Day 8

Biting into a Chessman cookie and sipping green tea is akin to the aftermath of an orgasm--endorphins and all.

I'm calm and balanced.

I wish I was better at hugging

I dreamt that you were leaving and I wasn't overwhelmed with disappointment or with missing you but the feelings were still there nonetheless. You left but time passed and you returned, much to my surprise, and hugged me. It wasn't any ordinary hug, it was a hug that meant that you would think of me and that I meant something to you. One of those lingering bear hugs.

I don't know why you continue to appear in my dreams, perhaps I project my desires onto you in them. Or perhaps I still have unfinished business with my emotions dealing with you. All I know is that when I think of you, my eyes get glassy and I have to choke back the desire to sob.

Day 7

It's time to disappear. Poof!

Day 6

I have no wise words. I have no comforting actions. I have nothing.

Yet, I am blessed to be part of your life.

I forget sometimes

Whether it's between parent and child, sibling and sibling, friend and friend, lover and lover, human and animal, human and god

Love is beautiful.

I'll take it easy this time.

Suck It

Psh. It don't matter; there are more important issues at hand.

Reading & maybe get cracking on GREs and grad school nonsense.

Kaká, you are the man of my wet dreams. I will miss you in the next game.

Damn Coincidences. Damn Them to Hell.

I'm happy and upset that I hastily deleted your number for the umpteenth time. Last night, as I was making s'mores with Bri, I was looking up at the stars and I wondered how you were. If I had your number, I would have texted and told you that I missed you. But that's why I deleted your number in case I wanted to do stupid things like that.

There are two emotions warring inside of me.

I dreamt last night that I was holding a bunny in my arms and for some reason it turned into a little girl. She was either going to leave me or be taken away. I don't remember why, but I started to cry. I was crying so deeply and intensely that I was convulsing with sobs. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I was distraught and almost started to actually cry.

In my next dream, I was verbally berating a guy for something he did. All this anger and viciousness spilled out of me and I wanted to cut him with as many harsh words as I could think of. I remember saying something along the lines of scooping his eyeballs out with a spoon. Actually, now that I think back, I might have ended up punching him over and over like he was a bobo doll, except, he didn't keep getting back up.

My favorite text of the week:
Victor-Man if he saw you with me he would be all jealous and what not. That's just what I do. Make bfs jealous and angry even though he aint your bf. Why settle for punching him when you can knock him out if you just ask victor nicely? And maybe some flowers too

Thanks for having my back fool.

So please God. Keep me from distractions and help me focus.

Why are you crying
Did I say something wrong
Weren't we just talking
Tell me what's going on

Cause I'm pretty sure my intentions
Were nothing more than conversation
Maybe you just needed someone
To listen to your heart

Maybe I spoke too soon
Maybe I said too much
Now that my face is blue
Think it's time I listen up
I've already said enough

Sometimes I do this
Thing is I'm so afraid
When it gets quiet
What you might have to say

Cause I'm guilty of
Overcompensation
I'm lost in my
Own translation
I apologize, I know I
Should listen to your heart

Chorus

There isn't anything that I could say
Not a word to get in the way
Of you, Of You, I am listening

Why do I even bother to hold my breath?

I feel guilty about what I did, but then I think back about all the things you did and again what you did last night. You deserve it.

You make me bitter and I don't ever want to be bitter. I'm not that kind of a girl.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I dreamt about G yesterday. I was in math class with him and I sat behind him, and seeing him calmed me down.

I don't know how quite to put it, but lately I look to people from my past for some solidarity.

If Only

Image Source

within me?

Recently, I've been walking to my dad's store because my aunt keeps telling me to get some exercise (she's scared my ass is going to get wider). When I get to his store, I wait around an hour or so for him to close up and then we walk home together. The first time I visited, I was wearing flats and he ended up speed walking. At first, I complained, asking why he was walking so quickly, but, instead of diminishing his speed, he just made fun of me. He continuously remarked on how slow I was, but I retorted that I wasn't wearing any sneakers!

I wanted him to slow down because it was such a beautiful day. I wanted him to absorb things and take a look around. Take everything in. Though, I eventually sped walked with him. However, I did try to persuade him to carry me like how he used to when I was a kid. But he ignored me as usual.

Yesterday, I wore a skirt and sneakers that were more for looks than for running. I thought this time, I'm ready to walk with my dad. Of course, he decided to jog instead of walk. Hence, I ended up jogging in my skirt beside him along Queens Blvd. Even though, it sounds absolutely ridiculous, it felt really good. I miss hanging out with my dad. He doesn't speak much, but when he does, he either tries to impart wisdom or crack a joke. For example, he always makes some sly comment on how I must suck at volleyball because I can't even keep up with his old ass.

But when I'm with my dad, I feel safe. I don't have to act; I can be. All the caution and masks fall, leaving me feeling weightless.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was reading age old emails last night because Victor brought up a confession I sent him in 2004. I remember typing the subject line, but I could not for the life of me remember the contents until I read it. It was the most painful thing I have ever read. I was literally moaning in agony because I sound so naive and young and fucking stupid. I started to look through other emails and I have quite a few from everyone from my past, especially from Day. Reading back, Day and I have gotten through a lot of emotional boy drama.

One particular one made me laugh hysterically: on Triangle not drinking, " WHAT?! Okay Pauline, what is this, you can't hook up with a pussy."

There was an email from Gary that I kept, but I barely remember. It makes me want to go back in time and say sorry and tell him I was such a stupid friend, even if he did screw up.

If I apologized right now, would it mean anything? Because I'm really sorry.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm extremely grateful for the people in my life, the genuinely good ones. No matter how jaded they become, I know they would never intentionally hurt me because at the core of their being, they don't know how to be anything but good.

It's funny how I can talk to guys on the phone for hours and make that connection that I adamantly wanted, but we're not in that romantic situation. Whereas the one I would like to stay up late talking to, can't even bother with me. It reminds me AGAIN that it's not worth it and that this is why I prefer older guys.

who caused such a ruckus

A man with red hair and a goatee was sitting across from me on the train. He had on red and grey sneakers, but was business casual. He was listening to his mp3. He must have been listening to some dance music because he was moving his feet and rolling his shoulders. He also moved his arms like he was shifting a car into reverse. At one point, I swear he was pulling a weird dance move--like in Hitch--with his left arm straight out. It was such an awkward scene to witness; I had to hold in my laughter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Barnes & Noble, a man was dressed in drab colors near the entrance. I don't think I would have taken a second glance at him; however, as I passed by the table of books, I saw that he was kneeling. He was kneeling in order to affectionately kiss the cheek of a girl toddler. She scrunched up her face, but I could tell she loved that man because she didn't resist.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a teenager across from me as I was traveling to the city. He was wearing a gold Catholic cross. When I was traveling back home, a woman across from me was wearing a silver version of the same cross.

I know that it's not a big deal. I know that the Catholic cross is a common symbol. But I couldn't stop wishing that you were sitting next to me so that I could turn to you and smile, and kiss you, and cradle your cross in my hand, and then kiss you again.

I dreamt about you last night. I woke up and knew you weren't beside me. At times like these, I wish you had taken me.

Was it you

I type this now because I have gotten past it. I type this now because I don't expect the person this is about to read it.

When I attended that IV large group meeting months ago, I felt that God was speaking to me for once. The lesson was about how God gives you what you need, but may not give you what you want because what you want could end up harming you. God can see the larger picture, while you (me) only see that one piece of it. It's one of those lessons that comes off as commonsense, but one I forget and ignore often.

I didn't feel that I deserved you. I know that sounds degrading to myself, but I mean that I could feel that you were meant for someone else. That night, I prayed. I prayed with my heart that I would get over you and that you would find the right person. But even though, I tried my hardest to get over you at the time, I still wanted you. I still hoped. Every time I saw your name, it made my heart twinge and I didn't want to hear anything about you. I didn't want to know how great you were and how many things you were doing. I didn't want to think about you anymore.

So that when you were brought up again, I didn't recognize you.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night, I was talking with Tom and he told me that someone waited for him for 8 years, but eventually ended up marrying his best friend. This statement makes me sad for many different reasons.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

God, where will you take me now?

You ruined this for me

Image Source

Time to float away from you.

"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are those 'It might have been.' "
-John Greenleaf Whittier

I've been thinking about eyes lately, how you can really tell what someone is thinking or what they're feeling by the look they give you. I dislike the quote about the eyes being the windows to the soul because it's been overused, but it's pretty damn accurate.

When I really care enough or when I want to convey something without saying, I'll give a look, hoping to fill it with how I'm feeling. It's sort of a secret into my psyche. Sometimes the most important things I want to say don't come out verbally because to speak them would ruin my pride. Perhaps, that's why all my characters are always in a situation where they can't speak out. One day, my character will be able to articulate herself/himself. Instead of having life deal with my character, my character will deal with it (a mirroring of my own wistful thinking).

"Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?"
-Da Vinci is the Man

Coraline was disturbingly good

There's a phone scene in a different movie I was watching, where the guy calls the girl because he's worried about her. He calls and says that he wants to hear her voice to reassure himself that she's okay.

It reminds me of when I'm worrying too much at night and I need to talk to someone. And if there is someone that I like at the moment, I'll call them. I must say, personally, that one of the most disappointing feelings in life is to wait and listen to a phone ring only to eventually hear their voice mail. It isn't even about having that person console you, it's about hearing their voice. It's a remedy in itself.

I just want to hear your voice. Can't I at least have that?

Maybe Not

Ann and Juanes were walking in front of me yesterday. (I happen to be surrounded by couples lately, and I can't help but observe their interactions.) They weren't holding hands; instead, they had their pinkies hooked and somehow that was more intimate than holding hands.

Later on that night, when rain was falling, a boy was upset and he was standing near the train tracks. His girlfriend was obviously nearby, but didn't want to interrupt his mood. Finally when she came to her senses, she realizes that she should be by his side. She starts running down to him. What a sight. Truly. The world crying and in misery, and this girl sprints, with her legs kicking up, to her boyfriend.

It was one of those moments where you have to appreciate the genuine feeling of caring for someone because when you like someone you sacrifice and sacrifice and, when you see that you have given up so much, you're still willing to do it over again.

Don't I deserve this? Don't I deserve some stability? Some real passion and real affection. Don't I deserve to have someone willing to situate himself fully in my life?

And don't you deserve this too? Don't you deserve a girl willing to run to you because she cares so much she can't bare not to?

Image Source

I have a lot of hope, for now and the future.

Thank you.

My heart isn't in it. Where's the depth?

At this moment in time, I am happy.

Dame lo que quiero.

My dad is a "master ironer" and was called in by my aunt to assist me. As I watched my dad patiently iron my dress shirt, I realized how great of a husband he probably was or at least what a great catch he must have been. He's been in various occupations so he knows how to cook, clean, iron, sew, etc. Moreover, he likes to keep in shape and he's pretty decent looking, even for an old geezer.

And I would like to say that I hope to find someone like him, someone that has all these qualities, but I rather not. Of course, it would be nice to find someone who's as capable as my dad, but there's one quality that I love about him: his patience to deal with my crazy. Out of everyone, he's the only one who really knows how moody I truly am. He's seen me at my worst: my immaturity, my anger, my pettiness, my selfishness, and my hate. Yet, he still loves me. He could have ditched me; yet, he's still around (maybe not around a whole lot but nonetheless around).

So, please, stick it out with me. Don't let my atrocious personality keep you from sticking it out with me. I promise once I'm comfortable and secure, I'll be worthwhile. (I'm probably talking to a brick wall here.)

And I'm pretty sure I just saw two Asians about to get their freak on. Too bad they decided that a third Asian watching was too much and closed the blinds. Insert sad face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bonne Nuit

Image Source

Even though, I think you're a promiscuous dickhead whose gonads should be ripped out...I still wish, foolishly, that I was where you are.

God. Being a girl means all kinds of stupid.

Organizing my shit, so that I can reorganize my life. Whomp, whomp!