.

My flashback was pleasantly interrupted by the music, and I danced my heart out. I had no clue what time it was, and no plan for my next move-- I just danced. I was having an amazing night, and didn’t want it to end. When I couldn’t dance anymore, I retreated outdoors to smoke a cigarette. “Where’s the after party at?!,” I exclaimed directed at anyone who could hear me. I leaned upon a nearby tree for support and out of nowhere appeared a man who I wanted to know.

We exchanged names and witty repartee. He mentioned that he needed a ride home which happened to be a bit north of where I was going. I wanted to be his ride home. I figured we would chat about music and life on the ride home, and I would slowly but methodically work my way into his heart. I liked that scenario. It seemed realistic, and a perfect way to end the night. I liked him right away, and I usually fret a bit, and make a few bitchy statements before I decide whether a man is worth talking to. It would have been perfect. If I had taken him home that night, he may have ended up being my boyfriend right now, but I didn’t.

I didn’t take him home because my friend who was spinning that night stopped to share a cigarette with me while I was schmoozing my dream boy. My friend was obviously wasted, and I told him about the surprise kiss I had received. He knew the boy and his brother, and he made fun of me profusely for what had happened. I tried to steer away from my friend and back to my new friend that I was planning to take home. It was impossible. My friend was desperate for my attention and grabbed my hand and spun me around and around. By the time all the spinning had subsided, my new friend was out of sight. I searched for him as I made small talk. My friend explained that he didn’t have a ride home, and asked if I could take him home. I pride myself on being a good friend, so the right thing to do was for me to agree to take him home. I asked, “are ya ready?,” and we quickly walked to where my car was parked. As I turned the corner, I glanced over my shoulder and locked eyes one last time with my would be boyfriend as he walked away in the opposite direction.

I wanted to chase after him and ask for his number, but it seemed inappropriate. I started to think about missed opportunities when my thought was interrupted by some women fighting in the street. There were several women half naked with their shoes off screaming and threatening one another. My first instinct, for whatever reason, was to grab my camera. I snapped a couple shots, and one woman approached me screaming at me “what the fuck are you doing, bitch?!” I quickly explained “I don’t know, I’m sorry!” She responded, “erase those pictures right now!” I said, “yes, I will, I am sorry!” Luckily, she became distracted by the fight she was already engaged in, and I managed to quickly sneak away unharmed.

My heart was beating so rapidly, and I needed to quickly recover from what had just happened. I discussed it briefly with my friend, but due to his intense intoxication, his attention span was limited. “Lets go to an after party, I want to go to an after party!” I demanded. My friend said he would try to find one. I can’t recall the inane conversation we had on the drive to his apartment because I wasn’t paying attention to his drunken babble. I was not nearly as intoxicated as he was, so he was beginning to slightly annoy me. “I’m staying at your apartment,” I explained. I thought it would be best for me to hang out with him, and try to find an after party instead of risking driving home slightly intoxicated possibly above the legal limit.

I found a Rubik's cube in his apartment, and I hopped onto his bed with it in my hand. “Ya know,” I said jokingly, “my vagina is a Rubik's Cube.” No one is getting in these pants any time soon!,” I laughed. He kissed me. I moved my face away from his. He kissed my neck. I tried to kiss him back and immediately decided against it. I grabbed the Rubik's Cube again and twisted and turned it aimlessly, and I rambled about my life. “You smell good” he said. “Yeah?” I replied, and stared out the window. He was drifting in and out of consciousness while I nervously told stories to myself. I gazed out the window at the brightly lit 7-11 sign outside of the window and I missed living in the city. I had decided it had been a fairly decent night, much better than I had expected it to be, and I pulled the blankets up to my chest and laid on my left side with my back towards my friend. His breathing indicated that he had already passed out, and I wasn’t very sleepy at all. I closed my eyes anyway, and I figured I would eventually fall asleep.

I imagine I was only asleep for about 15 minutes when I felt the most peculiar feeling against my back. I stood still as I could feel the back of my dress become wet. I managed to nudge my friend over on his back. I laid back on my side with my hands covering my face mouthing the words “oh shit what the fuck.” My friend had pissed on me in his sleep. I needed to get away, but didn’t know how I should go about slipping out of that mess. I thought to myself, “I can’t fucking believe this is happening to me right now.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to get out of my wet dress, but I just laid there in a puddle of my friend’s piss that appeared to be spreading. I pretended to sleep while I plotted my next move as my friend laid lifeless. I felt sympathy deep in my heart for him, but at the same time, I was pissed (pun intended). I managed to work up the courage to whisper, “I feel cold… I feel… sweaty… why is my dress wet?” My friend acted clueless. I hopped off the bed and stripped off my piss soaked dress. I sat on the floor of his apartment in just my bra and underwear, and I clutched my knees close to my chest and just sat there for a moment before I whispered, “Did you pee on me?” My friend quickly denied it. “No,” he said, “did you pee on me?” I responded “I DEFINITELY did not pee on you!” I became so enraged that he blamed me. Shocked, I just kept muttering “OMG.. What should we do? OMG.. I need to go home.. I can’t believe this.” I lied and told him that it was ok, that it was funny, that I wasn’t mad, and that I was sorry that he peed on me. I washed up quickly in the bathroom, peeled off my panties, slipped into my jeans and put on my sweater. Disgusted and trying to slyly hide it, I grabbed my piss soaked clothing and crept out to my car.

The drive home couldn’t have been longer. I desperately needed to get into my shower and scrub all of the filth off. I left my dress and my panties in my car. While I was showering, I kept thinking, “why did this happen to me?” I explored the idea that maybe I deserved it, but almost immediately decided against it. No one ever deserves to be pissed on. I didn’t even want to go out for New Years Eve. I finally went to sleep at 7 a.m. I slept into the evening the next day hoping it was all a dream. When I finally awoke, I kept replaying the events back in my head. I felt traumatized.

Today, I am thankful for the piss incident. Nearly my entire life, and especially this past year, I’ve allowed too many people to piss on me emotionally. It took someone to actually piss on me and try to blame me for it for me to realize this is a real problem in my life, and it needs to stop. People are always going to try to piss on me, but I need to stop them before I end up lying in a puddle of their piss for half an hour trying to figure out what to do. I didn’t want to go out for New Years Eve, but I’m glad I did for the life-changing lessons I learned that night-- avoid drinking to the point of piss drunk, be grateful for the small joys in life, when you like someone, tell them because you may never see them again, and even the most humiliating moments in our lives can be turned into the most enlightening experiences.

Scavenging Electrons

2009-01-13T16:24:00.001-08:00

I slept for a couple of hours, but suddenly I awoke and my mind is racing. There’s no way I can figure things out and try to go to sleep at the same time. I keep thinking while my mind should be drifting off to sleep. I am not tired. I am certainly awake with so many ideas. I am thinking about what true love is. I am analyzing my relationships again. I am free from being in love with m, and my heart is flung open like a door to everything and everyone around me. It’s astounding how I was so unhappy for what seemed to be forever, now the days just pass me by. There aren’t enough hours in the day it seems. Every second is so pleasurable and I treasure every moment. I told myself that new years eve would be the last day for me to think about m in a loving manner- miss him, miss what we had, and I had to be done with it. I awoke new years day feeling like maybe it wasn’t real. A few days passed, and it became a reality. Those feelings were gone. I wanted with all of my heart for those feelings to pass and they did. Mind over matter. Putting good vibes out into the universe has finally paid off for me and I am the real me again. Looking back on the past year, I really do not know how I did it. Every day seemed like an absolute struggle, and I dreaded what the next day had in store for me. I felt so hopeless at times, but knew that life is so much better than that. I believed. Bad things happened, and I went on with my life. I opened myself up to change, and opened myself up again to being vulnerable to people, and allowing myself to love regardless of the consequences. It wasn’t nearly as difficult as it seemed. My life is considerably different than it was just 5 short months ago. Again, I don’t know how I made it but I am going to go out on a limb here and say it was me. The inner-strength that I have always been able to count on has shined through. Everything wonderful that I knew was within me has risen to the surface. I am inspired by everyone and everything. I feel so free and open. In thinking about true love, a new idea I have is something I’ve always thought to be true, but somehow seemed impossible for me to have. Nothing I feel is impossible for me right now. The idea of equality-- finding a partner who I am compatible with based on equality. Not forced equality, but genuine- I feel like this person is a carbon copy of me equality. I feel like this person is on the same level as I am type of equality. Not limited to romantic relationships. Everything seems so simple when that equality is present. Everything just slides right into place. Trust is easy to come by when someone genuinely understands who you are because they are just like you. I felt so alone for awhile. I felt like I was so different from everyone, but I have encountered people who are amazingly so much like me, that I feel so connected to the world in so many different ways. Some of this is redundant I realize, but that is by design. The same ideas echo throughout my mind lately, and I want to capture that. This is truly a precious moment in my life, and I want to savor every sweet new flavor I taste. Who knows how long it will last. I shouldn’t think like that, but I cant help but feel that this is temporary, that something will inevitably happen to fuck it up. Its in the back of my mind through, and certainly will not prevent me from enjoying this moment for as long as it lasts. I feel stupid for thinking that m was my soul mate and gushing about it to anyone who would listen. I was in love w/ m, but I am now thinking it was more of a desperate kind of love. I was desperately seeking some kind of attention, validation from someone outside of myself. I was desperately looking for someone to save me from my messes-- to fix the problems around me with love. I thought m would do that for me. I had to do it for myself, and I am happy for that. I am glad that things didn’t work out w/ m, looking back, thinking about what my life could have been with him. It seems boring. We didn’t share any gut-aching laughs together. I used to laugh at him constantly, but it was at his awkward nature- he wasn’t trying to be funny and was always put off by me laughing at him. It was always so somber, serious, full of hurdles of various sorts to overcome. So negative, and the odds were never in our favor to him and I was always the one urging him to believe despite the odds. I threw myself into the relationship despite knowing well that there were certainly many things that bothered me about him. I let things slide because I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I was with m mostly b/c I didn’t want to be alone anymore, and because he spoon-fed me compliments that made up for my lack of self-esteem. When m and I broke up, I was in such agony because I had to deal w/ me and the mess I had made. All the fake self-esteem was gone, and I had to figure out how to get the real deal. I can’t say I always worked really hard this past year in doing those things, but I explored many different options. I found out what worked, what didn’t work, and I ended up being a completely different person, but the person who I’ve known I could be. I feel sad for the person I was when I was with m. I am probably making a bigger deal out of it than it was in reality, but I cant even recognize that person anymore. I guess I had to be that person to get to being who I am now, but it’s a total nightmare to think about. I let myself get that bad. I was lazy and careless with myself. I’ve learned to take care of myself, appreciate myself, and definitely love myself again. I feel more in touch with reality, and ready for whatever will happen in the future. I feel like I’ve made it to the top of a mountain, and there are plenty more mountains for me to climb. I’ve been studying people, and picking out pieces that I like about them, and it warms my heart to the core. I’ve been picking out desirable traits in people and trying to construct some loose idea of what I expect out of a romantic relationship, actually relationships in general. As of now, I’ve come to the conclusion that I simply cannot settle for less. That can no longer be an option for me. I’ve tossed the idea back and forth many times, and I think it definitely is important for me to be in a relationship with a man who is as intelligent as I am. I thought for awhile that I was simply expecting too much, and it was impossible for me to find a man who is as smart as I am just based on the odds. It always bothered me that m was not as smart as I am. I wanted so badly for him to be like me in that aspect. I lied to myself, I pretended that it didn’t matter. I wanted him to know a great many things, to have that thirst for knowledge everywhere. To be able to think like me with the same vigor. It never happened. I was proud of him when he spoke intelligently, and I complimented him, but I always felt superior. I’m not good at playing dumb, though I tried to play dumb to feed his ego. Very rarely did he say something that I considered to be profound, or that I couldn’t have said better myself. It made me feel disconnected from him. Especially while I was awake at night thinking about how I was going to change the world, and so excited about it and seriously imagining him as just a personal assistant to me in the future as he slept so lifelessly beside me. I thought he would be an excellent companion for me as I change the world, but never did I take him seriously enough to be a partner in doing so. I wanted to. I tried to. But it was never in my heart. I so desire a partner with the same aspirations as me. I’m surprised that m and I were even able to last as long as we did. I was always trying to cheer him up and now looking back on things, he seemed like such a broken man, so dead to so many things. I avoided eye contact with him constantly because the eyes looking back at me were so heartbreakingly sad, and I was already sad enough. I had hoped he would blossom like a flower. That’s a reoccurring problem in my relationships-- seeing the potential, desiring to wait for it, and it never arrives. I think people generally stay pretty much the same personality wise- actually based on psychological studies, personalities are relatively consistent, so it’s probably a good idea for me to find a man that I like for who he is and now for who he could be. I think that is a realistic goal. I want a man who I can laugh with, but also be serious with in a matter of seconds. I thought for awhile, after all of the disappointing relationships, that I wouldn’t be able to have my cake and eat it to- that I needed to just find a man who was nice to me. Those thoughts led me to m. For the most part, m was nice to me. Polite would be a more appropriate word. I was polite to him in return, always feeling like I wasn’t nearly as polite as he was, and I was fortunate to be with a man who excused my poor behavior, my unladylike ways. I don’t feel like that anymore. I do love myself, and I am happy with how I interact with people, and I don’t feel like there’s anything about me that I should feel ashamed of. It all comes back to finding an equal. M and I loved each other deeply, but we did not understand one another. M is a good person, he is a smart person, and a great father and great teacher, but he is not like me. It was especially difficult being from different countries, in the sense that before really being in a relationship with me, he had mostly sour ideas about Americans in general, and even while we were in a relationship. It was sort of ok while we were together because I wasn’t happy with my country either, but it certainly wasn’t healthy for me to go along with it. In the past year, I’ve learned what being American means to me, and it is something that I feel proud of and I now embrace because I cannot escape it, and life is much better loving than wasting so much time and energy being hateful. I had been surrounded by so much negativity, and I have always been such a positive person, and it was all rubbing off on me very easily. I let it happen, I’m not blaming anyone else but myself. I was trying to help people who were very different from me to get out of the dangerous situations they got themselves into and appreciate life and make the most of it- but it was just bringing me down, and their negativity was rubbing off on me. I was constantly feeling grumpy and shoving those feelings deep inside, or literally running down the street as fast as I could into the darkness with hot tears streaming down my face to release those unpleasant emotions. I am so happy that things worked out the way that they did, and those negative people are no longer in my life, and a wave of positive, wonderful people who I have the utmost appreciation and respect for have, by happenstance, rushed into my life and are impacting me in the most amazing ways possible and I am allowing good things to happen to me. It’s cause for celebration. A new friend gave me some wonderful advice. He told me to just be. I must admit, it sounded a bit silly at first, but I kept repeating the words in my head, and all of the tremendous worry and anxiety I had felt so weighed down by for so long has been lifted. For awhile now, I have desired to have a female BFF. My ex beff is a total mess, and I finally had to walk away from that disaster not b/c I wanted to but b/c I had to. Shockingly, almost as soon as my ex bff exited, I received a new BFF who is much better than any bff I could’ve ever wished for. The power of scavenging electrons coming together for a common purpose is a natural occurrence that happens so quietly every day without many people paying much notice. I see it in action. It’s beauty. It’s true love.