X

How could something good be slowly ripped to shreds by so much thinking? I could barely wrap my head around it. It’s not like we can go straight back to the beginning where things were simpler. I don’t even understand when things started getting complicated.

Can’t we just sit at a cafe and talk and appreciate each other like that? Or do you have to put so much meaning in the wanting of just a talk? Who knows, you might have even put so much meaning in this entry too.

Sometimes we say things because we want to let go of the burden and share it. We do that because sometimes, you just want someone to talk to about it. You just want someone to listen. It doesn’t mean things should change, nor does it mean that it should have so much unnecessary meaning and thought into it. Sometimes it’s, well, sometimes you’re just saying, and there’s nothing else to it, you know?

But then over thinking clouds everything else, and this wonderful thing gets stabbed in the chest again. I wonder if this goes on, will there be any more chest left to stab on?

We can’t ever seem to be on solid ground long enough to appreciate it. I voice out how I feel (because I’m highly emotional, I can do nothing else but feel no matter how hard I try not to) because it becomes heavy in my heart, and yet my heart becomes heavier because you- your inconsistency is worse than a confused person’s indecisiveness. And you’re the one who’s supposedly got what she feels all figured out.

So.
I don’t know anymore.
All this push and pull? Where to?

Please don’t think too much about this again. As I said, I’m just saying. I hope all is well.

IX

You say you think we won’t end up together. We’ll end as very good friends, if any at all.

Truthfully, I can’t see as far out into that part of the future either, but didn’t we agree that we live in the moments? Thick as thieves, cheats, liars, and a thief, we’re alive in moments and what everyone doesn’t know is that we could create plenty of moments! Limitless, multitudes-

We’ll never have to bear through those exceedingly long nothingness that relationships have. No, I also wonder if that’s good or bad.

I picture this as one of those affairs that’s film/book worthy. That one person you met at Paris, that you loved in Paris, and left in Paris. That one person you met while on the road, all through different states, but never bring home. You’re my best affair, the most note-worthy affair, the type that comes out as a great story lifted from my diaries only after I am dead.

“The extracted entries from XXXX XXXX’s journal. c. 2012-20xx”

//

Why am I writing this anyway?

I just wanted to say that I appreciate you, love, I appreciate you a lot. So much pure gratitude – thanks – for who you are to me, for how willingly you are being who you are for me. I am glad that I know you- have you, no matter how limiting we can indulge in that word- have.

(Yes, I know I have you only because you let me. Yes love, I know that.)

I am humbled (strong words! simply because it is truth) that the Universe allowed me to know you, that somehow I think– I think it is better that we don’t become lovers only because, as all things end- and by love most things end as swiftly as they began, I do not want to know a day when I wouldn’t have you.

Truth. No, not half-truth, but pure Truth.

//

They say everyone needs that one affair, although not always part of the completed book chapters (usually just found as part of the rare uncut version of anything beautiful at all), that jump starts anyone’s life into something definitely real that only the 2 parties can share.

Well, I think I’ve found it, and this might be it.

//

I’m looking forward to the 8th. I’m looking forward to what stories I could write out of it.

-Always beautiful words, when it comes to us.

Great stories, and nothing of the least.

//

And what did I say about my Dark?

If I were Light, I wouldn’t have realized half as much as I do now. There is goodness, after all.

//

Get well soon, love. My thoughts are with you.

Goodnight.

VIII

The life of the privileged and the underprivileged. The thoughts of those who think they know better, and those who don’t care.

Smart people are truly complicated, too complicated for their own good. Smartness as a front for stupidity. Just because you were admitted to the country’s best university doesn’t necessarily mean that you have all the right answers.

You fight for equality and yet your mentality is just as foul as the government and the privileged class you fight against.

Even in your own environment, there is inequality. There is competition of ideals, of principles. How can they miss that the best ideal to acquire is to know that this world is always a man for himself. How do you expect to better a society if you can’t better yourself? Leave the faulty government alone, the society alone, and bother yourself and steering your life to it’s rightful course. Once you’ve got that down, and then you fight for improvement.

The university of free thinkers! What a lie! See, this is the all too enticing lie they sell freedom for. Without restraint, it becomes negative energy. Ponder on how such smart people become so stupid in their free thinking!

This is why I prefer to live my life believing in my own rules, living it at my own pace. Never bothering for current events, never involving myself. I find it all so petty!

But at the very least, you can’t deny that all these makes for good conversation. That’s always something good despite.

VI

I tilted my head up and looked at the sky. Suddenly the pounding in my head stopped, and I could breathe. The cold night breeze even touched my face for a moment. Whenever I looked back down, back straight, it always felt over-crowded, too much, too many, so many things I didn’t ask for, so I resort to just looking away, looking up.

But you can’t always just look up, you can’t always look away. You always have to face ahead, face what’s in front of you in order to move ahead. In order to move.

And now all I can think about is – I just need someone to understand me, my nature, my wiles. I just want to be and feel completely vulnerable in someone’s arms, to feel small, to feel that it’s okay to think things that shouldn’t be thought of, and to feel so much better to say these things out loud without being judged, without them being afraid of my capabilities.

I am not ready because I cannot give assurances. But the other I is here, willing to explore the potential, willing to listen, willing to talk, willing to fly away and see places, willing to be away.

Take me as I am or you don’t, it won’t matter because not so much of them ever had the full serving, always showing that they only want the functioning, rational half.

But I’m telling you, the half that’s left behind might not be all that bad either.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.

V

I like it when you smile. And your shoulders, god, your shoulders.

//

You should have come over, love.

IV

I have to stop feeling the need of sharing everything I find beautiful with you, else I know how this’ll all spiral down in the end.

III

Tis one of the very few times I’d say exactly how I felt.

I heard news that the girl you used to like, who’s supposedly straight, is dating an acquaintance, who’s also a girl. I thought, “So. She would’ve had a chance if she stuck it out longer.” And an alternate reality started forming in my head where you two actually kicked it off and you and her would really get along – she being exactly your type: liberated, pretty, smart, not to mention, sporty.

The mere thought of an alternate reality where you find an amazing girl – and I know you won’t ever settle for less – who’s really cool and hot and pretty and smart and all the fucking jazz, really touched on the possessive side of myself. Slowly, the evil of selfishness was creeping on me, and I shut it out just as instantly as I felt it. I knew that I didn’t wanna share you with anyone else. I didn’t want the world, or any other person, to hear about your great stories, or ideas, or even read about any of your entries. In my mind, you’re my precious gem that I dug out of the dirt. You’re my hidden treasure and I think it took me a while before I was let in your mind. It took us (or me) years, although inconsistent, of talking and sharing stories before we came to this point and then a girl just comes swooping in and taking all that from me? Hell fucking no.

I had to stop imagining things before that ugly stabbing feeling in the chest took over me. I had to shut it out.

But of course we’re in this reality and you’re free to do whatever you please. I just thought that maybe sometimes I could let you in my head. And this is one of those times.

Again, just saying.

II

It’s almost Christmas again.

This is probably the first time I’ll ever admit that I hate this holiday. The Christmas songs are nice, it’s joyful, and it does give you that warm fuzzy feeling whenever you hear it, so good job to all the songwriters in the world for achieving the effect they want on people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no robot and I do feel that warm and fuzzy feeling too, but the difference is that I feel it at the pit of my stomach the same time I feel that heaviness and awkwardness every time. I don’t like Christmas simply because of the pressure it entails. The pressure to be with family where you pretend to be happy, and loving, and warm, and fuzzy (Fuck, are there no other words to describe the holiday spirit besides “warm” and “fuzzy”?).

I’m emotionally detached when it comes to family. Most of the time, I feel like a stranger that just got lost and was adopted by a bunch of other strangers all for the holiday spirit and good faith and intentions. Know what I mean? I don’t feel like my Mom and I belong anywhere. I think somewhere along the way, as I was growing up, my Mom’s effort of forging familial relationships on her only daughter just caused me to feel more like an alien. I know why she’s been doing that for years. She doesn’t want me to feel incomplete, and she doesn’t want me to feel alone. It’s the only functional family she can present me with and she’s keen on making that work. But in all reality, I think I would have been fine with truth and honesty, and I would gladly take it over feeling awkward and obligated all the time.

The happy feeling during Christmas day just wouldn’t last, you see. After we’re all full, and we’ve all torn open our gifts and littered the floor with wrapping paper, what’s there after? The feeling becomes heavier and heavier when the sun goes down, and night time comes.Guests have left the house, and it’s just my Mom and I again, in our own rooms, watching tv or surfing the interweb. It’s always that way during Christmas at home. I just want it to end. The expectation of a grand time, of memorable moments, all those – it doesn’t come, you see. There’s always that hanging expectation that something big SHOULD happen because it’s a merry fucking Christmas but it’s not. It’s always short of expectation. And I don’t understand why I just can’t get over that.

Just saying.

I

In remembrance of the funniest situation ever:

77

Dec. 14th, 2012 at 5:44 PM

Rich of me to what? Now, it’s a damn shame. What’s a shame is that that’s how you end up thinking about all of this. That’s a damn shame.
We were supposed to be in this together. And I cannot believe that you’re washing your hands clean of this. Waking up to the reality, getting up, and leaving. Realizing that this was wrong, and all that jazz.

And previously we message and you say that you need me. What happened to waking up to reality?!

Just because I don’t say everything that I would want to say, not because I let you think that you know everything that goes on inside my head, doesn’t mean that whatever this is, is all for shit. There’s a reason why I shut up. Because I know I’m in the wrong. Yes, I do have a choice, a chance, whathaveyou. I am aware of that, but I will make my own damn decision when I can say that I’ve figured everything out. No, I do not wish to string you along until I make that decision, did I ever ask you to stick around? I believe not. I have never said “stay”, or say, “don’t go”. Never. Because I’m not big of a bitch to demand anything from you because I know that I won’t be able to extend you the same courtesy!

This started with each other knowing full scale what the situation is. And I already told you I’m a big fuckin’ mess, but you still went ahead. We dove in together, we knew this was wrong, I said I had a feeling you’ll lose control, and you said you won’t. We both decide again and again to stop this. We do, then we don’t because our conversations are rich and pregnant with good ideas. I allow myself little space to touch you, talk to you, indulge in you, because we know, this is wrong. And I knew it, I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry! I keep telling you truths and you keep telling me you let it happen because you’re selfish, you allow it. You allow everything because you are selfish too! And now that it’s blowing up at our faces, you leave me to the wolves! How dare you! You let it keep happening and happening, and now that you’re burned you tell me it’s because I am indulgent?! I already told you from the very beginning, help me make this right. And you ask me to wake up and see what you see?! Don’t you think I know what you see that’s why I cannot give you what you want? Don’t you understand that part? I keep saying, leave if you want to, I will NEVER tell you what to do for yourself. And look. This is what happens! If I would’ve told you before to stay, you would’ve spat that in my face when things get ugly. But still in my silence, you still spit it in my face. Do you understand what I’m saying? It always takes two to fucking tango.

Emotions stir in me whenever I read and re-read your latest entry. Your dust off your pants, you shake it off, and you wash your hands clean of the mess. We talk about potential, only to end up you despising every bit of it. I am sad that this couldn’t work, but I am more saddened that you condemn it now almost as if to regret it!

Yes. What a damn shame how this all had to end. What a damn shame that I had to say all these, and that I had to read that latest entry. What a fucking damn shame.

From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry for being the she-devil and being reckless this way. If there was a person that deserved that humiliation that night at the bar, it would be me. I’m the intruder that invaded you and your friend’s world. I told you, I’m no good. And your latest entry just amplified that. Thank you for reminding me, and just leave me alone for your own sake.

Excuse me while I wipe off spit from my face.