sun·shine

Journal, Personal, Poetry

I am small, insignificant. I won’t have an impact on the greater world. Window down in the car at a stoplight, sun beating down on my face. Eyes closed. Hot breeze. The wind blows the same way on other planets, the wind on my face is only significant to me. It means nothing, there is no implication or indication of any sort happening. I am meaningless.

The here and now is an opaque gloss over my eyes.

Used to live believing everything had its significance, but it’s the exact opposite. We all live on the same planet with the same sun and with all our grievances trailing behind us.

Happiness is what we all strive for, but there’s not one time and place in our lives where we just start being happy. Happiness is a fleeting state of mind. Like the sunshine, one day it won’t exist at all.

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Kyle

beautiful, Hope, Humanist, Journal, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

I went on my first date with Kyle today, and I say it like that because I know there are going to be more. He was funny, understanding, interested, intelligent, and cute. His face has very soft features and then a nice, defined jaw. Plus he’s 6’1. And an athlete. We connected on a lot of different things, we share a lot of the same interests and philosophies on life and relationships. He’s a computer science major, which is sorta my thing.

We got coffee today at 10:30, and I didn’t leave until 3:30- when he had practice. We got coffee, went for a short walk and ended up at Barnes and Noble where we compared the authors we had read and joked about other people, then we got lunch at a Thai place- because he’d never had Thai food before. After lunch, he invited me to come back with him to campus and I sat with him while he worked on a group project for his technical writing class (funny he was taking one, right?) we bonded and laughed over little things regarding technical writing, physics, and astronomy- also can we just marvel at the fact that he ordered a cappuccino, because my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I love a good cappuccino.

Anyway, after his group project was over we went back to his dorm. He left to go change, and I chatted with his roommate while I sat on his bed. Then when he came back, his roommate left, and there was this moment when I was sitting on his bed and he was pretty close to me and I could feel that electric energy that I always feel before a good kiss. His face was close enough to mine that it felt intimate, but up until that point, the most touching we had done was accidentally bumping into one another. I think I could really like this guy, and in the past, I’ve unnecessarily rushed things. I want to have a real bond with this guy. So I didn’t kiss him, instead, I got up and was like “hahah gotta go”.

There’s no reason to rush into things.

Can I just mention that when we got there, and my first reaction to him was feeling like I was seeing an old friend? Also, we matched- we were wearing the exact same shade of green. It looked like we tried to coordinate.

He’s super clean, which was nice. We love the same board games, listen to a lot of the same music, and we are both from the valley.

Okay, I’ll marry him.

There’s only like three things I didn’t care for. He is a big guy- like he’s toned, but he’s just broad by nature. He was a little too quiet at times. His sense of humor was just not my own.

That said, I like the guy a lot. He is literally the most considerate guy so far. I hope that wasn’t just the first date sorta thing.

an·ec·dote

Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ve gone through a lot of traumatic experiences since my freshman year of high school. They haven’t just gone away, either. They follow me. My parent’s divorce at the beginning of high school was really the spark to the huge wildfire. They neglected Riley and I, meaning I wasn’t involved in school or doing the things I should have been getting done.

When I should have been taking driving lessons, my mom was moving about two-hundred miles away into an apartment with her then boyfriend. She left us with her parents, but no one was really keeping track of us or helping us do what should have been getting done. I should have been practicing driving, should have been in therapy, and someone should have been reprimanding me. I didn’t have any of that, though. I had free range of doing whatever I wanted to do, and sadly none of it was responsible.

I spent most of my days doing homework, yes. But I also would stay in bed crying all day because I felt like my parents had abandoned me. I never saw my dad and my mom’s contribution was messaging me on facebook. Ultimately, I was alone.

Instead, I was seeking attention elsewhere- so the summer of my senior year, I ended up being raped by a man. I couldn’t tell anyone because I was seventeen and he was twenty-one. I felt like I had in some ways allowed it to happen, and to this day I couldn’t press charges just because I feel responsible. I missed my period for two months and thought I might be pregnant, I spent two months thinking I was going to have to tell my mom what had happened. Luckily it was stress-induced.

That October my mom’s ex-boyfriend got a little too aggressive with my sisters and I, so we laid an ultimatum on the table for my mom; Him or us. It wasn’t the first time he had pushed the line, numerous times he physically pushed us around or used his authority as an adult to control us. He also abused my dog because she would growl at him.

She chose him, we moved out. I had just started my first job, and the only place I knew we could go last minute was with a girl I knew from school. She and her mom lived on a decent size of property and they seemed very wholesome, I figured it would be a great place to heal. We didn’t communicate very well, though. After six months we had a falling out, both parties involved were at fault. But we had to move out.

So we found a place on craigslist with a single dad who needed help with the rent, it ended up being amazing for us.

This whole time, though, I was going to high school and having to walk around 10 miles a day just to go to school, work, and home. I had no room for fault because I needed to graduate and I needed to keep my job. I didn’t have a car or the means of getting one at that point, so I just kind of dealt with it. We were barely scraping by, and some weeks we didn’t have any food at home. I remember one night we had both worked over eight hours, I walked home late, and we had no food or money. But we had a can of black beans. No can-opener. No heating or any kind. So we used a pocket knife to cut open the can and made foil spoons. That moment humbled me.

It doesn’t matter where you come from, it doesn’t matter who your parents are, or what kind of car you drive. Any of us can find ourselves in a position where a single can of cold black beans with a little salt seems like a gift from God.

I applied to universities all over California and was accepted to San Francisco State. I decided to go there and pursue a technical writing degree, which on paper was a great thing for me to do.

I moved to the city, and I knew no one. My roommate spoke french, and the other four guys were either high, playing video games, or hiding in their makeshift pillow fort. I had a job as a barista in the tenderloin, and that alone was intimidating for me. The homelessness was a serious issue, and they were aggressive. I had to follow my survival instincts while I was there. Completely ignoring the ones who confronted me. However there was one homeless woman who would wait outside the shop before we had opened. We talked, her name was Ella Mae and she had three kids. Two sons and a daughter. I could never make out all of what she said because her voice was dry and her words were slurred, but I saw a glimpse of humanity in that woman. The last two months I was there, Ella Mae didn’t come around- it wasn’t until my last day there that I found out from my favorite regular that she had a heart attack and had been in the hospital. I was happy to have an answer but upset that she was struggling even more than she had to.

My time in the city was amazing for me and helped me grow to a point where I could clearly see what I should be doing. I was suffocated by the overcrowding of people, by the fast-paced life, and by the constant displays of wealth everywhere. It’s not something that San Francisco is known for, but it’s riddled with sports cars and because of the guy I dated, I was surrounded by people who had a lot more than me.

Of course, my apartment was anything but. I love it for what it is, but it always smelled like bad broccoli and weed. It was always way too hot, and really unpleasant. My male roommates would stay up until 4am, when I would be getting up for work, partying and drinking like there wasn’t a care in the world.

I honestly wish that could have been my college experience. I just get so caught up with life that important things like financial aid gets put on the backburner. Because of that, and a breakup, I ended up dropping out of SFSU and going back home.

My mom had broken up with the abusive ex and offered me a place in her apartment, so there I went. When I was still in the city I had half-jokingly applied to a job at a popular donut shop back home as a creative baker. I didn’t even know what the job implied exactly, I didn’t know the experience I would have needed, or how much I would be paid. But I applied for the hell of it.

I ended up getting the job, and here I am. A creative baker who, hopefully, will never have to work in customer service again. I sincerely enjoy my job. I can’t wait to be able to do it without asking a million questions, though.

After everything that I have gone through, I want to have inner peace. I want to enjoy every day that I am alive. Of course, this is a journey, last night I found myself curled up in a ball crying for no reason at all.

But I’ve been doing art again, painting and drawing- it feels good to re-open that part of me. I’ve also been way more open to exploring different fashion styles and being more of myself. It turns out the way I have always wanted to dress actually looks cool to other people too.

I’m sorting through my emotions, trying to understand myself. I never will, and I have accepted that- but there’s something about the act of trying that keeps me balanced.

re·gain

Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Personal, Relationships

I feel like it’s really obvious without having been said, but I really cared about T. I still care about him. I think that going through this break up has been the most challenging.

I’ve been fucking and drinking and getting high, trying to distance myself from him. I feel like that’s the only thing I can have. Distance. Our relationship was never perfect, but I always wanted to work on it. I’d never felt that before. I was willing to change my bad behaviors, become a better person, all for the sake of a healthy relationship. I’ve probably seen twenty guys since T, between dates and just sex- I haven’t met even one person that I would consider remotely on that level with me.

They were all interesting, attractive, intelligent. But I can’t force it. From the moment I got into his car that first time, it felt like we had been friends. It felt like I had always known him. Not like love at first sight, but we definitely just got each other. And it makes me angry because I’m hurt. Because I had been so willing to be there for him, to work through problems, to be the best girlfriend I knew how. He honestly just made me want to be that person.

I don’t hate him for breaking our relationship off. His reasons were valid, even if I have a feeling they were just an excuse. I still want him to do good in life, I want him to continue seeking the things that make him happy and fulfilled. He’s going to do some good stuff in the world, I do know that.

It won’t be soon, but I will find that again and I don’t need to be on Tinder or going on dates or having meaningless sex or drunk. I need to be alone. I need to recuperate. My heart is in pain and I need to love myself.

What we had is the closest thing to love that I have ever felt.

rouse

Humanist, Journal, Personal

This is about me. The day drinking. Running from painful memories that used to bring me joy.

I can’t even think about my life in San Francisco right now- So I’m drinking and crying and putting myself in harmful situations because I don’t care anymore. Part of me wants someone to notice and pull me aside and tell me I’m wrong. That they care about me and I don’t need to be doing this to myself because I’m not really that alone, but the thing is no one does that.

No one expresses concern, and I keep spreading myself thinner until I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

Leo said I was too emotional, and like I obviously know there’s truth to that, but is it a problem? Is that just his thing that he’s got an issue with or is it bigger? Do I need to change how emotional I am to find someone? I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to change myself or conform to someone else’s idea of who I should be.

I don’t want to become my mom, a woman who had no clue what she liked or what she wanted because she’d always put men first. But I also don’t want to be psycho levels of emotional.

I know there’s a middle ground. There is always a middle ground. Like, I might be too emotional for some people but others might appreciate who I am. I might be over-emotional and naive with Leo, but other people commend me for my wisdom and clarity on these things. Not everyone agrees about “how things are”.

Then there’s this part of me that says things aren’t really that important, why am I stressing out over ideas? Over non-linear, abstract, emotional things.

I don’t know. And so, I drink. Perhaps to find clarity. To calm myself down. To fucking not care. Whatever the reason is, I feel alone and uncertain and like I’m failing people.

I feel like I’m failing my mom and my sister’s because I’m not taking care of myself. I have functioning depression, and potentially alcoholism. Fuck, I put scotch in my coffee before work. I’m drinking right now and it’s only 1 in the afternoon. And I don’t care about the consequences. I’ve stopped caring if people can smell it on my breath.

So yeah, I’m showering. Eating healthy. I have a new job. I’ve been consistently working out. But I feel like a failure. And I drink alone every night, anytime I feel like I need to escape, I drink.

I don’t want to face the bullshittery I created.

2·9·2019

Journal, New, Personal

I went for a run today. Did all my laundry. Met my sister’s boyfriend. Played with a dog. Sang. Today has been a good day off. I deleted all of the social media apps (as well as Tinder) off of my phone. Now I’m just like, sitting. I think I’m going to try running more often, I only did a mile today, but it was good.

My mom and I just watched the 2000’s romantic comedy, What Women Want.

I have a restless heart. I can’t say that I have feelings for anyone right now, but I have jumped from one person to the next, and they nearly always overlapped. Right now, I don’t.

My love interests include a creative baker that I will be working with (but do not know the name of) and my sister’s boyfriend’s best friend who I have never actually met but everyone thinks I will end up with for some reason.

But my life isn’t some sappy romantic comedy and me ending up with someone who swoops in at just the right moment to make everything right isn’t going to happen.

I’m deciding right now that I’m not waiting around for someone to “complete me”, I’m not waiting for someone to “make everything right”. I would really like it if someone took an interest in who I am, though. That’s the real kicker. Not that I’m loveless, but that no one takes a genuine interest in me, it’s all about fucking me. That’s all it ever is.

They all just tell me that anyone would want to fuck me. That people want me. That I am physically desirable. But you know what no one says? That they like me. That they want to get to know me. No one pulls me aside and tells me that I have a glowing personality and they genuinely want to understand me inside and out (but if they did, it’s because they wanted to fuck me).

And until someone genuinely wants to hold me without the expectation of sex, I’m going to stay loveless and single. It’s better than being loveless and being used.

No one ever will admit they’re using you, but they probably don’t realize they’ve done it. I’ve had guys swear up and down, “I care”. But do you?? Do you T? Do you, Leo?? Because neither of you guys ever once asked me about myself or how I sincerely felt about something important- in fact, both of you guys are some of the most self-absorbed and self-righteous people. I was attracted to the confident aura you guys projected, but if you could take a moment to truly get to know the people you supposedly care about, I don’t know, maybe there would be less confusion in the world. Maybe I would feel cared about.

Not that it’s your job. It’s no one’s job. It’s no one’s responsibility to care- I’m just saying, it’d be nice.

I don’t know if I have ever been important to someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever caught the eye of someone, and they thought, hey you see that girl, she deserves my devote interest.

So, I guess I’ll just drink. I’ll leave the boys alone and forget about the girls and I’ll let my heart heal from the strenuous work I’ve put it through. How much of what I do is to find love? How much have I done for something I don’t even believe exists anymore?

Men lay next to me, hold my curves, kiss my forehead, but none value me. I wish they could just know me as I do. Maybe then they would value me.

off·beat

beautiful, Beauty, Future, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Loving Life, New, Peace, Perfect, Personal

So this post is for me, literally no agenda. I had a secondary interview today at a donut bakery. I was worried about how things were gonna go, I knew was going to need to write with a piping bag and dip donuts and whatnot. I had never done those things before- I also really wanted the job.

What if my ideas weren’t original enough, what if my piping was sloppy, what if my personality lacked?

I was thinking about how I’m not vibing with my current coworkers, wondering if it really was just me being uncomfortable. I started to get concerned about if I was able to get along with others.

But then I walked into the kitchen. The air in that place was lighter. Suddenly being myself was effortless, there was no stifling energy, there were no negative/pretentious ass holes. Seeing the different ingredients physically brought a smile to my face- I felt boundless opportunity and I felt alive. I felt like I was where I needed to be.

Suddenly I felt like I did when I was little, throwing ingredients into a mixing bowl and putting them in the oven to see how it would cook. Experimenting with different recipes, writing them down and sharing them with family. None of them were any good, and I knew that. But something about the act of doing these things, no matter where I was in life or who I was close to, baking was spiritual. It’s an act that continually brings me closer to myself and others. I hadn’t been that excited about a job ever.

Nothing could have brought me back down to earth. In that moment, I was ecstatic.

I know my piping came out a little sloppy and there wasn’t a clear sheen on the icing after I dipped my donuts, but I got the job.

I got the job.

I am going to be decorating donuts at an amazing, quirky, fun donut shop. I really didn’t think I would get it- but I did. And now I can live out a passion and dream of mine, even if it entails waking up before the sun is even close to rising- I’m excited.

I hope this is the beginning.

I think I’m going to attend a culinary arts school and pursue this passion of mine seriously. I don’t just want to see where this takes me, I want to take the reigns and lead my life in a direction I would be proud to live.

It reminded me that I want to get a nice camera and start photographing the things I find beautiful. I want to capture the things that I look at daily that take my breath away and remind me of why I love to live. I want to capture the things that I look at and abstractly break my heart. I want to capture the nuance and captivatingly simple beauty of life.

dis·traught

Journal, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Gradual descent,
Into the bowels of hell-
We swim.

Ignorant of the consequences of our actions,
Intent on making stories out of memories,
Innocent and naive-
We swim.

Out of our thinly veiled masks
we masqueraded around town
with all the naivety it takes
to sincerely Believe.

Believe. Belief. Believed.
Genuinely distraught
by our own memories.

Captivated captive of love,
dumb enough to have Heart
in a world that lives for lust.

She believed.

en·tro·py

Her, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, Personal, Poetry, Relationships

Leaves crumble, crack, and fade.
Visions of their youths,
Quietly dissipate.

Nightly apparitions,
Glasses clink, echo
into excited dawn.

Before the sun has set,
and the night has yet to age,
Hearts eagerly sit, they anticipate.

Never the cracking, crumbling, fading
That surely comes with age.

Rather the excitement of potential lovers,
Drinks that have yet to be poured,
The unrequited love to be dismantled in thin air.

res·o·nant

Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Memories, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

Everything that I have been through recently, all of the things I have experienced, it points to one thing.

I do care deeply about Leo, but he is not as significant for my life as I used to imagine.

When I was with Sam in San Francisco, I recognized how important it was for me to be with someone who was transparent and not that artificial. I was craving something more, something that I could only describe as a connection.

When I was with Donnie, I felt that same way- but he wasn’t as artificial. We weren’t connecting, though. Even though we talked about incredibly deep topics, and opened up to one another. We shared our stories of suicide attempts, our fucked up families, and emotionally unstable relationships. We talked late into the night about our deepest fears and desires. But, something major was missing for me. Something that I strive to give to other people.

When I was with Alfred, I neither connected with him or thought he was genuine. He masqueraded his expensive artwork and google home setup, but was so far gone from himself that I don’t think he was capable of emotionally opening up at that moment. I was missing it there, too.

When I was with T, we connected on a surface level, but I always felt misunderstood by him. I felt like he didn’t bother trying to understand who I was, and maybe it’s my own artificial bullshit, but I do believe that there is a lot to understand about me if someone tried. Both good and bad, I am a deep and flourishing river of things to be dissected and cherished. When I am in love with someone, that is what I do- I try to understand who they are. I try to understand what makes them tick, the in’s and out’s of what they desire, value, and their experiences. I care. That is how I care.

Last night with Leo, I was really drunk for a while. I forget everything that happened, but I know I opened up. I was really honest. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing, my motivations were purely instinctual.

I realize now, I value being understood. Leo doesn’t understand me, he assumes a lot about me that I don’t believe is true. He has a really cynical world-view about everyone being selfish, and I don’t believe that is entirely true. I believe that we can become selfless. That is what I am trying to do.

I invited him to tell me all of the hurtful things that he assumed and believed about me, and he did. There was a lot. He called me naive, and I am. He said that I was manipulative, and I have been, but I work on that (with T, I wasn’t manipulative, which told me that I can be morally strong.) He started to tell me about Riley, and I had to stop him. At which point he said that it proved why people didn’t want to say hurtful things. He also called me emotional and said that he rolled his eyes internally because it seemed like I was trying too hard to prove my cynical worldview. Like I was just following the script of what I should be doing, aka being unoriginal in my efforts. He said he never felt what I felt for him, but that he cared. He cared and he was nice to me to help mask the fact that I was hurt, to try and make things better because that’s his nature.

There’s truth in what he said.

I wanted to be understood by someone else, the way I understood him. I wanted things to magically fall into place, for us to equally understand one another and all that la-di-da bullshit. That’s the naivety. The very real naivety. The part of me that would linger by Box Office after I got off work and giddily stare into his eyes before I would head home. I don’t hate that part of me, it hasn’t gotten me in trouble, it has just hurt me. I think that pain I have felt was an important part of the human experience.

Just like there’s truth in the manipulation- that’s a part of me that I actively extinguish now. She’s bitter. She’s angry. She’s mad at the world for always bringing injustice, where of course I am the Just and those who get everything are the Injust. It’s wrong. I do wrong. I am often much worse than I should be. And that part of me, she rips the photos of Vanessa in the breakroom. She gossips and weasels her way into drama. She is stern. She is a bitch. She thinks that being uptight will somehow achieve her end goals, that being cold and snarky will somehow garner respect. It doesn’t. Ripping up photos of other girls, gossiping, being cold, none of those things are respectable.

But Leo is right that it exists within me.

He’s right that I am emotional, but I want to understand it instead of getting rid of it. Too many people wander through life ignoring how they feel, and I won’t be one of them. I don’t want to be an explosion of emotions though. I want my emotions to be reasonable and in control. Perhaps that’s the next journey I will go on, emotional maturity.

He’s right that the world can be selfish and will consistently hurt you, and maybe this is just my naivety coming out to play, but I hold myself to a higher standard. I will work toward being morally in-tune with myself and my actions. Maybe I should adopt the whole notion that what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Maybe just for the time being.

I need to stop emotionally exhausting myself in situations that aren’t important.

What is important?

The moment? Family? Having a sense of purpose? Success, however it is that you define it? Love? Is love important? Are the mementos important?

I gauge what is important through my heart, what I am called to and called to do- that’s important. But I’m completely questioning it now because I thought my heart was calling for me to love Leo, I thought that it was important. I thought it was some version of destiny or fate calling to me to do what was supposed to be done.

I don’t regret listening to my heart. It’s never directed me in a path that ended up being wrong for me-

So what about Leo, then? Your heart called you there. Maybe not because you two were destined to fall in love with each other, but because he could teach you something important.

I know that I have improved who I am incredible amounts since I’ve had feelings for him. I have learned the truest parts of who I am, and the negative attributes that I have acquired through pain. I have become a more genuine me. The me I have always known I was- and I’m not done, I’m nowhere near finished on my path toward being a more sincere person. But I have made progress.

Maybe that’s why my heart was drawn to Leo. His influence in my life not only helped me grow, but it has helped me work on my biggest flaws. I could be the most giving person in the world, but if I continued to rip up the pictures of other girls and gossip and be nasty inside, I would never be genuine. If I continued to be concerned with what everyone thought about me, I would never be satisfied as I am.

I can admit when I am wrong, I am judgemental and insecure. My self-esteem takes it’s highs and lows seriously. When I am confident, nothing can tear me down. When I am insecure, it could take a slight breeze to push me over the edge.

I deal with depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies, and I’m showing signs of an addictive personality. Those are my big ones, the things I haven’t really been able to tackle yet because I’m stuck on the manipulation and insecurity and loneliness. I know they are intertwined. I know my problems don’t exist separately in different realms. They are one and the same. One larger picture, one big issue that I couldn’t take on right now.

So instead of dealing with it, I indulge. Another guy, another night, another unidentified pill, another glass, another emotionally charged writing session, another breakdown. What it comes down to is that I’m unsure what the bigger problem is, I don’t know how to help myself because I can’t say what’s wrong. I just know that I want to be understood, I want company, I want stimulation, I want to love and be loved.

My bed smells like him. His presence is still in this room, shadows have been cast into a timeless place that does not forget who has been here. His voice reverberates in the walls, it dances with the wind of the passing storm. You have been in this place. For me, love resounds.

There is beauty, even in this.