Hot. Heat. Temperature rising in the middle of the night, like it is the Gobi during mid-day.

Heat. Hot. Why is it happening where I can’t just close my eyes and wander listlessly into the dreamy flickers that I’m so familiar to? Why can’t I just continue my pursuit of salvation, not just for me, but my fellow friends and travelers? To rescue them from these dreaded faceless beings that haunts me in my dreams.

I’m always the wandering hero, figuring out their next move, using my expert kung fu skill to fend off some worthless piece of shit so everyone else who is not a worthless piece of shit can run for safety. Me, putting my life before others, the knight in shining armor that I am, chivalrous and gallant, a paladin in the days of yore.

But here I am no kung fu skills to speak of. No fighting skills to speak of. No muscles to speak of. Just typing skills to bring me into the middle of the night, hoping that this blared distraction is what I need to tire out this antsy brain of mine, to turn off the things and the thoughts that keep me up in this sauna night of the year.

Why is it happening to me? Sleepless because of guilt? Sleepless because of the wreaked emotions of a tigress?

Still. No more. No mas. There is nothing left, just a drained sense of self. No emotions to think of, moving along in a slow controlled movement because that is all that I can do with my programmed nature to make it seem like I’m alive.

But all in all, I am just a soulless zombie stumbling away through the day, putting on a strong face and a fake smile to make it seem that I’m okay.

I’m not okay. No okay at all. Betrayed and just plain hurt. I can’t go on living. How can I possibly go on living? How?

It just seems impossible. Such darkness surrounds me, no glimmer in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel. What greets me is the familiar, the dark cloud of night.

How can I possibly just live and move on?

But I must, for it is my life. But I must, for it isn’t everything. But I must, for I am stronger than this. Stronger than what he made me out to be.

I can be everything that he wanted me to be, everything and more; the fixed happy being that I have full potential to becoming. I’ll be that and leave him with a sense of guilt and a pang of “oh fuck me”, wanting to get me back.

But I’m done. I’m through. No more. No mas. He doesn’t deserve me in any way. Not anymore. Not after what he’s done to me. No more Gui Gui Ngoi Oh Neis or any sweet words that can change my heart. He is dead to me and my heart is slowly being pieced together by me and there’s one spot open for someone else. The one that can make me smile again, and he will come. He will be my paladin. He will be my gallant knight, and when he comes there will be no other.

Lost looking with my red dried opened eyes of the sleepless night looking at these symbols just put my life in perspective.

There is a bit of guilt in what I did, hurting her, but time and time again, I profess, it has to be done. Maybe they are just excuses and excuses, but it is all said and done.

I just have to sit here and deal and console my heart and tell myself that it is okay. It is okay. It is time to move on. I have to. She has to. We all have to. That goes life. It goes on, moving on, leaving things buried in the past.

Time. Tick. Tock.

Beats of the drum, matching my heart beats, bumping into the night. Moving with a time cadence that hypnotizes me in the rhythmic motions of everything that goes about me. I’m finding the beat that I never found before.

Scared. Frightened. What ifs of the night and the future that will always be there and just the constant doubting of the blank canvas that just stares at me, taunting me to put the first stroke.

What should I do? What should I say? The first act of desperate action that will propel me forward, jumping forward in the crevice that is not a crack but a valley gorge that is impossible to leap, but it must be done to move on from the dreaded sand pit that is slowly sucking me into oblivion.

The Heavenly Net that catches everyone else is not there to catch me. It is a leap of faith. A leap of sure footed-ness of my heart, hoping that everything will be all right, that all that come to pass was meant to be.

Life and time can only make us stronger. What doesn’t kill us only sets us up for more.

These mindless whispers of the dark, yacking in my ears is only comforting me so much before my mind and brain will explode from the max capacity of the small pea that is my brain.

Words flow in nonsensical ways, more so than it ever had and possibly will happen again in this sing-song night of not being able to rest.

Sleep. Slumber. The long sleep of night, the final sleep.

What is it that makes us always wake to face the day? To start again, knowing the possible pain that is out there for us? What is it?

Is it love, or the possibility of love?

Wo hen xiang ai ta but it will never happen. It will never happen because then it would be a fairy tale come true. For all of us.

I don’t know what it is, but the drumming of these fingers isn’t making me closer to sleep at all. These eye lids aren’t getting heavier as I planned, but staying the constant whateverness of this madness that is racking my brain.

I realize that I am in hell. This is hell. Life is hell, which I have realized before. This is life, purgatory. Here we wait and wait until the eternal sleep that we all will come to accept and look forward to.

Soon, soon it will be time to hear the Every I Love You’s that I have the fortunate pleasure of falling for. The sing song tune that hums softly in my ears day in and day out. Lyrics that i can only make out from time to time but the eerie addictiveness of these cantotunes that gets me hooked and only wish for more.

Withdrawal is a bitch. I’m sure it is much worse for some others than for me, but it still hurts none the less.

What is it? Why is it? I don’t know why it is happening to me. Punishment for moving on, for needing to? I don’t know what it is.

Putting on a strong face, going out with others, partying in the city of sin. Things are getting better are they not?

There I walk away, passing you by, hoping that things were different. I walk ahead, mumbling my salutations and I leave, fumbling ahead, looking ahead, stealing a glimpse only as I proceed to my destination in a roundabout way to just drop off a message of what I need to do. Nothing more. Nothing less. I didn’t even need to be there, not at all. But to just be there, stealing that glimpse makes my heart calm.

Fix. Fix. Fix.

I shoot myself up hoping it will take the edge off. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Just another addiction that I need to deal with. Just more shit that I got myself in.

Matters of the heart. Things that I don’t understand. Might as well just rip it out and stomp it to death so I wouldn’t have to deal with these things anymore.

Drowsy night in the summer time. Indian summer. Not summer at all, fall, school time.

Fucking heat. Fucking hot. Kill me now so I can at least get some shut eye. Forced or not. A listless peaceful sleep only to be woken by the soft beep beep of the electronic time keeper that I have near me.

Please.

Here I am, sitting with a hot vanilla latte from the Bean of the Drug that leaves that dreaded coffee phlegm in my mouth trying to jot down something for this week’s diatribe. I sit and reread what I wrote last week, or was it the week before, clearing out my head, my mind, but I can’t. It’s just full of misty clouds that make it hard to think.

The temperature is rising in this air conditioned social gathering shopping place that I usually only frequent when I want to see a “flicker” or need to actually do some shopping. I sit here, on the verge of breaking into a sweat, hoping I break into a sweat because it means I might sweat this fucking crappy ass bug out of my system.

It has been a week, a miserable week at work with the downed internet and issues, but a week that came and went. I didn’t even get to exercise this week; out of commission and out of energy. BLAH! is my usual cry of naked fatigue hoping for the warmth comfiness of my bed and nothing more.

Clouded is my mind with this new drug that I have found. My heart races for a dose, no matter how small to get into my system, making it pitter patter into life, but it is difficult. Hard. Just not knowing, scared of another addiction. What if I get addicted again? What if like the last drug, I built up a tolerance and it does nothing for me anymore? What if?

Why is it that things like this happen to me? Looking for the new, something different, when all in all I know the outcome maybe the same. I’ll get bored, tired, or just fear what is to come with the addiction and I drift away.

This is a relatively new drug. Young and fresh. Just a taste and you’ll be hooked. And I am. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling out of me. I haven’t been able to detox, because whenever I feel it wither away, I get another dose and am stuck in its graspy fingers of tingly giddiness. The happy pill of something new and fresh. Novel.

But there’s a familiar fear in me of this drug as in all drugs that I’ve tasted. That fear, that whatchamacallit that makes me hesitate to embrace this little pill and pop it into my system. I’m always careful and slow when approaching new things. Holding back, getting small doses at a time to see if I can handle a little more, doing research, soul searching to see what other qualities it may have. How strong the addiction is, after effects, side affects…the such and such.

What am I to do? Why am I like this? Who do I think I am to think I’m strong enough, young enough to take on a brand new drug that is so young and so fresh? I’m just an old old man with old man complexes that doesn’t need any more excitement in his life.

But all in all, I am a junkie. I love my drug of choice and there is nothing I can do about it. I’m a lifetime addict, not able to seek treatment, because there is no treatment for this sickness, this type of addiction that I have. I just have to live with it and hopefully, I can overcome the enticing delicacy that would taste so salty sweet in my mouth.

What am I to do? A part of me wants to reach out and just get a connection, a chance to make known that I have this addiction and hopefully this drug will take mercy on my soul and treat me fair. I want to be forward and come out and say I have this sickness for you, my drug of choice. But, there is a part of me that is holding back, afraid.

I just can’t do it.

It’s too soon. I just went through withdrawal and there’s still remnants, residual, in my system that I just can’t shake. Thoughts and feelings revert back to the warm feelings that my old addiction gave me and then I see that withdrawal was a bitch. Knowing that I had to quit it and the act of going through it is hard.

I do have strong will power on many things, especially on things that I put my mind to. I quit. I had to. It was a good choice, something that needed to be done for my health and for the righteousness of everything. It had to be done. The drug was way too dangerous for me as my tolerance built up and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to drop it. Quit.

Maybe this is a withdrawal fever that is draining my soul into this weird drained ickiness that I’m feeling. It eats me inside, not wanting to do anything and not wanting anything else. I feel sick. I AM sick. Just a general ennui that attacks my mind, clouding and dulling everything that was once so sharp.

I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything at all. I am helpless until this sickness passes. It’s going on its second week now. I feel no better than when it first started. There were days when I thought it would pass as I see some light in the darkness, but I’m still covered by the gray misting clouds of yore.

Ickiness. Sickness. General BLAH.

Sitting. Staring. Clearing my mind for the world to read. To see. Just focusing on the things that I need to focus on and forget the things that just bother me.

Life has been a little difficult for the past couple of weeks. Not as difficult as many others, but a little difficult for my taste.

It isn’t the biking to work, the exercising in the morning that is making my life difficult, but the doubting of my decision. Making me rethink my actions, whether I made the correct decision.

I still stand by my decision and think I made the right one. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fair. But for me…and hopefully for her, it is the best. The best for us.

I know I’m a fickle person. I know that once the novelty wears off, I get bored. But did that happen or was there something more there?

It might have been that there was something more. I just couldn’t deal. I’m not built to be in a relationship. I’m too much of a free spirit, a wandering loner, to be tied down and settle. Maybe I’m just not ready. No…not a maybe, a definitely not ready to settle down.

Maybe I thought I was settling with her and thought I could do better. Maybe that’s why, but no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t settling. It is what it was. The suffocation got to me. The cage-iness of everything got to me. Not that it was her fault, not that she was the one that was tying me down. It wasn’t like that at all. It was just that I can’t be with anyone.

I enjoy my space. I love my space. I need my space, and that is something that I need to learn to let go and give up…eventually. But right now, I don’t think I can.

Maybe she’s just not the one for me to give up. Maybe she’s right. When you truly love someone, like someone in that way, you shouldn’t have to make time to be with that someone, you just do it because it is them. I never gave her the courtesy. I did it because she was there. She was going to come over and I was going to go over. It just happens. But then there were times where I would get antsy and I just need to breathe.

I don’t know what it is I’m trying to say. I don’t know what it is that I’m rambling on and on about today. I just know that there are lots on my mind. Tons.

Relationships. Girls. People.

Things I don’t understand. Things I try to, but I just don’t. It is just too complicated for my simple mind to grasp these complex terms and ideas and objects. Too complicated indeed. I guess if it was easy to understand, my life, the world, would be a better place.

There hasn’t been a single day that I don’t think about her. She’s on my mind every day. She did make that impact on me and again, I doubt my decision. Regret? Maybe, but it must be done. It wouldn’t be fair to her. It would not.

My feelings changed. I was having problems, things that I couldn’t deal or help. I ran. I let her go; left her alone to fend for herself. But what if I stayed, feeling the way I felt about her, which wasn’t romantic in nature anymore, but more of friends, hanging out. What if?

What if something did happen and I did get use to her? Her being by my side, her being with me. Would my heart change back to the way it was, full of lovey dovey can’t do without her notions, or would it stay the same, the hey there friend type of thing? What if?

That wasn’t something I wasn’t going to bet on. I’m a sure deal type of thing and that wasn’t a sure deal. I can’t trust the fates on that. I can only trust my gut and my gut tells me to not bet on this one, like it tells me not to bet on anything, ’cause I WILL ALWAYS LOSE.

It wouldn’t be fair to her, to have her wait many more weeks, months, years till I figure out what I want. What if I did stay with her two or three years down the line and I was never man enough to tell her how I felt and we did end up married? Loveless, courteous, civil, because she’s only a friend. Would she have known? Would she have liked that? Time wasted, years that we can never get back.

So I had to let her free, to find another, while I deal with my shit and she with hers. It wouldn’t be fair to tie her to me just because. It would be unfair.

Time.

Time fixes things. Time changes things. Time makes us forget, helps us heal, let us move on. Time.

Will this happen? Could it happen, here, in this case? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

I thought that we can be friends. I really thought that we can, as we talk on the phone and hear her sound okay and happy. I thought things would be good. But it wasn’t the case. I treated her like a friend, hiding behind my text messages and my emails as I do with all my friends and family. I never pick up the phone and call, ’cause I don’t call. I simply don’t.

She knows that. She knew that while we were dating. I called, albeit sometimes, but I did call. But I hate talking on the phone. It seems weird that I was able to be on the phone with her for hours on end when we first met, but as we went from sniffing each other out to actual dating, the long phone calls ended. Maybe it is because we were seeing each other more and more.

Even now, as I type this, I’m having a conversation with my cousin through text messaging. Avoid calls at all costs.

Free of the phone calls. Free of just sitting on the phone, not being able to pay attention to the tv, or go to sleep, or read, or surfing the web. Phones. Not a fan. Good for convenience, but not good to “talk”.

I thought we could be friends. I thought we could remain that as I kept to my schedule and she kept to hers. I had no problem picking up her calls and talking to her, catching up and hanging up. I can never do the whole talk talk talk for hours, because honestly, what is there to talk about anymore. How can I talk while I have guests in my home…my mom and my bro? It is rude.

But I still picked up.

Frustration of the explosion over an email. It was simple it was quick. It wasn’t a rush for me to find the answer. I avoid phone calls unless absolutely necessary or when emails or texting is not an option.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just weird that way. I’m not use to human contact, so I avoid it at all cost, hiding behind this computer, punching in letters and hitting a button to do all my communicating for me.

Maybe that is why I’ll never be with anyone. I’m just too much of a hermit loner that can’t deal with people. I don’t know.

Things just didn’t work out. We didn’t have any “electricity”. We did though. Lots of chemistry. She did make me laugh. She was thoughtful and kind. She could take my shit and give it back tenfold. For the most part, we did work. We honestly did. But it ended, as it had to. It just wasn’t fair to her as I decide what I really wanted. I had to take the blame, the responsibility to let it go.

I don’t know. I don’t know.

It’s over as it has to be over. She’s done with me with the most recent explosion and I just have to leave it as that. I can’t pull a Stephanie, ’cause that is just wrong.

Again, that is something that I will not understand. I just simply don’t understand.

You let the person go, but why would you still want the person to still want you? Why? You let the relationship go, so why would you want that? You aren’t interested in the person anymore. Why do you still want that? Let it go. Let him be free. It’s unfair to toy and string him along. Unfair. Rude. Mean.

It’s just a confused mess of not wanting to be alone; wanting your cake and eating it too. Just can’t happen. Imagine what he’s going through? He’ll never be able to let go.

I would like to think I’m a smart guy. But sometimes I just don’t feel that way. Matters of the heart, relationships…beyond my comprehension. I rule myself with logic with a tinge of emotion, but heart and logic don’t mix. What ends up happening are gut feelings of confusion.

Maybe I just need a distraction. Maybe I need someone else to keep my mind off of things. Maybe I just need a new hobby, a new focus in my life, or maybe I just need to focus a little harder on my projects and not be so lazy about them and actually do it. Maybe.

Time.

I don’t know. Am I ready to jump back in the scene and start looking for another? Am I? I would like to think that I am, but I don’t think I am. I think I’ll just have the same feelings of suffocation, of giving up MY TIME of doing nothing or my things of leisure to entertain. I’m just too selfish for something like that.

Maybe I’m just lazy. I’m not willing to put in the work, to compromise for the relationship, the one that just ended or any future ones. I know my problems. Things I need to resolve and fix on my own. I can’t possibly do it on my own because they aren’t ‘alone’ problems, but problems of relationships.

Am I just not ready to commit? Though we were only dating, I did think of her as my girlfriend. I don’t know. Just a mass confusion.

She did change me, enlightened me about relationships. She gave me a glimpse of what it is like to be in a relationship, to be part of a couple. Both the good and the bad. It was her that solidified what I had a small inkling of what I want in a relationship. And it was her, unfortunately, that made me realize that maybe, just maybe I’m not ready to be in a relationship or that I’m just not made to be in one.

Marriage.

Being around family a few weeks ago, the idea of marriage came up as my cousin who is being set up with a woman that he has no interest in sat nearby. As the discussion of what happened between me and my “wife” was chattered about among my family, I declared that I’m not sure if I want to marry. Thinking ahead, I don’t know. The romantic idealist in me says that I will find the love of my life…or find her again and live happily ever after. A part of me thinks, no. I’ll spend the rest of my life alone and be okay with that. ‘Cause I will be.

My mom says I need to marry. I have to marry as my cousin and the woman that he’s been set up with sits nearby. I never looked over to them, but I know they are there, a distance apart from me and they are a distance apart from each other. A forced relationship that may never work, but for some reason it is happening. I don’t envy my cousin nor do I want to be in his shoes about that.

I’m not getting the pressure to find someone now. My mom isn’t putting that on me nor my brother as my cousin’s parents are on him…force-fed this woman that he has no interest in. I never really got a chance to speak with her, but she seemed nice and quiet.

Three rules. Three things that I need to find in a woman, so proclaimed from my mom. Three proclamations. I need to find someone, a girl/woman, that 1) doesn’t smoke, 2) doesn’t drink, 3) doesn’t gamble.

Those three things. My mom’s desires in my significant other.

My retort. “Wow, I’ll be looking till I’m 60.” This, may be true. My cousin’s mom LOUD retort to my retort, ’cause she talks loudly, is that it isn’t that hard to find someone. My cousin’s dad said that it’s okay if an 83 year old can find a wife. He’s shaking at the altar.

He’s not shaking because he’s old. He’s shaking because he’s getting married, getting cold feet and thinking damn, I’m stuck with this woman for the remainder of my life and I don’t have that many years left.

My mom, my cousins, my family knows better to set me up with anyone. They know I’ll give them shit for it, a smart ass remark, and simply, I won’t do it out of spite. Tis is I.

Moderation.

Smoking. Drinking. Gambling. All bad things in my mother’s eyes. To me, depends. It is all on moderation. It’s okay to smoke…in moderation. It’s okay to drink…in moderation. It’s okay to gamble… in moderation. I can’t judge someone for doing those when I myself do many of them in moderation. It’s all about context. And so I told my mom, it’s okay to do those, in moderation. She disagrees. She’s just very traditional.

I don’t know.

My mind is clearer and I actually did find some focus. I was able to rant and ramble with my usual flare. Thought it isn’t as flashy as it usually is, but more of the straightforwardness of my earlier writings and blog things, but I was able to put thoughts on a blank page.

When will it be when I stop thinking about her and what I did? When will it be that I will stop feeling bad for breaking a heart that wasn’t mine to break? When will it be that I will be able to move on and leave this in the past? I don’t know.

But I do know that she’ll always be a part of my thoughts, whether she likes that idea or not.

Time. It will eventually give me answers to my I don’t knows.

Ella Ego Tripping

This past weekend was another yearly pilgrimage back home to the good ol’ home state of Washington. Instead of just a regular vacation, it was for my cousin Tu’s wedding. Strangely enough, I haven’t seen her in two years, and it was a good 15-20 before that. But overall, it was nice to go up there and talk to her again.

I’ve taken quite a bit of photos, some are still in the works, but they are all shared at my flickr account. Here’s the link to the photostream: www.flickr/hermitsmoores

Overall the trip was marvelous. There were a lot of loud Chinese family moments that got a lil’ annoying, but overall, it was great. The tea ceremony was cool, and I’m sure Neil’s family and friends were quite interested in it, considering they are African American.

Sometime early during that weekend, I got sick. It wasn’t like I caught a bug from Sohail or anything; or even on the plane, ’cause I did feel really well on Friday, the day of the wedding. I think it had to do with the bed I had to sleep on during my stay. It was the usual spare bedroom that I stay in while I’m up there. It’s the bed.

The bed is hard. It is like granite, with every move, every position, killing you because there isn’t anything that was comfortable. I didn’t get much sleep that weekend. So, I got sick.

It started with the throat; always with the throat. Then the body fatigue; then the sore body. I was aching all over. But I have to suck it up and just go about the remainder of my days up there. I can’t just possibly stay home because there was just a lot of family time planned. TONS of family time planned.

Dim sum, lunches, dinners, repeat. Throw in a round of golf in there to just make it a typical visit too. It was just constant eating. Which I don’t mind, but c’mon, that’s just a lot of eating.

The Fatherly Escort

Again, overall it was a good trip, a good wedding, a good banquet.

It was one of those Chinese 12 course meals. I was practically done with the third. Just too much food, but great food though.

Again, with all trips back home, the question will emerge its lil’ head. Where’s your girlfriend? It was a little tough considering the wedding should make you all lovey dovey with holy matrimony and what baloney that it comes with, but I managed.

With my Auntie and my Mom, a simple, “what girlfriend?” sufficed. I’m no longer with her, and all was dropped. My cousins were a lil’ different. They want to know why, and I told them.

In a way, I do regret doing it, even though it felt right and still feels do. There’s not been a day that I don’t’ think about her, but again, it’s not like she doesn’t come up in my day. Whether it is a chat with a friend or even with her, she still comes out. She’s not out of my life, and I don’t know if I want her to be out of my life. We make good friends. We do. I’m not going to lie about that.

We get each other. We know how to make the other laugh. She takes my shit and gives it back, as I do with her.

Red: Anticipation of Forever

And seeing her the few times since I’ve gotten back, it doesn’t seem like anything’s really changed on how we act, besides that I just don’t touch her anymore. Maybe it is all surface. I don’t know.

I don’t know.

Maybe I don’t really see her, don’t really know her like she says. I don’t know the philanthropist that is her. I don’t know the girl that gives me free drinks at the boba shop. The girl that is willing to give money to help people out, when she needs the money. The girl that loves little kids. The girl that loves animals. The girl that has a heart that is too big for her; a heart that she doesn’t know how to protect, letting herself fall into stuff completely. The cute girl that would laugh that wicked evil laugh because she can’t just not use it. The girl who hates shit, but is surrounded by it. The girl that complains about Pickle’s horse shit. The girl that hates stupid people like me (as in I hate stupid people, not that I’m stupid. Well maybe it can work both ways). The girl that is much stronger than I give her credit for, but can be even stronger.

I just don’t know.

I’m just here in this new writing space that I may or may not come back to trying to write my lil’ diatribes and my recollections and thoughts about the wedding that was. I’m just here to get some thoughts out of my head and just try to focus on other things, like my writing or even the writing group that is tomorrow. Trying to think about the bicycle that I’m getting so I can save some gas money and get some exercise all at the same time. I’m trying to think about the photos that I still need to fix and post. I’m thinking why I’m not taking more photographs. I’m thinking about why I’m not writing more. I’m thinking about why I’m so lazy sometimes. I’m thinking about the Reno trip. I’m thinking about a family reunion that I’ve always wanted to plan.

Speaking of which, it seems that Tu is down for getting one together. I might get some help in making it happen. Great. Hopefully it’ll work out. Hopefully it’ll be great.

There’s just a lot of stuff that just floats in my head, waiting to find an outlet. Maybe I can just forget. Simply forget.

How will that work for someone who has an elephant’s memory? How does that work indeed?

I’m thinking about should I get lunch today, or should I just eat whatever I have in my fridge. I’m thinking about the seven hours I owe Blair.

Maybe I’ll just leave it here and get started on my day of bike shopping, vacuuming, reading, and netflixing.

Ella’s Contemplation

Change. It had to be done. I’m not making excuses to make me feel better, but it must be done. I broke a heart that wasn’t mine to break, but it had to be done.

Feelings started to change and it just didn’t feel right….to me. It’s hard to be selfish in a situation like this, but it is the only thing that I can do to make things easier, not just for me, but for the broken heart.

It couldn’t go on any longer because it’ll just make it even more difficult. If the heart was attached more than it was, I couldn’t have done it in good conscience. Eventually it’ll just eat me from inside; killing me in slow misery, which will eventually dissolve us months, years, centuries down the line.

The time just isn’t right. The moment just isn’t there. There’s just something wrong and two wrongs don’t make a right.

Space. Suffocation. Anger. Hatred.

Nothing is connecting. Nothing is making sense.

Touches and yearning goes unanswered or it is just unsatisfying. I can’t breathe. There’s no air.

Something is just missing and I don’t think there can be anything done about it. It’s just not there…for me. No more. It’s just gone.

Thoughts nag at me, hoping they would go away. Thoughts linger in my mind as I push them away. They scream silently in my mind, echoing is all they can do.

What was there just fell. What was there dissolved into something that wasn’t right.

There’s no one to blame. I couldn’t be the Knight that saved you from your demons. There’s just too many to fight. I tried, but I just couldn’t. I felt helpless, seeing anger consume the heart, losing you, swallowed into darkness.

I’m not you. I don’t understand what you are going through, where things went wrong. I try to understand, give aid and advice is all I can do; guide you to salvation. But I can’t force you to change, to just let go.

It’s not my place to make you change. That has to come from the heart to be genuine. It has to come from the heart for it to be complete, but it just seems the heart is stagnant, not wanting to change because it is comfortable.

I’m the crutch to all of the problems; someone to lean on when the heart can’t beat anymore. It’s draining to stand by, listen, and not be able to do anything.

Maybe I’m from Mars and I just don’t understand this Goddess and her way of thinking. I want to be there to listen, to help, because as the Knight, that’s what I’m there for. But all I feel is inadequate, useless; as I hear the same problems over and over again that pains you.

It breaks my heart to hear your pain through your tears, but it also tears me up to know that I couldn’t help. I couldn’t make you happy. I am not the man that can bring you joy.

There’s just too much for me. I’ve failed you as a man. I have. There’s no excuse about that. The only thing that I can do is to walk away, so you can teach yourself to be on your own. Fix your own problems and stand on your own; independent, happy. Fixed.

I can’t save you. As hard as I try, this Knight is only a Squire in Knight’s armor. No more, no less. I’m not a hero, yours or anyone’s.

I can’t say that I feel good about the decision that I made. It pains me to know that I broke this dear ol’ heart. It kills me to know that I couldn’t stick it out to make it work. It pains me to put it through this mess, but it is the best thing that I can do.

My feelings changed; drained empty of patience. It no longer breathes the life that it once breathed. It died somewhere along the way. Maybe one day, like a Phoenix, it’ll be born again from the ashes, but until that day comes, it is what it is.

I cannot look myself in the eyes going on pretending that everything is all right when clearly my heart pounds that it isn’t. I would be the Dark Prince if I strung the heart along, tugging it by its heartstrings and then throwing it away once I find another.

I can’t do that. I didn’t want to do that. I had to let it go so it can learn to fly on its own.

So I just sit here listening to the heart’s hatred of me for what I did. I just sit and take it, because it is what I deserve. It is an outlet for the anger that it has boiling inside. I sit and take it. That’s all I can do, because it helps put her soul at ease.

Whatever is best for her.

I’m not going to pretend and think that I know what is best for her. I only think I know what is best for her and that is this break. This space. Sure the root of it comes from selfish reasons, but a part of it comes from the honesty of the moment. She needs to be on her own to fight her own demons, kill them on her own terms.

I’m not even sure if what I did is the best thing, but it feels right. My heart regrets the decision, but it no longer screams. It’s calm, quiet, satisfied that it is done. It pats my back, good job because it is right. Just deal with my pain for abandoning her and fix myself.

I do hope the heart is able to mend, pick all of its broken pieces back and fix itself. I hope it comes back stronger, so it doesn’t need someone weak like me to hold it up.

I see the heart’s potential; strong like a thoroughbred’s, full of blood, life, able to beat freely, strongly without fear. But it’s nowhere close.

What happened?

A big heart like that must have gotten crushed when it was younger to make it so weak now. Malnourished of love, neglected. A heart like that just has so much love to give, but it just doesn’t know how. It’s not healthy, not beating the way that it was meant to be.

The love is mostly filled with bitter memories that it can’t let go. It is shy to beat any stronger because it doesn’t know how. It hasn’t been used to its full potential. It only beats because it can. It only beats because it has someone to help it beat. It beats just enough so that her crutch takes over and does the rest.

It needs to throw away the lifeline and learn to beat on its own. Be fearless. Be strong. Don’t be afraid to look at the tough times ahead and face it without fear. When times get tough, don’t hide away, deal with it. Put it aside, let it slide away, let it go

Let it go.

It is all gone and done with. You can’t change anything. It’s done. All you can do is to take what happened, and put it away, let it go and live. Move on careless.

Life is hard. It isn’t easy, but it gets easier as you get stronger. Challenges that were like Everest to climb becomes a small mound of dirt that you just walk over. With time, things get easier.

Make an effort to change. Don’t fear it. Move on from the hole that you are in and just dig yourself out. Stand up and walk away leaving it behind you.

There’s no point. No point in holding on. None.

Soon the past would just be a distance memory, the future is a blank canvas, and the present is full of colors that you can use to paint your Mona Lisa.

Be strong. Be willful. Be fearless. Look in yourself and let go; be free. Don’t be tied down on things you have no control over and take control over things you do.

Let go. Be free. Beat strongly to your own drum.

It happened again, the could be end all be all of things between me and the great ol’ Selena Kyle. Fights of talking and space and miscommunication because of the lack of thinking in the heat of the whole mess.

I couldn’t think, I couldn’t think of a reason to tell her that it needs to be done or why I’m acting the way that I am acting. Whether she will understand, I don’t know. I really don’t know if she will or want to understand why I am the way I am.

Space. Loner. Hermitude. I love my space. I LOVE MY SPACE. I can’t stress that enough. And it is not because of Selena that I need it. Not her at all. I need it for me, my own sanity.

Psychologically, I’m sure I know why I have such a need of space. There is no compromise on this. I need my space. I don’t think that this will ever change. EVER. I love my space, my time, my alone time, to just be with myself, unwind, watch a movie or read, and not just deal with anyone. SPACE. MY SPACE. My own little sanctuary.

Growing up, at the age of 16, I have pretty much decided I wanted to be on my own. To do my own thing. Growing up, all I know is my family and not much more. Just family. My over protective parents and my brother and my grandparents. Family.

I love them, I do, but I’ve always wanted to be on my own. Being up there, with them, it just feels suffocating. I need someone to answer to, to let know what my plans are and to do things. With that, in the great ol’ double edge sword, I learned to be a hermit, and I learned, no YEARNED, no DESIRED, to be on my own. To make my own mistakes, to do my own thing. To succeed, to fail. On my own. My own thing.

I literally have to move away from them. 1,000 miles away. To have my own space. And it worked. It took a fucking long ass time and my father dying for me to grow up and get comfortable with myself and my skin. But overall, I got it. I got my independence. I get to do what I want to do without having to tell anyone or answer to anyone. I’m no longer suffocated. I get to sit home in my own little world and do my own thing of unwinding and relaxing.

What a life!

People will look at that and not understand. What kind of life is that? You are just letting you life pass you by, sitting at home and not doing anything. True, but it is my life. Not answering to anyone. Doing my thing. Doing what I want to do.

And overall, I have my space, my independence. My own being.

Selena, dear ol’ Selena, needs to understand that it is not about her. Not about her at all. It is all me and my psychological issues of wanting space. And ultimately, I don’t think that is going to change. I will always constantly need my space. I don’t think it is something that I can give up. No. I can’t.

I made my sacrifices. Growing up, being on my own for so long, from the sweet ol’ age of 22, I’ve had my own space. From the sweet ol’ age of 26 or 27, I’ve grown into who I am today, comfortable in my own skin. I have my found self of me…what many people have been searching their twenties or maybe their own life for.

That is the smart ass dick who constantly needs space.

To go from having all my weeknights alone to do what I want and my weekend days and nights to do what I want, living my life as I please, not answering to anyone….perfection…to being with someone 4-5 times a week, is a drastic change in my life. It is a drastic drastic compromise I have to live with, a decision that sometimes I regret, but I need to do to change. That’s ultimately, what I want to do, but again, it’s tough. It’s new. It’s scary, and sometimes it is SUFFOCATING. It isn’t because of Selena, no. It is because of my innate need to need space. All rooted in me growing up with my family.

That will never change. I need my space.

So when I see Selena’s stuff encroaching in my little sanctuary of home, it’s scary. It’s frightening. Change. Things are happening and I don’t know how I feel. I don’t mind the things of convenience but when it comes to clothes, that I don’t understand. There’s no purpose of it being there. It’s not a matter of convenience at all. It is something that is encroaching on my space.

Maybe she’s just marking her territory, or maybe to her, it is a matter of convenience to leave them there, but I don’t know. It’s scary. It’s frightening. It points to something that is serious, but it really isn’t. To her at least.

To me, in my mind, we aren’t just dating. We are actually going out. She’s my girlfriend. I even changed from saying “the girl I’m dating” to “my girlfriend”…because to me, that is what we are, and also because it is easier to say. But to her, she doesn’t see it that way. We are only dating, not exclusive, and are able to date other people.

I can never date anyone else, because it would require me to give up more time than I’m willing to give up, and also, I haven’t met anyone else that made me want to spend more time with. Almost all of my time I have been spending with Selena.

Again, ideally, I would love to have a relationship where we two are able to spend time together and that we both have a separate life outside the relationship. Maybe I do need to find someone that needs their own space too, to be able to do things on their own without the need for my company. That would be ideal and I know of only one relationship that is that way.

It seems that even Bradley and Rut-to-the-ledge have the same problems before. But eventually, they made a compromise.

I have compromised, but again, it just seems that I need more space. And honestly, looking ahead, I don’t know that if that will ever change in me. Not anytime soon.

I would just love to have my free time and just go to a movie on my own, to sit there and relax and just watch and not worry about entertaining anyone. I just want to be able to sit down and watch, analyze a movie, because they mean so much to me. Movies, films, are my life, my passion. It is something that I want to take part in making, and I watch to learn, not just to be entertained.

Sometimes I will rent movies to watch just because I want to learn from it, because it is similar to a movie that I am writing. So I need to watch it and learn from it when I can. Grant it, again, that I can make the compromise to invite Selena to watch, but other times, there are just movies that I need to see and waiting is not an option. I don’t know. I ‘m just stubborn.

I’m just stubborn to change, to give up my valued independence and space. Something that I sacrificed so much for. I lost so much because I needed this NEED for space.

I wasn’t there when my beloved grandmother passed away. I wasn’t there when my father passed away. Things I had to sacrifice, things that made me regret moving down here to find myself, to find my independence, to pursue my dream.

I gave up being with my family, my loving father and mother, to pursue this movie thing. Movies are important to me. They are a livelihood that I want to have.

So, watching these movies, needing my space, not having someone to answer to means that much to me because I gave up so much, and lost many that are near and dear to me because of this selfish need to get my own space.

All in all, it is not a matter of being with Selena or Selena herself that is causing this problems. I know for DAMN SURE if I was with someone else, this would happen. I will always feel suffocated and need my space.

It is just a matter of finding someone that understands that, a matter of finding someone that is willing to give that to me.

If not, then I’ll just be alone, with my space, and I’ll be okay with that.

I have to be.

How can the one I gave my heart to just go ahead and throw it out and stomp on it the way she did? How could I have fallen so blindly into this lust of affection and attention knowing all too well what will happen?

Am I a fool to believe that she can be different, that she will be better than the rest? I must be a fool to think that way since it seems to be happening again.

The wretched pain of yearning and not knowing what everything is about. She keeps close but distant, the ultimate game of have but can never have.

It’s a evil game as this poor marionette is manipulated by the heartless puppet-master, stringing him along, making him jump through hoops to prove to her that he means everything he said. She is special, beautiful, and truly a wonder.

Yet, she plays games. She has my heart on the ground with her heels over it, ready to stomp and squish. My heart is nothing but a bug that doesn’t deserve to live. It is a nuisance that doesn’t needs to be ended.

My heart, my heart, my poor little heart that only seems to beat because that’s the only thing that it is sure of doing.

Everything else is a mystery, a mystery that it doesn’t want to solve. Why? Why?

It’ll just end up in more heartache. It’ll just end up in more questions with no answers. The frustration it feels is legitimate as it goes about its business.

Such a sucker for love; a fool for love. Nothing more can come out of this. Nothing good can come out of this. It is just a petty game that it can’t afford to play anymore.

* * *

It seems like it has been a while since I’ve written in this dear ol’ blog of mine. It comes to a time where I really don’t have much to say but have everything to say. My mind seems to be a jumble mess of mixed emotions.

There is joy, regret, laughter, sadness. A mixed bag.

I just don’t think I can clear out these emotions anytime soon. They are just here and it seems it will always be here regardless of whatever happens. It will always be here despite everything I’ve tried to do to trust.

There’s always that lingering feeling of doubt, of what is happening, of what is us, and what is this, and what?

I just don’t understand anymore, and it just seems that I’m just a fool to believe that it can be anything different than what I’ve already been through. Who knows? Maybe she is telling me the truth and I should respect her privacy and trust that she is true.

Trust.

There is that word again. When can I ever trust people fully again? When?

I don’t know anymore. I don’t know much about anything anymore except that life goes one with the beat of time. Life is just life and I just need to face it as it comes.

SERIOUSLY

If it happens again, if my heart breaks again, I just have to allow it to happen. If she lies to me, then she lies to me and I have to deal with that. If she actually does have something that I need to know or should to know and she doesn’t tell me, then that is something that I need to deal with.

People are selfish. They only want the best for themselves and nothing else. No one is ever that selfless. Never. Not even me.

* * *

My eyes and mind cloud over as the remnants of the alcohol takes over, leaving me the ickiness of the “icky-shuffle” of my brain. It happens time and time again, more frequent now with my tired eyes and tired body.

Old. My body can’t take this shit anymore. Old. I’m getting too old for this shit. I’m getting too old for these late night excursions and drinking drinks of multiple ounces. Just too old for this shit.

I guess it wasn’t the drinks that actually put me over, but more of the combination of many factors that put me over the edge. Just horrible.

Yesterday was a mess day of sickness and queasiness. Just a blah day of the worst kind. Just a blah day of the worst kind.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way. The movie didn’t help, nor did the lack of sleep.

It’s just funny how things are. It has to be an age thing or something, because when I was young and the insomniac that I was, I had no problems at all with the 4-5 hours of sleep that I got. Sometimes it was much less. Now, anything less than 5 or 6, I get a grumpy mess of zombie flesh.

My mind just doesn’t work. There’s no focus, there’s no relevant or significant thoughts. All there is is the constant reminder of why I should not be drinking, why I should not be staying up so late, and why I am just old. There is only pain. PAIN.

Just a walking zombie of messed up emotions of pain and pain. There is nothing more as I try to put on my best face and hide my queasiness as I show up at the family dinner. I couldn’t do anything but just sit there and eat and just be quiet in my own little hermit way of antisocialness.

I smile my polite smile when I need to. Ask my polite questions when I need to. Swear off the alcohol when I need to.

I sit there in misery as the young’ins laugh at my pain and my misery. It is LOVE when you know that family can laugh at you and you don’t get pissed. It is love when your family can laugh at you and your pain and your misery.

Because it is only a small insignificant pain. It isn’t anything drastic, life threatening or life changing. It was just a bad hangover. A tired mess of BLAH!

I felt like shit. Words of concern as my uncles and aunts ask about my well being; of why I am not as fun as I use to be. Concerns of why I’m not drinking. Am I quitting? Just a simple “I’m tired” and “I had too much to drink last night” was all I can manage.

It is true.

Actually, I didn’t have that much. Not that much at all. It was a decent night that led to a horrible morning. A disgusting morning of ugh.

Sigh.

Home is what I yearned for. My loving bed that never betrayed me before. My favorite thing in the world when I feel that way. I want to make love to it just by being there, wrapped up in my blankie and just die. And I did.
* * *

It’s raining. It’s been raining for the past week, week and a half. Some of the days were bad, horrible. Just a torrential downpour of precipitation. It even woke me from a deep slumber.

It’s refreshing to see the rain, overcast skies, and just downright feeling of home.

I miss the rain. The lovely sweet softness of falling rain on my head. Tiny rainy drops that caresses you in the tantalizing shower.

I just can’t believe why anyone would not like the rain. It cleanses the soul. It cleanses everything that it touches, making it new and refreshed.

It just changes the landscape and the people a little bit. None of this rushed impatience that I’m so use to down here. Everything is at a crawl with the eerie emptiness because not that many people like to go out in the rain.

Just a refreshing mess of love that I enjoy when it appears here in the land of the SoCal sun. It’s a change of pace, a pace that reminds me of home. A slowed pace of relaxed laid-backness of just so whatever.

It’s rain. RAIN. I love the rain.

Jumping up and down in a puddle as the rain just pounds and pounds and pounds you from atop the sky.