Forgive me. I've never felt this before. I felt too many things at once and I couldn't categorize them. Every little thing you did gave me feelings I needed to analyze, but couldn't.

I needed to decipher what it all meant to me. That's why it was difficult for me to react to them. The emotions weren't the easy one-worded ones, like "happiness" or "love." They were deeper and more complex. It was all the little things you did that brought all these emotions.

Like the way you look at me, the way you move, the way your lips move when you talk, the way you talk, every little thing you say, the way you walk, how you act, when you're quiet for a beat, when you're loud, the lingering moments in between everything you do. They each bring dozens of different feelings out of me, all at once, in a rush. They leave me breathless, in awe. You're incredibly interesting; every little thing you do, every little thing you are.

Like your sickening eyes (le sigh - every time I look into them; every single fucking time...), your long thick lashes, you texting, you on the computer, how you call it "computader" like a retard, how you move to your music - your head down...moving side to side, you dancing in the car, how you quietly sing in spanish, your callousy hands, your dirty shoes, your handkerchief in your back pocket, your stupid belt, the stupid way you say "stupid," how you hold a cup of coffee, how you inhale when you're smoking, your spitting sarcasm, your unapologetic boldness, your laugh, your voice, your scent, your taste, your touch, your old spice deodorant, how your words trail when you're looking for the right ones, the lines at the corner of your eyes that crinkle when you smile or laugh...

I was trying to take it all in; take you all in.

I was in your world, observing you. I wanted so badly to fit in, to be able to live in all those little moments of you with all those little things. I miss all of them. I miss all of you.

I know what I need now. I need a man I can trust. I need someone to love. I need you.

Since I've been here everyone's eyes are piercing their I told you so's. They won't say it out loud. They know I won't listen. I'd rather stay blind.

I'm sorry I'm maddening. I'm sure you'd rather want boring than maddening.

I'd rather die of excitement.

I just want to come home.

Does it mean anything that I don't want to give up? Do I give up while I'm behind?

I want to write you ardent letters everyday. I don't write them down, so I engrave the words in my mind.

First of all I'm sorry in advance for saying "I'm sorry" so much...

I'm sorry I let you down. I wanted to give you my all, but I was too afraid. I'm afraid to ask myself if I love you. I'm afraid for it to be true. I know it's true. I know I can give you my all and that scares me.

You must think I'm an empty shell of a person. You should know that you're wrong. That's who I used to be. In my past. But I've grown since then.

We could have been so good. I was just too afraid. And I never told you. I wasn't afraid to tell you though. I could have been so good to you.

I took you for granted.

But you were my first 'everything.' It was all so surreal. I felt like I didn't deserve it, so I didn't know what to do with it. You didn't seem real to me. I didn't seem real to me.

You know I wish I didn't leave. But you don't know that I wished for you to stop me from leaving. But life isn't cinematic romance, is it?

I was afraid to fall in love with you (though I wanted to so badly) because I knew when the day came that you didn't want me anymore it would hurt too much. I knew I couldn't handle it. I would have spent my days being every which way melodramatic and pathetic, like a nineteenth century French novel.

I haven't cried over you, though I probably should empty myself of you. I can't break down because I know how hard it is to pick myself back up. I've done it many times throughout my life, but I don't think I have the energy. Not now.

I wonder if when you hear a song it makes you think of me. Because every time I hear a song I'm reminded of you. And I like it. Though I know I probably shouldn't.

I want to listen to all your music and swim in their tied emotions. Just for a day. But I don't.

I'm not fucked up. I'm broken.

I've been putting the pieces of myself back together for years now. You could have been one of the strongest pieces to fit. So perfect.

I've always been a dreamer. I've always gripped onto hope, so tightly that my emotions bleed. I've been hoping that you miss me. That you want to love me. Before I used to be into romanticism, but now I'm into realism. I snap out of it and tell myself, "you idiot, he doesn't care about you anymore." And then I stop hoping and know to stop hoping is for the best.

I miss you everyday. I think about you too much.

Sometimes I'll fantasize about a future we'd have together. A life made for me and you. But like I said.... *snap.*

I miss everything about you. To me, you are perfect. I didn't see any flaws in you. I could have been bitter that you saw so many in me, but I didn't. I don't hold it against you. I don't want to hold anything against you. I think you think of me with regret, as a waste of time and energy. But I still don't hold it against you.

When I think of you....I think of you with fondness. Always.

To me, you feel like home. When I'm with you I feel like I belong. Like I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

I'm sorry I tested your patience. It wasn't my intention. I wish you didn't have to leave first. I wish we both could have stayed.

I heard something about how a man wishes to be a woman's first love and how a woman wishes to be a man's last love.

To put it bluntly, I don't want anyone but you.

Tu me manques terriblement.

"It was, I thought, a form of self-abuse. She simply would not allow there to be any peace in her life. If there was a lull in the drama, she would create something new upon which to fixate."

I don't know why some are adamant about lamenting on the past as if it's something that needs to be repeatedly revisited. Though I think it's safe to assume that the lessons from the past haven't been learned yet.

It's peculiar to me because I don't like thinking of the past. The past is where it belongs and bringing it to the present (even if it's to figure out the present) isn't how I handle things because in fact I don't know how to deal with heavy things.

When I can't deal with something emotionally-ridden I don't deal with it at all. In actuality I don't want it to register, I don't want to process it, I just want to move on from it. I don't know if it's healthy, but I just want to kick dirt and leave it in the past, allow it to scar.

But if you can't be where you are now if you don't know your past, then where does that leave me? I've lived my past, I understand the lessons that were to be learned, I think I see the mistakes and what to avoid, I see how it's changed me into the person I am today.

Of course I view the past as derogatory and filled to the brim with negatory instances, so why should I continue to revisit it?

And I'm not too keen on the idea of looking towards the future. The prospect of the future is exciting, yes, with its seemingly endless possibilities and insatiable hope, but honestly the future freaks me out. I don't even like thinking about tomorrow. I not only like to live in the now, I need to live in the now. I want to forget the past, keep the good lessons (that were learned the hard way) and live right now.

I know my current purpose, I know what I'm doing now. Don't ask me about tomorrow, don't ask where I think I'll be in five/ten years from now - you don't know and I don't know. I could certainly tell you where I'd like to be but I'm scared to tell you because I'm a dreamer and people don't take too kindly to whimsical dreams these days. There are too many realists out there. It's not that I feel they'll crush my dreams. My dreams are solid. And that's just it. I've had this dream for many years and I've only tiptoed into even getting close to grasping it. If that makes any kind of sense.

"There was never a sense of closer. Rather, the same questions were asked time after time, with the same answers being given and no progress ever made...Perhaps she needed to live the present rather than constantly analyze the past."

j’aime mon sommeil. ma vie a tendance à s’effondrer quand je suis éveillé, vous savez? - ernest hemingway

Know who you are, be prepared for everything, drink every experience to it's extend and expand! It can be a bumpy ride, trust me, it's worth it DARLING." - Catherine Baba

I've always wanted a telescope.

When I was little and first learned about the constellations, I was fascinated. From then on I would love finding half of a constellation, cause that's all I could find. Always Orion's belt. Or his shoulders.

I loved watching the stars shine. To me, they had no purpose. There was nothing significant about. They lived until they died. They lived so much that the only respectable way to go was to explode.

Now when I look at stars, I think of that juxtaposition. How I saw them as a little girl and how I see them now.

Today, when I look out into the starry night, I see the future without seeing it at all. That I am in another place, at another time, looking at the same stars. Searching for Orion. Happy even if I can only see a part of him. But the point is that I'll be looking at it from another world, from a new life.

Everything will be alright. Everything will. Because I know that I will be free. Something will carry me away. Something will give me the life that I want, the life that's the complete opposite of what it is now. And that will make me happy. I know it won't keep me happy for the rest of my life, but for however long it is willing to last for me, I'll be happy. Sometime. Everything will be alright.

Maybe I'm wired to be a night owl for a reason. Everything is meant to be for a reason, isn't it? I need daily reminders that everything will be alright. Because recently I've been breaking down too frequently, easily forgetting, easily getting distracting, being led astray from hope. I think it's meant to be that at this time at night, when the breeze is gentle and the air is light, the stars are shining for me, telling me everything will be alright. I will see them in a new way, in a new light. One day.

Everything will be alright.

I wish life were but a dream. I wish dreams were justly life.

You could use the argument that art imitates life and therefore paintings are a reinterpretation of how an artist views art, views an instant, a fleeting moment in life.

Looking at Van Gogh's famous version of Starry Night for instance, the typical observer would prefer to envision its thesis that a beautiful night is a whirlwind of serenity, of a cool breeze in the countryside, the stars are twinkling at its best, not a care in the world could disturb its beauty: its purpose.

But for me, when I look at a painting, I don't think of it with the sole conclusion that my eyes are bearing witness to an artists' viewpoint. No. I am experiencing what life would or could look like.

Life would be better if it were in a painting. Yes it would be beautiful to look at, this new life, but it would be so much more magical. It would be like living in your favorite song. That's what it would feel like to me.

That's why looking at a painting, or even a photograph, is so much more than an educational observation.

Life would be better if it were in a painting. All your troubles wouldn't matter. Just like how it is from the outside looking in. You're only looking at it, following the brushstrokes across the plane, discovering its patterns, its deliberate venture of storytelling. But if you were in the painting, you could smell its beauty. Release yourself and drown in its immaculate conception.

Van Gogh's stars would be shining so bright they would captivate you into a lull, that false sense of safety, but in a Van Gogh it wouldn't be a lie. You would be soothed into serenity. You would always be safe and be kept protected. You would reside in one of his cottages downhill in the valley. His stars would shine for you. His wind would calm you. Just as the gusts look, that's how it would feel. It would dance on your skin. It would carry your troubles with it, never to be seen again.

Life would be better if it were in a painting.

Sleeping Beauty

I read that important life experiences are much in need in order to establish successful growth.
On the outside it translates as passivity; sleeping your life away. Basically, it comes down to festering. Your inner turmoil can only sit there and fester within you because you don't know what to make of it. Seeing it in terms of Sleeping Beauty helps one to see life as their own fairy tale. That this phase of passivity will run its course while life continues to evolve around you; while you are sleeping through life, stuck in your adolescent rut. Only to be rest assured that your happy ending will occur. You will....wake up. One day.

So I guess that means I have the Sleeping Beauty syndrome. I have this idea - I call it hope - that I will wake up from this feeling of self-loss. That in my struggle of "nothing," as each day passes, time is somehow healing me and when I am well enough rested I will wake up, with the sudden delight of having found myself again. I will have woken up.

I wish I could be more giving.

Relationships are based on the principle of give and take. It's a normal socially established unwritten agreement in relationships. Give and take a little. I wish I could do that for my bestest. She always talks, I always listen. I wish I could formulate my feelings into words better, if at all. I don't know if it would change things, but sometimes I can feel my bestest shouting at me through the silence - my silence. Why can't I be like my bestest - a sesspool of emotion that's readily available and easily conveyed, usually carelessly, without filter? Or maybe it's always filtered in its ease. Is it thoughtless? When emotions are put into words, are they so difficult in trying to make sense of that that's exactly what becomes of them - thoughtless? Are they just lost in translation? How can anyone express how they feel. I don't believe it's possible.

Lackdaisical. That means without interest or determination.

I don't think I could do it even if I could. I think I can't because it'll make me feel self conscious. And I don't like to be judged. Most likely because I've heard those judgments and I didn't like listening to them. They made me feel self conscious and as if I can't do anything, let alone doing anything right.

I don't like authoritative figures who think they are so. How can they claim to be the expert? There are so many people who are embarassingly more knowledgeable than them. Why do we get stuck with the know-nothings? I like to think the know-everything's are tucked inside their cocoons, gaining more knowledge so they couldn't have the time to bother with us. And so we are left with the buzzards who have the nerve to pick at us because they have nothing better to do.

Maybe that's why I struggle in church. I thought about this the last time I was there. It was new year resolution themed and I couldn't help to be cynical to what this young pastor was trying to say. I wasn't trying to be cynical for the sake of being cynical. It's just how my feelings formed. I couldn't believe in anything he was saying. It sounded like he was preaching, in a derogatory sense. He scraped the surface of how we act in church and how we act behind closed doors. He insinuated that they are two completely different people. Which I know is the truth. I didn't have a problem with that. I had a problem that it was coming out of his mouth. What about you? How do I know that you're not an evil bastard to the people in your world? How do I know that you don't think bad thoughts about people out of simple rage and frustration for everyday, mundane irritants? How could I try to be a better person if I don't know that you could be? Aren't you wearing a mask, just like the rest of us? But you have more nerve because you're standing on stage with a spotlight on you, telling me to stop being who I am. You don't know if I can't help it or not.

I didn't feel accusatory when I thought all of this in church. They were just thoughts, not raised by frustration or any other hot-tempered emotion. They were simply thoughts. I wondered if I was being agnostic. I agree that human knowledge is greatly based on experience. I like believing in God. I like believing that he loves me and that in return I should love him back. That's an earthly human relationship based unwritten agreement.

I just don't like being told that I need to work on myself. I already know that. I don't like being told things that I already know.

I grew up in Catholic schools. Memorized the prayers, took Communion. I loved God. I believed in him. I trusted him. I didn't know it back then, but I honestly did. I lost faith during the time I was to be Confirmed. Before the big dog and pony show, our confirmation group went on a retreat to the mountains in Idlywild. One of our exercises was to take a pen and paper and find a quiet spot in the woods. Put pen to paper and see what would come of it. I cried cause it felt like God was writing a letter to me, through me.

You lost faith in me, but now you're trying to regain that love back. I know there was a point in time when you thought I didn't love you anymore because of all those hard times you went through. You thought how could you love me if I don't love you. We both were sad that you felt that way.

No matter what happens to you, no matter how much people make you angry or cry, when you feel alone in the world and that nobody loves you or understands you, you must remember that Everyone loves you and Cares for you and wishes they can make you smile again. And it is so because it is true.

Everything around you, all the beauty that you see - the cool breeze, those flowers you love, the warm sun - is from me to you. It is my gift to my child.

What is my plan for you. No one knows yet. You need to. You need answers to questions that you don't even know what to ask. By this time, you've come together that everything that has happened to you so far is a lesson. A lesson in which you will learn when you are ready to comprehend. WHEN will you be ready you ask? When you've figured out who the real You is. When you've learned to enjoy and appreciate everything that comes upon your path. When you learn to love and forgive.

Remember when you cried, you suddenly stopped? It was I who wiped away your tears to make you happy again. Remember right after when you'd think of your good memories? That was you when you learned to love and forgive.

While you're sitting on the earth's ground at this moment, you're looking at all those ants and bugs flying around you. You're a bit nervous they might bite you or bother you. Child, I won't let them hurt you. Everything that you thought has hurt you only made you stronger.

I wish I could have stored this letter in my memory so that I could remember its words when I needed them the most. I wrote it in cursive. I haven't written in cursive since.

That's what I love about religion. I wish I could write letters to God. Write to him like he's an old friend who lives on another continent. I want more than prayers. I use prayers to thank him for the good things that happen to me. I always forget to actually talk to him, to have conversations. That's what I want. If I had kept him close to me during the times I was falling apart...I don't know...but I think it would've done something, made some sort of a difference.

I wouldn't have felt so alone. So unloved.

I wish I could show my loved ones the letter. But I'm afraid to share anything with them. I wish I wasn't so scared of them. I hate their judgments that I don't like sharing anything with them. When I'm around them I go on auto-pilot. I play the care-free, laugh at everything version of myself. I wear that mask.

I love how having a religion helps in practicing to make life better. But I don't like it when it cuts down people. I don't like listening to that in church. I don't like how people talk about it in church, walk out still talking, and not listen to the words they're saying. Everything was a waste, taken into complete disregard. I don't like when people use religion as a crutch. "I'm a bad person, but I go to church...I'm working on it." I don't believe in that. It's like New Years Resolutions. I don't like unbroken promises that were broken when they were made. I don't like lies. Especially if you can help it.

I love religion's aspect of having a trusting relationship with God. You may struggle with it, like a human relationship, but it's better than an earthly one because if you're having a tiff with him, he's always there waiting for you, willing to forgive you. I love that it's the only trusting relationship because it's the only reliable one in my life - for my entire life. He can't wait for you to turn your back around and love him again. I just really don't like it when pastor's say "but these people aren't working hard enough in their relationship with God. They're not doing it right, not living the right life." What does that even mean? Living the right life? We can only work with what we have. I don't like it when they talk down on people's lifestyles. I believe in learning from your own mistakes and you can't get help unless you want to help yourself. Does that make me agnostic?

I don't like it when they say you need to stop the bad you're doing right now and change your life. It doesn't work like that. Realistically, it doesn't. Or at least it's extremely difficult.

I don't like it when people claim they've changed when they haven't behind closed doors. I don't believe them when they say they're good people now. I have no proof. Like Johnny Cash says: sooner or later God'll cut you down. You can run on for a long time. What was done in the dark will be brought to the light.

Sleepwalking

I'm lost within myself. I've recently tried to figure out the general time frame when I became lost. Because that's what you do with things that are lost...you try to find them. Try. Not everytime is the time when you want to find them. In fact, most things that are lost are things that were never really needed in the first place, when you think about it. They're usually frivolous things, things you can live without. But they're never labeled as being "lost." Only important things are labeled as such. And those things are usually never found. Sometimes they are. But they're never completely found. The sense of loss is never completely satisfied. Especially if you can remember the time when it was lost in the first place. Just because that part is recalled, it doesn't give any hope to the lost. It's just something to recall.

I recalled that I started to lose myself after my life started to lose it's reality. Or rather, that my life started to become real. I woke up from my dream world, which I thought was perfect at the time. It's when my world started to crumble, when I realized that life could crumble.

I used to be so happy. All the time, I was happy. I used to laugh a lot. I used to always smile. I used to love to smile. I never thought about it back then. I talked a lot. That's the main difference between then and now. I would talk about nothing even though it felt like I was talking about something. Now I hate chit chat. It makes me nervous. That moment of stalling, trying to think of something to talk about. I have to work on it now. I never used to have to do that.

I have completely lost myself. Every new year I realize that I lose myself more and more. As each new year arrives, I feel less like myself then ever before. It doesn't make me sad. I don't know what it makes me feel. I feel nothing.

It began when my life started to crumble. I used to be happy because I was oblivious to the world around me. To my life, to my family and their secrets. When I found out how ugly that was. When they revealed themselves to me for the first time. When I looked at them and actually saw them. It hurt me. I didn't know it was hurting me at the time but now it's so clear that it did. And I had no idea. No idea that I was falling apart. That the seams that held me tight, bound myself, were slowly unraveling.

It started when uncle jerry died. He was young. He used to call me "jungle book" like the kid from the movie cause I was really skinny like him. He used to let me pick up change from his bedroom floor and let me keep it. His floor was always covered with change.

He died at the beach. I never found out what happened. All I know is that he could have possibly passed out near the shore...and drowned. I don't think my family told me the truth, but that's all I knew. I never asked.

I remember seeing his death reported on the local news. I've hated the local news ever since. It was so impersonal. I never learned how to swim before then. I don't ever want to learn now. I don't trust life guards at the beach. The news didn't even say his name. He was only referred to as "man." I don't know how that makes me feel.

When we got to the hospital I thought he was still alive. That he was just in surgery, trying to make it. I never prayed so hard in my life. And I was a Catholic school girl. Across the street from the hospital we went to eat at Weinerschnitzel cause we hadn't eaten anything all day. I was praying while we waited for our food. That's when my dad told me that he died. I was praying for nothing. I've never set foot near a Weinerschnitzel again.

It wasn't long after that grandma died. We used to see her everyday. We used to go to her friend's funerals all the time. When I was little, I went to so many funerals. I never personally knew them. I never cried. One time I went to a friend of a friend of the family's funeral. I tried to cry cause everyone else was, but I couldn't. I told my mom that I tried to cry cause I thought it was the appropriate thing to do and she said that it was alright that I couldn't cry. I felt a little bad that I couldn't, that I couldn't make myself.

I went to a lot of funerals when I was little. I saw a lot of coffins. A lot of people dressed in black. Crying. Always with their heads down. I never looked into anyone's faces when they cried there.

At grandma's funeral, I don't think I ever cried so much in my life. I stood in the back of the church the entire time. I listened to the eulogy that my cousin read, which I know my aunt wrote for him. He wasn't close to her like I thought I was. I saw her everyday. He didn't. I cried more when I thought I heard him talk about having to hold her purse. That was what I always used to do for her when we walked together. I would hold her purse and she would hold my arm.

I've forgotten the sound of her voice. I dreamt of her once a long time after the funeral. In the dream I was in the car with my dad while my mom was shopping inside of a store. We were parked right in front. There were a group of old women walking by and I thought one of them was grandma. She looked like her, talked like her, except she wasn't walking with a cane or a walker. In my dream it scared me, to recognize someone that was dead. I was even more scared when it turned out that it wasn't her at all.

I don't remember uncle jerry's funeral. But I do remember crying. So much. I don't like that in funerals you have to get up and go in front of the coffin. I don't like that everyone has to get in line. I didn't look because it was an open casket. I didn't like that at all.

After the deaths of the people I used to see all the time, the drapes of reality started to come down. Grandma's husband sued my mom and my aunt. I gave my first deposition to a judge (or was it just a lawyer?) when I was 14, I think. I didn't know what was going on. I still remember the building and the office. I remember that I was happy, that I was oblivious to what was really happening. But when I think back, I don't like it at all.

My family was split down the middle. I stopped seeing half of my family. Those two halves stopped talking to each other for years. I was oblivious to that back then. Everyone that I trusted to be good people were...well, I saw them for the first time who they really were: themselves. I don't like that at all.

I wish I could have remained oblivious. Then I wouldn't have ever changed. I wouldn't have lost myself.

All the relationships that I thought were true were only obligatory. They were never genuine. I never really knew those people at all. I never will.

For one half of my family (the other other side of my family), I've slowly started to get in touch with them. That mere thought makes me feel a little better. I don't know who they are still, but I like that I have this little bit of contact. It means something in its nothingness.

I miss the days when I was young, when I would go outside and lay down in the grass and feel the warm sun. I remember the subtle breeze that blew. The whistling of the trees. I can still feel it when I close my eyes. I wish those days never ended.

I wish I tried to discover myself more when I was little. Find out my likes and dislikes. My interests. I was into ballet and hawaiian dancing and writing. I loved watching movies. But I wish I could have discovered my true talent. I think it would have made things more easier for me.

I wish I never lost myself. I miss who I was.

I hate that I've had to go through so many tears to figure out truth, reality. I hate that I had to learn the hard way. But I love that that's the only way to find out. It makes it feel worth it. That all the bad that happened had to happen. To help shape me. But maybe all of that contributed to the loss of myself. I don't know what to think.

I used to always be so happy. I was so talkative. I was so carefree. Now I'm carefree only because I know bad is going to happen - let it flow. What else can you do?

Since I lost myself, I haven't lived. There is no life. I've been sleepwalking. Under the surface, just trying to scratch my way through.

I feel less like myself everyday. I don't remember how I used to feel when I was little. I wish I could get that little girl back. So she can be happy again.

I used to talk a lot and express myself. I keep it inside now. No one knows how I feel. But now I truely believe that no one would care if I told. So what does it matter? I don't like when people ask how I'm doing out of politeness. I don't think it's polite. It's ingenuine. It means nothing.

I wish I could lose myself completely and get it over with. Become someone new. But I only feel lost. I don't know who I am and I'm too tired to figure it out. I want to go back to those summer days. I used to ride my bike. I loved that. I used to go out for walks, climb trees. Look at bugs. Especially caterpillars. Chase butterflies. I used to dream. I don't remember my dreams these days. None of them are worth remembering. I don't think I even dream at all now. I can't fall asleep in seven minutes like the average person. I don't want to be normal. I want to be unique. I want to be different. I want to live in the countryside, near a lake or a pond.

I love the ocean, the beach, but I won't set foot in it. Not since after my uncle died. I don't want to ever go to a funeral ever again. I don't want anyone to hold my purse for me when I walk.

I want to spend my days reading under a willow tree in the warm sun, next to a creek or something. With Billie Holiday singing in the background. I want life to be simple again. I want to spend days in librairies, in museums, in cafes. I want to be left alone. I don't want to be needed. I want a quiet life. Taking pictures. Taking myself out of the moment. So that just for a second, I don't exist.

I want every night to be a calm, cool one, where the crickets sing to me, and where the candles gently flicker. With Billie singing in the background. And the water lilies slowly float. Where the water isn't a threat and it makes amicable sounds that I love.

I want to be unattached from everyone I know. I don't want to be relied on. I don't want to be thought about. Because I hate when it seems obligatory. Which is every time.

I want patience. I want joie de vivre. I want small irritant things to fly over my head without a care. I want knowledge, I want passion. I love art and I want to know everything. Miniscule details. Background stories of this and that. Details that hardly anyone knows or cares about. Those are what I love.

I try to keep in touch with people without keeping in touch at all just so there could be some seats filled at my funeral. But now I realize I don't want one. I wouldn't want to put anyone through that. Maybe I'll write a book and have them read it.

I want to be able to laugh at everything. I think I used to be really good at that when I was little.

I wish I was like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face where someone finds me, takes me to Paris and solves all my problems for me. Or rather, take them all away. But I don't want to fall in love like she did in the movie. I hope I never fall in love. I don't want to rely on anyone and I don't want anyone to rely on me. It's not about the possibility of a broken heart and hurt feelings. It's simply because I don't like the idea of it. How could I love someone if I don't even know who I am? How could I trust someone if I'm afraid of myself because I have no idea of what I'm capable of? Not capable of hurting anyone or anything like that. I mean I have no idea what I'm capable of in life. I'm afraid of what to expect from life since everything that's happened to me so far has been the gradual loss of myself, of the life that I thought I had, that I thought would never change, but ultimately has been changing every day, more so than the days before.

lackadaisical \lack-uh-DAY-zih-kuhl\, adjective:

Lacking spirit or liveliness; showing lack of interest; languid; listless.

Numerology

Life Path:

7 - Self awareness, reflection, retreat, spiritual learning and study.

7 - INVESTIGATOR

Traits:specialist, inventor, loner, eccentric, thoughtful, spiritual

The number 7 symbolizes humanity's deep inner need to find depth, meaning, and spiritual connection. When the creature needs of food, self-expression, material and domestic achievements have been met, we turn to the deeper levels of life -- to learn, to educate ourselves and to find purpose. The 7 is an investigator, an inventor, and must have solitude in which to find the inner voice. Sevens tend to be different, eccentric, or loners and are very discriminating in all areas.

Gifts: Mental understanding, analysis, perfection

Challenges: Pride, narrowness, distance, rigidity, connection to the past, argumentative, temper, silence

Personal Goal: To maintain control over life; to understand

Fears: Failure to achieve standards, making a mistake

Ma Vie

Your Life Path Number is 7

Your purpose in life is to find truth and meaning You are very spiritual, and you are interested in the mysteries of life. You are quite analytical and a great thinker. You have many theories and insights. A life of solitude is perfect for you. You need time to think and do things your way. In love, you are quite charming. You attract many with your confidence and wit. While you enjoy being alone, sometimes you take it to an extreme. You can become too isolated, shutting out loved ones and friends. Express yourself a little bit more, and you'll be surprised where it takes you!

What Is Your Life Path Number?

The Real Girl

Lars and the Real Girl. To sum it up, it's a quirky little movie about loneliness and how that makes relationships difficult. Not just a "love" relationship, but those with family, friends, neighbors, everone. And it makes you feel for people who have social, psychological disorders. I mean, who buys a "love" doll and believes that it's a real live girlfriend?! But you feel for Lars. And you appreciate his situation.

You see, it's because Lars begins to deal with his life tragedies by having this obviously fake relationship with Bianca, the doll who obviously doesn't know anything about him and can't. He reaches out to the people around him who loves him who he's been alienating from, through Bianca. She helps him. That's the genius of it. But here's the best part. Not only does Lars reach out, but everyone else reaches out to him. When he would alienate himself, pretty much everyone left him alone, thought "yeah, he has problems, but I don't know what to do, how to handle him, how to fix him, so let's just leave him alone." You see? Lars was alienating everyone else, but it was really everyone else that was alienating Lars. Genius. And with the help of Bianca, Lars asked them to be in his life and for him to be in their lives in the most absurd, completely subtle/direct way imaginable.

So if you're feeling alone and that nobody gets you and that nobody tries to understand you....

The Psychiatrist Is In

Today I am a movie critic.

I just finished watching an awesome movie. Charlie Bartlett. It's a comedy starring Anton Yelchin, who by the way has an adorable accent. He's fun to just listen to. Anyways, the movie is the best high school themed movie ever. No exaggeration. Well, it may come off as an exaggeration to you, but to me it's perfect.

It touches base on peer pressure, popularity, loneliness. All built around relationships. A relationship between a post borderline alcoholic father and a teenage daughter, trust issues between adults and kids, and the most important relationship of all: you and yourself. It's magnificent. The movie tapped into how parents, specifically, want their kids to go to college in something specific, something where they can be successful, career-wise and financially, but which in actually is not passionate enough to ensure happiness. This movie hits home. But not too hard that it makes you feel bad. It's a total feel good movie in a anti-corny way. It'll make you smile. It's in a category that I love: it makes your heart smile.

Charlie becomes something of a psychiatrist @ his school. He gains popularity, trust. People know who he is and respects him for what he does. But what they like most about him, I think, is that he listens. He doesn't judge, he listens. It makes you think. How many people can you talk to where they just listen? They don't make you feel bad about talking about pursuing a dream or hearing about your anxiety or internal hardships? Who listens to you? Better yet (and this is what I loved about the movie), who supports you? I'm talkign about 100% support. The kind that makes you feel better about yourself, that convinces you just a little bit more that you're not foolish, naive, or just plain crazy. Who makes you feel that it's okay to be a dreamer? Dreaming's good. Why wake up when you can be happy?

I loved this movie. It was funny, ironic, and teaches people a thing or two: you may need medication for ADD or anxiety attacks, but what you really need is an ear and shoulder to lean on. Well, maybe not a shoulder - shoulder's get tired and they shrug. A wall. Yeah, you need a wall. That's better support. Find yourself someone who's the concrete to your wall. No fear, no regrets. Never worrying about being judged a tiny blip or judgment. Most importantly, you need to listen. You don't realize how important it is for you to just shut up and listen. But a lot of people can't do that. Only when you need someone to listen is when you realize how important it is for you to listen back.

Trust. Trust in others, but especially.....trust yourself. That's what Charlie Bartlett taught me. That's what he can help you understand. That is, if you take the time and patience to just....listen.

If you feel confused, alone, misunderstood, invisible, lost, distrusted, unappreciated, this movie will make you feel better. And it will make you laugh. And smile. It'll just make you feel good!

I'm a 5

Inspiré

La vérité vaut bien qu'on passe quelques années sans la trouver.
Truth is more valuable if it takes you a few years to find it.
- Renard

Généralement, les gens qui savant peu parlent becoup, et les gens qui savant beaucoup parlent peu.
Generally speaking, the people who know little speak a lot and the people who know a lot speak little.
- Rousseau.

Quand on a le droit de se tromper impunément, on est toujours sûr de réussir.
If you allowed to make mistakes, you are sure to succeed.
- Renan.

Les vrais paradis sont les paradis qu'on a perdus.
True paradise is the one that you have lost.
- Proust.

Il y a deux manières d'être malheureux: ou désirer ce que l'on n'a pas, ou posséder ce que l'on désirait.
There are two ways to become unhappy: to desire what you don't have or to have finally gotten what you have desired.
- Louys.

C'est une grande habileté que de savoir cacher son habilité.
It takes great skill to hide the fact that you have great skill.
- Rochefoucauld.

La cuisine, c'est quand les choses ont le goût de ce qu'elles sont.
Fine cooking is when the things you have cooked taste as they are.
- Curnonsky.

J'ai toujours vu que pour réussir dans le monde, il fallait avoir l'air fou et être sage.
I have always believed that to succeed in life, it is necessary to appear to be mad and to act wisely.
- Montesquieu

On ne peut désirer ce qu'on ne connaît pas.
You can only desire what you do not yet know.
- Voltaire

Cogitating After-Thoughts

It's 1 something in the morning. It's raining outside. I love the rain. I love the sound of it. I love how it clears the air and makes it crisp. I just fixed myself an Arnold Palmer and a (tea) plate of fruit (apples, cherries, grapes). Naturally, I'm listening to Radiohead while I'm writing this (15 Step). I just finished watching an amazing movie. It was original, unique...my demo(graphic) for my love of cinema. Wristcutters: A Love Story.

It starts off with a suicide. And that's what's so fantastic: what happens after? Patrick Fugit's character goes to an afterlife that is "reserved" especially for those who have committed suicide. It makes you ponder the idea. A suicide-only afterlife? Brain-racking. The thing is, it is just like the "real world," only more depressing and miserable. That's another genuis stroke - there's no where to escape. You can't leave the hopeless life by killing yourself again. You already did. So what happens? What do you do?

That's why you have to watch this movie. The "What do you do?" question is just too perfect. This movie is so purely entertaining, it makes my heart smile. I love the originality, the concept. And believe it or not, it is the best "love story." It gives hope to the hopelessly loveless. My favorite part of all? Even though no one can smile in the post-suicide afterlife, this movie is hilarious. I was laughing so much. I love indie movies. And this one takes the cake.

In My Place

"In my place, in my place
Were lines that I couldn't change
I was lost

I was lost, I was lost
Crossed lines I shouldn't have crossed
I was lost

Yeah, how long must you wait for it?
Yeah, how long must you pay for it?
Yeah, how long must you wait for it?
For it...

I was scared, I was scared
Tired and underprepared
But I'll wait for it "

So many songs express my inner turmoil about my future. It's a nice release. Singing the lyrics. Don't you just love it when an artists' words openly expresses your feelings? Sometimes it's hard to put your feelings into words, but somehow someone knows exactly how you're feeling and can point it out word for word. Strange how that person is usually an artist, a stranger to you. C'est la vie.

Sociological view on social interaction

Acquaintance: [waving cheerily] How are you?
Student: How am I in regard to what? My health, my finance, my schoolwork, my peace of mind, my...?
Acquaintance: [red in the face and suddenly out of control] Look! I was just trying to be polite. Frankly, I don't give a damn how you are.

"As this example shows, social interaction requires tacit agreement between both the actors about what is normal and expected. Without shared norms and understandings, no sustained interaction can occur. People are likely to get upset and end an interaction when one violates the assumptions underlying the stability and meaning of daily life."