"So what if I didn't have a girlfriend? Would it be different?"

We'd noticed him. Picked through the guys, noting the cute ones, calling dibs, as if we were younger than we were. Of course, the good one, the one we didn't notice till later 'cause he didn't say much, only smiling on occasion, was often wrapped up on the phone with his girlfriend.  

Some people think nothing good happens after 2 a.m., I think, sometimes the most interesting things happen in the depth of night, whether we're inebriated or not, there's something about the late hours that sometimes makes us do things we wouldn't otherwise do. "I don't even know you," he'd said, as if that fact had just occurred to him, midway through his speech on how we should be together. We were standing in the kitchen, and he was still talking, spilling details, thoughts, he'd probably groan about in the morning. I couldn't really believe what I was hearing, or that this was actually happening. "Say this to me again, when you're not drunk." "I know you keep saying I'm drunk, but I'm not," he said, explaining the last beer he had was at some odd hour, but he was because he never spoke that much, and I couldn't figure out how he'd gotten here. A fight with the girlfriend? One too many shots? "Okay, say that I am drunk, and I know people would say differently, but it's then, when people are the most honest, when they say how they really feel." And on other occasion, I'd given that exact same speech. But now, I knew better. Sure, we may say exactly what we feel, in that moment, or what we may have been thinking, a thought that once crossed our minds, exacerbated by the liquor, the booze, but if we can't act on those feelings, thoughts in the sober light of day, then they don't really hold any weight. Unless, we're living our lives drunk. "So what if I didn't have a girlfriend? Would it be different?" Rule #7 Don't get into an affair with a man who's already taken. Especially if you're insecure to begin with because even if you 'win' him in the end, you'll end up wondering through the course of your relationship if he really will be faithful to you. "I was surprised when they said you were Viet." He'd paid attention. He'd kissed me on the forehead. And I wondered, why guys did that. And in the sober light of day, none of it stuck, but for that moment, even though it was in inebriation, I'm not sure I've ever had someone so insistent, in that way, to be with me, when he didn't even know me. And maybe it meant nothing, maybe it was only a passing thought he once had, but I thank you, anyway.

...I guess this would apply all across the board. All those I once had friendships with, and those events that transpired over late night conversation, the manner of ease in banter levied with subtext, but momentary leaps, without heart, don't really stand a chance against daylight, do they?

What's worth more? Because there's that line, and once you cross it, nothing's ever the same. And I often wonder, why we sometimes believe we have feelings for someone, but as soon as they're acted upon, it's as if they were never quite real to begin with.

We're creatures of habit, in grade school, you have your desk, even when it's unlabeled, we bristle when someone has decided they'd rather sit where you usually sit. And so in life, we often make decisions out of habit, even when they're mistakes. So sometimes we repeat the same mistakes, simply hoping that this time around, things will be different. But they never really are, are they?

I've been trying my whole life to live it right, to do right by myself, to do right by others. And I've messed up countless times, forgetting that sometimes boundaries matter, and a seemingly necessary selfishness must be weighed against what it's worth.

We right our wrongs, and we move on. Sometimes there's nothing else we can do.

But note: I don't believe in mistakes. Things just happen sometimes. Can't say it was right. But everything happens for a reason.

i often can't believe how fast time passes. and how much happens. a reminder that you do eventually get over everything, sometimes old friends and old lovers simply become people you used to know, and somehow it's okay. except for the few moments when i just can't help but miss everyone and every place i used to love so deeply.

"Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option."- Mark Twain

I get crazy, you know? That's how I've always been able to tell that I like a guy, that I'm in trouble. I start to feel the insecurity, the jealousy, the crazy brewing just beneath the surface. The crazy that no one likes, the crazy that I hate myself for falling into. And I hate myself that way so much that if it doesn't freak them out, if it doesn't chase them away, well, I figure out how to leave myself. I figure a way out somehow because I hate the crazy. But I just don't know how to make myself not be that way. I know how to catch a guy. It's easy. I'm completely myself, and I'm confident and I say what I think and I don't give a crap if they care or not, but the second I start to realize I have something to lose, I just end up losing myself.

what a waste of money and feelings we don't have

An old song shuffled on last night, and I dusted off the covers of lines I used to adore, and this time around, I found they resonate more than the last. It's funny how things...moments...come across your life, and sometimes, the second time around, things just fit better. Perhaps timing really is everything.

I'd be lying if I said, a part of me wasn't waiting for the years to pass, to have old faults fix themselves, so maybe, at some passing, we'll fit.

the dilemma

Men are completely weird, and girls are utterly confusing.  As a female, I will admit to that much.

So you like a guy, enough to hook-up with him and not want him to hook-up with anyone else, but you don't want him to be your man, per se.  But of course, we all have trouble separating the physical and the emotional, most of us are incapable of it.  So we get territorial and we get insecure and then we wonder what the hell we got ourselves into.  Because when you start something with a man, you guys usually lay out some ground rules.  You say, you don't want a relationship, so that's how he'll take it.  That he's free to do as he pleases, and he believes you understand this, that you'll be okay with this because that's what you told him.

But the problem is, nothing's ever black and white, and all lines become blurred when it comes to matters of the heart even when it ain't love, it ain't even close.

on chances

After all this time, nothing's the same anymore.

Most days, really, most days, you don't cross my mind.

But sometimes, somedays, I wish I still knew you.


I guess this would apply all across the board.  All those I once had friendships with, and those events that transpired over tabletop conversations, the manner of ease in banter levied with subtext, but momentary leaps, without heart, don't really stand a chance against daylight, do they?

For some time it was about natty lights, kegs, solo cups, makeshift beer pong tables, mostly from plywood over at Home Depot, and we'd take midnight runs to Sheets for peach tea, chats with H-burg cops, and roomie trips to Walmart for toilet paper runs, brownie mix and you used to steal kool-aid packets for jungle juice, cause it was silly to pay for those little things you said.

Some nights we'd walk over to Hunter's Ridge or the Commons for random parties. Other nights we'd chill over the hookah and random shit. I didn't know as much then.


Can't really listen to Matisyahu without thinking of all this.

I forgot it was your birthday.

But I remembered you had, had the courtesy to wish me well on mine.

So I did the same.

And you said thanks.

And for some reason, it just made me really sad.




You just reminded me, that I can't settle for less anymore.

childhood crushes

I deactivated my Facebook today. I realized, I'm addicted to checking my e-mail, twitter and Facebook. Even when I'm in the room with other people, I'm continuously seeing if someone else has left me a message. Of course I do it more when I'm actually waiting for someone to do so. or rather, hoping.

Anyway, I wandered over to my old Live Journal account. While listening to Youtube videos of All 4 One, KC & JoJo, Joe and Boys II Men, I figured I might as well continue down memory lane. And I started looking through entries I'd saved under memories. And it was funny. The one I wrote about him was titled, "young and naive."

Guess that says it all. But it's kind of sad all at once, to take the weight away from it with those words.


It's weird to be 25 years old and moving back into my parents house. I'm driving down the same streets that I used to. And it's like, sometimes I wonder if too much has happened here for anything to be good. As of the past few years, I find myself reverting back to guys of the past. Not on purpose, it just happens, I guess, when you move back to your old hometown. It just happens.

And it makes me wonder, if my pursuit is a result of the fact that we share some semblance of a past.



I'm reaching the 6 month mark in this city, and I feel ready to go.

My existence may just revolve around food.

Gusta Pizza



Gnocchi rose e spaghetti carrettiera



Not Pictured: un panino con mozzarella, pomodori e prosciutto cotto

on second thought, a moment of your time.

The way we were, the ease of unwitting banter, the end of the only way we will ever know one another, here in this city, the one that never moved past the renaissance, he'd once said, the one we came to completely adore in that way we never thought we would've.

When you start to appreciate something for all those things you once perceived as faults. I knew it was love, and yet it took me forever to admit, to realize. And now I have to let you go.

"----

I walked by your room earlier this evening, and I paused. I'd heard your room was still unlocked. You'd left sheets on your bed, some old clothes folded, and your keys laid on your desk. Your keys. I, I had my keys together as I was walking around the city today, and I had them in my hand, and out of nervous habit I started flipping them with my fingers, in my hands, and it was the same sound, the way we always knew who was entering the kitchen, or the stairway because you always had those keys in your hands. You had this ocd habit of locking your door every time you left the room. And now you're gone, and your room, it still smells of you, and the door's not locked. You're not there anymore.

As we leave, as we all leave, as we empty out these rooms that we've made into our home this past year, stripped of everything that made it ours. We pass on these keys, our stack of keys.

....