Ifonly you existed

I realized just now that it helps if you think you're writing TO someone. which is pretty cruel, considering that it proves how much people need people- and yet in my early 20's, in a suburban place, it seems like we need to learn the painful lesson of how to be content alone.

I don't know what to do. It's late, and I'm tired, and just like I told Mom- I want a magic answer. I want a sparkling perfectly wrapped solution to all my problems- if someone isn't going to give me a job, then at least tell me the best path for me.

What was it in Bedazzled? George asked why God couldn't make everything perfect, and the Devil responded that God wanted people to have a choice. To choose to be good or evil.

Well, okay, I agree with the choice part. But what about the rewards part? What about being recognized for the good you do? I am one of the best young teachers out there- this i know for a fact- and yet I'm not getting any job offers.

Am I supposed to keep fighting? Is this how it is, when you feel passionately for something that has a lot of downsides, and you have to keep sturggling and sobbing onwards? I thought I learned that was wrong? I did that in my relationships and it was wrong. Is it true for work? And besides, even if I do win the battles, at the end of the road is no Paradise- it's a classroom full of unruly teenagers who don't give a shit, and who would much rather be somewhere else.

I think...the reason why people end up where they end up is because at the end of the day, no matter how much I try to believe that we're all equal and everyone has a chance, communism doesn't exist. Equality is near impossible. There will always be the guy at the top, the guy on the bottom, and everyone in between.

That's why people frowned when I said I'd teach high school. Because they expected more. Well, it's also because it's not a respectable profession- that's probably the reason for most of the people my age. But for dad, laulau, and even mom, it's because they expected more.

Because they thought I deserve more.

I don't think it was until this moment that I really understood how they must have felt. Their talented, intelligent daughter was settling for mediocrity.

Is that really what I want?

For awhile, I thought it was. I was thinking these past few months that I'd outsmarted them all- that I'm smart enough NOT to choose law or medicine, and instead to choose something that will make me happy.

But the world proved me wrong. The world...fate....the U.S. economy....proved me wrong. And I'll try not to be egotistical about this. I know, and feel bad for all the people who have it worse. Phoebe's family is depending on her to be successful, because they picked up and moved for her. And although Melissa-Justine/Monica are all relatively happy and unharmed, there are a lot of families out there who need that teaching job but can't get it.

People don't go hungry in the U.S. But their college money runs out. Their fridges look scantier. They don't take vacations as much, and they feel a lingering fear, a gripping and tiring tightness in the back of their minds. We act like the economic crisis is over, but I'm only starting to feel the consequences.

The reason why smart people tend to end up more successful is because they know better. Because the theory of evolution and...what was it called? Natural tendencies? People fit certain niches. There are people who were MEANT to be doctors, people meant to be rich- people meant to be poor, to be farmers or laborers for their entire lives.

There are exceptions of course.

But it's late so I'll get to the point.

Right now, having worked my ass off, all I've gotten is being laughed in the face by several people and no job offers whatsoever. I didn't get what I wanted. So I choose another plan. I think of other ideas. Right now I want out, because the program is costing me more than I'm willing to give.

I was never sure about graduate school for English. But I don't want to switch gears into Anthropology, and I've avoided admitting to Business/Econ so far so why not continue? The law school ship is slowly sailing away in the far distance, and the medical ship is but a mere speck on the horizon.

What does it take to make me happy?

Being busy, feeling in control, eating pretty well, having people around me, and enjoying a good mix of friends and peaceful solitary reflection.

I would love to save the world.

But I'm pretty sure I can't.

What I want to do right now, is drop out of Claremont, and then go on the Oxford program in the spring. Then I'll go to NYU, or BU, or Washington University or some school in a lushly urban place, immerse myself in literature and intellectual challenge again, and spend 4 -5 years enjoying the graduate life. By the time i'm 28 or 29, I will have a p.h.D. and be teaching in a school somewhere. Throughout my life, I will continue to teach and I will continue to progress- I'll develop a proper non profit someday, like a literacy program or some kind of organization that benefits a community high in need. Somewhere in there, I'll fall in love, and build a family with someone wonderful.

You know what I've realized?

I never really understood a lot of the things I wanted. I wanted recognition, and "true love", and a 1950's family. But now....I see that I was chasing phantoms. I never knew how much hard work these things took, or how badly they could turn out.

What do I want still?

I want friends. I want a change of scenery, and I want to really start my life- REALLY start living, sans drama, sans pcc shit, sans all of the bullshit I'm mired in right now. I was weak, and broken, and I fell into teaching. Maybe it's time I really stood up, walked out t he door, an d started living life again.

Maybe.

sometimes you get the feeling that you want to hold onto the threads of the past. so for no good reason, you look back and grasp onto things- twitter, blogs, even an old dusty picture or something as lowly as facebook stalking- just so you could feel that faint pulse of an old connection to someone.

i'm lonely.

and that's when bad things tend to happen, because i make bad decisions- slowly or quickly- and sooner or later it becomes a clusterf*k of drama and hurt feelings. So at least this time, lol, I know to be good. I know what I have to do. I know that this new obsession with food, and pleasure in soft blankets and hot showers is my sensual catharsis at lack of ahem for a very long time.

but is it really a bad thing?

i know myself better than before. much better. i can draw myself back from depression, unless it's really bad.

i guess what i realized today is that i've been punishing myself, feeling glum and gloomy because my plans didn't work out. which is a rarity, and even more so depressing.

but then i thought...why should i be sad? can't be i be done with my masochistic tendencies and try to enjoy this time? although living on my own was enjoyable, here....the fridge is always stocked to bursting. and as unrelatable as mom is, she's always loving and supportive no matter how grouchy or awful i am. in fact, i can't remember the last time she snapped at me- even if i've been taking out my frustration on her for days.

i know my tone is a little mad men, but i guess....

i grasp at strings. i want to remember, and strangely honor the saga that i endured....because he was one of the people who didn't necessarily know me completely, but who i wrote on my list of people closest to my heart. so it's worth remembering. it's worth digging up dusty paragraphs and internet stalking because i need to remember that it happened- that it was important to me, that it was awful, but it doesn't really matter if it was awful or un-awful it just matters that it happens.

i need to know that i've lived.

because sometimes, when life is full of gray and failure i need to remember that i have a past and i'm still in motion, moving forward.

Besame Mucho

What I've found is that being an adult- being responsible, etc.- actually has its perks. Having a clean, neat room makes me feel less stressed, just plain feels cleaner. Being early feels responsible, less nerve wracking, and rather pleasant. And not procrastinating is just plain rational.

I think (and I hope) that I'm slowly transforming into a type A personality.

Anyway, tonight was alright. Today, actually, was okay. I felt grumpy, and resentful, and awkward...but then I realized surprisingly that I might just be beginning to accept myself. So what if I'm shy and awkward around new people? Americans may praise extrovertedness but that doesn't necessarily mean being introverted means you'd be exiled.

I like who I am. I try to appreciate who I am- all my dark secrets, solitary hours, and unfortunate quirks, and raging tempers and impatient bits- and I think that's essential to learning how to be happy.

During evenings like these, when I'm alone, it is very useful and pleasant to peacefully and contentedly spend time with yourself- smoothing on fragrant sweet pea lotion, watching TV lazily, just enjoying my own company.

Definitely a good skill. A rare peaceful night.

Cause of depression?

Of course, I didn't get that job. But also, this time last year I had taken a deep breath, wrenched myself out of a terrible relationship, and turned to face the biggest shitpile I'd ever created for myself.

I was going to write this on my public blog, but it really is too undignified. When I started making the laundry list of casualties, it was too obvious and sad. I lost the trust, of pretty much everyone I loved. I LOST people I loved. I remember incredibly painful moments, small moments that sting in my memory like a deep papercut...when Steph and Chris looked at me apprehensively the first time I was home after the move, and he asked, "so you ok? you yourself now?"

I remember that awful Vegas night, drunk as fuck and crying to Eric, feeling him tug down my dress to cover my exposed thighs, seeing him looking so angry and intense through my tear filled eyes.

I lost...a lot. Looking back, I wonder how I survived. And it was literally by crawling into a hole and nursing my wounds in a quiet place before tentatively emerging in society again. Thank god it was a peacful, quiet place like Benvenue, where I could close the door and cry every now and then. Thank god for Jess and Honnie, who were close but not close enough to have been hurt by me, who took me out and helped me back to myself.

But geezus. Look at what I lost, dear God! I lost my friends, my family, and myself. It was a slow and miraculous process to find myself again- and I still am- finding small pieces of myself in surprising, random places.

My family- Mom and Steph- is trusting me again because of all the hard work I put in. Steph said "love you" on the phone today, quite naturally, and I felt a tinge of relief and warmth. And the other day, I heard Mom say on the phone "if we agree on a time, she'll be up" and I felt all those exhausting early hours of waking up for her had paid off.

But what have I lost that I have not recovered?

His name would be Eric.

God I was an ass. I was perusing my blog, reminiscing painfully on the end of Adam, and then I was enjoying my "recovery" posts, and then I saw that post of the AIM convo with Eric. I was hoping to peg something on him (lol, right?) because I vaguely remembered him listing things about me that he hated.

Then I read it again, and now all I feel is renewed surges of guilt. He said he hated how I believed things that weren't (my paranoia, which everybody hates) and (here's the kicker) that he hated seeing me not follow his advice, and mess up.

And he mentions how I wouldn't go on the trip and prove myself a good friend.

So pretty much I've trashed it completely. That's the inelegant truth.

But I know- and I am grounded enough to stem the drama here- that he is a good enough guy that he'll still try. We might have the occasional lunch when he comes back, but I won't hope for more. I don't deserve more. I killed one of the best friendships- THE best friendship, probably- and maybe even one of the best possible relationships of my life.

But again, my realistic self murmurs of a moment where I realize how ordinary and maybe inextraordinary he is.

I think the truth is...that Eric has become a symbol for what I lost.

And I'm only realizing this now.

Eric symbolizes the content, idealistic, innocent friendship and identity that was completely and utterly destroyed by my relationship with Adam. After...everything...that happened, all of that is gone. I still have my idealism, I still have hope, but I will never be that wide eyed, stupidly spontaneous girl again.

I will never believe in complete and utter trust. I will always suspect a darker nature in everyone I meet. And...I can physically FEEL it...I can never love, or trust as I did...ever again. There is a sliver of darkness, a scar of hurt that lines my heart. And I fear of how long it will take- and if it will ever- really heal.

It's only been a year.

I shouldn't expect to be completely recovered. I should be grateful to be such a confident, relatively content version of my older self.

But we're never satisfied lol.

Good things come to good people

Is that really true? I come here to muse, usually depressingly, but now i'm curious in addition in a dark sort of way. We all know of people- famous or near us- who are just pure evil and don't seem to get what they to deserve. But dare it be possible that "nature craves all dues rendered to their owners?" did i even get that quote right? lol.

i think women realize far earlier than men that life is more pleasant when you connect with people. and for a lot of people (women in particular), connecting means acoomodating. it means getting them a hot plate of food (mom) or bringing sancks to class (phoebe) or opening your house for a yard sale (frances) or just doing general favorable things. men realize this later, which is approximately/hopefully when they begin to take care of their families. and i suppose the bitterness everyone holds- particualrly the viscious bitchiness women can have- shows how hard all of that can be.

i know that sacrificing yourself is wrong. sometimes i still wonder if i err in that area. but i don't teach because i'm doing it "for the children". i mean, that's part of the reason, but not in an idiotic way. i do it because i'm good at it, and because i enjoy it, and it's conducive to family life which is my ultimate goal. and those are damn good reasons that i can back up more than ever now.

anyway, i guess i was just wondering if people really do get what they deserve. i mean dad's sick an dmiserable....i even worry he'll just go ape shit crazy one day lol. but even if he does something horrible to us, he'd have it on his conscious forever and the entire town would remember him as an awful man. and he would hate that lol.

i wonder.....all the good things i've done thus far, for everyone from pedro to steph and mom? am i repaying my massive debts of being a teenage nightmare and a little bitch of a tease and a horrible friend? how's my karmatic credit, man in the sky? i'm hoping that i've paid it all off and i'm earning some to store. Maybe my reward is in that pure feeling of a clean conscious when I drive to school and see birds fly overhead, listening to a vaguely comforting/inspirational song.

who knows, eh?

Airplanes are shooting stars

Sometimes it helps when I know I'm writing TO someone.

This is one of those moments when I let down my guard, when a stupid show like Lost has a heartwrenching scene (when Jin and Sun drown together, holding hands) and I feel completely vulnerable. When I miss a friendship that I broke, when I question my decisions, and I lament the same old shit- how bored and trapped I am here, how I'm terrified at the future and I question if I've made the right decision everyday.

Why does prelaw haunt me so? Whenever my heart breaks because of something- whether its steph's bitchiness, or particular distance from mom, or anything- i think about law again. it's such a tempting path, to bury my heart in the ground and become a totally different person.

But deep down I know that it isn't the right decision. Two years ago I made a decision and decided that teaching could be a passion of mine. I already knew that going to Berkeley would poison my heart with ambition, and it did. It poisoned my heart in many ways.

I think about how far I've come. I no longer weep in the car, dressed in a hoodie with a broken heart. I control my classroom tiredly but with a firm hand. I know what I'm doing with my future.

I want to be better.

This ain't goodbye...or is it?

I watched Rent again for the first time in years. I was slightly afraid, like with many other things, that it would have been ruined or changed for me because my idealism is so battered and bent. But I still teared up at all the same parts. I still wanted to dance and sing to the same parts. And towards the end, I was still filled with an unfailing hope that was incredibly reassuring and needed.

I will admit that I have ghosts. There are moments when I relive the darkest parts of my life- the times when henry and eric made fun of me, that awful night with adam, or dad......dark, dark memories that paralyze me and allow the light to be sucked out.

But I'm fighting it.

Today was my last lesson with Ivan. There was this precious moment where, as he was blasting cheesy techno from his cheesy godfather's gift, we sat on the couch cuddled next to each other for warmth, playing tic tac toe and hangman. and i couldn't help but grin.

I realized as I left that it was yet another valuable learning experience. I changed a little boy from a monster to a sweet little fellow that loves to read and says "thanks" and "excuse me". That is much more amazing than making millions of dollars.

When I first started teaching Ivan, I would let tears trickle down my face and allow myself to indulge in wallowing pain as I drove to his house, hurridly wiping my face when I pulled up to the place. But now, today, as I drove away I played Keith Urban: If ever I could love and I realized how far I've come.

It's been a boring, occasionally dramatic, relatively monotone few months. And although there are many times when I've writhed and raged against how bored I've been, I think in a way I needed it. I needed some serious quiet time like right now, sitting in my room and just thinking quietly....just being at peace. Safe from the world, safe from my past and my future....collecting myself. Healing. Coming to terms, digesting, accepting things.

That's what I've done, isn't it? I've accepted it. I still get angry and sad sometimes, but I'm trying really hard to forgive everyone- and mostly, to forgive myself. I'm not a saint, I'm not a Christian- I still wish a horrible death on a handful of people.

But my raging hate has simmered down to a echo of anger at the back of my heart. With the comfort of home, albeit how irritating and irksome and awfully dull it can be, the noxious poison has been drained from my soul. I've come to terms.

I've come to terms. Yeah...those are the words.

Ghosts exist. I will admit that. But I'm refusing to let them haunt me anymore.

I'm alright :)

Anger

There was a grey's episode about how anger is one of the worst sins, because it doesn't only hurt yourself. Well, I disagree. Anger seems to hurt you the worst out of all people, especially if it won't go away.



Sometimes when I am triggered, I realize that there are A LOT of things to be angry about. Steph's hypocrisy and the whole niko episode...Mom and how she ruined our last years of innocence by being a maternal tyrant....Dad and how he is practically shaking to pounce on me at the slightest misstep because he hates how i humiliated him.....god, my entire family because of how unsupportive and misunderstanding they are about my career choice.



My old friends. Like how Jess seems to use me as an emotional crutch. Or worst of all, how Eric abandoned me during the worst time of my life and didn't rescue me when I desperately needed rescuing.



Sigh. There are a lot of things to be angry about.



But I have realized that all this anger only hurts me. And why should I indulge in something that is so masochistic? If it somehow hurt them, or got vengeance, that might be fair, but as far as I know they're all happily living their lives without a clue as to how I feel. I feel like that kindl yold man patient in Grey's (lol I miss Grey's) who seemed so nice but on his death bed, made all these bitchy tapes.



The point is, it's pointless. I could start yelling at each person I'm angry at, but realy what would it achieve except me getting lonelier and lonelier?



What's past is past. The worst insult you can give someone is not to hate them, but to dignify them as dead to you. Dad goes in that category, as the worst case. But as for Mom, Steph, Jess, and Eric....there was enough love and loyalty laced through all the anger that they're not dead to me. I still need them, I still need PEOPLE. I refuse to end up like my father- alone, delusional, and slightly insane.



I choose people. I choose the light, morality, and I guess I grudgingly choose a form of forgiveness where I don't really forgive people but I try to move past what doesn't matter anymore.

No drama

I feel like a lot of lines from various chick flicks and tv shows apply to my life. Like from "he's just not that into you", how the justin long character (and i still don't understand how he became famous from apple commercials) says "you chicks are addicted to drama!"

and i believe that is true.

a bit of good drama- excitement, that is- is healthy every now and then. admittedly my tendencies are towards the melancholy pining kind, and i'm glad i'm over that.

i know i'm not soulless, like sayid. i just feel very...blah. it's boring at home. but one bit that i admitted to jess was that, as angry as i am with my family, i know consciously and grudgingly that a lot of my anger is from my previous issues.

whatever. i'm so jittry right now, there's no way i'm going to sleep. bah. i really want to go to shanghai, to experience the streets/clubbing/night life craziness with good friends, and a teensy bit to see an old friend (admittedly) but i know that claremont is far more important. if i get in, i'll definitely go. and if i can't squeeze in the shanghai trip, then so be it.

yep...

The dark counselor speaks

"your twenties are the most important time of your life," she said, a mysterious light- was it regret? anger? satisfaction?- twinkling dimly in her eyes. For a moment, the jet black suit and severe, condescending demeanor faltered.

"You make choices that will shape the rest of your life."

-

She sipped her whiskey sour, wincing slightly at the acidic tang of whiskey softened only slightly by sour mixture and lemon juice. Her sister and her friends were on her right; and old, rather annoying cockroach of a friend to her left. For a minute, a completely unremarkable minute, everything was still and straight out of a movie.

The TV screens were blaring various sports channels, which shimmered in neon hues on the shiny bar counter. There was an army of glistening alcoholic bottles lined up across from her, but she didn't notice. She stirred her drink, after she'd paid the check; oblivious to the sluts and after work crowd and hungry mongrel looking men- and smiled grimly.

College was over. Life was about to begin. She squared her shoulders, walked out of the bar and decided to face everything head on.

Alexandre Desplat: The Meadow

"a secret place, of dreams and mystery, potential and mists and beauty shrouded in notes and words.."

I think I'm going to start writing a book.

Other than that...I had the weirdest dream. I met my daughter...or some dark eyed, curly haired girl that I knew was my daughter (she looked like the girl from Gone with the Wind). There was a baby boy too, and I was on some sort of mission to get them back...to win them back and correct my mistakes. And there was also something about a Korean supermarket and even Rhett Butler, playing some jokes, but the one part I remember is seeing my daughter and catching her in my arms in a fierce hug. And in that moment, I felt so much love, protectiveness, so much heart for her.

And when I woke up, when it was all dissipated and I was alone in my messy room, waking up to a messy house...I felt like I have not loved in awhile. My heart is not dead- not at the infantile age of 22- but it is pumping blood weakly, both literally and figuratively. The most love I have felt lately is a) when I saw my best friend up north and b) last night, post-tmv mini birthday reunion, when I realized that our newfound grownup bonds of "hey, so what have you been up to the past year?" is actually quite enjoyable.

My heart is scared. I have not arduously loved in a long time....in months, perhaps. The fire was quite effectively stamped out.

Hell. I'm scared. There are some days, after busy days like yesterdya....god what did I do. I had to make a study guide, correct Chris's friend's paper, mail some Claremont stuff in, teach, TMV dinner then the lame ass hangout at bar louie's....

There are some days when I have a bunch to do but all I want to do is hide at home, with the lights off, watchings stupid tv and listening to music and writing and/or reading and well...dwelling in daydreams. where the world is soft and safe and unviolated and quiet and dim....a wonderful place to seek shelter from all the madness outside.

What an interesting blog this is turning out to be

Although I've tried to be more discreet, this blog is essentially becoming my "truth" blog.

And it is here, that I will candidly admit I did not get into UCLA. It hurt for a few seconds, but then I was over it. Honestly, it was kind of a blessing in disguise. Because now, as stressful as it is, I have another chance to pick my future out of a hat...or rather, to really REALLY think about what I want to be in life.

I'll probably end up telling ppl anyway, in my policy of unfortunate honesty.

So now, my headache, which was blissfully removed by a hot shower, has returned in full force.

Why is it that it's so hard for me to decide between law and English phD? Now that I know t hat I'm already bored of teaching, now it's time for me to think about wtf I want to do.

I try to think about what I will regret both ways.

In law, I would regret sleep and being a stereotypically good person. No more smiling nice eyes, no more coddling fourth graders or going to sleep at night knowing I'm a good person. My conscience is on sale for a fixed price.

In English, I would regret....time. Because after four + years of study, it no longer glitters the same way it did. I believe I referred to English as my happy divorce- after Berkeley, we parted on amicable terms.

Gosh. I could apply to Claremont, and teach for a year. but that's just time a-wastin, and more student loans which will inevitably pile up on top of my old ones.

I could apply to some PCC study abroad thing, just to get the hell out of Arcadia. But that again, is wasting money and precious time. I could be home, at an internship or working on my grad school apps- if I applied to law school, I would definitely apply to places like NYU or Hastings or even LA one last time, early decision.

If I applied to ENglish, I'd hae to...

fuck.

An almond roca latte post

I figure not all these posts should be emo, and sometimes I just feel like coming here- to a safer, more secret place to think.

Well I would study more spanish but I'm tired. I'm getting close to that moment of "ah, I understand!" when the curtain lifts and you know you're sitting inside a language. But it's hard, because I'm lazy lately and I can barely get up off my ass to teach a class everyday, which is surprisingly exhausting.

I guess...what I came here to say is that despite this blog's name, I'm still deciding where to live. Some days, particularly after I'm very hurt or upset, I declare war on the world and decide to live with practicality. It's law school, cold hard bitch status and I'ma do whatever I can do to give me and ONLY me a comfortable life.

Then, on most days, when I'm tired and hurt and weary of the world, I decide to dwell in dreams...in "the secret life of daydreams" lol. I read books, I contemplate a phD in English, or maybe just contenting myself with life as a teacher, and a hobby of languages an dliterature, and then happily floating into family life whenever that may come along.

I don't know. I think I'm making my choice. I don't know if I like it. I know I will be forever resentful and bitter of glittery, luxurious department stores that I pass. I know it will be hard if I go shopping with wealthy friends and/or siblings (cough steph crhsia nd jess) and realize that I am not livin gin their world.

But i hope to God that I will also realize that a couture sequined dress is worth considerably less than being a great mother and human being. There are very few people who have their cake and eat it too- those who are rich and happy and in the family way- and I for one, after learning that happiness is only true when shared...well...

Right now, I'm envisioning Claremont. I'm scared of not getting UCLA. If I do, I should obviously go, despite the extra year and the lack of stipend/immediate employment which would be lovely. Because with a better degree, that means better jobs. I can see myself working as a college counselor or something of that sort.

But...I see a winding white staircase iwth sunlight. A small but comfortable room of my own- what I've wanted, symbolically, emotionally, and intellectually for so long. Filled with a nice soft bed, a wonderful practical desk, and of course my beloved books and maybe a few nice framed pictures and posters. And then a clean, bright kitchen. and a cozy living area. hoping my good roommate luck continues.

bah. we'll see...

The first revolutionary un-emo revelation

Usually I come here to spout about how sad and lonely I am. And although today, I am still sad and lonely- playing love songs occasionally to soothe the hurt, or curling up in bed practically cringing from the pain of sleeping alone- I have a revelation.

I once said and still say that people don't change. But this rule, like all others, is apparently broken as well.

Because I have changed.

Whereas I used to throw myself into the arms of practically any guy- and I do find it amusing how some people thought I was so above it all, and pure, and pretty- now I have a newfound coldness that I am proud of...that delights me. I look deep into D's eyes, and feel him- even incredibly rich, hurt him- flicker with interest. I smile at B and see the interest in his eyes.

But worst of all, when Creeper ims me I can coldly tell him yes, I AM busy all weekend and then sign off feeling vaguely satisfied.

Before it was just high school silliness. I would say no to a boy and feel a slight shiver of egotism. but now, there's a cruelty to it that I don't understand.

Some days, like today, I am perfectly fine. I teach my classes decently dressed, better and cleaner than I've looked in years, and I come home and take a nice hot shower and take pleasure in small creature comforts like nice smelling lotion and refreshing face toner.

Some times, I realize that I lost my best friend, I was abused emotionally and physically by a man I truly loved, my mother and sister are the biggest hypocrites I've ever met and my father is more violently estranged from me than ever.

But somehow, I feel fine. Disasters make or break people, and mine..well. I was broken, and it forced me to make myself. It took some shallow things like clothing and a 75 dollar haircut, and lots of baking and such- but by God, I made myself again. I stood back up on my feet. Not with the help of silly egotistical men, nor with best friends- but in that quiet, tranquil blessed apartment on Benvenue...in my quiet, surprisingly neat room, I rebuilt myself. I learned to live with my sins and my victories.

I am stronger now. Colder. Whereas before, most of my strength was stored in an emergency box where I could be fantastic in times of disaster, I have a new strength- a thicker skin, if you will- and I'm glad for it.

But I have one more confession to make before I go to sleep.

Despite all my cycnicisms, despite how hard I try to make light of my hurts- or how I brag about how I survived them- despite EVERYTHING....there is still a small gleaming piece of romanticism in my heart. I read Gone with the Wind and I feel exhilirated, inhabiting Scarlet's passionate adored skin temporarily. I cringe at most love songs, but occasionally I hear one and something moves in my heart.

It's incredible isn't it, the human spirit? Despite everything that's happened, despite all my masochism and the betrayals and hurts and lies and wounds I have accrued, some that make me feel like my skin is flayed to the bone, I lie here and I can still dream about the day I marry a man.

And by damn, won't I be a fantastic wife. Or a girlfriend. I have my cold hard cruelties, but if I were to really truly healthily love? Think occasional baked goods, an amazing sex life, and an intelligent down to earth wife who is everything a man ever wanted.

Well.

Aren't I a catch. lol. The trouble now is finding someone who can prove my past mistakes wrong.

So I guess what Im trying to say is that I have changed. And I have survived. And that despite everything, I still have hope.

One of these days

Dear ____,

I suppose here, in the safety of internet anonymity and late night melodrama, I can tell you how I really feel.

Lol I wonder if anyone reads this. If some lucky bastard gets to peer right into my heart and, unlike everyone in this world- my sister and my mother included- really see my heart.

Anyway.

The truth is, I'm trying this new thing called Letting go of Things. Before, because of pride, stubbornnes, and a number of other stupid things, I didn't even consider such a thing...but during the last few things, when "a lot of people let me down, even i let myself down" I realized that sometimes letting go is the only way that I can get through the day.

So I let go of a lot of things. I walked away, quite literally and somewhat forcibly, from the worst and first relationship of my life. I walked away, rather bitchily but justifiably, from one of the longest and most turbulent relationships in my life.

Unfortunately, this Turbulent Boy is the core of a group of my friends so I'm scared that I'll lose them too. But I don't think he's enough of a bitch to ruin it all for me, and I'd say that most of them are keener on staying in my good graces than in his.

Anyway all this is beside the point.

__. Lol what a retarded thing to call you.

I am no longer naive, or infatuated, or regretful enough to call you the love my life...you were never really mine. But I miss you. When I have yet another fallout with my sister, when I have a day where it's impossible to breathe, I think of you.

I think about how you seem to be happy now, with someone else, and how you're literally thousands of miles away. I think about how, aside from that embarrassing post break up infatuation, you probably have no idea how i really feel.

Worst of all, I think about how I was before, with you. I evilly relished being able to get you to do things for me with a single glance, or a single motion. It was that way with a lot of boys, to be honest, because all they saw was a pretty Asian Girl when they looked at me and that wielded me enough power to have plenty of fun, ego stroking, manipulating power.

But now I just feel guilty.

I feel stupid.

I feel regretful, which is saying something, because I try very hard not to regret anything these days.

And I absolutely HATE that our story is kind of suspended, and lingering. I can't tell if we're falling down into nothing, or if we're just hanging there, poised for a second chance- at friendship? at something more?

To be completely blunt, I think I'm just creating drama for myself because I'm so bored and so lonely.

Well. Bottom line...I miss you. I'm so sorry if I was ever bitchy or manipulative, or "cute girl that gets to use you" because I honestly, sincerely, NEVER meant to be. I don't even know if we're supposed to be friends, or more than friends...all that I know is that I want you in my life, and I want you there for the rest of my life and the rest of yours. I want to be able to sit down to lunch with you, twenty years from now, and have a moment of pure gratitude no matter how wrinkly or unsuccessful or smelly we are....when we're....41? i want to be able to look up and smile, and be grateful that we're still in each others' lives.

that's what i want.

I have finally found my peace. Now, at this precise moment, it feels like sitting on a dock watching ships- not good or bad, but just beautifully rigged crafts- sailing off into calm, quiet waters tinted gold by the sunset.

I never thought I'd be able to let go of all the darknesses in my life. Of all the tumors, and toxicities...but now, sitting at home, after everything I've achieved and everything I've become...I have found my peace.

I have found my peace.

Goodbye.