Benediction

As I walk, sunlight hits my face and proceeds to beat me content.

I close my eyes and let it. 

Beat me black and blue, grounded and true. 

With every step, the energy of the earth travels from its core and jumps from the ground to my feet and up my legs until it fills the spaces in my body with a certain peace. 

You belong here. I listen. 

Once, I drove myself to places I didn't want to be. Wondering maybe, 

if I allowed my feet to become heavy enough, I would find myself driving somewhere nicer instead. 

Into a wall, perhaps. 

Once, I woke up in the morning thinking, 

what a shame. And it dragged on. 

All I know is, I no longer wander into a store, run the tips of my fingers across little treasures, pick them up carefully and leave without paying for them. Treasures I had money in my pocket for.

And I don't smoke cigarettes with the belief that they calmed me down. Probably because I knew they were killing me.  

All I know is, now I walk without the heavy goblin of my past clinging on to my neck. 

But instead it is hand in hand with you. 

All my little plans and schemes,
lost like some forgotten dream,
seems that all I really was doing,
was waiting for yooooooooooooooooououuuoooooouuuu

In a world where wealth inequality no longer exists, everyone is homeless.
This is what everyone wanted.
Everyone pushes carts. Shuffling from dumpster to dumpster.
Landfill to landfill.
City to city.
The man with the fullest cart attracts the most aggression from other men and desire from women.
Pushing around a mound of rubbish expels the most potent pheromones.
The women with empty carts save for an empty plastic bottle and broken comb look for men to fill them.
Fill them with trash and bullshit.
Nothing is so different, after all.

Parts III

I imagine hands touching here, softly, gently,
he knows it's as delicate as my mind used to be.
Like my eyes, as he continues to brush my skin, it becomes wet.
I want your parts too.
The fingers move up into the natural crater of my pelvis, in between the two sharp hills that are three combined.
Ilium. Ischium. Pubis.
As they move up my stomach, they glide through ripples and waves and find a small canyon in between the sheltered structure that is my ribs.
For a moment, it's forgotten that under the earth is a cavern holding my heart. And it beats and it beats and it resonates through the state that is my body.
It beats as if it's been awoken.
Gallant and unafraid.
What is there to be scared of now?
My parts are your parts, too.

I've been on Bupropion for about a month now and I honestly feel like I've gotten so much better. This is more than a slight improvement, especially with how I used to be. I was reading my journal the other day and it was so bizarre comparing one entry to another 3 days later and seeing how different it was. Usually I don't remember the things I write so what I do read is very raw and telling and I'm just a little shocked with how everything has worked out. I've been having more energy and I've lost 6 lbs (not sure if that's completely a good thing) and for the first couple of weeks I could actually sleep and feel a little rested. My old sleep pattern is starting to return but that's something I can handle. The most important this is that I'm starting to feel like I have a personality again, like I'm myself. To be honest, I'm not even very sure what being myself means because I feel like it's been so long that I might just be a different person. Anyway, I hope this keeps working. Dr. Kithas has upped the dose and I'm not as chippy as I used to be but still better. Maybe it'll improve more as I go along. It's just so nice taking something that's finally doing SOMETHING positive to me. Lexapro just numbed me and I felt like a potato and Effexor was fucking shitty and really made me want to kill myself, let me tell you. I didn't bother with Zoloft 'cause those SSRIs just weren't working for me and now I'm here! And I'm feeling better! And I hope it stays better because this is great!!

This is great.

Dr. Kithas said that he knows I'm very smart and could do what I intended to do if I wanted to and that's why he worried and it was nice hearing someone have a little faith and trust in me and not just dismiss my emotions like everyone else does.

I'm gonna jump in the fire

I can't continue like this for any while longer. 2 or 3 weeks have passed since I've been on this permanent state of dreaming and my mood has been an average of 3 and I don't think I can do this much longer. I'm almost accepting of the fact. There are just things in my way I need to take care of or wait out until I know there's nothing else left and that will be that. My mind is already halfway there anyway. The drawer in my imaginary filing cabinet labeled 'future' is almost empty.

My mother is inside of her closet, sitting in the dark. Zac is in there with her and they both have little squares of light entertaining them and keeping them connected to the outside world. I'm sure that if they didn't have their distractions they would both be crying.

I remember when I was a little girl, sometimes my mama would cry. After fights with my dad, usually and she'd sit and she'd cry, and I'd walk up to her and put my small hand on her and she'd hug me and I'd tell her to please stop crying and I would cry too. When I was around 6 or 7 years old, curious, I flipped through a notebook she would write in and to this day, I remember a passage that I'm sure have transformed and shifted in my head over the years but the key words were rage, anger, hands, and love. If I tried hard enough there would be a meaning that came out of my memory. But I don't want to try.

My papa sleeps. On the couch, and throughout the day. He works and he sleeps and he asks for hugs and kisses and then he gets angry and calls everyone useless and then he asks for hugs and kisses and his squinty smile is back again. When he is in a good mood he reminds me of Jackie Chan. Any other time, he is just my father. Today I tried to stay calm and aware that I couldn't say anything that would make his mood even worse. Because that would get us nowhere. It was really the first time I've thought it would be better to hold my tongue and I'm glad I did because things die down eventually.

I wish this family was better for Zac. Jorge and I are too old for much to change now. But my parents have to change for Zac.

Bottom line is I'm a very vocal and emotional person and I will over-analyze everything and I can talk about how I feel for hours if I'm comfortable (and I'm comfortable with very few people) but sometimes I just get so tired of talking and I need to listen once in a while I can't be encourage to keep thinking about myself and I'm so tired of this I'm so tired of being the only one with something to say about anything I feel as if I'm sitting on a chair and being watched and being spoon-fed and this doesn't feel like a relationship anymore.

2 weeks in North California.

I got the vacation I wanted and while I was there it was wonderful. I lived day to day and I worried little. And although I despise thinking negative thoughts, now that I'm back I can't deny that it's all that's become of me lately. My vacation was wonderful, but I was not all there. There was an expectation that it would be some sort of ladder to climb out of this hole with but it was just a beautiful little treasure box I found digging into the dirt out of boredom. I watched the figurine dance to the tinkling melody and all the while I forgot that I was covered in crusts of myself and of the earth. The figurine has stopped dancing and I am back staring up at this inverse hole in the sky. But at least the sky is blue, and I will to climb out to reach it.

I took this first picture and sent it to John when I got all settled on the bus from Los Angeles to San Jose. I was looking forward to getting 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep when a washed up druggie musician started up a conversation when he noticed my book from across the aisle and I said "Sure, you can sit here." when he asked because the bus was starting to fill up. The one-sided conversation lasted about 6 hours. He told me he loved me and I told him he looked like Robin Williams. I liked the woman I met on the first bus much better. She was middle-aged, her name was Viola and she was much nicer and I caught her life story at a happy moment, even though there were many many unhappy moments. 

When I arrived at Santa Cruz, my aunt kissed me and hugged me and I loved her chubby body because her hugs were complete. I'd never spent much time with her before but I already felt like she was my mother. Her apartment was small and messy but it felt like a home. When she showed me the kitchen she said "Just leave the dirty dishes there. If they start to bother someone, they'll be washed." I always washed them. She loves easily and smiles more than anyone I know. I'm glad I was there with her in such a beautiful place. 

On the second day I was there, I explored one of the many beaches. Here I fell asleep on my tummy and now the back of my legs are 10 shades lighter than the rest of my body. There seemed to be only one other lone person on the beach among many groups and I hoped we would start a conversation about the books we were reading and the cigarettes we smoked but that only happens in the movies. 

The parts in this poem that require an image of a companion, or a lover, make me think of John. 

My aunt let me stay in San Francisco with Ellie and Alan for a night and I had a lot of fun. Their generosity and relationship with each other is something I probably won't ever forget. 

I bought several things at a little antiques fair I caught before a movie downtown. 

On one of my last few days in Santa Cruz I decided to go for a walk and found my way to the nearest beach. It was really lovely. 

Then my aunt Sarah and I joined my family on a camping trip in Tahoe. I took this in the morning in between two tents and two sleeps. I woke up from the tent and tiny mattress I shared with my auntie, put my glasses on, went to pee in the woods, noticed the light,  got my camera and took the picture, went inside my parents tent and fell back to sleep in there. 

Back in the desert. 

It's now almost 4 AM. I wrote this a couple of hours ago, and I don't even think I really remember what it says. I won't read it again, I don't think. 

Goodnight John, I love you!

Excuses I think I can make but definitely can't:

• "Oh man I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say that it was just my depression."
• "FUCK no really I'm not sane it's okay"
• "You know, I just started taking meds and I know that was really fucked up to say I'm so so sorry I didn't mean it."

It is 8 in the morning and I am scatter-brained. There is a central thought right smack bang in the middle of my head and all of these sharp little arms are clutching outs trying to reach for the outside world. Trying to grasp what I won't allow it to have. Which is life, basically. I am not capable of giving my thoughts life. My anxiety and my refusal to truly give in to any emotion in fear of it becoming too much I can't handle makes everything I feel and think so dull and fuzzy and perhaps that is the reason I am so sad and unattached.

Unattached. Unattached from what? Who I used to be? There is no I am anymore. Since I've started counseling I've become better at recognizing my problems and giving a name to them. I've gotten my words back again but that does not necessarily mean I am better. It just means I'm more aware. Lots of people resent becoming aware because they realize how bad things really are. That is how I feel. I feel, I feel, I feel, I think, I cannot grasp, I cannot change. 

To be able to put my own hand up to the sky, willing, take a hold of a piece of it and use it to lever me up and be able to look down at everything I have laid out in my past, in my words, in everything I have done and think, "Okay, well, there is nothing to change. Move forward, you have a whole sky ahead of you to climb." To be able to do that and be forgiving with myself and with everything to just LOVE again that will leave me breathless when the moment comes. I know it. I'll get on my hands and knees and feel the gray seep out of every pore and I'll cry and become hysterical but for once it won't come from despair. 

I don't know how long this has been with me. Uncolored companion with no name. I hate to be ungrateful of a friend but I can't accept you as one. 

This is a lot to process. There is a lot to work on. 

If my dad is willing to lose me as his daughter just because I've had sex then I'll somehow find a way to get over it. I was the happiest child I could have been without him and I can be that happy again.

During the last session with my counselor, I was surprised when I started describing the phenomenon of having more than one presence inside of me. I never thought I would be able to admit it because I had never chosen to recognize it myself before. For some reason I still refuse to give it a name.

I can't stand to say I can't stand myself, or my life, or everything around me and that I just want everything to stop in one way or another but it's the only thing I really feel.

Parts II

As I sit, I know the explosiveness my stubby little legs are capable of.

They have run me around the track a hundred, a thousand times.

I used to win a lot and then less and then not at all.
I do not win now. 

If I only had as much stamina as I did speed I would be better.

I would be better in all aspects.

I would be better now. 

K--- o- f----- y--- m------ w-----.

For the past few weeks there has been a mass of a thought that has made its way to the top of the formaldehyde-filled jar of my skull and created a thin film like cover over the liquid and the brain floating inside it. Can't film even gather on top of alcohol? Wouldn't it just dissolve?

Well, even if that was the case, it would be an even better metaphor. It just means the thought has dissolved, and it's not as pronounced, and it's just floating around, and it won't go away. 

Here it is:

I cannot escape my exes. 

I hate them both, but they are in my thoughts always. Like right now, fucking Someday by Sugar Ray is playing on my iTunes and it reminds me of the shit head 12 year old in a 21 year olds body because all he ever listened to was 90s music. And naturally I think of one, I think of the other. They are just grouped together and shoved inside this box I store away in the darkest little corner hoping the cobwebs collect and a sinkhole swallows it up and it becomes lost and I never recall ever knowing them. But the box overflows because somehow the memories I chose to keep are the most infectious and they climb out and grow like vines and I snip and snip and snip away but they keep growing until I find a chainsaw and keep them away for a little while. But they always grow back. 

I am very very tired that I can't just get over my exes. I can't get over the terrible things I've been through with them and I can't find any way to get it out of me. I am hopeless at being coherent when I speak so I never do, and even if I was, I would have no one I'd like to talk about it with. I would not even know what to talk about. How much I despise them? How I try really hard not to check up on them online to make sure they aren't happy and become bitter when they are? Why can't I just move on. I'm sure I fucked them over as they fucked me over. The Mother Teresa inside of me hopes they don't become as plagued as I do when they are reminded of me but god knows I'm not Mother Teresa. But perhaps it would be better if I just forgave and forgot.

Love thy enemy?

Can't help but feel like the only way I'll be happy at this point in my life is to be alone and to be hopelessly lost somewhere new. I feel alone, I feel hopeless, but I'm in the same scenery and atmosphere as I have been  my whole life. I just need a change I just need to get away I just want to get up and leave I am so unhappy.

Last night just wasn't a good night and I hope it's just sleep still in my eyes and not that it's spilled over to this morning that my heart is beating out of my chest.

Parts I

Let's start with my feet.
Where my body meets the earth.
The junction of my existence and the history of the world.
I didn't like to show them,
because I knew there were people that walked, thinking feet were unsightly.
Even though I always thought that my own were pretty.
So they were kept cocooned in worn out Chuck Taylors,
even on summer days.

9th Grade

I'm trying to remember the name of this boy who enchanted me.
He had eyes the color of the desert sky at 11 o'clock when it was 107 degrees out.
No rain, no wisps of clouds, perhaps only a lone vulture soaring against the wind in the edge of the expanse.
That was what his eyes looked like.

He had a way with words that I'd never had a chance of appreciating before.
Although, at 15, I was astounded more than I was appreciative.
Poetry spilled out of his mouth in stories about his life the same way useless facts fell out of mine.
"Did you know Disney World is bigger than the 5 smallest countries combined?"

I made this about 3 weeks ago and it's still pretty accurate.

Very Short Story # 1

- During my routine morning trip to the restroom I noticed I had started my period. The functional zone of my uterus was sloughing off and this would take about 3-5 days. Throughout the week I felt weaker and weaker and noticed I lost weight. I had to change my pad 10 times a day. By the end of the week I felt like a hollowed out shell and when I woke up on the 10th morning I was nothing but a pool of blood on my bed.

505

Although I haven't heard this song in months, maybe years, I still remember when I thought I was in love with you.

Perhaps it's just because the atmosphere is familiar.
I am, after all, flooded in the same pulsating, dull, yellow light of 3 AM and high in my always clouded mind. And as much as I hate you, I still love the songs you gave me, just me, I hope, to keep, forever. 

 I'd like to tell you that I want to stand in front of you, far enough not to breathe the carbon dioxide you emit because I've convinced myself that your lungs are where the ancient evils of Pandora's box have cornered themselves, entering your mouth, travelling into your larynx, down your trachea and into the endless labyrinth of your bronchi along with the disgusting cigarette smoke you once tried to get me to inhale, but close enough to stretch my right arm out and perform a one-inch punch the fictional Pai Mei would be proud of. It would destroy you. It would shatter your sternum open and everything that is you from the shoulder up will fall out of the hole I created in your chest similar to the one you created in mine with the sound of rainfall and the rest of your body would follow. Meanwhile, a fictional pride felt by a fictional mentor because of a fictional act of desperation caused by the bitterness of a fictional love is buzzing.

However, the truth remains that the dumb boy who has forever calcified this part of my chest is all too real. You are scum.

But these songs will hold no memory of you and I will chip away the concrete that coats the inner curvature of my left false ribs, false like everything you told me and every look you gave me and every exhale you blew my way and the chunks and pieces will drop down into the acid of my stomach and I will shit out what you've left me with like I do with everything I consume and find I don't need in my body, I don't need floating through the endless miles of blood vessels. You travelling with me twice around the Earth is the last thing I need. You're scum and you'll always be scum but when I'm through with the thought of you, all you'll be is scum that's ingrained and clinging onto the sewers under this city.  

Settling

I was going to post something but it'll sit in my draft until I sit down and concentrate and write and write and write. 

Mystery Girl

 I went to see Yeah Yeah Yeahs last night and I just had a lot a lot a lot of fun that I'm going to not put any of the yucky things I thought and happened last night down. Good night!

OILRIG

I seem to get my best studying in when it's after midnight and everyone is asleep. After midnight I find that my thoughts have mostly quieted down and I'm not as splenetic as I am during the day. I have a couple of friends around the world in their respective time zones I can carry on a minimal, mellow conversation through the night so I don't feel completely alone. I'll feel very down sometimes but not too much because it is late and I need to get my studying done so I can sleep. 12 AM - 2 AM is the best time for me.

After a few days of unnecessarily having to think about it, I went to see an advisor about my schedule next semester. She had the rest of my classes mapped out for me and it was a relief and it was a start. If I pass the classes I am having trouble with now I only have 2 semesters until I can apply to the BSN program. It's unbelievable to think because I don't even feel like I'm ready for it because I haven't been ready this whole time I've been in University. I told my friend that I was a little scared thinking about it because I won't even know how to begin acting like an adult for another 5 years, at least and he said, "You won't be an adult, you'll just be a kid making lots of money." That honestly made me feel a lot better about it. I'll be a kid that worked hard and gets to play and do what she wants. If she works hard enough.

Anthony is sitting 2 computers down from me and I was thinking a few nights ago that the thing that annoys me most about him is that it seems he never seems to be genuinely upset about anything so much so that it seems like he doesn't live real life. That makes no sense. I'm annoyed with my friend for being happy and content with everything because he already has everything he needs. He has friends, he has a lovely family, he has money and I get annoyed with him because he can't sympathize with me. It's always "life is good" "cheer up!" "well I'm sure it's not a big deal." He doesn't make good jokes either. I love him but he doesn't make good jokes. I can always depend on Garrison for the most natural conversations.

I wrote a letter to my parents about seeing John on Tuesday and now it's Thursday and I need to get it to them. KAYAK gave me an alert that tickets have gone down in price by $7. That's $7 I can spend on Chipotle.

Anyway, it's my last day of work on Saturday, thank GOD. I'm going to go to Smith's after school and buy ingredients for cupcakes and then I will have something to do tonight. Also I need to buy my tickets to see the Yeah Yeah Yeahs but I still haven't gotten around to it because I still don't havea  plan of how I'm going to get there. How am I going to get there?

"It's always about that"

I can't even get the suggestion of what I'm trying to ask my dad out of my mouth before I take something he says to heart and get that overflowing feeling in my heart that fills up the rest of my thoracic cavity and up my esophagus, filling my my head space and coming out of my eyes as tears and out of my ears as deafening hopelessness.

It's Party Time!

I don't know how many more daily panic and anxiety attacks I can take because of school. Only so many until I actually jump off the 5th floor of Lied.

We celebrated Zacs 6th birthday party at the house yesterday. Currently, there's a bare-to-the-bone lechon sitting on the dining table along with enough leftovers to feed the Pitcairn Islands for lunch. He had a lot of fun and I'm happy that last night was a good night for him. Then again, as long as there's a party for you when you're a kid, it doesn't matter who goes, you'll still remember it as a great day.

I don't remember my 15th birthday here in America. I want to say we got a cake at Seafood City and I blew it out and then the rest of the day was spent at Mommy Mila's house doing nothing like always.

My 16th birthday, I went to school and DeAngelo had a huge balloon, a teddy bear, and a container of brownies for me and I carried it around all day. I remember feeling a little embarrassed because I wasn't very popular at thigh school and the balloon drew a lot of attention as I walked from class to class. During chemistry a classmate that barely talked to me wished me a happy birthday and then asked if she could have a brownie, I  thanked her and gave her one, and gave some to other people that asked and then I took a bite, decided I didn't like it and gave the rest to her.

For my 17th birthday we had just moved to the house a few months before and I shared a party with my dad. My mother ordered us both very beautiful and quite expensive fondant cakes, and it was the prettiest cake I'd ever had. It was closer to my dads birthday so it was more of his party than mine. There were also more people there for him than for me. Tania and Carlos came and I hadn't seen her in years so I was happy she made it. I don't think I was very close friends with Garrison or Anthony yet. DeAngelo came and it was the first time he had been invited to a party. He brought me one of his old TV's because I needed one for my room and I kept thinking how pathetic he looked carrying it down the road with a glum face. He was frustrated because I was trying to divide my time between him and my friend and he left early and almost crying with frustration. What a complete dick.

My 18th birthday party, no one came. I invited Garrison and Anthony and I think they had things to do. I remember inviting a few other people and being scared to invite them all the same because they would see how many people didn't turn up. It didn't matter because no one did turn up except for the usual Vegas Filipino people. Everyone asked me where all my friends were. I was almost upset to say no one came and everyone was busy and I don't really have many friends, but I got presents and I spent time with the kids in my rooms so I wasn't too sad about it. Plus my mom ordered me a pretty Barbie cake.

I came home after work to a surprise party for my 19th birthday. I didn't expected but I had a hunch. Mostly because Filipinos are very disorganized when it comes to being on time to anything and someone arrived at the same time I did. My mom invited Anthony but he had church. I don't think she had Garrisons number. I spent the night eating and thanking everyone and my parents and taking a few shots and being in my room crocheting and making paper stars with the girls. It was nice.

Birthdays are a strange thing lately and it's a shame that I don't get as excited about them anymore as Zac does.

Housewife Jello

At work today most of my shift was committed to tasking and working in the back room. I enjoyed it, I didn't have to deal with as many customers as I could have. It wasn't all peachy and fun and games but I liked having an assignment to finish. While I was throwing boxes around and hauling ass back there one of my favorite coworkers came back and asked me if I needed some help while he was back there. I replied, "No, I can manage." While squeezing in through piles of stock carrying a huge hunk of a metal rack. "God damn girl, you're gonna make a great wife one day."

I started thinking, what a funny compliment. Realizing how not too long ago, that was all women were really expected to become; and even still now, although everyone denies it.

A lot of times I don't think I'm capable to become what I want to become, career-wise. Party because I'm not smart enough, and partly because I'm still not even entirely sure what I want to be. There's just a constant  waiting for something to strike me in the face telling me that, okay, this is what you're supposed to do, so just go ahead and do it. This vagueness surrounding my whole future is what is stopping me from having one. I want everything and I want nothing, all the same. Why did no one prepare me for this? Why does everyone expect me to be prepared for it now?

I wouldn't even make a good wife. I can't cook, let alone get through a day without having a mental breakdown.

I went hiking with a coworker today and I enjoyed it. There's beauty somewhere in the desert, after all.

Waking during the witching hour

Whose woods these are I think I know,
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

                                        ~Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening, Robert Frost


I woke up from a bad dream with that last stanza repeating inside of my head. It was already a queer night for me before I eventually fell asleep. I cried what I felt and what I felt will leave me with swollen eyes, still, in the morning. I played with myself but whoever says you don't feel emotions at the peak of orgasm is a liar. Those whimpers were fragments of anguish from just minutes before more than they were of bliss. I was on the edge of tears more than I was on the edge of ecstasy.

I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
I felt this denseness over my skin. Only my arms were exposed so that's where they felt the heaviest. I got up to use the restroom and I pictured a hand coming out from underneath my bed and grabbing my ankle; but I always imagine that happening. When I got back I tried to figure out where those lines repeating in my brain came from. I trapped myself in my pillow fort and I couldn't help but notice how overwhelming the quiet of 3:33 was. I think that's where this massive weight blanketing my room came from. I kept recalling the story of The BFG. Tonight would have been a perfect night for him to come and take me away into Giant Country. I'm sure the only thing stopping that from happening is the fact that I'm not a little girl anymore. Either way, he didn't come fast enough to blow a sweet dream into my ear.

I was lying in bed and trying to be brave and keep my eyes open but I pictured some grotesque hand appearing from nowhere and caressing my cheek. I couldn't keep my eyes open for that.

I am very happy.

I am very happy with myself, though I may not show it. I love every pinch of my body, I love my face. I love my personality, and the honesty of my thoughts. I am one of a kind. I am very happy with myself, though I may not feel it.
I am happy with my friends, even if I feel I'm not as high of a priority to them as they are to me. But not every friendship has to be like that. No friendship has to be like that. I want to make them happy. I love my friends.
I am very happy with my family, even though I don't tell them nearly enough. I love my mother, she is an amazing woman. I love my father, he is a genuine man. I love my brothers, they both make me laugh. I am very happy to be in this family, I should project it more often.
I am very happy with ny relationship. The word "very" feeling well overised now. I love my significant other. I don't feel like he should be with me. I don't feel like he should care about me. I feel I'd rather be alone than having someone I love slowly realizing he does not need to be in this. I feel I will become a regret somedsy, but I love him all the same. I am very happy to be with him, I am desperate for him to be happy with me. The word that means something between lucky and grateful and appreciative and blessed and happy would be the word I would use. I feel more than the meaning of those words toward this relationship.
I am happy I am lucky I am happy I am blessed I am happy I am happy.

This goblin is running around with a flaming torch around my insides right now, what a peculiar feeling.

I'll be honest and say I don't like not having an audience anymore. I'm just talking to myself and I'm sure at least one other person but mostly still myself. I talk to myself I talk to myself . talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself  I talk to myself

I gave up in less than 20 points.

It's really difficult being in this. How have I managed to do this? It breaks me to think that I'll be doing it for much, much longer, still.

Why you should let me travel across the continent to another country alone to see my significant other (whom I've never met before) and stay at his apartment for a week:

1. I have worked very hard for the past 6 months and saved up a lot of money hoping to go on this trip.
2. I'm dying to travel and leave Las Vegas for a little while. 
3. I would be so happy.
4. Maybe it'll finally shake this goblin off my shoulders.
5. I'll be staying with someone I care a lot about and who cares about me a lot and I know he'll keep me safe. 
6. He's an incredible guy who I'm already positive I'll be with for the rest of my life.
7. You'd be really happy for me if you got to know him.
8. Please get to know him. 
9. Please let me go.
10. I can and will pay for everything, I just need to let you know that it would make me so so happy if you let me go on this trip. 
11. Even if I am of legal age, I'd still respect you and understand if you don't think I should go and I won't go behind your back if you do.
12. I'd just be really heartbroken and probably slip into a coma for a couple of weeks.
13. Why can't he come here, instead?
14. I'm not sure. 
15. Mostly because I want to leave and find out how I really am by myself and see the world and see him at the same time more than I want to see him at any cost, I guess.
16. I don't want this to be another insignificant immature relationship with tons of sneaking around and things said that have no meaning to them. I want to be serious for once.
17. Also I want to have lots of sex.
18. Also because I don't think he really wants to come here and not be treated like an adult and be forced to go to church on Sunday morning. 
19. Why doesn't he come here instead?
20. Okay, I can wait to go I suppose. 
21. Just give me a second to get over this. Maybe a week or two. Or a month. Or 2 years.

Characters (at work):

• Rwanda (Store Manager)- Intolerable, inconsiderate fake with dress-shoe up his ass 24/7. He's a good enough store manager to make his store one of the best in the company but all of his employees hate him as a person, myself included. It's really actually pretty terrible how all of his workers criticize him and talk about how bad of a manager he is. A workplace shouldn't have to stress about whether or not they'll get yelled at when they clock in.
• Mama E- She's the best person you could ever know. Just knowing she's working on a shift with me makes me feel a little better about coming into work. E always has stories about her kids or something amusing that's happened to her recently. She's not the most organized person and she has her quirks but she evens out Rwanda enough that everyone else doesn't go insane and can tolerate coming into work. I don't like when dumb Rwanda has made her upset. 
• Quesadilla - She is 24 and she is a young manager. As a supervisor, she's great and on top of things and very responsible and I always enjoy working with her, we have fun just because we're both young but I don't think we would be friends out of work. She's just one of those everyday girls you see that has Ted as her favorite movie of the year. Nothing wrong with that though, I still love her. But only you really get to know a person when you see how they text. 
• B- I looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooove him just because he loves me too. This one time we hadn't worked together in a while and he came over and gave me a hug and a kiss on the forehead and that made me feel so fuzzy just 'cause he's so big and cuddly. He's a very hard worker and has great people skills. Just one of those really chivalrous guys and has great family values. He's great. 
• Willy Monfret- Wow hello, my beautiful Colombian model. I'm still not sure about his sexual orientation pr relationship status because it's all very confusing but it shouldn't matter either way because we've sort of developed an insult-each-other-with-every-opportunity relationship. He does this thing where he glares at me head to toe then back again with a sour face and looking sassy as fuck 'cause he knows I think it's annoying and will make me uncomfortable. I think we'd be good going to see a romantic comedy or a horror movie together or something.
• Mr. Teacher- The most down-to-earth guy ever. Everything about him is so American and genuine. He can talk for about an hour if you don't say anything to stop him and he's just charming and innocent looking enough that it will never annoy you. 
• Tortellini- I'm pretty sure she's out to have a competition and prove she's juts a little better than me at any cost like the attitude some girls my age have with me but it doesn't matter 'cause I still like her! We get along well enough but like Quesadilla, we probably wouldn't be bffs out of work. Them two, however, all they talk about is sex and boys and parties and all that whenever they have spare time, even during work, and they are actually bffs with each other. I'm annoyed for the reasons that 1) I'm doing more work than they are standing there and gossiping and 2) I can't just jump in and join them and be super gossipy with girls for once. 
• Jacyln- She has a kid and she smokes and she lived in Hawai'i and she is allergic to ingesting water. That are the 4 things you'll hear her tell a customer within at least a minute of her trapping them. Great saleswoman, super nice, super funny, that's all I really know though. I heard she's in the hospital currently because all the soda she drinks is eating away her stomach. I hope she's alright.
• Snowboarder & The Little Mermaid- These boys are also part of the younger crowd and it's always fun and really laidback working with them. TLM asked me if I wanted to see a movie the first week he started working there. I honestly thought he asked as friends and I said no without thinking about it more then I realized he doesn't really talk to me the same since he found out I had a boyfriend! Oh well! It's a little amusing how clueless he is when it comes to a few things but I just have fun calling him dumb and helping him out. The Snowboarder has a Filipina girlfriend (that Willy Monfret refuses to believe actually looks like me like he said) and goes to UNLV like I do. We get along very well just 'cause we're both nice people and crack regular jokes. 
• Nic- Oh gosh she drives me insane just because she's so slow at everything. Slow at tasking, slow at recovering, swears in front of customers, exaggerates whenever she bumps her godamn  hip on a table or pulls a hair out or something. It's so infuriating. She's the sweetest person but maybe I just get easily annoyed. 

It's 3 AM all of a sudden. My papa got home from work about 40 minutes ago. I should probably go downstairs and say hello.
Truth is, this family doesn't feel like a family. I'm not sure if it ever really has. Observing and being envious of everyone else's relationships with their parents distracts me too much from making mine better. My New Year's resolution for 2013 was to have a better relationship with them. I'd never assigned myself a proper resolution before. I'm just a little vexed today because nobody ate the tacos I made except for Jorge. I don't really feel appreciated for what I do around here. But then again, I'm sure I don't give appreciation where it's due either. I'll be that honest.

I can't even think anymore. I tried to clean but all I did was play with the scanner and put more pictures up and play with my back acne. Why do I have back acne? I'm not sure what time I'll wake up tomorrow but I have to go in to KC at 6. I was going to start reading The Bell Jar today but I suppose someone else's depression can wait to burden me another day longer. I miss John.

210

Do self-destructive tendencies overcome eventually?

I can't help but notice how many times I use I in a post. Or just, in every day conversation actually. Is there a workshop, do you think, to help one to stop using that word? Is it even so bad to keep using that word? Do you think there is some sort of existential event that will be put in place for you if you go a certain amount of time without using the word I? Anyway, if there ever was, I would never be rewarded with it. I am all I think about. I am all I know. I am all I care about. Every thought in my head is I. And rightfully so. I'm torn between feeling resentment for this narcissism or stupidity for thinking it is narcissism. There can't be any truly selfless people in the world. Now proceeding to continue writing the rest of this post while refraining from using that silly vowel.

Trying to make this blog look pretty. Wondering if anyone has read it since it has been resurrected. Doubt it, highly. Not too many people know about it anyhow, even when it was used actively. Then again, the owner didn't have as much of an internet present as she does now. But also, then again, her internet presence isn't really that impressive right now either. Does talking in the third person count? Shouldn't matter, it's fun. It's a little past midnight already, should have been asleep 30 minutes ago. But avoiding time alone to think by sitting on the toilet with the laptop is much more fun and much easier. She likes to sleep but she never likes the hour before it.

Goodnight

here is her escape, sans the pile of clothes usually enveloping it

and here is what she sees in the harmless morning, except without her contacts on, it is nowhere near as  magical

There was a whole 3 weeks of the summer dedicated to watching The Office. All 7 seasons of it on Netflix. Curtains would be drawn, the whole side of the bed by the wall had a permanent fetal position imprinted on it. My laptop would be lying sideways to accommodate for my head also lying sideways. Those 3 weeks were the best of my summer. And therein, I think, lies the problem.

Hypothetical situations of myself being like everyone else I know when it comes to spending my free time during a break or a summer happen too often in my head. The fact is, I'm not and never will be like everyone else with cool, understanding, hip parents. I never will be. My parents just aren't parents. They weren't ready to have me, or any of us for that matter. My dad especially. He's not ready to be a responsible adult and he does not set a good example for me as far as living like an adult goes. As a person, he's a great role-model I look up to but I do not look up to him as an adult, at all.

Is that sad? Does that sound bad?

I'm sad and nobody does anything about it, not even me.

John: Want to go to bed with me?
Ina: Dunno, I kinda want to stay up and start The Bell Jar and empathize with Sylvia Plath.
John: Dunno what or who that is but sounds good
Ina: She's the one that stuck her head in the oven.

When 2:00 came around my legs shook. I love it, I can't help it. The attention makes me happy. Nothing will ever come of it but it feels good all the same. I can still feel him inside of me. His scent is still on my hair. Always on my hair.

I really love when I smell like this.

I had my last exam today, it was my 224 Practical. I feel pretty okay about it. But then again, I always feel pretty okay after an exam regardless of how well the outcome actually is. It must be the relief of getting it over with more than the feeling of accomplishment itself. I rarely feel accomplished when it's anything regarding my studies nowadays. After that, I went to see Garrison. He was in a corner of the SU studying. I laid down on the bench next to him and fell asleep for a little while and then decided I would go to the mall any buy myself some pretty clothes to feel better just because pretty clothes make me happy. I bought this beauuuuuuuuuuuutiful black dress that I'm extremely happy with. I tried to find a nice plain blue dress I could wear but I couldn't. I look good in blue. I also bought a pretty pink polka dot crop-top too. I like my tummy, I should be able to feel like I can wear crop-tops more often. Afterward, I went to Chipotle and got a big fat burrito. This branch was on Mountains Edge side of town and I was basically the only non-white girl there. It was bizarre. The ladies behind me didn't say "thank you" for their meal. After I was full and my stomach was bulging out of that crop top, I went to the library. I tried to look for books I thought I'd enjoy but I couldn't find anything. Judging books by their covers is definitely all I did.

I am the lizard king, I can do anything. But right now all I'd really love is to rock this practical. *metal*

You don't even notice change.

It's been much too much too long since I've typed up a proper blog post on this thing. I didn't realize it then but starting this blog was definitely a saving grace when we first moved to The States. It became a huge part of me.
I just always have this constant urge to share. To share everything. My thoughts, my emotions, my frustrations, my body, my food. Recently I had a talk with Him and He shared that I might have always had this compulsion for attention. Any type. It makes sense, I get it. I didn't get much of it when I was little. My dad wasn't around much. I know how these daddy issues work, I took Psych 101.

Anyway, the real reason I'm here is because I got caught in this little thing called Tumblr for far too long. That website is literally soul-sucking. I'm positive it was one of the main drives for this emotional turmoil inside of me. Plus it's a huge distraction and I don't have very good self-control. My self-control is basically the most laid-back of all the self-controls. "You want to what? Shoot heroine? Well I don't think that's the greatest idea Ina but you know, if really want to!" So I went ahead and left it. I didn't really delete it, I wouldn't be able to do that just because I'm such a nostalgic person and the internet is good for keeping memories. One day when I'm bouncing a kid on my lap and my flat stomach is no longer flat, I'll type in my old url and look through my /me tag and become reminded of hot I was. And I'll look through my /personal tag and laugh at how silly all my problems were. And I'll look at every other post and cringe and snort and grunt at the 3 years of thoughts I had accumulated on that thing. I'm glad I made it but I need to be happier and I need to be more focused on school and working and my family and my guy and my friends and everything else around me. I can't move forward if I'm so intent on facing a computer screen.
Like I am right now, for example. It's okay though because I always felt like making a big post every day was better than sporadically making bratty ones throughout the day and when I post this, I'll be able to study.

How do I feel right now? Well for starters, I've only had a combined sleep of about 8 hours for the past few days. It's only 8:30 but I feel like it's 2 AM. I've just done it again. Left my schoolwork to the last minute. I'm in college, I really can't afford to be doing that. It kills me because I know I shouldn't be but I do anyway and I panic and I become anxious and I cry and I complain to Him and he's so great about it but nothing makes me happy when I'm in this whole leg. I've just been sad the past few weeks or so, something's come back but that still shouldn't be a reason to have to panic every time some significant period in the semester comes around. I'm never going to become a nurse if I keep up like this! I want to be a nurse! I like science! I like the human body! It's really fucking neat! So I need to act better about it more so I can learn about science more! Yay science!

I think that's pretty much all I have for tonight. I need to revise the rest of my study guides for my 7:30 AM lab tomorrow. Hahahahahhahaha I hope I crash and die on the way to school. (I don't really, but that's all I think about when I drive I'm a very sad and complex person I should be in a movie.)

'Til next time!

Zac is very fond of Wreck-It-Ralph

I just take selfies that's all I do.

Just like a white-winged dove

~I'm so glad that you sound as excited and as enthusiastic as I do.~