...until the sky falls down on me

I'm the person you run to when you need advice.

The listener.
The Advice Giver.
The friend.

I've accepted this. But you'll never understand why I am who I am.

You'll never understand why I let him clog my brain.
You'll never understand why I allow the other to use me in such a way.
But most important, to the person reading, to the person listening, and most of all , the third person in this idea.You'll never know that I loved you.

You'll never know how I miss what we once were. But mistakes cause friendships to die. The hurricane became catastrophic.The hidden essence of disaster will never fade, yet you'll be that one person that will always make laugh with the same ease you've made me cry.

Perhaps this is why I allow the second subject to exist. You,The emotional ghost that tortures me with your icey protection.

And why I need you , the person I heal yet in your own way knows that you're also my healer. A bit dramatic but my hero, as much as she's my heroine.

I know it's all confusing, but it's meant to be that way. To me, a relationship consists of 3 things: friendship,lust,and love. Perhaps I can be considered lucky that You  make up this trio, yet you is a separation.

Until the composition is complete, until the 3 themes create one, confusion will just have to exist .

But I have my motives. I'm secure in what I understand.

hip to be square....or perhaps just hipster

As much as you care for someone...they'll always be blinded by someone else. And in these last 29 years I've noticed...no matter how they're image may be...if its false...there are secrets and intentions being hidden. Stop suffering. Sometimes there are people out there that enjoy you're suffering....just so they can come off asthe romantic.

No matter what the mask...it's always the same. A blog from 5 years ago...2.years ago...1 year ago...there will always be...her.

The only difference now? I've become so numb to the idea....I could really care less. I'm happy with myself. And acceptance...though to a whining -attention grabbing-wannabe romantic may seem foolish just so they can get the ever so victimfied image they're desperately wanting.....isn't sad. It's peace.

And to be honest. No one's worth you're life being crappy.


Peace . Just let me have my peace.

I won't let myself be dragged down again just because I care too much.

I have finally found my balance.

so.

let it be.

Back to TRL and Golf practice

Do you ever feel a song and immediately remember how you once felt when it was popular?

At the moment...during my moment of angsty depression...because I like to whine  and have my temper tantrum at times while alone in my room..

I began to listen to the Goo Goo Dolls...and since youtube has now advanced ever so much...it continued with thier stylistic whining to 3 Doors Down...

and dear lord...

I was 16 all over.

I am 16 all over.

I dont know whether to cry or just let the music engulf me.

I remember coming home to an empty house....before preparing dinner for melanie... or cleaning the house so mamma wouldnt be angry when she got home at midnight....or washing the laundry so daddy wouldnt have to when he got home at 3 am.....I made my microwave popcorn and watched music videos.

Before youtube, there was MTV ,VH1,and MuchMusic/FUSE.


I remember who i was crushing over....Will Hendricks, Billy Carver, Will Clark ( I must've had a thing for guys named william)...and of course...John Mayer...I was 16...I was able to fantasize, right?

I remember staying after school for Softball Practice, Marching Band, OM, or heading to the gold course in my 1995 Honda Civic ( May you rest in pieces my dear dear car)

And on a day like this, as I listen to 3 doors down...I remember the storms rolling in.

Since I've been in Chile I've experienced maybe one or two storms...but mostly during the winter...

not like this, during spring.

I remember sitting outside of EHS and seeing those black clouds coming, and this sudden fear swallowing me whole ( I'm terrified of tornadoes) and not sure if I wanted to head home or sit there and watch it happen.

I remember driving down the one main road in Tappahannock and having this mini panic attack thinking perhaps I should head home.

But I have a confession. I may deep down be a thrill seeker...because when I was on 360 or rt.17....I loved being caught in a storm. I loved that rush, the need to focus and the striking fear piercing my heart as it started to rain and I began to not see the road. I loved being able to put myself in focus mode , cranking my radio, and just driving. Hearing that thunder and seeing that lightning. As if it was all some odd video game I had to win.

I don't know.

As I slowly get back to who I was before Valentin.....I feel the need to write.

I feel as if i don't let these thoughts out, I may go crazy...I was going crazy.

So I'm not sure if it's such a  great idea remembering everything. Remembering those 13 year old sensations.

But maybe it's what I need to do right now.

Hair Dye

I dyed my hair again.

Last year I made the decision to let it grow. Let that dark brown hair I loathed so much as a child flourish and finall accept who I am.

To put away that 15 year girl that desperately wanted to fit in so she began to make herself...ruibio....and later to straighten it just to blend in more. To be accepted. To be wanted.

But it never worked.

But niether has this pathetic attempt to accept who I am.

How will I ever accept this timid pudgy thing if no one else will? How will I battle these insecurities when the moment I'm finally coming out for air I'm smashed back into my hole.

My hole where I just watch everything I wanted and desired be taken away like so many times before.

Just when I thought I'd be saved.

Saved from these aweful thoughts screaming that I'm not good enough , that I'm destined to be alone and forced to replace all my pain with a smile...just so everyone will think I'm strong and okay.

I keep going. Like Always. I know how to try to push these thoughts into the back of my head, but when I see you....it rushes all back...reminding me that I wasnt good enough...and for some reason...out of nowhere...you didnt need me in your life.

But now you're integrated. Unlike before...I allowed you so far into my life, that you're everywhere. And destiny has this cruel way of bringing you into my path everyday, even when I'm trying to avoid your beautiful smile and captivating stare.

I want to be free of you but instead I'm tortured.

I've started over so many times that I dont want to now. I dont want to change the people I'm with or the things I love just to heal my mind for a second and have a moment of peace without you.

I'm gonna have to deal with this . Watching as you slowly kill me from the inside.

So I dyed my hair. I've become the recluse again. And I'm gone.

The Kristol that tried so hard to find herself and be happy.
The Kristol that was finally finding her social identity, living the way she knew she deserved.
The Kristol That for once wasnt afraid..

was kidnapped and stuffed inside of a crystal ball .

No good deed goes unpunished screams Elphaba...

and she was right.

Only the Wicked get the happy ending in my story.

Look at how she listens,she says nothing of what she thinks...

Her.That girl.The one over there.The one tossing her hair and captivating all the energy in the room.
That 20 something that thinks she's independent because she's living alone...but doesn't know how to pay her own bills.The one making you fall in love with her and her false confidence.
That 30 something with her own car. The one that just left the clutches of her parents but doesn't know how to make a decent meal....unless it's in a box ...of course. The one that's seducing you with her fake independence.
Or perhaps that one over there,that's using you tonight for that attention she craves. The one who knows how to manipulate the situation. Act as if she knows exactly what you're talking bout when really she's never had an opinion of her own.

Always, that one, stealing you're heart.

...


And then there's me.

The one that's learned that flirtation is Her worst enemy. Every time she takes a risk she's rejected once again and made to crawl back into her hermit shell.

The one that's never been given that chance.She's stuck being

Too young
Too old
Too innocent
Too opinionated
Too fat
Too tall
Too serious

The one that no matter how hard you try to fight your demons,you're pushed right into their arms again.

I cant seem to get away from it. 28 and I'm always rushed back to that basement. The one where there are a bunch of 12 year olds. Each one staring at you whispering"Why is she here?"

"Because my mother made me."

That moment that you're sitting in the corner, with lumps in your throat...trying to plan your escape path to the stairs to run to the bathroom to cry and then cold water on your face...all because yet again...no one wants to dance with you. The only girl sitting alone. Because they all want to dance with her. That girl. The one over there. The one that's not you.

Always on repeat.

Different people.different music.different decade.

But repeated.

All to come home to a hopeful mother asking
..." And?no kiss?"

No mother... That wouldn't occur for another 11 years... Where even then I was too ashamed to admit the only reason it happened was because he was desperate and drunk.

Never for the right reasons. Never good enough to have you kiss me and stay. Never good enough to have you kiss me and be happy with me . Never good enough for you...

I'm just here when You're
Lonely
Bored
Passing the time
Waiting

Waiting for her. The one over there. The one that's not me.

Domestication

I'm a rather domesticated conundrum.I rather solve my own problems, buy my own things, work several jobs and study what my "heart" desires rather than what my wallet needs. I enjoy taking long walks through the city alone, searching for hidden treasures, parks where I can workout in, and places I can shop organically. I don't enjoy being bossed around. and  I much rather be alone at times than accompanied. Yet...I cook, clean,wash clothes, iron...and enjoy it. 

Since I've gotten a boyfriend I've been criticized. I've been told I spoil him too much,that he's a "bum" due to how I allow him to live. But has anyone ever thought that perhaps the situation is that way because I made it so? 

I've never been considered feminine, my sister making up for this with her extreme femininity.I would bring my mother to tears when I'd come home from elementary school with my hair disheveled, clothes torn , and sneakers stained. Yet here I am, 20 years later, ironing my boyfriend's suit jacket and pants for his concert tonight. 

My generation grew up watching The Wonder Years. I specify this exact show not bc of its era-based theme, but because it's the show I'd watch as my mother ironed clothing. I wasn't even in elemetary school and I'd beg her to let me help her iron and fold clothes. Before Melanie was born I was practically my mother's only friend in a town full of people that discriminated the fact that she wasn't 'Merican. She was beautiful, intellectual ( had a college degree which most of the other mothers didn't have), and had resigned from a rather distinguished job just to move to the states and marry my father. All she had for a while was her aunt ( whom was busy with children of her own) and myself. With this said, I was her assistant. My father would be working at the DAW and I would be at home helping my mother cook and clean. I loved it.I loved watching The Wonder Years, Married with Children, and waiting for the Lotto with her. I'd make washing dishes a game ( to the point I wasn't allowed to wash dishes anymore because I was wasting too much water and detergent) and perhaps ruined a couple pieces of furniture due to trying to dust them a little too much. 

Twenty years later I'm the epitome of a housewife in the aspect that I prefer my surroundings to be spotless and perfect and I enjoy cooking for others. What is wrong with this?I'm still an independent person, more than some of those who criticize me.I don't plan on getting married anytime soon, never been a fan of the idea, but I like having the company. I enjoy doing those wifey things such as ironing and washing clothes. So yes, I spoil my boyfriend, but it's my own fault. I offer myself to do such things. If  I didn't want to he knows pretty well that I make my own decisions. 

I have no problem with those who aren't into cleaning and cooking for others ( take note...I'm not saying NOT cleaning is ok...just not enjoying it is completely fine..I'm the weird one ). So why must I get told that what I'm doing is wrong??? Opinions???

...Fly high against the sky...