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The Southern Trash ChroniclesMemoirs of Palm Beach County's Bastard Child |
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| Sep. 21st, 2009 @ 10:10 pm I Hope You Had the Time of Your Life. | |||
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| In the midst of the most boring year of my life, I find myself in the most complicated situation of life. One in which my character, morals and beliefs are all put on the line--but it somehow all seems worth it. After two days in jail, The Spaniard called me as soon as he was released. I became unnerved and shaken when the phone call came and had to take it outside, away from the Other Boy... Within an hour of the call, the Other Boy and I began fighting. It all stemmed from his negativity, his comments, his neediness. I grew tired and cranky and snapped. Normally during our fights when I take off, I end up coming back within an hour. But this time I had a destination in mind. The entire drive to the Spaniard's I felt no nervousness, no building guilt. It was as though I'd done it several times before. It reminded me of when The Other Boy and I began our relationship nearly five years ago, getting the butterflies as I turned on to Village Boulevard (coincidentally the Spaniard lives on the same street that the Other Boy did when we started dating.). Within a split second of opening the door, he kissed me. His lips were cold and sent a shock through my body that said "this is really happening." We met up with friends for a Cajun dinner and a 3-D movie, the entire time concealing our affection due to my lack of readiness. The greatest part was that he was so enthusiastic the entire meal, loving the dinner and proclaiming that movie (which happened to be the screen adaptation of my favorite childhood book) "the best" he'd ever seen. We held our desire in that night until I thought I would burst. We had one of the most passionate evenings I'd ever encountered; the mere touch of his skin evoking a burning sensation where he touched. He did things I didn't even imagine. Once again, I felt young, alive, and exploding with fervor. Making sure to maintain control, I rejected his invitation to stay and insisted that I go home. When I walked in the Other Boy was sitting at his computer. I'm not even sure if he ever stopped to look up at me between my arriving home and collapsing into bed to fall asleep. The next morning I went back to The Spaniards, then stayed for two incredible days. The sex is incredible, passionate and so far different from the mechanical motions I've endured on occasion these past few months. But that isn't it. He treats me like a woman like nobody ever has before. I've grown so used to being a caretaker, a nurturer, tough and prepared for the next big blowout. I don't even know how to handle it. I feel almost strangely unworthy of such treatment. He showed me one caring gesture after another. I was in awe. I've forgotten how to take compliments (and he's full of them) and let somebody get inside. He opens doors, he does whatever he can to help me and take care of me. I suppose this can run out and end in time, the way these things usually do, but I don't ever remember mattering this much... We've both agreed because of past love situations, we refuse to fall in love. We are so intensely alike. Because I know I can never fully give myself to him, I keep a great deal of me closed off, but he just ignores it. At first, I thought he just didn't notice or didn't care. Today we were driving and he told me he wanted to get me into romantic Italian and Spanish music because he's discovered that I'm a lot more romantic than he'd originally thought. When I asked him what his original thoughts were, he said, "I thought you were colder, but I see it in you now. You have all of that love, passion and romanticism in you.. You're just scared to let it out." I just looked at him. He continued, "it's because you've had to hold it in. You've grown accustomed to that American kind of love." I laughed. "Well, I haven't been known to be with the most romantic and affectionate types of men. But I guess that's been ok. I was raised to be pretty tough and guard myself." With that, he shifted his eyes from the road to me and responded, "you've been through a lot of shit. I can see it in your eyes, your face. You have this constant look of... I dunno, I just feel it." Behind my sunglasses, my eyes watered up. (He knows very little of my life, oddly enough.) I suddenly felt vulnerable and sad, but within minutes, he made me smile and laugh. I adore that quality. He is always on. He can be high-strung and temperamental, but even as friends, he always had the dedication and energy it took to put me in a good mood. And most of all, we can talk and relate. The older it is, the harder it becomes to find that. Before I left, we planned for tomorrow. He would wash my car, then we'll spend the evening drinking Italian red wine and talking about our lives. How cool is that? (Especially for a Taurus. hah.) I didn't want to leave him and he didn't want me to leave, but I had to come back to my home at The Other Boy's. I could no longer put off telling him what he needed to be told. I got here about two hours ago. He isn't home. He texted me once in my three days of absence to see what was going on. I was brief. I knew he didn't care enough to pursue it any further. (He was probably just hungry or wanted the floor mopped.) My whole way home, I rehearsed what I would say, and it wasn't until then that I felt any remorse for my actions. I wouldn't take them back, for some reason, but I just wish there was a way I could send him off on his merry way without any hurt. I would love to fast forward through the next 24 hours. I'm sure they will be difficult. I am not a bad person. I know I've done a pretty despicable thing and feel a great amount of shame. Not for doing something I swore I would never do (the truth is: life is a series of events in which you do the things you never thought you would)--but because I've broken my loyalty to someone I swore it to. That is something I've honestly never done in nearly 24 years. An inevitable truth in love is that you will somehow always hurt the ones you love, and as a result of the attached guilt, you are forced to examine your inner workings... I don't know why I did it. I've always sworn that there was no excuse for cheating "no matter what," but now I see things in a different light. Sometimes there are gray areas in these situations. People grow apart, love changes shape, the lines of communication are down. I truly have nothing to say for myself except that I just felt starved. There is no other way I can put it. | |||
| Sep. 17th, 2009 @ 01:44 am A Significant Breach of Faith (among other sins...) | |||
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Sounds: "The Strange Museum" by Paul Weller
"Never say never," he told me, upon my proclamation that I "have never and would never cheat on anyone." And just a couple of months later, he's proven me wrong. (We'll call him "The Spaniard.") We met in March in a class on financial analysis. What should have been the most boring class in the duration of my college studies turned out to be the most fun and amazing due to the friendships made that quarter. I mean, it was GREAT. The entire class (which only consisted of 10 of us) became really close and started hanging out together... I never once entertained the thought of him in that way. For starters, he is a fellow Latino; Venezuelan-born, European-raised. With his tan skin, dark hair, tall and strong stature, and clear green eyes, he always reminded me of a handsome boxer-type. Not the kind I would fawn over, but the kind most other women would... One day we began talking and he asked if he could smoke a bowl with me. The rest is history. Our friendship grew, he dated another classmate, and nothing was ever considered. Besides, something about his aura reminded me greatly of my father and that tends to be a turn-off.Roughly two weeks ago, after not seeing each other for a week, I went to his apartment and something was different. Suddenly, some bizarre attraction was there that never had been before. I thought it was just me--that maybe I was having one of those days where I was so deprived of sex, any man would look good--but then he began texting me. Flirtatious texts, talking about how we're both crazily passionate and right for each other. I got weirded out and told him to stop. He said he was disappointed, but when I saw him the next day at school, he was completely respectful. It was as though nothing had happened. Strangely enough, I began noticing all of these attributes he had that I was sexually attracted to. It both frightened and excited me to think about how like-minded we are. I figured it was only a matter of time and neither of us were to be trusted. Last weekend, a few friends and I went to Orlando for a culinary convention. He drove. We slept in the same hotel room. I thought I would be anxious, but nothing happened. We were so busy, it never crossed our minds. When we got home, he texted "I miss you" to me. I haven't been able to stop the lustful thoughts ever since. All day in class yesterday we exchanged sideways glances. After an exam, a few of us went back to his place. Once everyone left, it was just us (and his roommate in the other room). We had a deep talk about his past. He was brought up in a very wealthy Spaniard family and was always the black sheep; "the trouble maker." Because of his family's affluence, he has lived in so many places (Spain, Italy, Cuba, etc.) and experienced so many things. It's also gotten him into a lot of trouble. We come from totally different upbringings but we share our deeply-rooted "misplaced thug" mentality. He spoke about the things that haunted him. I laughed because I was high and the sight of un hombre machismo confessing to the things that made him cry seemed so funny at the time. It was something so novel. He wanted to get mad at me, but I could tell he couldn't. There are certain glances that convey everything. Especially in those with eyes you can practically see through. I knew before he even walked me to my car that it would only be a matter of time before he texted me. I barely made it out of the neighborhood before it began. It started out perfectly innocent: kind words of friendship and gratitude for my open ear. Once I got home, The Other Boy was on his throne (computer chair), which he never leaves. No attention or communication from him, as usual. It only made me crave The Spaniard more. As we continued to write messages back and forth, he said he wished the two of us could hang out alone more. I told him I couldn't trust him. He promised he would never act out of line, so I told him maybe it was me who couldn't be trusted. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. After that, it was nothing but romantic outpourings and a formal request to date. But that wasn't what I wanted. That wasn't what I needed. Almost five years of dating The Other Boy, the last thing I know I'll ever need again (until The Boy, God Willing) is a relationship. So I told him EXACTLY what it was I wanted and needed, in the most explicit of terms... The messages between us went back and forth for nearly two hours, getting so intense and hot, that I forgot the Other Boy was even in the same room. (Not that it mattered since his eyes never leave his computer monitor, anyway.) I became so incredibly turned on and involved that it didn't even matter to me if I got caught. What I was doing gave me such an incredible rush, that it seemed worth the repercussions. When I was done, I told him I was going to bed. He asked me to come to his apartment before school the next morning. I agreed. The whole drive there, I battled with myself. Not because I was ignoring the voice that was telling me what I was doing was wrong, but because I didn't hear that voice at all and it worried me. I kept wondering how my relationship with the Other Boy had been reduced to so little value. I felt completely justified for all the pain he'd put me through, all the negligence, all the lack of intimacy. "He had it coming," I told myself. When I got to The Spaniard's apartment, I noticed his car wasn't there. I called him, but his phone was off. I began to drive home, but somehow knew I wasn't being rejected. Something just wasn't right. Maybe it was God's way of giving me a chance to turn around before I become the kind of person I hated; a lying cheat. When I got to school later that morning, he wasn't there either. No one had heard from him. When I got out of class, I saw that I'd missed a call from his phone and had a voicemail. When I checked it, it was his mother saying that a "serious family emergency" has occurred and that she went through his messages on the phone and saw the ones back and forth between us. She went on to say that I am no good for her son because I am not a girl who respects herself, stop calling him, et cetera. You know, just the thing every girl wants to hear from the mother of a potential fling. (What a cock block. UGH.) Anyway, I became very worried, so I called his roommate to make sure he was okay, since his mother spent her voicemail scolding me rather than letting me know whether or not her son was okay. The roommate though he was with me, so he called The Spaniard's mother. "He's in jail," he told me, voice audibly upset. Turns out he went out to Wellington to see his mother and sister early that morning, and at some point, took his sister to the gas station. While there, the two began arguing and the cops were called. I tried to stop at the jail to see if he was okay, but it was not visiting day, so I had to leave. I went on the Sheriff's office website when I got home to find out that he was booked at the exact time we were supposed to meet that day on charges of "battery." I wish I had answers. So I spent most of the night confused. Thinking and wondering why I want this person so much, even after he gets thrown in county on the day of our first planned tryst. It isn't rocket science, though. It all boils down to one thing: he's different. He is the kind of person I normally would have no interest in, but I am attracted to how different he is from the Other Boy. He's passionate, exciting, cultured, has seen the world and experienced so much. He likes to go out. He's social. He's sensual and sexual. He cooks me amazing meals and we speak in Spanish to one another. We can talk about God, values, and mistakes and I don't feel judged or looked down upon the way I do with the Other Boy. He speaks to me in Italian and sends me the most romantic messages in Spanish. We both are culinarians. He plans on moving to Spain after graduation to become a sommelier and an apprentice at a vineyard. His plan is to own his own one day and become a vintner of red wines. He's got ambition. He's confident. He's worldly, street smart, and possesses one of the quickest and most business-inclined brains I've ever had the joy of picking. He gives a shit about my life enough to ask me about it and how I see certain things. He always talks about my mind. He pays attention to the things I say. He's hot headed, jealous and temperamental. He is a lot like a male version of me. We even look alike in many ways. If not for the differences, I think a large aspect of my attraction to him comes from the twisted senses of vanity and narcissism that Freud believed we're all terribly guilty of. I wish I could say I that I feel terrible for all of these thoughts and for my lack of guilt. I feel a great sense of urgency to see him and it upsets me that I can't talk to him while he is in jail (though I'm sure he'll be released tomorrow). No, we have not had inappropriate physical contact yet, but I am pretty sure that we will. I wish that my love for The Other Boy was stronger than my lust for anyone else (it always had been), but it's not. My love is tired, neglected, and dusty. I am not blaming him for it. No one puts a gun to your head and tells you to be unfaithful. It's definitely something you choose. But it is hard to deny yourself good feelings, passion, attention and intimacy elsewhere when the person you're with denies you of such basic needs. I'm not sure when I'll tell the Other Boy the truth, but I know I will, as we are obviously coming to a screeching halt. I just want to feel young, attractive, free and in the moment. I have never had that chance because love has always gotten in the way. I just want the chance to be young and reckless like everyone else. I'm tired of being the one to always sacrifice. It has left me so unhappy... I know that there is only one man in this world that I will ever truly love. And I can't have him now because life has just worked out in a funny way. I'm bored with longing and desperation. All I crave right now is fervency and satisfaction. Life is too short. | |||
| Sep. 13th, 2009 @ 11:49 pm (no subject) | |||
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Feelings:
Being close to 24 feels so old. I live a simple life in a cottage with the Other Boy and our two dogs. I spend my days at school, my nights waitressing, and struggle to make ends meet--just like everyone else. This mundane domesticity isn't--nor was it ever or will it ever be--me. I just want to see every inch of this word, eat the food of every culture, and listen to music every night of my life. Busting my ass for $40 bucks a night, only to come home and do laundry and cook dinner, just isn't what I ever had in mind (or heart). A 9-to-5 and a suburban lifestyle is not part of God's plan for me.... I've noticed how when I'm in a position that I don't feel is right for me, I tend to act out of character. I feel less responsible for the lifestyle I live when it's one I feel is out of my control. Like an out-of-body experience, I see myself doing the things that I normally wouldn't (or even considering them), but never stop myself from doing them because--in essence--it's "not me." Here I am, a faithful woman considering infidelity (even if just lightly); a hard worker considering the easy way out. I yearn for the things I don't have, and they are many. drainedSounds: "In Ohio: by Joseph Arthur I am going to see U2 in Tampa next month. I know it will rattle my heart. There is no way I won't feel Him and God there. No way at all. You are mine. Even if we are different people now. The Boy is still Christina's. Christina is still The Boy's. Every inch of you is as familiar to me now as it was when we were children. I know your beauty marks, the lines in the outer corners of your eyes when you laugh with all of your heart, the way you feel about yourself. I was never too concerned about being a stranger to you. Not then, not even now. Faith, hope and love breed familiarity and cover all wrongs and distance. I am yours. | |||
| Jun. 30th, 2009 @ 04:21 am Dear Boy, | |||
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Feelings:
I miss you so fucking much--it's killing me. It's 4:30 in the morning and I can't sleep. All I can focus on is this excruciating ache I feel inside. I dreamed of you a few nights ago. I told you I wanted to marry you and have your children. "But I'm already married," you said. I was terribly confused and panic stricken by your response. We were in a corridor with people passing. You seemed put off by me, but I felt an extreme urgency. To grab ahold of you. To kiss you. To place my head in the crook of your chest and stain your gray cotton shirt with my tears. I thought that somehow it might've been the last chance in my life to press against you, to feel the body I believed God made as an equal of mine. I had no choice--I embraced you tightly, sobbing into you. It seemed like hours as I cried my heart out over everything I'd undergone in these past twelve years of knowing you. I thought about us being children, our innocence, the burning mission from Christ. I thought of my planning and the life I'd imagined for us once I got to Tulsa. I thought about how you still felt like mine, even when other women consumed you. I thought about how you broke my heart far beyond what I ever could've predicted or imagined... I waited for you to push me away, but you never did. Instead you let me hold tightly to you, sobbing and heaving. You knew how much I deserved to be able to hold you, how just that moment gave me more than anything else you'd ever given me.... The next thing I remember of the dream was having dinner with your family and your friends, but you never showed. I sat waiting for you, feeling out of place, but you never came. (And so has been the story of my life.) crushedEver since I woke up from that dream, I keep having to find places to hide so that I may cry in peace. It feels like you were here and now you're gone; I am left with a pain I don't know how to remedy. A pain not unlike the one you rendered unto me in youth, when your impulsiveness decided to destroy the plan. I keep praying to God, begging for a miracle: either take away my love and help me move on or fix it all. My greatest fear in the whole wide world is that this is unfixable. Nothing is bigger than God, I know, but this has gotten so much bigger and harder than I was ever prepared for. I need you now. I need to talk to you about music and this intense sense of loss I feel (and I know that you do too). I need to know we will travel the world together when we have enough money and life quiets down. I need you to tell me the truth: that you feel the same sense of emptiness that I do. I need to cry into your chest and breathe you in. I need to know you as a man, and not as the boy I remember you as. I need you to love, respect and be proud of me as a woman. I need to know that I am exactly what you need. I need you to admit you were wrong. But most of all, I need to talk to you about God and how much I've always known. Even in the midst of all the noise that surrounds you, I know you hear it too. LOVE IS PATIENT. All of my Heart, The Girl | |||
| Jun. 25th, 2009 @ 09:18 pm Life: Full of All the Things You Never Consider | |||
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Feelings:
Michael Jackson died today... Feels unreal, like it's a mistake. One of those bizarre internet rumors that sweep through like a whirlwind, only to be proven false the next day... I remember being a little bitty thing, obsessed with my copy of "Dangerous" (I went through two because I wore out the first one), sending Jacko valentines and taping his TV concert specials religiously. One of my favorite memories of my childhood was sitting in the living room of Mama's trailer, jamming out to Miachel Jackson with Poppy... Incredible how when a figure from your childhood passes on, a part of your childhood does too--until it's all gone and then you're the next thing to go. gloomyIn other news, I am still jobless and incredibly poor... Like Greenacres poor. Things with the Other Boy have been tense lately. Girls always like boys like their daddies, and I am no exception. Though he's matured and become appreciative of me in many ways, I find that his irritability has increased with age tremendously. In all, it is a tumultuous relationship full of boring quiet nights and the occasional outburst where drawers full of my belongings get thrown into the middle of the street.. You know, the ush... That aside, life is calm for me. Gumbo keeps me happy. My unnaturally passionate motherly love towards her makes me fear for my future (overly protected and mildly disciplined) children. I would kill to travel right now. This Floridian summer heat is suffocating. I was supposed to go to New Orleans this week, but that fell through. This will be the first summer in many where I've gone nowhere. If I had the money right now, I'd be on the first flight to Morocco--a la Penny Lane. | |||
| Apr. 30th, 2009 @ 11:43 pm My, My.. How Far I've Come, How Little I've Done. | |||
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Feelings:
I never thought I'd see the day where I write in this old thing, in the tiny box I unofficially share with the Other Boy... Where is my garden of daffodils? The sound of piano echoing down my halls? The dry Tulsa air in my lungs? gloomySounds: "Grace" by Jeff Buckley Not a single belief I had in younger days was foolish. At one time, I had this direct connection to God; fearless, confident, sure of everything. I can't point out where we went wrong. Nor can I pick out the distinct moment where I covered my ears upon hearing God's voice.. All I know is where it's gotten me.... Everyone is getting married. Engaged, married, children... I feel all this pressure, like I'm supposed to do these things, however I haven't got the desire to. Not here. Not now. I know I was never "just a silly child." Everything I ever felt was righly so. I know that now. And I know it because now I can't even think of The Boy for more than a couple of seconds without crying. The ache of first love.. My God, it never goes away... Never. It can break your heart for the rest of your life if you let it. Songs, smells, words, and feelings. Such nostalgia can bring you to your knees. Thinking about having only one chance in life to capture that love to the fullest can downright bring yo to the floor.... I never let it hurt that that life isn't mine, or that I can't just pick up the phone and say what I need to with his voice on the other end. What kills me is living with something so powerful contained in this small place inside and never being able to look him in the face and say it. Never letting that power out is excruciating.. I got a puppy. The kind I've always wanted, a little Brussels Griffon. Crazy, I know. I'm unemployed to the saddest extent, but when I saw her I knew she was meant for me. I named her Ms. Gumbo. She is the greatest love in my life right now... I feel like I'm really her mother, it's crazy. The love and an attachment I feel towards her is overwhelming! She is beautiful, smart and my little baby. I thank God for her. She couldnt've come at a better time... It feels good to get some of that intense, crazy love out. | |||
| Mar. 9th, 2009 @ 11:57 pm You Can't Tell Me It's Not Worth Trying For. | |||
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Feelings:
Amazing that the only time I have left anymore is the time no one else has. My call-back list grows wider, the distance between me and everyone else grows longer. I wonder if and when I'll ever get the chance to bridge these ever-growing gaps. If only they (everyone I knew when I was young, everyone who made me better) knew just how much I need them--today more than ever... I am so terrified of losing those people who keep me authentic; the people who share those anecdotes about Greenacres and Hanson and my mother and sleepless nights discussing wild things... I cut off all my hair, I dyed it red and black, I got fake boobs, I quit the old safe job and got a new crazy one, I continue to be reckless with my own heart, I committed to a vocation, I gave a lot of myself away. . . . but I wish the world would understand that I am still that same little girl. I wish the world would stop moving some times so that I could catch my breath. I wish that I could stop moving sometimes, but I can't. I don't know how. I must go and go--in any particular direction, I cannot say--but I have to move or I feel that I've failed. contemplativeI just want what I've always wanted; and dear God, I don't know how the rest of life just allows itself to pile on top of those needs. And yes, they are needs. I need all of that like the rest of the world needs air, food, shelter... I wished the Other Boy understood. I wish that emotional gap was filled, that I felt understood and empathized with. I feel loved, but love is not enough. For anyone, especially not me... I heard that song tonight, driving home. It felt like I was singing it inside myself, every word echoing with an internal ache... I just want what I always wanted... Maybe I just need someone else to fight for me for once. Maybe I need someone to carry me there. I needed this. I needed a good cry, here in the middle of the night while everyone else is sleeping (and I should be as well), when I have to be up in a matter of hours. I rarely cry anymore; mainly because I never get the chance to stop, exhale and be aware of things outside of my realm. I just need God's grace.. and a light shone before my feet. | |||
| Jan. 23rd, 2009 @ 10:14 pm Exhale. | |||
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| I am very proud of myself for the person I've become, especially when I consider the person I felt I was a year or two ago, when I thought all of my hope had rolled out with the tides. I am stronger, wiser and more understanding than I probably ever have been; I see at twenty-three that the greatest gift my mother passed on to me was my survival instinct. I've sat miserably at a job where I've often felt under appreciated and disrespected. I felt the wick reach the wax and as I knew I was about to burn out, I told them I had to move on... So that's what I'm doing; I'm making a very necessary change. I cannot wear out. Not yet. Not sure what the change is--I'm sure it won't be a glamorous one considering the times--but it will be change. As for the rest, not much change, aside from more friends leaving. Jenn, one of my closest friends since childhood, is moving to Massachusetts with her boyfriend. I've said it once and I'll say it again: I never thought I would be the last to leave this place. The Other Boy and I have settled into our comfortable and virtually sexless (adult) relationship. Almost four years. Who would have thought? We went from young, passionate fools who spent half of their time breaking each others hearts and the other half making love, to more subdued, companions. We complain about our jobs over dinner, smoke shisha and watch stand-up comedy in bed, because we're too tired to go out. We never talk about the future--because frankly--neither one of us knows where or how we'll end up, but yet there's this comfort each takes in the other. For the past four years, we've fought all of our wars together as partners in battle; soldiers in the same ditch. Both virtual only children who don't understand their families and often feel let down by friends, the glue that has bound us has been our loyalty to one another. We don't always see eye to eye and we've had our share of ups and downs, but we always know that neither of us will ever abandon the other. I believe that's what friendship really is: assurance in someones presence, assurance in that they will be there. No matter the nature of the relationship or how it evolves, you have to believe that that person is part of your life, part of you, part of your story. It makes you less scared about the future. No one should ever have to go into the battlefield alone.... I wish I didn't take it to heart when people don't have the same attitude towards friendship that I have. Perhaps it is my own fault for expecting something that not all people are capable of doing... I've seen people go into the battlefield alone. None of those people make it out alive. Boy, you continue to mess up, continue to change... Who will we be when that day comes? If that day ever comes, God willing. | |||
| Nov. 8th, 2008 @ 09:02 pm Cookin 'n shit. | |||
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| It's been a little while, hasn't it? I've been so busy. I started culinary school a month-and-a-half ago and I absolutely LOVE it. There is no doubt in my mind that I am doing exactly what I'm meant to do. The only tough thing is that it's very time consuming. I work M-F from 8:30-5, then go to school from 6-10, full time. It's a long, hard, tiring week but I have tremendous faith that it will be worth it... It's strange, I feel like this new schedule is straining on relationships and being able to keep up with a lot of people and things, but at the same time, I feel that the ones that are the most important have just naturally stayed well. It's funny how when something's right in your life--be it people, things, situations--it just doesn't take a lot of work; it often comes naturally. As for the boy, I think things have been pretty good between us. With my limited time, he seems more appreciative of my presence--go figure. I am going to his family's for Thanksgiving, and his brother and sister-in-law have invited the both of us to visit them in Manhattan sometime in December. Right now I am worried about little except for my own future, and somehow, I am happier that way. I'm content right now, for the first time in a long time. Perhaps because I am too busy to sit down and pick apart what is wrong in my life; or perhaps because I am truly putting all of my heart in something and working towards something that I know will benefit ME, rather than putting all of my heart into other people and situations I can't control.... It's nice. | |||
| Aug. 25th, 2008 @ 09:15 pm Death | |||
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Feelings:
...is not something I understand yet. The death of my dog, BooBoo, three years ago still haunts me. I can still hear my grandmother screaming as I unpack my bags. I can still see his lifeless eyes shining from the outside light on my garage as he lay in the street. I can still feel the cold tile against my thighs as I sit on the floor of my closet (my safe place in that house) crying in shock. sadIt's not anything I can quite comprehend or absorb, yet it's all around me as of late. All of my friend's loved ones or family members, even clients are dropping like flies... My whole life I've known that I was an empath. I feel all this loss tremendously and it's affecting me... With each day, as I mature, I face more and more uncertainly. The supposed enlightenment that comes with young adulthood is bullshit. Your twenties are where you face uncertainty the most. (At least in your teens you don't suffer through the vulnerability of truly being on your own.) I think the only thing I have been made aware of thus far is this: Loss is the most awful thing in the world. Worse than pain, heartbreak, and fear combined. Loss is absolute. Loss is concrete. I keep crying and I'm not sure why. P.Lo's boyfriend died in a car accident while driving down to see her this weekend. She spoke to him just a couple of hours before it happened.. I spent the day with her yesterday, trying to console her, but realized I couldn't. Some things in life aren't fixable. Loss is one of them. Sure, time makes it hurt less, but that gap is never filled; that pain never goes away... I keep thinking about how none of us can ever be prepared to be blindsided by it. How it's unavoidable. I think this is why I get so upset when people show a lack of loyalty or concern; when friendships prove shallow and meaningless. I believe that friendship exists for this purpose: in times of joy, if there is no one to laugh with and bear witness to your great moment, it seems as though the great moments never happen at all; and if in times of great sadness we find no shoulder to cry on and no voice to speak words of comfort, well, then we just fall apart. | |||
| Aug. 18th, 2008 @ 03:59 pm I went all the way to Costa Rica to smoke American weed. | |||
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Feelings:
I got back from Costa Rica over the weekend. It was beautiful; a crazy country full of lovely culture, overhwleming heat, good food, and awful roads. We explored volcanoes, swam in hot springs and the Pacific Ocean, ziplined through the canopies of the rainforest, and four-wheeled around mountains and on the beach. I saw monkeys, oxen and hummingbirds. It was so incredibly beautiful and over far too fast... I am a naturally hyper and on-the-go-type of person who thrives on movement and production, but I find such contentment in sitting beside the ocean, sipping a Cuba libre. I could live all of life that way, I'm certain... In the end, it was an amazing experience and I enjoyed every second of it... Except for the long bumpy bus rides and the costly price of American weed (wtf? It's a mountainous country. Why don't they grow that shit there?!), I miss it. tiredI don't remember what I wrote last in here. Not sure if I mentioned how Mark's brother, Jesse, died last month. Teen's grandmother died earlier this month. Everyone and everything is dying. People, plans, hope... Hannah is leaving this week for a 10-month-long mission trip. I will truly miss her with all of my heart. She is one of the most kind, warm and genuine people I know; the kind of person that keeps my heart safe from becoming a product of "The World." ...And Arianna moved to Orlando while I was away. Teen's in Jersey. I am in such great need of nostalgic conversation and it seems like most of those who can provide me with that are far away. As for The Other Boy, things are well and the same. Lust kind of dissipates with time, and eventually, you become like that old couple you see walking on the beach that you know has no sex life, yet still think, "oh, how nice." As for The Boy, he still rapidly toils to make up for what he lacks... Our smiles all look the same in pictures. Can't quite label them or describe what they convey completely, but suppression of that feeling of emptiness or something being amiss is always evident in our faces. | |||
| Mar. 10th, 2008 @ 09:31 pm In Pisces. | |||
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| I am a woman now. At least that's what they tell me. I see friends of youth graduating college, getting married and having children. And I... Well, all I have to show for my twenty-two years is a good story to tell, a broken heart, and a top-of-the-line boob job (which I'm paying for myself, thankyouverymuch, in efforts to perfect and drastically change the imperfections I feel)... I am not Christina-Marie Blanco. I am an illustration of someone who resembles her; black hard lines lacking color and shading in the spaces; raw and without most of what makes a person beautiful and worth noticing. I am not a bad person, not even close. I am just a person who lacks much: love, drive, spirit, and all of the things it takes to differentiate Life from Existence. As I write this, I am crying, and I realize that I don't even remember the last time I cried. I don't remember the last time I felt anything so strongly I couldn't control my emotions. I don't remember what it was like to take care of me; to live and laugh with all of my heart. To know I was in the exact place God intended me to be at an exact time. All of my efforts of love and taking care of someone still go to the Other Boy. I haven't a clue why I feel it is my life's duty to be his savior, but every day for three years now I've found myself bending over backwards to save him from the world. Why? Because I see the lowest, most hidden parts of myself in him. He's that child in me--eyes open and unfortunately burdened--that no one protected. Unfortunately, most support and recovery groups would label me the "enabler." I've done nothing to truly construct him. Despite declaring me the "best thing that ever happened" to him, I don't know that he is in any better a place than he was the day I met him. I may be able to walk away knowing I've done him no service at all. I think that's what breaks my heart the most. At my expense--nothing... Some days he is the greatest human being I have ever known and fills my dusty soul with warmth. But other days--like today--I am left forlorn and disappointed in him. I don't even know about that old life. At the risk of sounding cliche, it seems as though it was all a dream. It takes a certain kind of love and condition to make you feel lonely. I never knew what lonely was the first nineteen years of my life. With the love I had for the Boy, despite his absence, I felt full and hopeful. Today he is pushed back far into my subconscious, safe for keeping like a souvenir from innocence; a keepsake. Still, though, he slips into my dreams every now and then, as a passing face in a crowd or another person in a stuffy elevator. Sometimes we exchange words, other times we don't even make eye contact. But every single time I stop and think, "it's Him. My God, it's Him." And even in dreams filled with meaningless nonsense, I stop myself to ask "where did I go wrong?" Without you, dear Boy, my life is meaningless. On the Travel Network, Andrew Zimmer is at a penis restaurant in China that only serves the penises of animals--as a delicacy. And suddenly, wiping the saltiness from my face, I am reminded that God does have a sense of humor. | |||
| Jan. 8th, 2008 @ 05:48 pm Here's to a New Year Without You. | |||
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the Holidays came and went fast enough--thank God. The Other Boy finally came. Such little warmth, such little needing (mutually). I spent most of his birthday dinner, at this lavish restaurant on the Island (which I would normally have no business dining at), conversing with his parents. Same with his farewell dinner. (At one point his mother made a comment, while he was outside, about us possibly marrying someday. To which, I though, 'no way in hell. This is irreparable.') Even New Year's had a chilling distance. Goodnight kiss, "happy New Year." Oh, and there were fights, believe me. There were ones where I got thrown out of his home. I kept finding myself looking at him, over the course of his visit, and asking, "why are things so different for us now?" and "where has my love gone?" My heart seemed so lacking in hunger and enthusiasm for him. I thanked God repeatedly for it... I will miss him greatly. I will miss the lust, the passion, the understanding, the laughter; but all these fade when love grows tired. He was home for three weeks and change, and I think we saw less of each other than normal. I plan on the gradual reduction of physical presence in each others lives, although I hope it never goes away completely. He will always be a great love of my life, as well as one of the few people I've ever known who understood my core. My hours got cut on New Year's. I can tell my job wants me to quit. They can't afford me. I'm going to be doing something big in February, and truthfully, I can't afford to switch jobs until after that. But here, too, is a to a new path in jobs. School started today. In fact, I'm sitting the library writing this now. Taking an extra class... Fuck, I hate school. I started taking anti-depressants over the holidays, too. I feel much better already. I think they'll help handle my many stresses. I'm going to Boston on Friday. Cannot wait. FRESH AIR! Even if for just two days, it's needed so very much. So here is to a new life in 2008 (new job, new love, new friends, and so on and so forth). May 22 be different. May this be the year I find what I have always so desperately been searching for. It's right about Christmas time Thinking about moving on I think I might die inside. I'm thinking about years gone by I'm thinking about church at midnight I'm thinking about letting go I think that might finally be alright. But this is where we shine. Silver bells and open fire And songs we used to sing One more chance to be inspired Is what I'm offering if love is not enough Then stay with me because The heartache can wait. It's not about hanging on It's making my deal with God If I could call one last truce We've given it all we've got. Then I'm gonna catch my breath And make it a long December If we've got nothing left This could be worth remembering With a smile upon my face. Silver bells and open fire And songs we used to sing One more chance to be inspired Is what I'm offering if love is not enough Then stay with me because. Silver bells and open fire And songs we used to sing One more chance to be inspired Is what I'm offering if love is not enough Then stay with me because The heartache can wait." | |||
| Dec. 10th, 2007 @ 08:50 pm (no subject) | |||
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| I've waited four days for his arrival. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. He will be home for a few weeks, for the holidays and his birthday. Not sure whether I fear it or embrace it more. No matter what I feel, though, it doesn't matter. At some point, feelings become irrelevant. At some point, we all become actors on the stage of life, reciting lines and acting out scenes that it seems someone else wrote. Perhaps as a defense mechanism (not to lose my shit completely), I have become so detached--even from my own life. I am still so disappointed in so many of my old friends. Loyalty seems to just be a word or a concept to many of them. I am more cynical and closed-off than ever. Aside from this journal, I speak of no importance. So, The Other Boy. Incredible. Last year, this time, we prepared ourselves for his departure to that Godforsaken college town that I will probably never visit again. We were inseparable and getting back on track. In Love, or something like that. The week than withheld Christmas, his birthday and New Year's was a flash of beautiful moments, like a film. I was part of his family at Christmas, attending an aristocratic party that I really had no business to be at. "Thank you so much for being here," he told me in the courtyard. "I needed you here." On both his birthday and New Year's Eve, he made comments about someday being my husband, which I shooed away. Part of me wishes he would say that again this year. Not because I want it (Lord knows I would have the same response, as honesty is forever my policy), but because this change is destroying so much of me. It'll never be the same again... And that girl--no, that bitch--I've grown almost obsessive wondering the details of her (what could be so amazing?) and the nature of his "friendship" with her. I did one of my exams tonight and the other is tomorrow. Here is to another partial semester down. I look forward to my few weeks off, then it's back to the grind. I'll be taking three severe classes this coming semester. Tomorrow will be eight years since I met Hanson (and my dear friend, Jamie) that fateful day on the steps of the Marlin hotel in South Beach. My, how life has changed. And I thought then that by this day, I would have it all together. How wrong I was. | |||
| Dec. 3rd, 2007 @ 03:44 pm No love. No Glory. No Hero in Her Sky. | |||
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Feelings:
Almost a week in silence. (I know it. I feel it. A weekend without calls speaks loudly if you take our history into account.) And I prepare myself for an Exit. I've rehearsed it over and over in my mind, while I lay in bed at night (interrupting my prayers), while I pour my morning coffee. It won't be brash, I won't cry. "I am disappointed in you as a person..." It will just be words and walking away. nervousSounds: "Good Woman" by Cat Power My heart is dusty and broken, but my mind is very much awake and strong. It's amazing how when we feel great pain, we fool ourselves into believing that no one else in the history of humanity has ever felt such thing. I know the world has. I know I have, and I still find myself recovering from that. My two heartbreaks overlap... My future is so vulnerable; open, planless. I am determined to be better and stronger. I have promised myself that 22 will be constructive. I may walk away with a few more scars and one less good friend, but what good would life do me without morals, sincerity of heart, and self-respect? After witnessing the lifelong heartbreak of my mother, I refuse to weave the same fabric. Lord, be with me today, tomorrow, and always. Give me the courage to say the things I don't want to and the strength to walk away from what I need to. Guide my heart (and my footsteps) from this day forward. In Jesus name I pray, Amen. "I don’t want be a bad woman, And I can’t stand to see you be a bad man. I will miss your heart so tender, And I will love this love forever. And this is why I am leaving, And this is why I can’t see you no more. This is why I am lying when I say, That I don’t love you no more." -Cat Power | |||
| Nov. 26th, 2007 @ 10:48 pm 22 (2+2 = 4 = labor and stability) | |||
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Feelings:
And so God pushes me for change. I moved out of my apartment and back in with my grandparents in the neighborhood they originally lived in. I already miss the sound of the wind blowing through the palm trees and the view of the ocean; but for once, I find myself open to change. I've realized that so much of life is out of my control. I've spent all of 2007 using all of my energy to make life happen: independence, work, education, a long distance relationship, a well-maintained social life, sanity. As cliche as it may sound, I've lost so much of myself in the process... I turned 22 last week. I committed to making this year constructive to who I want to be. Twenty-two will be 365 days of emotional and spiritual rehabilitation. worriedSounds: "Finding Your Feet Again" by Denison Witmer Oh, The Other Boy.. Where do I begin? I found out that girl (who shall remain nameless because she isn't worth the mention, so instead I'll refer to her as "that girl" or that "short Irish fuck") moved up to Gainesville. Yes, the same girl who interfered in my relationship with him nearly two years ago, here, in West Palm Beach, magically transferred up to UF and is now an English major, just like the Other Boy. I knew they were talking. He played it cool. Acted like he casually bumped into her at some bullshit school function... I was sitting at a bar with friends, woozy with rum, when I felt it. I knew he was with her. I felt it and I saw it. Immediately, I called him. No answer. Text. No response. I just knew... The next day we spoke. I heard it in his voice. "I know," I told him. "I was going to tell you," he said, a guilty tone overtaking his usually deliberate voice. "It's no big deal. We just hung out and watched a movie." The conversation turned to tears, turned to threats. I thought I would vomit and couldn't eat for days. He came down a few days later for my birthday weekend. He took it upon himself to stay with me, rather than with his parents. Upon seeing me, he threw his arms around me and said, "I've missed you so much." I swallowed hard. It only took thirty minutes for the Scorpion to raise her stinger, threating to break her. I asked all sorts of questions. I wanted to know every single detail about her, almost to an obsessive point. The burning passion of my bruised ego, love for him and hatred for her came spilling out of my throat; a stream of fire that came without respite for an hour or two. He said he wasn't very impressed by her, but when I asked him to promise me that nothing romantic would evolve, he couldn't. "I believe in keeping my options open," he said. I wanted to choke him and hurt him just so that he could feel what I've felt. "There are thousands of girls in Gainesville and it has to be her?" He argued that he didn't make friends easily, that I would feel that way with any girl, before a minuscule attempt at a "don't you want me to be happy?" guilt trip. He knew that wasn't true, though. It wasn't anybody. It was HER. When I explained why it hurt, he tried to cover for her. Even tried to make himself look like the bad guy. When my anger heightened in disbelief of his sheer bullshit, he tried to soften me up by telling me how in love with me he'd been and how I was the only woman he can see having his children. It didn't work. When I finally couldn't take anymore, I said what had to be said: you date her, you lose the best friend you have. Period. End of story. He flipped at my ultimatum. I didn't even see it as one. I explained it as a consequence to his actions. He honestly expects me to hold his hand while he tried out other women. To be the best friend (and surely good fuck) for him to depend on while he has his cake and eats it, too. "Heartbreak takes time to get over," he said. "You have to fall in love with someone to get over somebody else." With those words, I suddenly resented him for things he did to me almost three years ago. I thought, maybe he doesn't care about any of us. Maybe he fucks us and uses us until the prospect of novelty arises elsewhere. He did this to my acquaintance.And then to my friend. And perhaps now me. I was supposed to be the different one. Foolish little girl. (Old Friend, I'm sorry for all that's happened. Know none of it made me any better and I truly was blinded and unaware. Know that I'm happy that today you're happier. And I'm sure you're happier than I am. You told me he'd do the same to me, and perhaps, three years later you are right.)... I stood firm on my decision. Her or me. I will bend and suffer no more for a futureless love. As we fell asleep, he whispered, "I love you. We'll figure this all out." But what is left to figure out? I stand by my word. And though he has been my only local consistent friends (seems the best are far away), I know that if I walk away from this, I'll be doing the right thing. I have always been one to compromise for love. My heart has been broken so much. What more? I have nothing left. How dare anyone rob me of my dignity and self-respect? The next day was my birthday. He took me out to a beautiful dinner and got me lovely gifts. But most importantly, he acted like nothing ever happened. He had to kiss me, hold me, and be intimate with me. His actions cemented my decision... The following day was my birthday party, where I was asked several times whether or not we were together, because "by appearances" we are. How mortifying. He then proceeded to cockblock. Seriously... He left with a kiss and no indication of change. My heart felt of lead. We've spoken quite a few times since. He went to NYC for a few days for the Thanksgiving holiday. I moved in the process. Carrying my boxes into my room, symbolic of change. He's back home now, where that girl is, and has yet to mention her name since our argument... I know what I feel in my gut. I know I'm about to be thrust into a painful realm of change. I'll see him in a few weeks and will have a better idea of things. In other news, I will be treating myself to a lovely change this year. May life change beautifully, may God carry me, and may this be the year where Love doesn't fail me. Amen. You're taking off some time to do this A small apartment bedroom rearranged To know that you are loved You're finding your feet again The part of you that couldn't Finally thinks you can... Go now in the light of your God Go now in the love of your God Go now in the peace of your God Go now in the joy of your God." -Denison Witmer | |||
| Oct. 11th, 2007 @ 11:16 pm (no subject) | |||
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| Tonight the Other Boy told me that he may be studying abroad soon. His parents are pushing for it. Of course, he will always jump through hoops to fit his parents' perfect image of a "cultured Palm Beach son." I couldn't say much more. My words dwindled. "I guess I'll let you get back to whatever it is you were doing..," he said. I was doing nothing at all but choking back the tears. I had to support him this time, didn't I? I owed him that. I owed him something for being one of my very few consistent friends... Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I am a needy little girl in a young woman's body... But I didn't want any of this. I was okay three years ago. I was going to go to Tulsa and live in a big, beautiful house full of music and laughter and love and life. Jesus, what has happened? How can you make me love one boy who I cannot openly and honestly communicate with. Give him all the motions, minus me. Then give me this other boy to love, make me wear myself down to the bone trying to hold us together, only to be hurt repeatedly. And I will be left. I will watch all the men I love love other women, waiting for my moment--for that love, and I will be alone. Waiting for divorces, lovely pieces of real estate, that big kitchen I've always wanted, children of my own, et cetera. I fear being enhanced (physically, mentally, emotionally), dependent, unaccomplished and alone... Around the corner there always lies a hand waiting to rob me. I fear losing him so much. Dear God, What can I do to make this better? I am so angry with you. I need to you either help me or show me what to do to help myself. I don't hear you at all anymore. I won't make it without happiness. | |||
| Sep. 27th, 2007 @ 08:49 pm (no subject) | |||
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| Sometimes I wonder if God's abandoned me like almost everyone else has (or eventually will). I close my eyes and I try so hard to feel that within me, the way I used to. He used to be there every second of the day. I felt His words, His presence. I find myself unable to get through my prayers nowadays. It feels like I'm spilling wishes into air. I went through a crazy ordeal two weeks ago. Thought I had kidney stones. I missed two weeks of work, and with no health insurance, had to pay out-of-pocket for extensive testing. Turns out I had ovarian cysts that ruptured within my body, spilling their toxins into my system. When you endure a crisis like that, you see--emboldened in black and white--exactly how much love surrounds you and where its sources are. I've always known my mother was amazing and dedicated, but the love and compassion she showed me in that time, amazed me. I always think to myself, 'if I can be half the mother she is, my children will be blessed.' There were some friends who called me almost--if not every--day to see how I was. I am so grateful to have those people in my life... I will say, though, that I am most disappointed in my cousin. She proved to me just how cold and selfish she could be. Because of this, I didn't think twice about removing her from my life... The Other Boy came down to stay with me and keep me company. I was supposed to go to Gainesville, but could no longer afford it due to my absence of a paycheck and great medical expenses... It was an extremely loving weekend, although relatively sexless. He was very sweet and loving; comforting even. "Tu eres el amor de mi vida." My heart constricted at those words. 'How?' I wondered. When it came time, he said he loved me and didn't want to leave me. We spoke twice the night he got home. Somehow every time we part, I feel like an addict going through withdrawals. However, once he's up there a day or two, it feels like we're a million miles apart.. I don't know when I will see him next. We are spending a weekend in Orlando in October. He's taking me to a Hanson concert. Won't that be monumental? Too much love in one room for me to handle. Mima and Pipa moved back down... I don't like their new house. Needs a lot of work. My room is too small... I FEAR LOSING MY INDEPENDENCE!! Oh, my first apartment. How will I ever leave you? Being on your own can be very overwhelming and lonely, yet it's so liberating. I hate the money I've lost in this, but I love the experience I've had. Still hate school. Thinking of going to culinary school instead, but I probably never will. I'll probably just stick real college out another ten or so years, complaining incessantly the entire time. Oh, and I want a new job. Preferably one where I don't have to do anything. Especially listen to people bitch. PS: Don't know if I've already said this or not, but I've gained ten pounds. Fuck, I wish anorexia was contagious. | |||
| Sep. 7th, 2007 @ 02:55 pm (no subject) | |||
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Feelings: heavy
Another weekend (and plenty of money) spent in Gainesville. The Other Boy called me several times on my six-hour-long (Hell of a) drive up, eagerly anticipating my arrival. The pit of my stomach burned with intuitive anxiety. I drove us to dinner not even thirty minutes after arriving. I brought up his desire to further his education after he graduates next year. He got sensitive and got out of the car. I had to follow him around Archer's busiest plaza for ten minutes to get him to get back. I could hardly contain my laughter and when it was over, we laughed about it together, but I know it was foreshadowing of what was to come... Almost twenty-four hours had passed. A boy with delicate green eyes and familiar touch are the only drug I can ever say I've been addicted to. And I, the addict, gave in. It somehow became easier to talk after such release. I felt unusually choked up since I'd gotten there. He always encourages me to talk about how I feel; I rarely ever do anymore. "I've grown so bitter towards love and people in love," I confessed. "Because of me?" he asked. "Yes." He seemed surprised that I had the heart to be so blunt with him. "In the Keys, everything was great... and then we got to Islamorada. And that goddamn couple just had to get engaged right over my shoulder. I wanted to fucking choke them." "Aww, baby." I could tell he genuinely felt sorry for me. I imagine it must be strange to see someone turn against their strongest belief. "I'm sorry we couldn't have that whole fairytale." I wanted to tell him how he couldn't be nearly as sorry as I was; that the God he didn't even believe in intended us for other people. I thought about our modern label as "best friends" and went on to explain my fear. "How are we ever supposed to justify this kind of relationship to third parties? You think this will be tolerated?" He just stared at my contorting face, unsure of how to answer. The truth was, and I knew surely, that he didn't care about the future in that sense, nor did he ever consider it. "I want you to experience love." The words squeezed through my teeth. In my heart I meant it, but the part of me that feared I would never be okay made it that much harder to say. "Thank you," he said. "You should really go find somebody," I proceeded, immediately wanting to take that statement back. "But wouldn't that hurt you?" "I'll live," I stated, questioning exactly how. He mentioned how he'd adopted my two-year grace period, which I waved away. "Have I stopped you from approaching anybody that you were interested in?" I had to know. "No," he said, "there was this really nice girl in my jazz class. Wouldn't win a beauty contest or anything, but she seemed really sweet." "What stopped you?" "You," he said. "I always think of you... I just never am interested in anyone else, really." I knew exactly what he meant and found comfort in our seeing eye-to-eye. We both know other people = finality. To me anyway. "Life is just... strange," he sighed. "If things had ended cleanly and we really were just friends, we could both be moved on and living our separate lives, happy for one another... but now... I just think that because of all this history, it might come to a point where we're each doing our thing and I may feel that I can't be in your life. It may just be too much for me." His face dropped. "If you ever feel that way, please talk to me. I can't lose you as a friend." He said we'd wait until it was all okay. "It will never be okay," I sighed. "Not tomorrow, not ten years from now, not even when I'm married, with five kids, living fifty states away. Never." "I know. I feel the same way. I'll hate the guy who..." he trailed off, shaking his head... A few hours later I gave in to his advances. When it was over, the clarity of my own subconscious intentions impacted me. Perhaps I was using sex as a tool, the same way he was. A lock. An obligation. A sense of guilt... I woke up in the middle of the night, bleeding strangely. I woke up him and told him I needed to get to a drug store. When we got to the parking lot, my rental car was missing. He rode his bicycle (his car was in the shop) a few miles to get it out of the tow yard. I wanted to be grateful and kind, but by the time I finally settled back into bed shortly before dawn, I felt the heaviness in my chest.Sounds: "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley The next day I woke up, despondent. I left and got coffee before he could even be dressed. I had to be alone just to cry. My mother gave in to her sixth sense and called to ask if everything was alright. I choked back the tears and said I was just frustrated about the car, lack of sleep, etc. He tried almost the entire day to cheer me up, but it was no use. I couldn't stop thinking of awful things. He took me out to a lovely Cajun dinner that I couldn't even eat. I got in bed afterwards and he tried to get me to talk. "You don't get it. With me, the dust is meant to be under-rug-swept. You life the rug, the dust goes flying into the air. It takes a long time to settle." He egged me on to speak, so I began to in cold, matter-of-fact medical terms. Like it wasn't something I felt. Careful not to be vulnerable. He cracked a joke and ran with it for a good three minutes; an ill-timed mistake on his part. I silenced. For good. He awaited my response: "That's it. I'm done." He shot out of bed, cursing me, and informed me that he would be sleeping on the couch. Once he stormed out, I cried for a few seconds into my pillow before my guarded conscious kicked in, forcing me to get up, get dressed and pack my things. The light was flipped on as I struggled with the lock on the front door. He laid on the couch, eyes squinting into small white slits. "You think that's smart? You want to leave here, angry and tired, and jeopardize your safety? Go for it." "You have no fucking clue what I've been through," I sobbed as I stormed out, carrying my cumbersome luggage all the way down his stairs, through the courtyard, and into my car. I cried there, waiting for him, mentally counting down the seconds until I would start the ignition and leave. Of course he showed up at my passenger window, shirtless, visibly overwhelmed. "I'm not letting you go anywhere tonight." He reached in and grabbed my bags. "How could you say and do the things you do?" I asked, wiping my face. "How can you not understand?" "I'm trying, but you've got to help me," he plead. I went up the stairs, removed my clothes, and sat at the edge of the bed. He stood between my legs, taking my hands in his. I rested my head against his bare milky stomach, dotted by brown beauty marks, and wet it with my tears. "You're beautiful, you're intelligent, you're strong. You are flawless." "No, no. That's not true at all," I cried. As I fell asleep, I remember speaking to God in a frank matter. 'I swear,' I told Him. 'I will somehow figure out how to give all this shit up. Just help me. Give me what I need. I know more hurt will come.' When we got up the next day, it seemed like the past two days were all a dream and everything was okay again. We laughed, we smiled, we were in good spirits, we had some of the most passionate and amazing sex known to the history of man. "Don't leave," he said, wrapping his arms around me. "I have to." I questioned the sincerity of his gesture. I wondered how he could say that considering the 48 hours that preceded that statement... I drove off, relieved and aching. We speak nearly every day, but I can't rid myself of that heaviness. Of course, a glutton for punishment, I will be going back two weeks from today. I spoke to Teen last night. She said she thinks she will live in New Jersey for good. "When I went down there, it was like I couldn't wait to leave. I love it, but I hate it." Such a beautiful and awful place. We decided that we will take turns visiting. Thank God for $79 flights, hah. Tara is coming to visit next week. I'm excited. Talking to people like Teen, Tara, Jamie and Arianna (people I've known for several years) is very important to me right now. I can't get any farther from who I am. To keep good love from going wrong But tonight, you're on my mind so You never know Broken down and hungry for your love With no way to feed it Where are you tonight? Child, you know how much I need it. Too young to hold on And too old to just break free and run Sometimes a man gets carried away, When he feels like he should be having his fun Much too blind to see the damage he's done Sometimes a man must awake to find that, really, He has no-one... So I'll wait for you... And I'll burn Will I ever see your sweet return? Oh, will I ever learn? Oh, Lover, you should've come over Cause it's not too late. Lonely is the room the bed is made The open window lets the rain in Burning in the corner is the only one Who dreams he had you with him My body turns and yearns for a sleep That won't ever come It's never over, My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her... It's never over, All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter... It's never over, She's a tear that hangs inside my soul forever..." | |||
| Aug. 30th, 2007 @ 08:55 pm "The Summertime is Over. I Don't Owe You Nothing." | |||
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Feelings: overwhelmed
The Keys were absolutely beautiful. Looking back, Key West flashes through my mind like a film. Frames of laughter, riding scooters all over the island, smoking cigars on the porch of a historic plantation-style inn, snorkeling over reefs, watching fire blowers in the square, listening to the sounds of an acoustic guitar as we sit upon the seawall watching the sun go down. It was all so incredible. I hope I never forget a single moment of it. He was so kind, loving and affectionate. Possibly more than ever. I loved it. It felt good, but as the vacation mentality wore off and our days there were coming to a close, it began causing me discomfort. On our very last night in the Keys, we were staying in Islamorada. We went to dinner at an outdoors seafood restaurant that stood on stilts over the ocean. It was surrounded by private beaches lit by tiki torches and the full moon that hovered over head. We sat there on the beach for a moments when I felt a sudden tap on the shoulder. There stood a woman with tears in her eyes asking me to take a picture of her and the man who stood a few feet behind. "We just got engaged, like one minute ago," she said. I congratulated them and took their photo. They both looked so happy, it almost hurt to look at. It only took The Other Boy two seconds to pick up where he left off in his insignificant monologue, completely dismissing the sentimental air around him. It took him only a couple of minutes to notice my lack of attention. "I'm sorry. I'm being unromantic, I know." "What's new?" I asked. "It's not in my nature," he stated in an apologetic tone. "Were other guys more romantic than me?" "Yes," I said, before really thinking about it and correcting my answer. "No. Actually, no. I've never had the kind of romance I want, now that you mention it." We were both silent for a moment. I fixed my gaze on the bright white moon because it felt like if I looked anywhere else I would cry. I knew in my heart right then that if I stayed in it, with him, I would never experience the kind of love and happiness I'd just witnessed. I would never be in that woman's shoes... It amazes me how we both title ourselves as "single," despite the strength of our attachment to one another. I can end every single journal entry with the "will it ever end?" knowing that inevitably it will, but I guess God and time are the only sayers of such things. I realize that my will has very little to do with matters of the heart. Matters of the heart seem to be controlled by forces unseen. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a character in a book written by somebody I've never met.Sounds: "September Baby" by Joseph Arthur Teen came down from New Jersey last week. I needed to see her. I desperately needed somebody to remind me of my childhood and what I was like then. She told me she was proud of me before divulging some secrets of her own that she'd been too ashamed to tell me before. She leaves to go back to NJ this weekend while I am in Gainesville. I hope she comes home soon. I started school again this week. I'm taking a math course, so of course, I'm borderline suicidal. It sucks. I see my social life gasping for air. Next semester I'll be going back full time, plus I'll still be working. It's going to be FUCKING NUTS. At least I'll be living back with Mima and Pipa, so it'll take a little bit of the stress load off. Oh, and by the way, they bought a house in the old Flamango Lakes neighborhood that I pretty much grew up. I find great comfort in that. As always, keep me in your prayers. I'm trying. | |||
optimistic