Unlike the past few days where I have felt some sort of renewal upon the new day marked by the rising sun, today I woke up alone... literally, and emotionally. There was no one next to me to comfort me, and there is no one to truly understand what emotions I'm feeling right now.
The thing is, I think for the past few days I have been in shock. I didn't know what to feel. I thought, "Ok, this happened, it was bad, but you are strong. You can move on from this so easily." And since it happened, I have been constantly surrounding myself with people. Not wanting to be alone. Laughing. Playing in the sun. Cooking. Enjoying all the things I missed at home... but this morning, reality sunk in. I am at home. I'm back to this routine, and I'm finally realizing that I need to deal with my emotions. I can't just laugh away my problems — that's just a temporary relief mechanism of mine.
I have problems. I ignore my emotions a lot. I do this because I think I am strong enough to forget and move on without actually facing the problem. I try to not think about my feelings toward what happened for more than a day or two... and with some of the traumatic things I have been through, that's just not right. I screwed up. I've screwed up my emotions for possibly the rest of my life by not wanting to deal with things the right way... but I don't know what the RIGHT way is. It's probably different for every person... so what is right for me? I think the only reason I have been able to get through any of the things I've been through at all is because of my faith in God.
But what do you do when your entire life changes in a matter of a few unexpected minutes? My soul literally aches, and I want to cry, cry my eyes out... I want to cry, but the tears don't come, which I don't understand. When I cry, I feel so much better afterwards. I feel like it's similar to when you are sick... you want to puke, you feel like puking, but something inside of you doesn't let it happen and you hold it down for as long as you can... then finally, unexpectedly, it all comes shooting out and you've puked, and you feel so much better. I just need to cry, but I can't... and I'm waiting for something to trigger that and let those emotions spill out.
I also don't want to be alone, and I feel so alone right now. So, incredibly alone. And although I am constantly surrounded by all of these people who love me and have been treating me so well, I still somehow feel so terribly lonesome. I feel like I will never be the same person, and I hate that. I want to be the same Erika, because I LOVE the old Erika. I love how trustworthy I was of EVERYONE. I loved how accepting I was, and how much I loved everyone no matter who they were or who they came from. But all people have done my entire life, and especially this past year, is show me that I can't trust...that I have to be so careful, because even the closest of friends will hurt you... even when you are in a situation where you shouldn't have to be in danger, where you should be able to trust the person, he can do things to you that strip you of your innocence and completely turn your life around (in a bad way).
So what can I do? What now? I feel lost. I DON'T KNOW what I can do. I DON'T KNOW what now.
If you don't believe in Christianity, then this might seem rather silly, BUT
If you DO believe in God and the Devil and good and evil and know your Bible, then what gives me faith is this.
Since I was BORN I have been put through obstacles and satan has been trying to bring me down. I was born with a heart murmur and nearly died from other birth complications — and my mother almost died because she was 110 pounds giving birth to a nearly 9 pound baby. Not even two years later, I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis — a killer disease, especially for children. The medicine given is typically a type of penicillin, but I was allergic. The doctors told my mom to be prepared for me to die, and if I did live, I would be blind, deaf and retarded. My mom sat by my caged in hospital bed day and night praying for me, and one day, I was magically cured. To this day, when I check in at that hospital, if there is a nurse who has been working there since 1990, they call me the miracle baby.
My childhood was rather amazing. My family moved around a lot, and I switched schools nearly every year, but this taught me to make friends quickly and that you have to be accepting of everyone if you're going to make it in this world.
My mom hid a lot of things from me and lived with an alcoholic husband for 12 years and going through hell that she says she will never tell me. She doesn't want to scar the image that I have of my father, and she doesn't want to ruin the positive thoughts I have about my childhood.
I was quiet and unassuming. I read books every day. My family was a part of this scary church for a while (that we thankfully got out of)... and within this church they convinced the congregation that it was a SIN for women to wear pants (because it was MENS clothing), we weren't allowed to have a television (not that bad of an idea when I think back on it) and women weren't allowed to cut their hair. This entire "religion" was very belittling to women. I am grateful that my parents were able to cut themselves away from this almost cult... because it's a hard thing to do, and the few people who have ever been in such a situation will tell you that it's not as simple as just not attending a different church (where they actually believe what the Bible says without making up unfounded rules). But that's another blog post for another time.
The point of this whole paragraph is that I was so different as a child. I was so innocent and so intelligent. I was so quiet and so fragile and so mature for such a young child. In second grade, I read all seven books in the Chronicles of Narnia in two weeks.
What kept me from being a complete and total introvert was my little brother. We fought like little luchadors without the cool costumes when we were younger... my brother was smart though, he would verbally taunt me and make fun of me so my mother wouldn't even be paying attention... I knew nothing I would say could possibly irritate him in the way he was irritating me, so I would fight back physically. I once threw a D battery at him from across the room, thinking it would hit him in the stomach, or not at all, but it hit him right in the head. I paid for that. Although, thankfully, things are a lot calmer between my me and my brother now. He sends me flowers when bad things happens, and we are there for each other.
My innocence really started to dwindle away when I was 12 and my parents got divorced. I remember the day I knew it was going to happen. It was the first time I had seen my dad drunk. I didn't know exactly what was going on at the time, but when I look back on it now, I understand, and I understand a small part of everything my mom had suffered through for 12 years. My dad was supposed to be watching me and my brother while my mom was running some errands. I remember my dad put us in the back of the truck and said we needed to go to the gas station... the only time my family went to the gas station was when we actually needed gas, so I was a little confused when my dad parked, went inside, and came back out with a small brown paper sack. I asked him what he had gotten, and almost as if he had expected my constant questioning, he pulled out a candy bar for me without ever revealing what else that bag contained. Once we got to the house, my mom called, wondering where we had been, and by the way my dad was talking, she could tell what was going on (that my dad was extremely drunk) and came to the house as quickly as possible. I just remember her grabbing me and my brother and taking us in the car, away from my dad. We came back hours later, and went into the basement with my mom where she made some phone calls. My dad kept yelling my mom's name so angrily, so different from anything I had ever seen before. He kept saying, "Get off the phone. You're always on the phone. Get the fuck off the phone!" I'd never really heard my dad cuss before either. I was seeing a completely different man — a man my mom had somehow hidden from me for my entire life. He busted into the room we were in, slammed the phone away from my mom, hit her and left the room. She picked the phone back up and called the police, and I had to watch as the police took my dad away. My mom then had to go into hiding for a while, while my brother and I stayed at my aunt and uncle's home — worried, afraid and confused.
This all settled down by the end of the summer. My mom was the best thing that ever happened to my dad, and losing her was a reality check for him. The divorce actually caused my time with my dad to be more quality for the next few years.
That summer after my parents got divorced was a strange one. I questioned every innocent thought I had about the world as a child, but still kept faith. My stay at my aunt and uncle's brought me closer to my cousin Joëlle, who had done nothing but treat my like a mutant freak when I was younger... but she decided to accept me, which made me happier than I think she will ever know, because I had always looked up to her and thought she was so cool, no matter how awful she was to me. That summer she was at my house, or I at hers, all the time. We made these stupid ass music videos to songs most 12-year-olds don't even know (The Crying Game by Boy George anyone?). She showed me how to laugh and how to interact with people. Without meaning to, she was the catalyst to me turning from a freaky introvert into an love-able, humorous, crazy (in a good way) extrovert.
By the end of August, my mom had sat us down and told us she was getting married. Little did I know that this would lead to us moving to Omaha to be with this douche bag and having to move the day before Christmas to the unknown... we left from our beautiful childhood mansion on a farm in Roca (Lincoln), to some ranch-style house in a city I thought was stupid and horrible, but would eventually grow to love. I still remember looking at our huge house with the cathedral-like ceilings that night. The house was empty, except for the giant, beautifully lit Christmas tree that my mother said we simply had to leave because we would be having Christmas at her fiancés house and be putting our presents under HIS tree.
I know my mom was trying to do the right thing and give us a better life, but I was confused and hurt.
It took some time to adjust to Omaha life. My mom ended up breaking off her engagement, realizing it was way too soon and that this guy wasn't everything she had thought he was in the beginning. I was broken... I started at Loveland Elementary HALF WAY through 6th grade... do you know what it's like to try to make friend 1/2 way through the last year of elementary school? Practically impossible... but I did it. Mainly with the help of friends that I still have to this very day — Shannon Linehan, Lindsey Mikkelsen and Annie Ashby. Come to think of it, they were there for me in 6th grade, and they have stuck by my side ever since. I am blessed in so many ways, even if I have been through a lot.
In 8th grade, I fell in love. I know that sounds stupid to a lot of people. but I dated this person from the end of 8th grade until I broke up with him in 11th grade, and I loved him from nearly the beginning of 8th grade until ... well ... there will always be a place for him in my heart. But I didn't completely get over that break-up until the end of senior year. There were a lot of things with this relationship that I went through that I never told anyone... and it traumatized me and I am still scarred... but this person still means a lot to me and I don't want to say anything to make him look bad, or hurt anyone's feelings.
While I was dealing with all of the baggage from that relationship, my dad was slowly dying of cancer. While I was working 40 hours a week, an editor on the newspaper, in band (for some of this time... i quit), french club pres (vice prez? no one knows at this point), key club, service learning council. MLK committee, and a million other things... while being in 9 classes (realize that is about 30+ hours of class a week) nearly all of which were AP and honors courses... and somehow managing to get a 4.0 GPA or very near that every single semester.... I look back and wonder how I did it? Since dad was an hour away, I never got to see him nearly as much as I wanted to. When he died, my world shattered again... and I still haven't completely recovered from that, nor have I recovered from the guilt I have for not spending every waking moment with him when I found out he was going to die.
After that I got involved in a lot of crap I wish I never would have... started my first year of college, started living on my own, and taking on all the responsibilities of an adult in an overwhelmingly short period of time... and that was ok...
But I got introduced, (again by people I TRUSTED), into a scene that ruined my dad and a million other people in my family with drinking and pot, and I have been struggling with that a LOT... although it was a lot worse my first semester of college. By second semester I was calming down, at least with the pot, and only drinking maybe one night a weekend, sometimes not even that... I did have some crazy parties... but I don't regret those. They were fun, and I met a lot of people. I do regret that a lot of these people AGAIN and AGAIN broke my trust by stealing things from me and being disrespectful, but I still continued trusting and believing that deep down all people want to do is good... but so many things point to the opposite of that.
Thankfully, I had my Bible study girls to help keep me on track throughout all of this, and without them and the grace of God, I feel like I very well could be dead right now.
During this school I also let my guard down. I let myself feel some things for people that I shouldn't have let happen. I still don't know if I regret that or not. Maybe I never will know what the right thing to do was. But I'm still pathetically dealing with that, although said problem doesn't even really feel like I problem for me anymore with everything else that has been going on lately... and I guess it was never a problem, because I knew the only solution and the only possible outcome the entire time. What an idiot.
And there have been so many other horrible problems I have dealt with, but I just can't bring myself to say them because it brings the faults of other people to light. Some of the other problems I brought up, were so much worse and so much more complicated than I showed as well, but I don't want to hurt other people and I don't want to make them look foolish, so I won't.
But this summer, I went away to Mexico to just get away from EVERYTHING. I left a lot of emotional CRAP back in the United States, and going away to Mexico was just another way I had of ignoring my problems... and this time... it actually worked. I was having the time of my life. I learned so much Spanish, I made so many friends, I learned about another culture and way of life and learned SO MUCH...
But I had my trust broken again by a stranger. A cab driver. Although, people have told me that they wouldn't share this information and that I should be careful, they are NOT me. I think people should know, and I think people should be careful. And anyone with the same problem as me — being TOO trustworthy — reads this and can learn, then let them learn.
I was taken to an isolated part of Mexico, raped, beaten and robbed and I really don't know how I didn't die... By the grace of God, I made it across six lanes of interstate traffic and 1/2 way up a mountain to a hotel where I somehow, all in Spanish, voiced what had happened to me. I spent two days of hell and tears and illness dealing with this....
And this is why I feel so lost and abandoned and alone right now. I have been dealing with a roller coaster of emotions, and one day I will feel completely different than I do the next.
I am heartbroken...and this time, I don't know if I have the strength to pick up the pieces and compose myself. But I have to. I am strong. And since i was born, evil has been trying to break me, and the way I view this from my Christian perspective, is that if it is worth working this hard to destroy me, but that God has constantly kept me safe, then God must have some really freaking awesome plans for me life... and that I have to stay strong and trust that God will take me where he wants me to go and that I will be an amazing person and accomplish everything he wants and do so much good in this world.... hopefully enough good to somewhat make up for all the evil there is.... I want to show people that even though there are so many bad, hurtful, evil things, that there is so much to this world — so, so, so many beautiful things and so many things worth living for.
No matter how many times you have been hurt and heartbroken or near death, there is always something to live for. There is something new to be learned every day. And there are beautiful things that come out of even the darkest situations — and I hope that my life is a living testimony to that.
29.6.08
... nunca lo mismo ...
I don't think anyone could possibly understand what I am feeling right now... and I guess that's ok. How could they? Most people only see stuff like what happened to me on TV...
It's just funny how one day you think you have all these problems... and then something so huge happens, that all of those problems explode and cease to matter... or even really exist.
Any innocence I had left has been stripped of me, and I am picking up the pieces slowly...
But it's things like this that make you realize how many people love you and really would do anything for you, and for that I am so grateful.
I can't stop thinking about all that I've been through the past few days, and I wish I could stop.
I want to go back to Querétaro and reverse the one bad thing that happened so I could be with all the people there I grew to love!
I feel like after something so traumatizing, I should have something deep, dark, philosophical and emotionally moving... but I have spent almost 2 days crying... and I really feel completely emotionless right now... like I do not know what to feel... I don't know what's normal... and I don't know what to do to get my life back to normal except to pretend like everything IS normal... and laugh. I love to laugh, and every chance I've had to make a joke, I've made it... I think people don't know what to do... but laugh, really do it, because it makes me feel so much better.
I'm going to go to the gym and pound away at the machines. That makes me feel better, too!
And chocolate cake. And cooking dinner. And being with my friends and getting hugs and having people tell me the love me.
I guess this post is mainly just to say thank you to everyone... and let you know that I am doing ok... and to continue to pray for me... and talk to me! I don't want to get lonely and have even more time to think about all the shit that happened. :) :)
I feel like only my close friends/family read this... but if it's other people as well, I'm sorry that you might not know what I am talking about, but I'd prefer to leave it at this for now...
I'm so grateful for you all... and right now I really miss three certain people who cannot be with me... :( i wish you could... Oh, how the impossibility of things makes you want them so much more.
I miss speaking Spanish already! So talk to me in Spanish! hahaha
It's just funny how one day you think you have all these problems... and then something so huge happens, that all of those problems explode and cease to matter... or even really exist.
Any innocence I had left has been stripped of me, and I am picking up the pieces slowly...
But it's things like this that make you realize how many people love you and really would do anything for you, and for that I am so grateful.
I can't stop thinking about all that I've been through the past few days, and I wish I could stop.
I want to go back to Querétaro and reverse the one bad thing that happened so I could be with all the people there I grew to love!
I feel like after something so traumatizing, I should have something deep, dark, philosophical and emotionally moving... but I have spent almost 2 days crying... and I really feel completely emotionless right now... like I do not know what to feel... I don't know what's normal... and I don't know what to do to get my life back to normal except to pretend like everything IS normal... and laugh. I love to laugh, and every chance I've had to make a joke, I've made it... I think people don't know what to do... but laugh, really do it, because it makes me feel so much better.
I'm going to go to the gym and pound away at the machines. That makes me feel better, too!
And chocolate cake. And cooking dinner. And being with my friends and getting hugs and having people tell me the love me.
I guess this post is mainly just to say thank you to everyone... and let you know that I am doing ok... and to continue to pray for me... and talk to me! I don't want to get lonely and have even more time to think about all the shit that happened. :) :)
I feel like only my close friends/family read this... but if it's other people as well, I'm sorry that you might not know what I am talking about, but I'd prefer to leave it at this for now...
I'm so grateful for you all... and right now I really miss three certain people who cannot be with me... :( i wish you could... Oh, how the impossibility of things makes you want them so much more.
I miss speaking Spanish already! So talk to me in Spanish! hahaha
15.6.08
p.y.h.o.u.h.&.t.m...i.a.o. ... I won't believe you until you do...
Two notes:
1.) People shouldn't ever assume that I am writing about them. Ask me before deciding that... Thank you.
2.) If you know what my title means, then we are probably soul mates... and don't make fun of me for how incredibly tacky it is.
Anyway, this is a strongly-edited version/excerpt of some thoughts I had on the drive from Mexico City to Querétaro today.
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Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my eyes — or with my mind. I seem to see these beautiful things sometimes, but they rarely translate to film or to a digital image the way the picture in my head is. This leads me to sadly believe that, maybe sometimes, these breathtaking things are only beautiful as they are happening — and as my mind perceives it in that moment. You can't reproduce the feel of the wind blowing your hair against your face as you watch the setting sun out the window on the interstate, nor the feeling you had the last time your dad brushed his hands through your hair and told you he loved you — you can never truly reproduce any moment of your life. Although, in some cases, this may be good. The trouble is, since two people have left me, the only place my mind finds to wonder are to times when I was with them.
I find myself daydreaming of moments that I should never think of again, because they are a sickening reminder of things I want so badly, that can never be. Just because people die, people go away — or, my least favorite, "It's just not practical." Since when does practicality have anything to do with right and wrong? Nonetheless, there's nothing you can do to stop it or make yourself feel better. You just have to trust that God knows what he's doing with your life, and that someday it will all run its course and make sense.
And, well, I do believe this. But there are so many times where I wish I could go back and relive certain moments of my life again. I wouldn't change anything, I just want to relive those certain special moments. Especially the seemingly small moments that I didn't realize until later meant the entire world to me.
I'd put myself back in that car on the highway as the sun set. Instead of concentrating on the road, or being upset, I would have concentrated on what was going on inside of that car..................................................the important things, not the petty, silly, stupid things I was thinking about at the time. And I'd actually talk to the person next to me, instead of just playing the ignorant fool... Actually, I wasn't acting. I WAS an ignorant fool.
Or I'd put myself in the backyard at Manchester, lying on my back in the grass, with my dad, where we watched and counted the number of monarchs in the sky. 1,2,3...12. The dandelions shed their feathery petals in the air and the summer sun beat down on our skin. But this was our moment, and the way he looked at my 5-year-old self and tugged me closer to him has never left my thoughts. We continued to count. 13,14,15... but I used to be much more intelligent. Counting numbers at the age of five was far too easy for me, and I told my father so. "Oh, yeah? Prove it!" he jested. So, I began doing my times tables...all the way up to 10...and my dad listened to me, helping me on the rare occasions when I stumbled (8*4=32 and 9*7=63). When I finally got to 10*10=100, he began tickling me and telling me that I should skip my school and go straight to college. It seems strange, but I’m not sure if I have ever felt that adored since then in my entire life… and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.
And the two people with whom I will never have the relationship I once had, are gone. And they are the two people I daydream about the most, and the two people who have changed and shaped me without meaning to. I was like a thin, glass vase — I was so fragile, but I have been broken, twice (well, thrice, but one of those events is way too far in the past to be mentioned). Although, I had dealt with difficult scratches before, nothing had completely broken me as these 2/3 events had... (Sheesh, I am making this horrible metaphor/simile/analogy-thing awfully confusing)
But I am not your ordinary vase; instead of waiting for someone else to come and shittly glue my pieces back together for me, I have, since 2005, been picking up the pieces and starting to mend myself. And I’m not using glue this time (a temporary repair), I have melted my glass, gone to the fire and am finally ready to be blown into something better… because I am strong, independent and can do everything on my own — or so I like to tell myself...
1.) People shouldn't ever assume that I am writing about them. Ask me before deciding that... Thank you.
2.) If you know what my title means, then we are probably soul mates... and don't make fun of me for how incredibly tacky it is.
Anyway, this is a strongly-edited version/excerpt of some thoughts I had on the drive from Mexico City to Querétaro today.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Sometimes I wish I could take photographs with my eyes — or with my mind. I seem to see these beautiful things sometimes, but they rarely translate to film or to a digital image the way the picture in my head is. This leads me to sadly believe that, maybe sometimes, these breathtaking things are only beautiful as they are happening — and as my mind perceives it in that moment. You can't reproduce the feel of the wind blowing your hair against your face as you watch the setting sun out the window on the interstate, nor the feeling you had the last time your dad brushed his hands through your hair and told you he loved you — you can never truly reproduce any moment of your life. Although, in some cases, this may be good. The trouble is, since two people have left me, the only place my mind finds to wonder are to times when I was with them.
I find myself daydreaming of moments that I should never think of again, because they are a sickening reminder of things I want so badly, that can never be. Just because people die, people go away — or, my least favorite, "It's just not practical." Since when does practicality have anything to do with right and wrong? Nonetheless, there's nothing you can do to stop it or make yourself feel better. You just have to trust that God knows what he's doing with your life, and that someday it will all run its course and make sense.
And, well, I do believe this. But there are so many times where I wish I could go back and relive certain moments of my life again. I wouldn't change anything, I just want to relive those certain special moments. Especially the seemingly small moments that I didn't realize until later meant the entire world to me.
I'd put myself back in that car on the highway as the sun set. Instead of concentrating on the road, or being upset, I would have concentrated on what was going on inside of that car..................................................the important things, not the petty, silly, stupid things I was thinking about at the time. And I'd actually talk to the person next to me, instead of just playing the ignorant fool... Actually, I wasn't acting. I WAS an ignorant fool.
Or I'd put myself in the backyard at Manchester, lying on my back in the grass, with my dad, where we watched and counted the number of monarchs in the sky. 1,2,3...12. The dandelions shed their feathery petals in the air and the summer sun beat down on our skin. But this was our moment, and the way he looked at my 5-year-old self and tugged me closer to him has never left my thoughts. We continued to count. 13,14,15... but I used to be much more intelligent. Counting numbers at the age of five was far too easy for me, and I told my father so. "Oh, yeah? Prove it!" he jested. So, I began doing my times tables...all the way up to 10...and my dad listened to me, helping me on the rare occasions when I stumbled (8*4=32 and 9*7=63). When I finally got to 10*10=100, he began tickling me and telling me that I should skip my school and go straight to college. It seems strange, but I’m not sure if I have ever felt that adored since then in my entire life… and sometimes I wonder if I ever will be.
And the two people with whom I will never have the relationship I once had, are gone. And they are the two people I daydream about the most, and the two people who have changed and shaped me without meaning to. I was like a thin, glass vase — I was so fragile, but I have been broken, twice (well, thrice, but one of those events is way too far in the past to be mentioned). Although, I had dealt with difficult scratches before, nothing had completely broken me as these 2/3 events had... (Sheesh, I am making this horrible metaphor/simile/analogy-thing awfully confusing)
But I am not your ordinary vase; instead of waiting for someone else to come and shittly glue my pieces back together for me, I have, since 2005, been picking up the pieces and starting to mend myself. And I’m not using glue this time (a temporary repair), I have melted my glass, gone to the fire and am finally ready to be blown into something better… because I am strong, independent and can do everything on my own — or so I like to tell myself...
21.5.08
The hunchback has no plan...
I didn't want that candy or the stupid ring.
I don't like any of those things. If you would have ever just listened to me, you would have known that.
But you are a selfish little cricket!!!
You never really listen to me, and somehow always find a way to bring the conversation back to yourself.
All things done at your convenience.
Everything else about you seems so magnificent, but as with all epic heros, you have a tragic flaw.
What causes me to be so dismal is that your fatal flaw happens to be one of the worst tragic flaws of all!
How can a hero be a hero if he or she is always thinking of him or herself?
I could stand no where near you when it comes to characteristics that would define one as a "hero", and I am in no way trying to praise myself...
But what a multitude of things I did for you!!!!! And I did them with little love, respect, gratitude or reciprocation of any sort!!!!!!
And I continue to do these things with the same casual, almost rude, response.
I didn't even need tangible reciprocation, that wasn't ever what I asked for. In fact, I don't believe I ever asked anything of you, save small favors that also had some benefit in them for YOURSELF.
All I wanted was a, "Hey, you are really great and good to me. I appreciate that so much. Thank you, 'ka!"
or a...
"Hey, let me buy dinner tonight since you are always doing so much."
::Sigh::
I hate when people who read my blog try to figure out who/what I am talking about, and I am not going to let that ever happen. I hate putting names on blogs, I hate divulging info like that about my life to people who shouldn't know those things... and thirdly....
perhaps that's all hypothetical, or perhaps it's to multiple people who i feel that way about.... or maybe it IS just about one person who i think that about.........
lots of maybes, but a sure-fire fact is that you will never know what I mean... and when I look back on this in 20 years, I will probably not know what I meant either.
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Enough of that. It was just an insignificant rant that most likely does not pertain to you at all, but it needed to be set free from the heavy bondage it placed in my rapidly-beating heart.
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I began writing this to/about a friend yesterday, and I would like to continue that here.
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Here it goes.....
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One night as I went to sleep, I dreamt of a gorgeous, but elusive, young lady.
In every hauntingly beautiful scene of my dream, she would appear.
In the daytime, the light from the sun would cast exotic shadows on to fields of Gerber daisies through the multiple-layered sheer frock she wore — it clung to her tiny body as she danced, oh, so delicately, around the earth.
In the hours of the late night, her fragile silhouette would be project onto the moon as she quietly waltzed around the enchanted forest of inverness, leaving behind her trails of ripe raspberries and satin sparkles.
At one point in this heavenly dream, 'twas nearing dawn, but most of the darkness of night was still upon us. A cool, fresh mist was in the air, and you could feel that the sun would soon peak one of its rays out over the horizon.
I was on my way back to the village from visiting my dear friend, Monsieur DeuFaulde, and decided to take the scenic route home through said enchanted forest...
This evening was different from other evenings with M. DeuFaulde, and how difficult it was proving to hold back the pain and tears! And how ironic it was that, in my time of sorrow, I would happen to come upon a tree that went along with my attitude so well — especially as it was a tree uncommon to the part of the world in which I was traveling. I was sort of nomad at the time.
I stopped momentarily near the weeping willow — a willow so weepy in fact, that its branches were sweeping the soft, dark ground.
I looked to the North-East at the young luminescent moon for comfort.....
joy of joys, it is time for bed!
more later! AHHH!!! bet you can't wait ;)
I don't like any of those things. If you would have ever just listened to me, you would have known that.
But you are a selfish little cricket!!!
You never really listen to me, and somehow always find a way to bring the conversation back to yourself.
All things done at your convenience.
Everything else about you seems so magnificent, but as with all epic heros, you have a tragic flaw.
What causes me to be so dismal is that your fatal flaw happens to be one of the worst tragic flaws of all!
How can a hero be a hero if he or she is always thinking of him or herself?
I could stand no where near you when it comes to characteristics that would define one as a "hero", and I am in no way trying to praise myself...
But what a multitude of things I did for you!!!!! And I did them with little love, respect, gratitude or reciprocation of any sort!!!!!!
And I continue to do these things with the same casual, almost rude, response.
I didn't even need tangible reciprocation, that wasn't ever what I asked for. In fact, I don't believe I ever asked anything of you, save small favors that also had some benefit in them for YOURSELF.
All I wanted was a, "Hey, you are really great and good to me. I appreciate that so much. Thank you, 'ka!"
or a...
"Hey, let me buy dinner tonight since you are always doing so much."
::Sigh::
I hate when people who read my blog try to figure out who/what I am talking about, and I am not going to let that ever happen. I hate putting names on blogs, I hate divulging info like that about my life to people who shouldn't know those things... and thirdly....
perhaps that's all hypothetical, or perhaps it's to multiple people who i feel that way about.... or maybe it IS just about one person who i think that about.........
lots of maybes, but a sure-fire fact is that you will never know what I mean... and when I look back on this in 20 years, I will probably not know what I meant either.
------------------------
Enough of that. It was just an insignificant rant that most likely does not pertain to you at all, but it needed to be set free from the heavy bondage it placed in my rapidly-beating heart.
------------------------
I began writing this to/about a friend yesterday, and I would like to continue that here.
------------------------
Here it goes.....
------------------------
One night as I went to sleep, I dreamt of a gorgeous, but elusive, young lady.
In every hauntingly beautiful scene of my dream, she would appear.
In the daytime, the light from the sun would cast exotic shadows on to fields of Gerber daisies through the multiple-layered sheer frock she wore — it clung to her tiny body as she danced, oh, so delicately, around the earth.
In the hours of the late night, her fragile silhouette would be project onto the moon as she quietly waltzed around the enchanted forest of inverness, leaving behind her trails of ripe raspberries and satin sparkles.
At one point in this heavenly dream, 'twas nearing dawn, but most of the darkness of night was still upon us. A cool, fresh mist was in the air, and you could feel that the sun would soon peak one of its rays out over the horizon.
I was on my way back to the village from visiting my dear friend, Monsieur DeuFaulde, and decided to take the scenic route home through said enchanted forest...
This evening was different from other evenings with M. DeuFaulde, and how difficult it was proving to hold back the pain and tears! And how ironic it was that, in my time of sorrow, I would happen to come upon a tree that went along with my attitude so well — especially as it was a tree uncommon to the part of the world in which I was traveling. I was sort of nomad at the time.
I stopped momentarily near the weeping willow — a willow so weepy in fact, that its branches were sweeping the soft, dark ground.
I looked to the North-East at the young luminescent moon for comfort.....
joy of joys, it is time for bed!
more later! AHHH!!! bet you can't wait ;)
17.5.08
Never the Same
Nothing is the same here in Omaha.
Nothing is the same in Lincoln.
The two cities I have gone back and forth from, calling each of them home for years, have become so unfamiliar and strange — especially Omaha.
Omaha contains memories of a past me, a me that I will never be again. When I am here, I feel like I am forcing myself back into a time and place that I don't fit in or belong in anymore.
It's weird to see all these people whose lives you were once such a large part of — yet, while you were busy with your own schedule, their lives went on as well. You missed so much that it's hard to become a part of their life again, it's hard to fully understand where the other has been, and it's hard to overcome the new differences.
Whenever I am here in Omaha, every place I go and every person I meet up with screams of my past...
I love my past, and I love these people and places, but the feeling is not the same. None of us, none of these places, are really the same. Even a short year can change things so much...
A year has allowed me to make Lincoln my new home. No longer do I feel like I belong in Omaha mostly, but I feel as if I am a true Lincolnite....
But now so many of my friends that I made this year in Lincoln are gone.
Transferring to different schools, moving back to Omaha, or many exchange students who have returned to their homelands — leaving Erika, a poor, pathetic mess of a girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of friends left at Lincoln, but things just won't be the same as they were this past school year.... especially the last semester....
It seems every time I get really comfortable and start to love where I am, everything changes and I have to readjust.
Maybe that's a good thing....then I can never get too comfortable, and I appreciate what I have when I have it.
Everything is still so strange to me though.
I had an appointment at the University Health Center on Tuesday. Instead of driving to U St. and parking, my instinct drove me to S Street where Selleck is. I got out of my car, and I began to walk to Selleck...then I thought to myself, "Where are you going? The Health Center is the other way."
What a depressing moment.
My mind took me to the Health Center...but my heart is at Selleck!
Whatever.
All of this is hurting my little heart more than I thought it would...
but only some days..... somedays suck and I am quite depressed. Other days, I am so glad and think things definitely worked out for the better. Obviously, today is one of those nostalgic days.
I feel so pathetic as usual...
There are like 2 people who read this regularly.....
And they are kind of awkward people.
awkward because it's weird for certain relatives to read this and think that I am super emo and never happy and complain all the time......
and awkward because I often elude(d) to things and feelings about another person who supposedly reads this with some frequency.
So, hello...........
I am not emo. I do not complain like this on a daily basis....
It's just my blog, and whenever I want to write my feelings, it's usually when I am in a bad mood and need to vent!
When I am joyous (most of the time!!) I portray my ecstasy verbally and through my actions.
I got my lip cyst removed Thursday. Delicioso!
It was the grossest experience of my life.
I sat in this uncomfortable chair with two doctors pulling my lips...
Then Dr. Olson sprayed this nasty numbing disinfectant spray on my lips...then he shot me with enough novocain to numb my entire freaking face.
As soon as that was settled, the weird Indian nurse lady set out a bunch of weird surgical tools and like 300 different kinds of scissors...and lots and lots and lots of gauze to stop the bleeding and large accumulation of bloody saliva that would surely build up throughout this surgery.
Then Dr. Olson pick up this knife and slices my lip open and just starts jabbing around. "Oh, wow! This thing is the size of a marble! We'll have to send this to the lab to be sure it's not malignant."
Me in my head: "Thank you for not freaking me out while I am awake watching my lip being cut open"
He pried around for such a long time. And all I could see out of the corners of my eyes were 4 really bloody latex gloves, part of my lip, lots and lots of bloody gauze, lots of surgical tools, and bloody scissors.
Dr. Olson started snipping out the cyst... "These scissors are too dull... nurse, get me some different ones" so she gives him some more.... still not working that well... so he decides he should try burning off the cyst.... with this like really heated mini-knife thing....
So I have the taste blood in my mouth, I am watching my mouth be cut open, I can see tons and tons of blood... and then along with it, I get to smell my own flesh burning. Wonderful.
He finally got the cyst out...and he just set it down like a cute little puppy or something on the table for the surgical tools... so the entire time he is stitching me up, I had to look directly at my marble-sized lip cyst, covered in blood. Absolutely, positively, wonderfully disgusting.
Having your lips sewed/stitched is a really weird feeling.
Anyway.......
I thought the surgery wouldn't be that big of a deal, but it hurt so badly after the novocain wore off.... I slept off and on from 2:30 p.m. until 9 a.m. Yeah....
that song "no air" just came on my itunes, which is on shuffle.....
ahaha
and you know who that reminds me of.
que triste!
Is it strange that Heartbeats by José Gonzáles can make me cry?
I can't wait to be in Mexico for 7 weeks.
Get me away from this place and from these people.
I also cannot wait for school to start again, so I can start working and planning for my second semester in FRANCE...and then my SUMMER in EUROPE!!!!!
When I will get to visit all of my loves — whom I already miss so dearly.
Nothing is the same in Lincoln.
The two cities I have gone back and forth from, calling each of them home for years, have become so unfamiliar and strange — especially Omaha.
Omaha contains memories of a past me, a me that I will never be again. When I am here, I feel like I am forcing myself back into a time and place that I don't fit in or belong in anymore.
It's weird to see all these people whose lives you were once such a large part of — yet, while you were busy with your own schedule, their lives went on as well. You missed so much that it's hard to become a part of their life again, it's hard to fully understand where the other has been, and it's hard to overcome the new differences.
Whenever I am here in Omaha, every place I go and every person I meet up with screams of my past...
I love my past, and I love these people and places, but the feeling is not the same. None of us, none of these places, are really the same. Even a short year can change things so much...
A year has allowed me to make Lincoln my new home. No longer do I feel like I belong in Omaha mostly, but I feel as if I am a true Lincolnite....
But now so many of my friends that I made this year in Lincoln are gone.
Transferring to different schools, moving back to Omaha, or many exchange students who have returned to their homelands — leaving Erika, a poor, pathetic mess of a girl.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of friends left at Lincoln, but things just won't be the same as they were this past school year.... especially the last semester....
It seems every time I get really comfortable and start to love where I am, everything changes and I have to readjust.
Maybe that's a good thing....then I can never get too comfortable, and I appreciate what I have when I have it.
Everything is still so strange to me though.
I had an appointment at the University Health Center on Tuesday. Instead of driving to U St. and parking, my instinct drove me to S Street where Selleck is. I got out of my car, and I began to walk to Selleck...then I thought to myself, "Where are you going? The Health Center is the other way."
What a depressing moment.
My mind took me to the Health Center...but my heart is at Selleck!
Whatever.
All of this is hurting my little heart more than I thought it would...
but only some days..... somedays suck and I am quite depressed. Other days, I am so glad and think things definitely worked out for the better. Obviously, today is one of those nostalgic days.
I feel so pathetic as usual...
There are like 2 people who read this regularly.....
And they are kind of awkward people.
awkward because it's weird for certain relatives to read this and think that I am super emo and never happy and complain all the time......
and awkward because I often elude(d) to things and feelings about another person who supposedly reads this with some frequency.
So, hello...........
I am not emo. I do not complain like this on a daily basis....
It's just my blog, and whenever I want to write my feelings, it's usually when I am in a bad mood and need to vent!
When I am joyous (most of the time!!) I portray my ecstasy verbally and through my actions.
I got my lip cyst removed Thursday. Delicioso!
It was the grossest experience of my life.
I sat in this uncomfortable chair with two doctors pulling my lips...
Then Dr. Olson sprayed this nasty numbing disinfectant spray on my lips...then he shot me with enough novocain to numb my entire freaking face.
As soon as that was settled, the weird Indian nurse lady set out a bunch of weird surgical tools and like 300 different kinds of scissors...and lots and lots and lots of gauze to stop the bleeding and large accumulation of bloody saliva that would surely build up throughout this surgery.
Then Dr. Olson pick up this knife and slices my lip open and just starts jabbing around. "Oh, wow! This thing is the size of a marble! We'll have to send this to the lab to be sure it's not malignant."
Me in my head: "Thank you for not freaking me out while I am awake watching my lip being cut open"
He pried around for such a long time. And all I could see out of the corners of my eyes were 4 really bloody latex gloves, part of my lip, lots and lots of bloody gauze, lots of surgical tools, and bloody scissors.
Dr. Olson started snipping out the cyst... "These scissors are too dull... nurse, get me some different ones" so she gives him some more.... still not working that well... so he decides he should try burning off the cyst.... with this like really heated mini-knife thing....
So I have the taste blood in my mouth, I am watching my mouth be cut open, I can see tons and tons of blood... and then along with it, I get to smell my own flesh burning. Wonderful.
He finally got the cyst out...and he just set it down like a cute little puppy or something on the table for the surgical tools... so the entire time he is stitching me up, I had to look directly at my marble-sized lip cyst, covered in blood. Absolutely, positively, wonderfully disgusting.
Having your lips sewed/stitched is a really weird feeling.
Anyway.......
I thought the surgery wouldn't be that big of a deal, but it hurt so badly after the novocain wore off.... I slept off and on from 2:30 p.m. until 9 a.m. Yeah....
that song "no air" just came on my itunes, which is on shuffle.....
ahaha
and you know who that reminds me of.
que triste!
Is it strange that Heartbeats by José Gonzáles can make me cry?
I can't wait to be in Mexico for 7 weeks.
Get me away from this place and from these people.
I also cannot wait for school to start again, so I can start working and planning for my second semester in FRANCE...and then my SUMMER in EUROPE!!!!!
When I will get to visit all of my loves — whom I already miss so dearly.
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