The thing about latches

Latches keep things shut, holds stuff together. I think I try to use different things as vehicles to latch onto people, onto time, onto a fleeting feeling that I know will not last.

While I know myself better now more so than I ever have, while I have peace of mind and peace in my heart, I know how easily that peace can leave me. And so I hold on tight only to realize that the moment has already past me by.

My favorite movie is My Best Friend's Wedding. This is my favorite scene:

I don't want it to pass me by. Good night.

Haunted

At night sometimes, I pull up the covers up so hard, gripping onto them in my sleep, that I wake up afraid. Even in my dreams, I'm not at peace. There are glimmers of rest. Feeling the cool air brush my hands while I'm driving, chasing the sunset. My face being greeted by the brisk air of early morning. The momentary quiet that comes after I pose my questions to God. Silence.

With you, everything has become momentary. Love sets you free, but recently, I feel anything but. Next moment, I'm awake again and you are my whole world, again. What is the dream and what is the reality, I honestly can't tell anymore. Like I've edited the story so many times that I no longer can see the original. I need space so I pull you closer. I need time so I make none.

And you know, that you, will haunt me, always.

In the midst

It's been a long time since I've put forth any real effort into my schooling, a concept I learned in my Adolescence class this semester, called self-handicapping. I put in little effort, so that when I get back my sub-par grades, my pride isn't hurt. Well, this semester, I was all in. In the midst of studying for finals, writing up excessively long final essays, and you know, working full time, I feel an overwhelming sense of pride. I am proud of my accomplishments. I feel pride in my intentions, in my work, in my future plans. I think: this is it, and nothing and no one will stand in my way.

So, as a little break from writing this last essay, I want to send up thanks to God, and to the many loved ones that have helped me get to this point. I have done nothing to deserve the life that I live, and yet I am still blessed every day still, constantly, always. Thank you.

Peace to all.

Infinite

I get tired of being in this space, place, like a waste. World full of beauty, and I'm on Zara's website looking at a rabbit-tortured-Angora-sweater... And actually contemplating buying one because it looks so pretty. Not. Moral fiber has got to be stronger than that. I always miss when the sky is slowly fading into night- the beautiful pink and purple, lighting up the sky while it darkens. I yearn for dirt under my feet, cool air, dew resting on my face. I like the way my hair tangles up into waves the morning after, but hate the feeling of oil on my scalp. I tire of sleeping between the hours of 6pm and 9pm. Sometimes, I don't remember what it feels like to be so awake and alive, like all of the air I take in is fresh, like my life is so small that it feels... infinite.

The Monster

I have a problem with honesty. If you met me, and knew me a little, you probably wouldn't think that I was a dishonest person, and as far as you need to know, I'm a law abiding citizen that can't look you in the eye and dish out any kind of fabrication. So... Maybe what I mean when I say that I have a problem with honestly is that I keep things to myself in order to skim over the whole honesty issue.

To be more succinct, I am evasive as all hell.

Blogging and I have a long off-and-on relationship. I like the idea and I hate the lack of privacy. I toyed with the idea of a food blog, maybe a fashion blog, a lifestyle blog... eh. What I most desire is a space of my own. Something that I can look back on and recall the best, mediocre, bad moments of my life. I haven't decided if I'm going to share, or what kind of blog this will be, but I have decided on one theme, and that, is honesty.

So today, my so-called "space," my blog, this new thing--is for the love of honesty.