Weather?

The current weather conditions of Los Angeles could be perceived as tears of joy or bipolar drops of rain falling from a shining sky. The pavement is wet and so is everything the rain touched but the sun still beams waves of heat to my face & hands. The confusion of the skies above can symbolize the greater confusion of our world. Or maybe I'm just a little eccentric in my thinking. I'm exhausted anyways.

I Keep Pinching Myself But I'm Not Waking UP!

Something always brings me back to you. . . 

I dreamt of you last night & I couldn't quite wrap my mind about why I was even thinking in my sleep & that you just happened to be the center of it. I feel like everything that is intended to be intimate about myself ends up being exposed in thoughts that don't belong to me & in conversations with you or at least the ones that concern you. It gives me this feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach that I was only able to put into words just this evening. 

It was unbearable, with you trying so diligently to make her me that I couldn't help but feel pity for her. It was all too familiar, that exchange of naive looks with her and the intriguing air that surrounds you that clearly caught her attention. Don't be mistaken, I wasn't at all envious of her, I just didn't understand why you were really trying to recreate something that was so authentic to our lives, in someone that happened to resemble me physically. I thought that it was too selfish of you. It was clear that she didn't understand that this entire affair had nothing to do with her, and that it was your own selfish ways that weren't letting me go. I feel that you yearn for the mere idea of me, more than anything else. There's this feeling lingering inside of me that makes me think that you somehow spy on me from a far by just simply inquiring on my current where-abouts and endless thoughts. I feel ashamed for thinking of you, and consistently having to remind myself that I chose not to walk beside you and share a whole new country with you. Maybe I'm not being fair, but I didn't want to be coerced into things with you and figure out too far down the road that this isn't mine, it's ours. I have all of the intention in the world to create something that belongs to me & me alone. I'm starting to think that I have made a mistake, but I shouldn't. . . Right?

Years of being collateral damage has made me search even harder to call something my own and the harder I strain my eyes, the more I realize that there are few minuscule things that I can call mine. I feel this misplaced guilt that I just shouldn't. I can't tell if I miss you or if I'd wish that you wouldn't miss me anymore. Both, perhaps. I feel this inevitability about us that makes me wonder about the essential question; is there a direction and meaning in lives beyond the individual's own will? If this happens to be true, then why am I even fighting it? I've began to silently despise our past because the memories have got a hold on me. I wasn't suppose to.

Clearly, this has got me all discombobulated and uneasy in my skin. But it's all just a dream right? I'll wake up with no thoughts of you swarming my mind or disrupting my appetite right?

This is a Call to Arms to Live & Love & Sleep Together

This new place is starting to feel like home. Out with the old & in with the new. It never feels too permanent but it fulfills the place labeled "home" somewhere in my mind. And even though I feel like I've got my life in a suitcase, always running away, I've got my hideaway because my space hasn't really been feeling like my own as of late. . .
Anyway, the new lesson from the classroom is that reading inherently gives a reader a model of how to read. Isn't that exciting? Or am I alone on this one? All of the details that a writer dismisses, gives us the ok to dismiss it too. Upon rereading, you find out why it was misread or thrown to the back of our minds as already read. Learning this is like rediscovering the intricacies of reading and the entire act of reading even. Clearly this isn't making as much sense as I'd hoped.
Onto another train of thought, I hope to never become a lover of things but someone who is always invested in the dim & nearly inexplainable connections of human vitality and even the lack thereof. Self discovery is the most exciting adventure any of us will ever embark on. If all we're fighting against is time then what's left to stop us other than ourselves? As simple as that may sound,we all know what time is but how do we explain it? So much to do & such little time. . .
If Time is a lover then I am caught in her stead.

I'm Planning For the Weekend Wars

I can't find the words to tell you what's circling my mind. It's filled with all sorts of thoughts that don't have familiar sounds. I wish it would silence from time to time, but it's constantly on the move. The nomadic thoughts can't find comfort in just one place. My thoughts sway with the calming breezes that quiver down my spine. What is the world of my life becoming? It's keeping a secret from me.
I got a somewhat alarming phonecall at the closing of 5 am. She cried and cried and told me that her body was in pain, and that it had been raining & she was all alone in that hospital room. She kept panicking about things not related to one another and started to hypervenrilate because she felt so alone. I tried my best--from the far distance that I stood-- to calm her. I comforted her the best way any sleeping person could at 5:50 in the morning. She calmed down & I asked her to take a sip of the water that I knew was sitting right beside her & to wipe her face. I wonder if she dozed off into some kind of sleep after our phonecall. I hope so.

The other day, I was walking, singing a song to myself & a scent of him stopped me right in my tracks. A rush of pleasant memories took over my previously distracted train of thought & I missed him for that brief moment. . . I found myself thinking of what could have been & had to force all of the possibilities out of my head just to remind myself that I left for a reason, a valid reason. Single me feels good.

One day, I'm going to spatter my endless thoughts on canvas walls & it all might start to make sense. My predictions are the only thing I am.

Somethin's Missing

I´m feeling such a vacancy, I don´t feel whole. Wish I could put my finger on it but I don´t know what it is. I looked in every place I could seek. Tried to find the missing part of me. I can´t explain this feeling. Feels like I´m on the long journey going in circles And I ain´t even going nowhere. I´m lost in the middle of nowhere. Something is missing can´t somebody help me? Something is missing I´m missing a part of me. Something is missing Show me what it is. . .

Good Morning Fire Eater

I'm sitting here, nauseas as can be & just frustrated that I can't focus beyond this queezy stomach. I tried to stick it out through my 2nd class but I just couldn't do it. I just don't understand why almost everytime I get focused & ready to have a productive moment, day, week, whatever, something stupid always makes it little harder to function.
Anyways, enough about that. So far, the days have felt longer but the weeks are flying by. Granted this semester is going faster, I'm getting so restless! I don't know, I think it's just raining in my tiramisu.

God Damn the Black Night & All of Its Foul Temptations.

It's so peculiar how the night unfolds. You can't ever see how it all happens until it's all said and done.Why was that so random? All I can say is let the good times roll! So many people in this tiny ass room. How is it that we weren't all closterphobic by the end of the night?