People have a saying "It's the little things in life." It's a phrase I've heard far too many times to count and never truly understood. But recent times have taught me the meaning. MaKalea has been on my mind more often lately than she has for the past year.
The thoughts typically range in the same area. I think about her, how beautiful she was, and doubtlessly still is. I wrote a long time ago that no one would come close to matching what she meant to me, and that any girl entering my life would pale in comparison- a pretty large promise. Though it's been true to this day so far. But along with how beautiful she is, I often think about how much I miss her. And I've found it's the little things I miss the most about our relationship. I miss holding her hand as we drove around; when she'd lay her head on my lap while we snuggled on the couch watching TV. Always petting her hair and sneaking into her room to lay together. Kissing her forehead or her hair. The little things.
Small things make the world go 'round and the meaning has finally become clear. I understand now, because I never realized how much I should have appreciated the little things or how much I loved them. Being in the Navy, I knew I'd never get to spend enough time with a girl I met. Especially one that didn't live in the same state as I did. So the weekends we spent together were my greatest treasure. Now, looking back, it was the littlest of things about the time I had with her that I loved the most. I remember asking her to stop hitting me all the time, and she once revealed to me that it was her excuse just to touch me. Words can't express how much I long for you to punch my arm again, or even just to see your smile; or your gorgeous eyes; to pet your hair, and to kiss your cheek. Holding your hand again is a dream I'll never realize.
You asked me if I still love you, and the answer will always be best. My feelings for you haven't faded at all; I love you as much today as I did so long ago. You make my heart skip beats, my stomach fills with butterflies. I can't think, and can hardly breath. Of course I still love you; if I've ever truly been in love, it was with you.
Stories and misc. writings
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Monday, January 11, 2016
Ghosts of Memories Past
This post is absolutely for you, MaKalea. I don't know when you'll read this, or what your reaction might be. I wish I had the courage to say this directly to you, but I still don't know how you feel about me anymore.
When you messaged me, apologising Sunday night, I didn't know what to expect. You showed me something though- you don't feel as negatively to me as I'd thought you would. You apologised, and even admitted to reading this blog.
Your messages exposed me to a feeling I didn't know I could still feel- hope. I couldn't hope you'd ever want me back in that sense; but I hoped you might be willing to be friends again one day. So, here I am to tell you, that if you should ever decide you want to be friend again, I'll not turn you away. I'd welcome you back into my life with arms open wider than for anyone else. There's no one I'd rather have back in my life than you- none of my previous best friends, nor my sisters from friendships passed.
Nothing would bring me more joy than knowing you'd be my friend again. I couldn't push you away if you ever decided to step back into my life. And if you decide to, I can only promise never to take you for granted again. It's a lesson I learned all to harshly before.
With only love, I can only hope to hear from you again.
When you messaged me, apologising Sunday night, I didn't know what to expect. You showed me something though- you don't feel as negatively to me as I'd thought you would. You apologised, and even admitted to reading this blog.
Your messages exposed me to a feeling I didn't know I could still feel- hope. I couldn't hope you'd ever want me back in that sense; but I hoped you might be willing to be friends again one day. So, here I am to tell you, that if you should ever decide you want to be friend again, I'll not turn you away. I'd welcome you back into my life with arms open wider than for anyone else. There's no one I'd rather have back in my life than you- none of my previous best friends, nor my sisters from friendships passed.
Nothing would bring me more joy than knowing you'd be my friend again. I couldn't push you away if you ever decided to step back into my life. And if you decide to, I can only promise never to take you for granted again. It's a lesson I learned all to harshly before.
With only love, I can only hope to hear from you again.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Titles are stupid anyways
Today was a day expected to be like any other. I was tired early in the evening, after getting the routine maybe 5 hours of sleep the night before. I'd laid down for bed early, but by some twist of fate, or sheer coincidence, I was pulled from sleep's dark clutches by my bladder. Habit is as habit goes, and the first thing I did was check my phone. I was surprised to see that I had Messenger notifications waiting for me; no one I'd ever messaged cared enough to even consider messaging me back. After draining my bladder, I came back and was even further surprised to see the message from MaKalea, just saying "I'm sorry"
A bigger shock couldn't have hit me in that moment. The majority of the past year has been spent believing that I was some forbidden, taboo topic; that the very idea of me was pushed into the back of a metaphorical drawer and locked away. To suddenly have the one person I've wanted nothing more than to hear from again for twelve months suddenly out of the blue and message me, saying nothing less than she's sorry hit me like a sack of bricks. I was frankly stunned at first.
Though short-lived, our conversation tonight was the best I've had in a long time; a more pleasant surprise than anything else I could have ever thought of asking for. During which, you mentioned this old, not-so-private diary of mine. I've tried to avoid it since leaving the suicidal mindset I adopted after having you torn from my life, since it was filled with thoughts, emotions, and memories of both you and what I was like after your loss. And in the end, this particular post is as much for you as for myself. I was trying to go back to sleep and thoughts of things to write flashed through my mind. I couldn't help but think I'd miss out on something important if I didn't get up and write something tonight.
As it was, there were so many more things I wished I could have said to you tonight. You apologised for hurting me back then, but there's nothing to forgive. I'd never held it against you. In my mind, I had always considered myself the "bad guy" for reacting so poorly; held myself as the sole cause of our collapse. I shouldered all of the blame and only deserved what I got.
I don't know how to tell this next part of my story without sounding like I'm pointing fingers. I don't mean to; I'm not trying to guilt trip. I just want a portion of my story to be told after so long. Losing you didn't just hurt me; it tore me apart and broke the foundation of who I was. Broken so completely, I didn't know anything anymore. I turned on everyone around me; lashed out at anyone who even looked at me. Looking back, I was almost feral sometimes. I recall an instructor of mine who was just walking around the classroom approached me. I shot him a glare filled with so much malice it caused him to flinch.
It took months to recover portions of myself. Nearly six before I had left the suicidal stage. Not that I ever tried to actively commit suicide; but I wished for freakish scenarios that would have left no chance of surviving. I managed to piece parts of myself together; enough to mostly function. But I'd lost core components of what it mans to be human. People ceased being people to me; they were just objects in my path. They held no value. I couldn't connect with them if I tried; and I didn't care to. I'd lost the range of emotions that had previously let. me. I was left with nothing but bitter, consuming anger all the time. Though certain things will trigger emotional response; they're often old feelings- more memory than active feeling. Some strong enough that I can't function when they occur. Certain songs; portions of the road I used to travel when visiting you. Pictures, thoughts, certain phrases. Most of them remind me of you; and I'm filled with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I just shut down. Most of it doesn't bother me anymore though. The exception being Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. It's the one trigger that never fails, and it excels.
Self-pity story over; I'll end my post as both testament to myself, my feelings, and to you. The same way I've ended several previous posts. I hope you'll see this soon; given that I wrote tonight for the both of us.
I still love you, MaKalea. More than any one person probably should love another. The feelings I have for you are so intense, I can't help but believe that I'll never forget you; and that I'll never stop loving you, just as I promised so long ago. I still miss you horribly, and you gave me the one thing I never expected to receive tonight. I've wished more times than I can count that you'd step into my life in some way; and tonight you did, for however short of a time it was. The elation was like nothing I can describe. I mentioned sometimes looking at your profile; the truth is that you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever met. I love you still, I love you always.
photo credit: October 30, 2014.
A bigger shock couldn't have hit me in that moment. The majority of the past year has been spent believing that I was some forbidden, taboo topic; that the very idea of me was pushed into the back of a metaphorical drawer and locked away. To suddenly have the one person I've wanted nothing more than to hear from again for twelve months suddenly out of the blue and message me, saying nothing less than she's sorry hit me like a sack of bricks. I was frankly stunned at first.
Though short-lived, our conversation tonight was the best I've had in a long time; a more pleasant surprise than anything else I could have ever thought of asking for. During which, you mentioned this old, not-so-private diary of mine. I've tried to avoid it since leaving the suicidal mindset I adopted after having you torn from my life, since it was filled with thoughts, emotions, and memories of both you and what I was like after your loss. And in the end, this particular post is as much for you as for myself. I was trying to go back to sleep and thoughts of things to write flashed through my mind. I couldn't help but think I'd miss out on something important if I didn't get up and write something tonight.
As it was, there were so many more things I wished I could have said to you tonight. You apologised for hurting me back then, but there's nothing to forgive. I'd never held it against you. In my mind, I had always considered myself the "bad guy" for reacting so poorly; held myself as the sole cause of our collapse. I shouldered all of the blame and only deserved what I got.
I don't know how to tell this next part of my story without sounding like I'm pointing fingers. I don't mean to; I'm not trying to guilt trip. I just want a portion of my story to be told after so long. Losing you didn't just hurt me; it tore me apart and broke the foundation of who I was. Broken so completely, I didn't know anything anymore. I turned on everyone around me; lashed out at anyone who even looked at me. Looking back, I was almost feral sometimes. I recall an instructor of mine who was just walking around the classroom approached me. I shot him a glare filled with so much malice it caused him to flinch.
It took months to recover portions of myself. Nearly six before I had left the suicidal stage. Not that I ever tried to actively commit suicide; but I wished for freakish scenarios that would have left no chance of surviving. I managed to piece parts of myself together; enough to mostly function. But I'd lost core components of what it mans to be human. People ceased being people to me; they were just objects in my path. They held no value. I couldn't connect with them if I tried; and I didn't care to. I'd lost the range of emotions that had previously let. me. I was left with nothing but bitter, consuming anger all the time. Though certain things will trigger emotional response; they're often old feelings- more memory than active feeling. Some strong enough that I can't function when they occur. Certain songs; portions of the road I used to travel when visiting you. Pictures, thoughts, certain phrases. Most of them remind me of you; and I'm filled with so many conflicting thoughts and feelings. Sometimes I just shut down. Most of it doesn't bother me anymore though. The exception being Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran. It's the one trigger that never fails, and it excels.
Self-pity story over; I'll end my post as both testament to myself, my feelings, and to you. The same way I've ended several previous posts. I hope you'll see this soon; given that I wrote tonight for the both of us.
I still love you, MaKalea. More than any one person probably should love another. The feelings I have for you are so intense, I can't help but believe that I'll never forget you; and that I'll never stop loving you, just as I promised so long ago. I still miss you horribly, and you gave me the one thing I never expected to receive tonight. I've wished more times than I can count that you'd step into my life in some way; and tonight you did, for however short of a time it was. The elation was like nothing I can describe. I mentioned sometimes looking at your profile; the truth is that you're still the most beautiful girl I've ever met. I love you still, I love you always.
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Lost, Damaged, and Broken
There are those in the social hierarchy that are considered "lost causes," or "damaged" even "broken." Sadly, people whom fit into such social categories are all too often rejected by much of society. But it is among the people who, like myself, are considered damaged by modern society that I find myself most comfortable and drawn to.
Introversion, social anxieties, emotional and physical scarring, and more recently, personality disorders. All too often, anyone with an ailment belonging in some way to the list above has trouble fitting into society. The things that act as deterrents to most people are things that only encourage myself and draw me closer to the person who is struggling. I don't always understand, but I'm always willing to try. When I seek to be a part of a person's life, even if pushed away, i can often be patient, and accept any outlash that isn't uncommon.
In my eyes, it's worth accepting those things, because under it all, the people i find are most often the best kind.
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Beautiful.
Three weeks since I last wrote, time flies. I've thought about this post for some time, and have intended to write it for two weeks now, though I kept putting it off. And now that I'm finally writing, I don't remember what to say.
I noticed some time ago that you unblocked me on Facebook. I haven't the slightest clue why. I was scrolling through messages one day, and realized with amazement that your name was back on the message you sent me ages ago, instead of saying "Facebook User" like it had for the last 3 months, ever since you blocked me. I couldn't believe it. I immediately searched your name and found your profile, though I couldn't see anything you'd posted of course, but it sent me sky high in elation. Gods, you were still so beautiful. Though, despite the realization, I didn't dare let you know I'd noticed. I didn't even consider doing anything to give away that I'd picked up on it, for fear that you'd block me again. I only feel somewhat comfortable revealing it here, because I'm armed with the belief that you will never read this, MaKalea.
And during the last several weeks, since losing you; I've been trying to reach out more. I resorted to Tinder, looking for new friends to talk to. And after swiping through hundreds of Tinder profiles, there is one thing I can still say for certain; something you never believed when I told you. You are still the most beautiful girl I've met, or seen. No one can take my breath away at a glance the way you can; no one can make my heart skip a beat when I see her smile. You're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
And while you're gone from my life, I love you no less now than I always have. I've wished upon everything I could think of and even took to praying to a god I don't believe in, asking for you to be returned to my life; knowing in my heart that you wouldn't. I miss you so much, MaKalea.
I noticed some time ago that you unblocked me on Facebook. I haven't the slightest clue why. I was scrolling through messages one day, and realized with amazement that your name was back on the message you sent me ages ago, instead of saying "Facebook User" like it had for the last 3 months, ever since you blocked me. I couldn't believe it. I immediately searched your name and found your profile, though I couldn't see anything you'd posted of course, but it sent me sky high in elation. Gods, you were still so beautiful. Though, despite the realization, I didn't dare let you know I'd noticed. I didn't even consider doing anything to give away that I'd picked up on it, for fear that you'd block me again. I only feel somewhat comfortable revealing it here, because I'm armed with the belief that you will never read this, MaKalea.
And during the last several weeks, since losing you; I've been trying to reach out more. I resorted to Tinder, looking for new friends to talk to. And after swiping through hundreds of Tinder profiles, there is one thing I can still say for certain; something you never believed when I told you. You are still the most beautiful girl I've met, or seen. No one can take my breath away at a glance the way you can; no one can make my heart skip a beat when I see her smile. You're still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.
And while you're gone from my life, I love you no less now than I always have. I've wished upon everything I could think of and even took to praying to a god I don't believe in, asking for you to be returned to my life; knowing in my heart that you wouldn't. I miss you so much, MaKalea.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
A Wavering Will
I have always believed myself to be strong willed. I endured years of pain and depression on my own. I lost every person and everything I'd cared about. I walked my path alone. I believed that I was indestructible. That is, until you, MaKalea.
Your presence in my life changed me. Having you by my side; feeling your friendship for so long altered my life. I thought I was strong until I came to love you, then I realized how weak I truly was.
It's been nearly a month since you left my life, and I'm honestly amazed I have lasted this long. It doesn't get easier knowing that you hate me. It doesn't get any better knowing that I'll never have you back in my life. So many things remind me of you, and every time you pop back into my head, tears flood my eyes. I struggle to hold myself together; wishing that I hadn't been such a fool to lose you. Wishing that things had been different.
Today, I finally released the last part of you that I had. I finally found the guts it took to mail back the books you loaned me three and a half months ago, along with a letter that I can only hope you'll take the time to read.
I know that you'll never read this, but I'll always love and care for you. You stole the largest piece of my heart, and it's a piece you'll keep for the rest of my life. Even if I find someone else, I struggle to believe that any woman entering my life will be able to compare to you; and that in your shadow, everyone will be but a pale comparison. I love you, now and always. A phrase I've said far too many times before, but never meant as strongly as I mean it when I say it to you.
Your presence in my life changed me. Having you by my side; feeling your friendship for so long altered my life. I thought I was strong until I came to love you, then I realized how weak I truly was.
It's been nearly a month since you left my life, and I'm honestly amazed I have lasted this long. It doesn't get easier knowing that you hate me. It doesn't get any better knowing that I'll never have you back in my life. So many things remind me of you, and every time you pop back into my head, tears flood my eyes. I struggle to hold myself together; wishing that I hadn't been such a fool to lose you. Wishing that things had been different.
Today, I finally released the last part of you that I had. I finally found the guts it took to mail back the books you loaned me three and a half months ago, along with a letter that I can only hope you'll take the time to read.
I know that you'll never read this, but I'll always love and care for you. You stole the largest piece of my heart, and it's a piece you'll keep for the rest of my life. Even if I find someone else, I struggle to believe that any woman entering my life will be able to compare to you; and that in your shadow, everyone will be but a pale comparison. I love you, now and always. A phrase I've said far too many times before, but never meant as strongly as I mean it when I say it to you.
Sunday, February 15, 2015
A Voice to be Silenced
I spoke with MaKalea again the other day, and brought up my blog and it's posts again, asking if she'd bothered to see if I'd written anything else- she hadn't. But she looked after that and mentioned that my voice and writing seemed directed at her, in a vain hope that she may be reading my words.
And I realized she was right. Perhaps some part of me was still wishing that she may have cared about the thoughts I was pouring into this blog.
But now it's time for the voice to be silenced. I've relieved the thoughts that needed to be released; unleashing the words that eased my mind. Now that the pressure behind my conscious is minimized, I bid farewell to the company I created in myself through NeoLeoStory.
And I realized she was right. Perhaps some part of me was still wishing that she may have cared about the thoughts I was pouring into this blog.
But now it's time for the voice to be silenced. I've relieved the thoughts that needed to be released; unleashing the words that eased my mind. Now that the pressure behind my conscious is minimized, I bid farewell to the company I created in myself through NeoLeoStory.
Friday, February 13, 2015
Surprising inspiration
I've been writing about my thoughts, and how I've been feeling for this last week. An unexpected hand reached out from my past, in the form of my now ex-girlfriend, Erika. She expressed her sympathy at what's been bringing me down and has me feeling so lost. It was what she said to me that gives me the inspiration to write a little more about myself today.
And it now that I quote her words in today's post. She told me "if there is one thing I know about you, it is that you have more love to give than anyone else I have ever met. You love so fiercely and so exclusively that it makes you loyal to the death. Hopefully your friend will recognize that"
What strikes me so much about her words to me, is that I heard something similar from MaKalea before our fight that led to the separation of our friendship. She told me that she knew no one would ever love her as much as I do; that the reason she trusted me so much before was because I loved her so exclusively. Though, Erika is right. I give my loyalty wholly and completely to those I feel worth it.
Which leads me into the next note I have to say about myself. Though loyal, I also find myself fiercely possessive when it comes to the ones I love. I dislike sharing the people in my life. Which isn't fair to the people I care about, so I try not to let it bother me. But, it's hard. On top of my possessiveness, I am often times maddeningly jealous. It's difficult, getting as jealous as I've found myself sometimes. I've seen red, lost sight of the things I found important over what should have been no big deal.
It's a detrimental, horrible trait I carry inside me. And I've lost the people I care about because of it. It's something I wish I could change about myself; I just don't know how.
And it now that I quote her words in today's post. She told me "if there is one thing I know about you, it is that you have more love to give than anyone else I have ever met. You love so fiercely and so exclusively that it makes you loyal to the death. Hopefully your friend will recognize that"
What strikes me so much about her words to me, is that I heard something similar from MaKalea before our fight that led to the separation of our friendship. She told me that she knew no one would ever love her as much as I do; that the reason she trusted me so much before was because I loved her so exclusively. Though, Erika is right. I give my loyalty wholly and completely to those I feel worth it.
Which leads me into the next note I have to say about myself. Though loyal, I also find myself fiercely possessive when it comes to the ones I love. I dislike sharing the people in my life. Which isn't fair to the people I care about, so I try not to let it bother me. But, it's hard. On top of my possessiveness, I am often times maddeningly jealous. It's difficult, getting as jealous as I've found myself sometimes. I've seen red, lost sight of the things I found important over what should have been no big deal.
It's a detrimental, horrible trait I carry inside me. And I've lost the people I care about because of it. It's something I wish I could change about myself; I just don't know how.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
A conclusion
Last night I was given the opportunity to talk to her again. She messaged me back on Skype. It pains me to say that it did not go well. I told MaKalea how sorry I was for everything; how much i miss her and want to continue being friends.
As the night progressed, we were both up later than usual. She told me she was going to bed, but obviously didn't, since she was still on over an hour later. She doesn't want to be friends anymore- it seems this is it.
My last time fucking up was the last straw. I've lost my best friend and it hole it's ripping inside me is... immeasurable. It hurts; and I hate myself. I sit here trying to hold myself together, and it doesn't seem to be working.
As the night progressed, we were both up later than usual. She told me she was going to bed, but obviously didn't, since she was still on over an hour later. She doesn't want to be friends anymore- it seems this is it.
My last time fucking up was the last straw. I've lost my best friend and it hole it's ripping inside me is... immeasurable. It hurts; and I hate myself. I sit here trying to hold myself together, and it doesn't seem to be working.
Mastery of emotions
I've come to the realization that I must gain better control over my emotions. It seems that as of late I've been allowing them to show far too much. I glared at my instructor this afternoon and he flinched. And last night, another student told me I was the only one in the class with any intimidation factor, though he said it was mostly because he believed I would kill him when he looked at my eyes.
I don't know how to keep my eyes from betraying my thoughts.
I don't know how to keep my eyes from betraying my thoughts.
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
A crack
After being called into the SLPO's office this afternoon for falling asleep during mandatory study hours last night, I was forced to explain why I fell asleep, covering what a horrible weekend I'd had, and how I get no sleep when upset about something.
It was as I explained that I realized what a maelstrom of emotion I'd been bottling back, as it burst through me and had me breaking down entirely for a good ten minutes before a lack of air forced me to stop.
Letting some small amount of the torrential emotions welling within me was some relief, but it is also a problem. Though small comfort, it also but a crack in every defense I've put up within myself, and now I must patch the holes that have been made in my internal walls; keeping me above the figurative water.
The only other upside, was I know my resolve for bringing her back. I know that I will do anything to have my best friend back in my life. I will be patient, if that's what it takes. I will never give up on her again.
It was as I explained that I realized what a maelstrom of emotion I'd been bottling back, as it burst through me and had me breaking down entirely for a good ten minutes before a lack of air forced me to stop.
Letting some small amount of the torrential emotions welling within me was some relief, but it is also a problem. Though small comfort, it also but a crack in every defense I've put up within myself, and now I must patch the holes that have been made in my internal walls; keeping me above the figurative water.
The only other upside, was I know my resolve for bringing her back. I know that I will do anything to have my best friend back in my life. I will be patient, if that's what it takes. I will never give up on her again.
A decision
I've come to the realization that I've begun using my blog as a sorts of diary. It doesn't bother me, I merely need to express my inner thoughts somewhere, and the anonymity as well as the idea that someone may read my words is slightly comforting.
Late last night, as I lay in my bed, trying to sleep, but kept awake by the maddening ideas racing through my mind, I came to a conclusion. This weekend is president's day weekend. The base accepted a challenge from the Captain about a blood drive some weeks back, and won, so as a result we've got a four-day weekend.
The conclusion I reached is to get permission to drive up north, to make a surprise visit to my best friend. I cannot text her, as she was in the middle of getting a new number when we fought. I tried to email her, send her a message on skype. I'm unable to message her on facebook, as I'm blocked.
So, in my desperate attempt to apologize and hopefully reconcile with the person who means more than anything else to my life, I decided to drive three and a half hours north of where I am station to see her. It was all I could think about during my exam this morning and even now the thought of it leaves me shaking with nervousness at it, given that I have no idea how she may react to my sudden appearance.
Late last night, as I lay in my bed, trying to sleep, but kept awake by the maddening ideas racing through my mind, I came to a conclusion. This weekend is president's day weekend. The base accepted a challenge from the Captain about a blood drive some weeks back, and won, so as a result we've got a four-day weekend.
The conclusion I reached is to get permission to drive up north, to make a surprise visit to my best friend. I cannot text her, as she was in the middle of getting a new number when we fought. I tried to email her, send her a message on skype. I'm unable to message her on facebook, as I'm blocked.
So, in my desperate attempt to apologize and hopefully reconcile with the person who means more than anything else to my life, I decided to drive three and a half hours north of where I am station to see her. It was all I could think about during my exam this morning and even now the thought of it leaves me shaking with nervousness at it, given that I have no idea how she may react to my sudden appearance.
Monday, February 9, 2015
My Shadow and my Voice
Never before have I felt so inexorably distant from the people I used to be friends with. I see all the people I once called friend on Facebook, and it reminds me of the past when I had friends who cared and I cared about as well. But with each passing day I feel ever more distant from the ones I'm still friends with; further withdrawing from their embrace.
I crave the kind of friendships I used to have, but the further that time progresses, the less I find myself willing to reach out to people. Each day that drags by leaves me feeling further and further alone. I have no one I can comfortably talk to about the thoughts racing through my mind at any given minute of the day, nor the feelings of confusion that distract me from studies.
I'm walking alone with no company but my shadow and my voice; however with each step I take on my dimmed path, my shadow grows shorter, and my voice more mute. Not because I find myself stepping into the light, but deeper into the darkness threatening, eating at my mind.
Even now, though I could reach out to the three people I have kept in contact with over the past year, I post about my issues in anonymity where I have but one possible viewer and no others who know who I am. This is not my plea for attention, simply my relieving thoughts permeating into my conscious.
I crave the kind of friendships I used to have, but the further that time progresses, the less I find myself willing to reach out to people. Each day that drags by leaves me feeling further and further alone. I have no one I can comfortably talk to about the thoughts racing through my mind at any given minute of the day, nor the feelings of confusion that distract me from studies.
I'm walking alone with no company but my shadow and my voice; however with each step I take on my dimmed path, my shadow grows shorter, and my voice more mute. Not because I find myself stepping into the light, but deeper into the darkness threatening, eating at my mind.
Even now, though I could reach out to the three people I have kept in contact with over the past year, I post about my issues in anonymity where I have but one possible viewer and no others who know who I am. This is not my plea for attention, simply my relieving thoughts permeating into my conscious.
A long time later
After losing interest in writing all those many months ago, I find myself drawn back to the comforting habit, which soothed my mind for many years.
What draws me back today, is the how lost I feel right now, after losing my best friend. We had a large argument Saturday night, which left me mostly sleepless, and another sleepless night on Sunday after a falling out that left us not speaking at all.
I've expended all my resources in an attempt to apologize, but my fear is that it's all for naught and will bear no fruit. I'm afraid that this lull in our friendship may be permanent and I'll never again speak to the person who came to mean so much to me.
During our argument Saturday evening, I said horrible things; things that I know I'll regret for the rest of my life. It's my wish, though it will likely never come true, to apologize and at least try to make up for the hurtful things I said. I was a fool for not realizing how much I cared for her, and that it took losing her as my friend entirely to show me what she meant to me.
And now as I sit here writing this instead of going to the gym to try to clear my mind, my thoughts I believed I could put on "paper" are coming out so muddled, and I find myself even more confused and distracted than before.
What draws me back today, is the how lost I feel right now, after losing my best friend. We had a large argument Saturday night, which left me mostly sleepless, and another sleepless night on Sunday after a falling out that left us not speaking at all.
I've expended all my resources in an attempt to apologize, but my fear is that it's all for naught and will bear no fruit. I'm afraid that this lull in our friendship may be permanent and I'll never again speak to the person who came to mean so much to me.
During our argument Saturday evening, I said horrible things; things that I know I'll regret for the rest of my life. It's my wish, though it will likely never come true, to apologize and at least try to make up for the hurtful things I said. I was a fool for not realizing how much I cared for her, and that it took losing her as my friend entirely to show me what she meant to me.
And now as I sit here writing this instead of going to the gym to try to clear my mind, my thoughts I believed I could put on "paper" are coming out so muddled, and I find myself even more confused and distracted than before.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
About my life and the girl who entered it
Age: 19 years, 4 months, 13 days, 17 hours.
For most of my 19.3 years of life, I've believed without a doubt in my mind that there was no god. My parents forced my younger self to go to church every sunday for the first 8 to 10 years of my life. It was a chore and not one I enjoyed. My elder brother felt similarly, because before we drifted apart and started hating each other, we'd share how much we disliked having to go to church.
I was around 12 or 13 when I realized part of the reason I hated going to church so much was because not only did I disagree with the way my church preached, I didn't believe in the messages they tried to teach.
So I've spent more than a third of my life actively aware of my disbelief, and more than half of my life unaware, but still disagreeing with the religion forced upon my life.
Well, that is until last year. Last year was my first and last year of college. I attended Hope College, a Christian school on the opposite side of the state from me. I wasn't unnerved by the idea of attending a school focused on the Christian religion because religion wasn't forced upon me there. Attendance to worship was optional - which meant a no-go for me. I could go to my nursing classes and get a degree from one of the top three nursing schools in the nation without having to worry about being bugged and pestered by religious fanatics trying to convert everyone they see.
However, first semester happened and my classes were awful. I couldn't keep up very well and dropped two of them. I hated the feel of the school; I hated the classes and the professors. I hated studying. I was miserable. Winter break and I had a few weeks off at home with nothing but lots of food, video games, and books to read. Talk about pure bliss. Anyway, second semester started and I immediately hated my chem class. The professor was a dickbag and I couldn't stand him. Chem lab was even worse. I moved slowly and had to do everything twice for my partner who sprained her food or knee or something playing soccer and was on crutches. It's not that I hated helping her per se, just how long I took to do everything.
It was a week into the semester when I decided I couldn't stand it anymore. I made my decision not to come back to Hope and dropped chemistry, because I was not about to invest that much time and effort into a class that wouldn't even mean anything to me.
However, the first week wasn't all bad. In that week, I had German class. While I also immediately hated German, partly because I didn't like the professor, but because it involved real work too, but also teaching ourselves. German class included a nice surprise though. A cute girl from my dorm whom I had only every said "hi" to as we passed each other to and from classes. I mean, I didn't even know her name, just that she was pretty in the face and had a cute smile. Nothing would come of it, right?
Well, something did come of it. As the semester progressed, I forgot to cut my hair off as I had throughout the first semester. So after shaving my head again one day, she invited me to do homework with her in the basement. After that day, we started doing homework regularly together, and I started to like her. Soon the semester was half over and my second-half classes started. It turned out we had religion right after German together, too. So now, with two classes together and doing homework regularly; I was starting to like this girl a lot.
Now we've been dating for 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days. For the first time in my life, I've met someone who makes me want to change. I've liked girls who had religion in their lives before, but none of them ever made me want to be better than myself. Erika is the girl I found at school, who for the first time in my life on this planet has made me want to believe in a higher power. Never before had I found myself wondering if god was real, but with Erika, I want to believe he is. For a while now, I've found myself trying to believe.
I'm not sure if you'll read this tonight, Erika, but know that I love you, and that I am trying.
For most of my 19.3 years of life, I've believed without a doubt in my mind that there was no god. My parents forced my younger self to go to church every sunday for the first 8 to 10 years of my life. It was a chore and not one I enjoyed. My elder brother felt similarly, because before we drifted apart and started hating each other, we'd share how much we disliked having to go to church.
I was around 12 or 13 when I realized part of the reason I hated going to church so much was because not only did I disagree with the way my church preached, I didn't believe in the messages they tried to teach.
So I've spent more than a third of my life actively aware of my disbelief, and more than half of my life unaware, but still disagreeing with the religion forced upon my life.
Well, that is until last year. Last year was my first and last year of college. I attended Hope College, a Christian school on the opposite side of the state from me. I wasn't unnerved by the idea of attending a school focused on the Christian religion because religion wasn't forced upon me there. Attendance to worship was optional - which meant a no-go for me. I could go to my nursing classes and get a degree from one of the top three nursing schools in the nation without having to worry about being bugged and pestered by religious fanatics trying to convert everyone they see.
However, first semester happened and my classes were awful. I couldn't keep up very well and dropped two of them. I hated the feel of the school; I hated the classes and the professors. I hated studying. I was miserable. Winter break and I had a few weeks off at home with nothing but lots of food, video games, and books to read. Talk about pure bliss. Anyway, second semester started and I immediately hated my chem class. The professor was a dickbag and I couldn't stand him. Chem lab was even worse. I moved slowly and had to do everything twice for my partner who sprained her food or knee or something playing soccer and was on crutches. It's not that I hated helping her per se, just how long I took to do everything.
It was a week into the semester when I decided I couldn't stand it anymore. I made my decision not to come back to Hope and dropped chemistry, because I was not about to invest that much time and effort into a class that wouldn't even mean anything to me.
However, the first week wasn't all bad. In that week, I had German class. While I also immediately hated German, partly because I didn't like the professor, but because it involved real work too, but also teaching ourselves. German class included a nice surprise though. A cute girl from my dorm whom I had only every said "hi" to as we passed each other to and from classes. I mean, I didn't even know her name, just that she was pretty in the face and had a cute smile. Nothing would come of it, right?
Well, something did come of it. As the semester progressed, I forgot to cut my hair off as I had throughout the first semester. So after shaving my head again one day, she invited me to do homework with her in the basement. After that day, we started doing homework regularly together, and I started to like her. Soon the semester was half over and my second-half classes started. It turned out we had religion right after German together, too. So now, with two classes together and doing homework regularly; I was starting to like this girl a lot.
Now we've been dating for 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days. For the first time in my life, I've met someone who makes me want to change. I've liked girls who had religion in their lives before, but none of them ever made me want to be better than myself. Erika is the girl I found at school, who for the first time in my life on this planet has made me want to believe in a higher power. Never before had I found myself wondering if god was real, but with Erika, I want to believe he is. For a while now, I've found myself trying to believe.
I'm not sure if you'll read this tonight, Erika, but know that I love you, and that I am trying.
Friday, November 8, 2013
About: My cats
A little history of cats aside, it's time for my focus: my particular cats. Their names are Kit and Kat, though they haven't been called that since the week we got them. Instead, they've been known as Black and Grey, respective to their fur color.
The grey one is quite obvious, the black a little less so. Sisters of a litter; my mum picked them up from an animal shelter nearby where she worked shortly before Christmas of 2008 - since our old cat had died Halloween morning.
At first they started out friendly, but as they grew up - they didn't bond to either us our each other. That last time I can remember them being friendly was while they were still kittens and we had to take them in to the vet's office.
And for viewing pleasure, I also dug up some pictures of the little rodents back when they were nice, and spent time with us; or maybe they were just curious about their new house.
Have I ever mentioned how much I hate trying to use images in blogger?
Now at almost 5 years of age, I've got some weird cats on my hands. They're not the most friendly; Grey really only likes you when you're in the bathroom - she loves to jump up on the counter and nuzzle your arm with her nose. Or, if you'll throw water for her in the shower and/or bathtub.
And for some reason, Grey has a fascination with sinks.
One thing both of my cats have in common though, is chirping. Both will unexpectedly make chirping noises at you when surprised.Black in particular has an obsession with the shower. She'll scratch and claw at the door if you're using the bathroom and the door is shut; then when that doesn't work she'll cry and meow at it until you let her in. Once in the bathroom, she'll go and sit in the shower; sometimes just staring at the wall and other times at you waiting for water to splash in.
Monday, November 4, 2013
The only logical thing...
When on a sleep schedule as screwed up as mine, it's not unusual to still be awake come 6 am, having not slept all night. But what's there to do at 6 am? Normal people are still sleeping and video games have become so mind-numbingly boring, that staring at the wall is more fun. Obviously, the only logical thing is to go to Netflix and watch Charlotte's Web.
Who doesn't want to watch a young Dakota Fanning play the naive little farm-girl trying to save the runt of a pig from his destiny of bacon? And this same tiny little pig running around and playing in mud - eventually befriending an admittedly nice, but nonetheless hideous spider that made me cringe every time I saw her face. The spider who then writes words in her web to save silly little Wilbur from being turned into a Christmas-stuffed pig.
And now, at 8:30, I've sat on the stairs with my old pup, scratching her sides and petting her ears while she gets overly excited and sneezes all over my feet. Quite unwelcome sneezes, I might add. From the sneezing and scratches downstairs we went; where Echo was graced with a delicious doggy snack. I let her outside for her morning relief, where she ran around nosing the ground after peeing.
At that point it was close to 8 and I'd yet to eat since around 2 am, so a sandwich was in order. Sliced honey turkey bread put on a gargantuan whole wheat hamburger bun, topped with a small personal bag of Doritos. Decadent, if I do say so myself.
And of course, having had an eventful morning, who wouldn't blog about it? I mean, it's the only logical thing...
Who doesn't want to watch a young Dakota Fanning play the naive little farm-girl trying to save the runt of a pig from his destiny of bacon? And this same tiny little pig running around and playing in mud - eventually befriending an admittedly nice, but nonetheless hideous spider that made me cringe every time I saw her face. The spider who then writes words in her web to save silly little Wilbur from being turned into a Christmas-stuffed pig.
And now, at 8:30, I've sat on the stairs with my old pup, scratching her sides and petting her ears while she gets overly excited and sneezes all over my feet. Quite unwelcome sneezes, I might add. From the sneezing and scratches downstairs we went; where Echo was graced with a delicious doggy snack. I let her outside for her morning relief, where she ran around nosing the ground after peeing.
At that point it was close to 8 and I'd yet to eat since around 2 am, so a sandwich was in order. Sliced honey turkey bread put on a gargantuan whole wheat hamburger bun, topped with a small personal bag of Doritos. Decadent, if I do say so myself.
And of course, having had an eventful morning, who wouldn't blog about it? I mean, it's the only logical thing...
Sunday, November 3, 2013
A Skewed Sense of Breakfast
Through my awful sleeping patterns, I am often awake at the early hours of morning. When you're up at 7 or 8 AM and haven't eaten anything for 6-12 hours, it's not unusual to be hungry. Several days ago, I found myself in exactly this position. It was probably closer to 7 am, I'd had dinner around 12 hours previously, and I was absolutely famished. My stomach gurgled and groaned; making noises not unlike that of a dying whale.
So from my throne upon which I sat, I rose and left the warm comforts of my room and ventured through the early morning light - navigating through the rec room to the stairwell where I could creep forth to look for present parents. Having seen that none where home - both having left for work - I stole to the kitchen to look for food. Leftovers! I found garlic bread to reheat in our bread basket, and frozen chicken patties in the freezer. I popped both into the toaster oven to heat and went venturing into the pantry to look for a snack to hold me over for 15 more minutes. Lo behold, I found a Chewy granola bar, dipped in chocolate. I of course then dunked it in the peanut butter jar; because everyone knows chocolate is better with peanut butter.
So now, I've got 2 slices of garlic bread and a chicken sandwich, plus a granola bar. But I was still hungry after my granola bar, so I opened a thing of Easy Mac and tossed it in the microwave. While it was cooking, I wanted something else. Applesauce was the obvious choice here. Drinking my applesauce from the jar made perfect sense to me, while my easy mac was cooking.
Finally, I never knew 3 minutes could take so long. My microwave doesn't work for the instructions on the container - water boiled over the edge and made a mess everywhere inside the microwave - ew. I had to clean that up while attempting to shovel fake macaroni and cheese down my throat. Between these two adventures, I'd forgotten about my garlic bread (sad) and it was overcooked. I ate like half of it, but it tasted like char plus a little bit of butter. Plus it was hard, so into the trash it went.
Finishing my mac, my chicken had finished. So I popped it onto a bun, smothered it with ketchup and took a massive bite. Too much; so I run to the fridge, grab the gallon of skim milk and take a nice gulp - once again too much, as it overflows from my mouth and drips down my chin, off my neck, and onto the floor. Oops, I forgot to clean that up.
And so ends my first skewed breakfast. The next morning, I was in the same situation. So of course, the logical choice was to rewarm leftover pizza, have more granola bars, additional applesauce, but also an ice cream sandwich and a twin Popsicle. I feel as though I ate something else the second morning, but at the moment, I can't recall.
The end.
So from my throne upon which I sat, I rose and left the warm comforts of my room and ventured through the early morning light - navigating through the rec room to the stairwell where I could creep forth to look for present parents. Having seen that none where home - both having left for work - I stole to the kitchen to look for food. Leftovers! I found garlic bread to reheat in our bread basket, and frozen chicken patties in the freezer. I popped both into the toaster oven to heat and went venturing into the pantry to look for a snack to hold me over for 15 more minutes. Lo behold, I found a Chewy granola bar, dipped in chocolate. I of course then dunked it in the peanut butter jar; because everyone knows chocolate is better with peanut butter.
So now, I've got 2 slices of garlic bread and a chicken sandwich, plus a granola bar. But I was still hungry after my granola bar, so I opened a thing of Easy Mac and tossed it in the microwave. While it was cooking, I wanted something else. Applesauce was the obvious choice here. Drinking my applesauce from the jar made perfect sense to me, while my easy mac was cooking.
Finally, I never knew 3 minutes could take so long. My microwave doesn't work for the instructions on the container - water boiled over the edge and made a mess everywhere inside the microwave - ew. I had to clean that up while attempting to shovel fake macaroni and cheese down my throat. Between these two adventures, I'd forgotten about my garlic bread (sad) and it was overcooked. I ate like half of it, but it tasted like char plus a little bit of butter. Plus it was hard, so into the trash it went.
Finishing my mac, my chicken had finished. So I popped it onto a bun, smothered it with ketchup and took a massive bite. Too much; so I run to the fridge, grab the gallon of skim milk and take a nice gulp - once again too much, as it overflows from my mouth and drips down my chin, off my neck, and onto the floor. Oops, I forgot to clean that up.
And so ends my first skewed breakfast. The next morning, I was in the same situation. So of course, the logical choice was to rewarm leftover pizza, have more granola bars, additional applesauce, but also an ice cream sandwich and a twin Popsicle. I feel as though I ate something else the second morning, but at the moment, I can't recall.
The end.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Life is a storybook
Life is a book with pages being added every day. Every moment of our life is a sentence written in ink on our lives. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years all mark the passage of words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, and chapters in the storybook of our lives. But are we chapters in a several-hundred page book, or are we more like children's books, with pictures marking memorable moments; snapshots in special events pocketing our lives?
Everything we do is recorded in who we are and it's written in ink so that it may never be erased. We carry the deeds we do with us for the rest of our lives and every action we take in turn transforms us into who we are. There is no undoing the past, only atoning in the future for the mistakes we've previously made.
Our lives are books, and no one but ourselves decides the story our book will tell; for not only are we books, but we are also the authors. What will your story say?
Everything we do is recorded in who we are and it's written in ink so that it may never be erased. We carry the deeds we do with us for the rest of our lives and every action we take in turn transforms us into who we are. There is no undoing the past, only atoning in the future for the mistakes we've previously made.
Our lives are books, and no one but ourselves decides the story our book will tell; for not only are we books, but we are also the authors. What will your story say?
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
A list of life: Family
Family is ... well, family. Often times, when asked to rank the things most important to their life, people put family in the first or second slots of the top ten things most important to them. People have families, be it their mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters; their cousins and grandparents and everyone else. Or those unlucky not to have a family in their blood, who must reach out and create a family in their closest friends.
I imagine there are many others, who like me, never had a family. As hinted before, blood does not mean family and family does not mean blood. Family is much more than simply sharing blood relations with someone. As an individual, I didn't experience family growing up. I had an abusive older brother, one whom hated me and wanted for nothing more than me to disappear. My parents were neglectful. My basic needs were taken care of: I had food, shelter, I went to school and got picked up from daycare. But as a child, the bond I needed with parents wasn't there. They favored my brother to the point that I was nothing. He could do no wrong and I could do no right. Everything was always my fault and that does not breed to family.
Also starting at an early age, was my lack of friends. Younger children are often more social than their elder counterparts turn out to be, but some, like myself, are shy even during the young ages. I didn't know how to talk to other kids well. I kept to myself and read my books or watched from afar. Family didn't come to me through friends either. At least, not for many years. I was thirteen years old when I finally started to make some friends. I had Ian, who was my best friend at the time and through him, I met a few girls who became some of my closest friends. Those same people were the first ones to offer me a sense of family and belonging. It's a shame that they all left in the end.
Ian decided we weren't friends anymore the next year, during freshman year of high school. The following year, Laina ditched her old friend-group to start afresh in high school as a freshman. Also during sophomore year, I found out Kacy had been lying to me and I told her to fuck off; not wanting a compulsive liar as a friend. At fifteen, I lost the first family I had. After losing my friends who doubled as my family, I kept to myself; avoiding people.
I didn't really find a family again after that until a year ago, during my freshman year of college. My roommate was a guy named Danny. We didn't exactly get along, but we didn't dislike each other either. Seemed as if to the both of us, the other wasn't there. We didn't talk, we didn't hang out, we didn't do anything but ignore the other. But then, I met a guy from down the hall, living a few doors away. Matt. A lonely freshman encounter, oddly enough, in the bathroom. As a sophomore, Matt had already experienced freshman year. I couldn't tell you why he extended his saving grace to me, but he did.
Through Matt, I found a family again. I met some new friends. People who instantly accepted me into their fold and treated me as if I'd always belonged with them instead of having just moved in. We'd hang out most weekends and I was always sure to keep an eye for them around campus. Come second semester, though, my family fell apart for the second time. Introversion left me unable to deal with people very well. And I can't personally stand physical contact. So when after winter break, and Chelsea started hanging out with Matt and I a lot more often, they grew close and I was pushed to the outside edge as the third wheel. Everyone who has ever been a third wheel knows how much it sucks, and I lost my place.
Luckily for myself, I met a girl second semester. Her name was Erika. She was immediately nice to me, and was quickly one of my favorite people to talk to in class. One day, as I was leaving the basement - having just shaved my hair off - she invited me to do my homework with her, for German class. That started our study sessions, which led to her telling me of her feelings, and eventually my asking her to be my girlfriend.
Now, more than 5 months later, we're still dating, and she - Erika - is all the family I need.
I imagine there are many others, who like me, never had a family. As hinted before, blood does not mean family and family does not mean blood. Family is much more than simply sharing blood relations with someone. As an individual, I didn't experience family growing up. I had an abusive older brother, one whom hated me and wanted for nothing more than me to disappear. My parents were neglectful. My basic needs were taken care of: I had food, shelter, I went to school and got picked up from daycare. But as a child, the bond I needed with parents wasn't there. They favored my brother to the point that I was nothing. He could do no wrong and I could do no right. Everything was always my fault and that does not breed to family.
Also starting at an early age, was my lack of friends. Younger children are often more social than their elder counterparts turn out to be, but some, like myself, are shy even during the young ages. I didn't know how to talk to other kids well. I kept to myself and read my books or watched from afar. Family didn't come to me through friends either. At least, not for many years. I was thirteen years old when I finally started to make some friends. I had Ian, who was my best friend at the time and through him, I met a few girls who became some of my closest friends. Those same people were the first ones to offer me a sense of family and belonging. It's a shame that they all left in the end.
Ian decided we weren't friends anymore the next year, during freshman year of high school. The following year, Laina ditched her old friend-group to start afresh in high school as a freshman. Also during sophomore year, I found out Kacy had been lying to me and I told her to fuck off; not wanting a compulsive liar as a friend. At fifteen, I lost the first family I had. After losing my friends who doubled as my family, I kept to myself; avoiding people.
I didn't really find a family again after that until a year ago, during my freshman year of college. My roommate was a guy named Danny. We didn't exactly get along, but we didn't dislike each other either. Seemed as if to the both of us, the other wasn't there. We didn't talk, we didn't hang out, we didn't do anything but ignore the other. But then, I met a guy from down the hall, living a few doors away. Matt. A lonely freshman encounter, oddly enough, in the bathroom. As a sophomore, Matt had already experienced freshman year. I couldn't tell you why he extended his saving grace to me, but he did.
Through Matt, I found a family again. I met some new friends. People who instantly accepted me into their fold and treated me as if I'd always belonged with them instead of having just moved in. We'd hang out most weekends and I was always sure to keep an eye for them around campus. Come second semester, though, my family fell apart for the second time. Introversion left me unable to deal with people very well. And I can't personally stand physical contact. So when after winter break, and Chelsea started hanging out with Matt and I a lot more often, they grew close and I was pushed to the outside edge as the third wheel. Everyone who has ever been a third wheel knows how much it sucks, and I lost my place.
Luckily for myself, I met a girl second semester. Her name was Erika. She was immediately nice to me, and was quickly one of my favorite people to talk to in class. One day, as I was leaving the basement - having just shaved my hair off - she invited me to do my homework with her, for German class. That started our study sessions, which led to her telling me of her feelings, and eventually my asking her to be my girlfriend.
Now, more than 5 months later, we're still dating, and she - Erika - is all the family I need.
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