advicetuesday july 22nd 2008. The best day of my life.
We saw each other again. Everything came back. The words. The feelings. The moments. The memories. The kisses. We made love the way we were always meant to. I was the most naked I'd ever been, and I don't mean physically.
I was so scared. Afterwards, I didn't know what to think. I thought I'd made another mistake. I thought I had been used. I thought it meant nothing to him, when all I wanted was to be his everything.
Today. Today I made him believe that I had found someone else. Today I lied in my despair to get him back. I just ended up pushing him further away. I cried as I finally spilled it all. I told him I wanted him back. I told him I missed him. I told him I loved him. I set it all out on the line. I believe I was rejected.
I don't know if I really lost him forever. I sent him the most revealing email. Pride is nothing but a memory to me now. He's going on a trip with his family and he gets back this tuesday. He said he'd call. I don't know what will happen.
If anyone is reading this, I'm lost. And I'm begging for any type of advice. I want him back, and I don't know what to do. Please. If there's anything I could do, I'll do it. I've made mistakes and I'm willing to pay the price, but I'm also more than willing to fix them, because I know that they're fixable (don't know if that's a word).
This is a plea to anyone out there. Any who may be reading this. Please help. Please.
I drown.
I drown in an ocean of questions. I kick my way through doubts and memories. I struggle for air, only to realize the air is your scent, and I am confused.
I wake up, suddenly, realizing it was no more than a dream, and the ocean was an ocean of tears. My tears.
Afraid to fall asleep, I lie in my bed, staring in to darkness, and I remember how the thought of you always colored the shadows. I take a few breaths, cautiously, as I expect to find your scent as my air. I reach a false state of calm - a gray zone that I have been walking through since you've been gone.
I organize my thoughts. I line them up in my mind - my army of questions, ready for inspection. I shudder as I feel each one pierce me like a dagger. But then I realize that it is only one question in my mind, one weight pulling at my heart:
Why are you in such a hurry to forget?
It is the same question over and over, circling me as I lie in my bed. It taunts me, and tortures me with each possible answer.
I do not understand. I find no logic. Logic ran away when pain settled in. But I do not miss it; I know that logic will not feel like a moment in your arms.
And these questions only eliminate the remains of your voice and what's left of your scent. In the war inside my soul, the questions kill off the memories.
But then again, why remember?
Memories keep us bound to the past, blinding us to what happens in the present. But if the present isn't exactly what we had hoped for in the past, is it such a crime to wish to keep living something we liked?.. Is it such a crime to wish to keep something we loved? Love is so rare and precious, it's worth fighting for. Can you not see that?
And as tears once again run down my face, each one falling and whispering "why", I am startled as I hear a familiar sound.
My cellphone. As the ringtone grows louder, I am amazed to hear my heartbeat drown it out. I look at the screen, and there you are, summoned from the depths of my desires.
I answer, and your voice once again colors the shadows. You tell me you love me, and my heart believes you. You assure me that I am the one, and I can detect no lie as I see your voice in my mind.
I do not want to think. I am just grateful that my tears have stopped. As I hang up, I can breathe your scent once again, and your voice still sings to me. There is no pain. There is no logic. There's only the feeling of your arms wrapped around me as I am finally able to go to sleep. I embrace my dreams fearlessly, for I know that whenever I reach out, I will find your hands this time, if only in my dream. I am content for what's left of the night, even though I know that tomorrow, I will greet the day soaked in an ocean of doubts and memories once again.
it's july 1st and it's raining. I wake up and it's raining. I go to bed and it's raining. For a week now the only word I can use to describe the passing days is "wet". It kinda makes me mad.. it's summer and it's raining. Having a beach 10 minutes away is useless if it's pouring outside while the sun just hibernates on its ass.
Athazagoraphobia - the fear of being forgotten.
I'm not particularly religious. Actually, to be honest, I'm not religious at all. I might be leaping into death by putting this down for everyone to see, but I'll say it: I don't believe in God. (Now, please, if anyone is reading this, no evil comments about atheists, ok?) It's not that I stopped believing, I just don't think I've ever had religion as a part of my life. It's not in me; and, forgive me, but I'm not on any journey to find it.
Sometimes I envy believers. Those true believers - they probably never feel alone because they believe God is always with them. Whenever they're in over their heads with problems and issues to deal with, deep down they're okay, because they believe that God will see them through. It must be kind of cool.. believing in God. It's kind of like having a constant companion. Someone to talk to. A true friend. In a world of billions of people, we could all use at least one good friend.
Look at me: an atheist promoting religion. Irony makes the world go round. An atheist claiming that God is your friend. God will be a friend who'll never ever leave you, even if the going gets really rough, God will rough it along with you. That's probably a comforting thought to all those who feel it's true.
It must be nice to lie awake at night, and feel safe.
It's been a long time since I've lied awake at night and felt safe. I loathe getting into bed to sleep. It's in that moment when we're truly physically alone. We're nothing but purely ourselves. We're not trying to make somebody laugh, we're not fighting off our brothers, we're not working or watching television. It's the one moment in our entire day when we spend time with just ourselves. We sort out thoughts and feelings. Even if you don't intend to, and we're just silently lying in our beds, buckets of emotions and memories - whether they're old memories or things that happened 15 minutes ago - hit you. They don't stop until you're alseep.
What do you do, then, when instead of buckets, you've got an ocean? Every night, I drown in my bed. Every night I shiver until I snore. Every night I count the pieces of my broken heart -only to lose them again in the darkness. Every night.
As blasphemous and cynical as this may seem, this is an atheist saying "God help me"
Well, hello, everyone.. :)
actually, I'll rephrase: .. rather than "everyone", I'll say "anyone".. for I doubt many people would be interested in the life of a weird, Mexican teenager.
So, first off.. I really don't feel like sharing my real name, so for the sake of mystery (and my peace of mind:P), I'll introduce myself as Miema. I'm 18 years old. I live in Tampico, Mexico. It's a small city, on the northeastern part of the country. We've got a beach :D and it gets pretty humid here.
I sort of feel that I should share my life with someone - not because I think it's interesting, but because it might help me somehow. I just don't know how to start, rather, WHERE to start. I guess I should just begin with the present. If anyone who's reading this has lived a little, he or she will catch on pretty quick. I don't blame you if you're compelled to stop reading and check your email instead.. Hell, if you're still reading, I think it's a battle won :P. This may seem like another story of heart break, loneliness, longing, teenage-hood. It probably is. But then again, it has been said that every human being is like a universe in hisself; oceans of memories, mountains of pain, rivers of tears, and stars.. stars of feelings.
I'm not sure how long this should be. I'll try and pace myself.
I love him. Whenever I start writing about him, that's the first thing that comes to mind. I always start off by that same sentence. It's a reflex. An instinct. It seems so cold to refer to such an intense and complex feeling as a reflex or instinct. But it is, in a way, both. You can't control love - you don't see it coming. You can't avoid love either. You get to a point where your brain grows fuzzy, and, that which many people refer to as your heart, takes over.
When I realized that I was falling inlove with him, I cried. I cried in fear. I knew deep inside that love walks hand in hand with pain. Pain that only the complexity of love can describe. Pain I had wanted to avoid forever. Pain that never lets go.
Ladies and gentlemen (or whoever is still reading this) brace yourselves.
