insomnia

it started again last night. the dreadful, awful tossing and turning, the forcing of sleep when sleep wants to play. i know what keeps me awake, what has kept me from peace in the dark hours of the last month.

there are times when i feel in control of my emotions, when i focus on the task handed to me. and at these times, i can almost forget what once existed, but every once in awhile, i cave.

it isnt that im weak. in fact, ive been told im strong, though i prefer the word resilient because it is the word i used to describe him once.

its funny how the world dares to continue to turn despite my anguish, how the moon in all her lunar beauty continues to smile down on me from my window, how nothing seems to have changed.

its very deceptive how my life continues to function so effortlessly, instinctively driving the familiar roads without much thought.

but my subconscious wont let me rest. it reminds me that its been too long since ive heard his voice or felt his hands on my head guiding me to his cock.

i realize now that it isnt the sex i miss, although in the beginning, it was. what i need now, what i want more than anything is intimacy. from him. not from anyone else, just him.

im thirsty for his kisses, aching for his presence, and i will get nothing. hes taken himself away, and i dont blame him. what i did is very much unforgivable.

i like to think that one day, ill be welcomed in his arms again. i anticipate falling asleep next to him again. i beg that he will like me again.

i can only hope.

in my heart of hearts, ive felt him disconnect from me. i look for him everywhere and feel for him in everything, but ive got to let go.

let go.

let.

him.

go.

undeserved

it seems i have attracted the attention of a certain irish/french guy. i have done nothing to show interest or encouragement. in fact, ive left his phone calls unreturned and his emails unanswered.

i dont want to get involved right now with anyone. ive told him that i was freshly hurt because i hurt someone i care about, and while he and i may not be in contact, he remains in my thoughts and in my heart.

my timing sucks. always. im not holding out or being protective of myself, but i know that right now, ive got to deal with some of my issues.

its the same old song with me. a part of it is just my obsessive love of freedom. and another part is that i havent met the one.

this guy, bc, is not the one. hes got qualities i want, and he even reminds me of the exbf because bc is a writer. he sounds like him, too. bc plays the bass.

its what ive always wanted: a rocker with the soul of a poet. but i dont want it in this person. i want it in another and in another time.

i feel like my destiny is to be alone, but i pray that it wont be.

god, i miss willal. i know that its over, and the other day, i felt that hes met someone. thats good. i mean, eventually, it was bound to happen, but still. i wish it didnt happen so soon.

fuck.

hes back

the true love of my life returned from his very short vacation with his paternal kin. with his return came updates of his father and aunt, good news and bad news.

the good news: his father may have found a lady love. or lady interest. she did not join them in tahoe, so this might be a new thing. im glad for him because he is better when hes in a relationship, at least this is what i remember.

the bad news: his youngest aunt has divorced her husband. theyve known each other for fifteen years, starting off when the boys father and i started seeing each other. she told my son, dont ever get divorced. when you marry someone, make sure its forever.

my son is very perceptive, and he said that she seemed unhappy, depressed. i asked if she moped around or was unsocial. he said that she was, but he could tell. i believe him.

he asked what i did when i was gone. if he had asked me this last year, i would have hung my head in shame at all the sex i had with the boys i had met. but this time, i held my head high, and said, i did nothing exciting, except i spent time with friends and worked.

and this is fine with me.

sunday gone

i went to bed last night around one a.m., and i intentionally did not set any alarms on my phone or the boob tube (i like to wake up to the news on a weekday before work). this was at first frightening, but all at once liberating.

the night was beautiful last night. kamar invited me over to watch macbeth at barnsdall park, but i honestly was not in the mood. i had an all day leadership retreat, and i would have been happy to have just spent the night catching up on reading, but i promised to go.

i was running late, so when she called to give me directions to her house, i told her id call her back when i was on the freeway. ten minutes later, she called and offered an alternative instead: to just hang out at her house and she would make dinner.

perfect, i told her.

her place was so cute, and i loved the paint on her walls. she inspired me to change my space to something that suits me. im going to get rid of a lot of things that ive outgrown or doesnt fit my lifestyle anymore.

we spent the night talking, and she drank and smoked a lot. i was impressed and disturbed at the same time. but i had a lovely time, and she was funny and awesome. very inspirational.

so, today, i gave myself permission to stay in bed. to just hang out alone and be a bit familiar with my own solitude and thoughts.

ive pretty much given up on the man who once invaded my mind and soul the past year. he hasnt responded to me the last few attempts, and its just time to walk away with my dignity and self-respect (two of his beautiful words) in tact.

while im saying good bye, i would say hello if he knocked on the door. he is an incredible person, and i know i know i fucking know how fucked up i am, but yet, i vainly feel i have to have forgiveness.

im healing. im learning to lick my wounds alone without turning to others for relief. ironically, my friends are encouraging me to meet others, and all i can think of is how to do that without comparing them to him.

im not ready yet. the celibacy thing sucks, but its only his skin that i want against mine. i havent been attracted to anyone the way i was to him, and the connection we had has gone back to the astral plane.

i hope we each meet those who will be good to us and for us. those who will love us and who we will love.

i know we were meant to meet, that he woke up a sleeping heart and mind devoid of inspiration and creativity. he was the one who brought me up to a new level and allowed me a different perspective. for that i will always be grateful.

i want him back in my life. every day, i want him back. i hate this loss, not only of a fantastic and equal sex partner, but a genuine friend. thats what i miss more than anything else.

but i understand his need to walk away. i do. and i continue wish him well and pray for him and his boy everyday.

because i loved them both.

meditative state

before, a long time ago, when i was charged for my own care and feeding, namely during my college years, i had the luxury of having time to be alone.

to be contemplative. to be me. to be silent.

in san diego, i visited the far reaches of ucsd where only grad students or the artsy folks inhabited. i sat there, dreaming of my future and ignoring my present, smelling the salty scent of the ocean and the sweetness of the leaves from the bamboo trees.

in sac, i rode up and down the bike trails parallel to the american river, nurturing my spirit and soothing my soul, feeling the wind and the sweat and the pain in my ass from pedaling the eight or so miles. each way.

how i miss those times. since ive come back to la, my time has never been my own, my pace dictated by deadlines, school breaks, and digital time telling devices.

and it sucks.

my son has been gone for only two full days, and i miss him so much. in my busyness, i miss my little boy.

ive kept myself busy with the daily shit at work. i kept one of my gang member students from dropping out. another delinquent student who is pregnant has decided to return to school. and i have so much fucking paperwork to deal with that i feel sick.

last night, i saw harry potter and the order of the phoenix with mardo. before the movie, we had dinner, and we discussed the stalker and how he used to hit on her. the more i heard, the more disgusted i feel about him.

the other day, we walked to our cars at the end of the day, and he asked, so, why wont you go out for coffee with me?

because ive got stuff to do after work, and i need some notice.

but i asked you before, and you stood me up.

i didnt stand you up. i cancelled. you stood me up, too, before.

no, i went to your office to tell you i couldnt go. thats not standing you up.

i guess not. well, ive got to go.

so, coffee? drinks? dinner?

are you old enough to drink?

bitch.

see, i dont really think much of this guy because hes a kid, and hes trying too hard. its a turn off.

fuck, im tired.

i wish i had time to just be. maybe go back to maui and just be on maui time. i dont really need much there. just the beach, shops, photo ops.

and i would meditate. center myself. the exbf, who would have loved the latest contribution in the harry potter dynasty, used to meditate alot. he needed to, needed to really look within and find serenity.

rejuvenate

i need to regroup and rejuvenate my spirit because i am tired and broken.

this is such an unhealthy, sad little pattern of mine: to go, go, go, and then crash. i am outgrowing it.

my chosen place to retreat was willals loft. i just needed to be there, coddled within six walls of concrete. it was cool in the summer and warm in winter.

and his energy was just so soothing that when i needed to allow myself to relax, i could. it took a long time to get to that place, a long time to trust him, and even longer to trust myself. and when it finally happened, i got to breathe.

breathe. he always told me to do that.

once, around christmas, i was so frightened by the stupid check point in ugly montebello because i had just come from a party where this little boy made me the strongest drink. i was sober, but i was shaken up a bit.

he told me to breathe.

when i got to his place, he fucked me slowly and deliciously, and i was in heaven. breathing. breathing him in.

its been awhile now since any contact has been made. i suppose that this is how it had to end. i always wished that when it was time to part, that it was done amicably and mutually.

however, i cant see any endings happy.

i miss him. god, how i miss him.

this is it

anyone want to come with us?

leaving on a jet plane

the boy boarded a plane this afternoon that will take him to sac to see his father and his baby brother. then, they will drive to tahoe to spend time with his aunt, uncle, two cousins, and his grandfather.

my son is becoming a man, and i have to stand back in awe. well, i have to stand back to take him in because hes so tall.

this trip is only a few days, not like last year when he was gone for two weeks. thats when i went boy crazy, and the night before he came back, i spent a lovely saturday evening talking to a salvi who would become my lover and my support for almost a year.

monday was my last class, and i think i have one more class and some hours to do. its going to be awesome. then, if the winds take me to the right place, i will begin a school psychology masters program. this time, im going to write a thesis instead of study for the comps.

and so, i find myself in self-imposed solitary confinement. this is something i have to go through. ive given up talking to willal again, to sleeping in his bed again, to getting to know him.

he accuses me of being intelligent, and its time to rise up to his expectations. i wont be bothering him anymore, and im going to allow us both to heal from loss.

im so fucking tired. i know my pattern. i work my ass off so that i will be fatigued and wont have time to think or act.

but i do miss him. i miss his chest. i miss his chest more than i miss his hands. but i want to kiss him. kiss him hard, and then be fucked by him.

time, space, and perspective

lately, it feels like no matter how hard i try, nothing seems to work out. maybe a little too dramatic, but im frustrated with my life right now.

i have no patience for stupidity, never have, never will, and i have become a victim of my own annoyance. it begins with willal, and the whole idiotic solitary act that brings me here, unable to contact him because he wont return correspondence.

no one will comprehend the shame and the sorrow i feel. even i cant, at times. how was i capable of doing this to someone who i hold in such esteem and regard? how fucked up am i? and if i can commit such a sin, will i ever be worthy to love and to be loved?

i need space and time, and i think he does also. if not, he just needs me away from his life, and how can i blame him? he is so mature about this, saving me from his wrath, which im sure ive incurred. he was and still is respectful to me, when he responds to my text. it must be difficult for him, labored.

i wish i didnt need him, especially today, when things were somewhat frustrating. i wish i didnt have the urge to run to him, to kiss him, to have him be in me. i fucking hate needing someone this badly. its so unlike me, yet, it seems natural, too.

days blur into each other. i checked my calendar, and the month of august is fucking packed with shit to do, so i dont know if i can take that much needed vacation. priorities, right? ive got to get my priorities straight.

but my kid doesnt want to spend time with his mother. i mean, hes a cool kid, so being with his mother just cramps his style. hes willing to hang out with anyone else besides his mother.

take, for instance, the jubilee they have here every saturday night. they close off second street, set up a stage for some band from the past, and food vendors sell their offerings. we drove by it last night, and i asked him if he wanted to stop by, and he said, it isnt cool to be seen with your mother.

i have to agree. when i was his age, my parents were my enemies, and i couldnt wait to run away from them. and i did, once. spent the night on the streets with my younger boyfriend (even then, the fascination with guys younger than me was there). my mother was so upset, she cried when i called to tell her i was okay.

my father, on the other hand, called me in to our den, and he told me that if i was so unhappy, i should leave. i packed my stuff, not knowing where i was going, but not wanting to stay. i tasted my freedom, and while it wasnt the ideal, it was still liberation.

my mother cried, begged me to stay, so i did. she put on a bit of guilt for good measure, and a year later, i moved to california. since that very moment when i made the decision to leave chicago, i have needed and wanted my freedom.

i dont know what the hell is wrong with me. im restless. im looking off into the horizon. motorcycles and jeep wranglers seduce me. surfing loft websites have been my pastime. wide, empty space free of two-legged creatures entice my thoughts when i should be concentrating on whats in front of me.

writing seems to be my only pacifier. i should be writing two more of my three papers due tomorrow, but here i am, contemplating my life.

napa asked me if i was going to close down my site since willal has found it. i told her i had done that before, and the only one punished was me. i told her that ive kept a journal since i was in 10th grade, and this is the only thing i do for myself.

my days are filled with catering to others both physically and emotionally, and the one thing i do to be good to myself is write. and to work on my project, but even that makes me feel dejected. i havent seen results, and i wonder if i should give in.

the night is beautiful now. the clouds have turned from cotton white to dramatic dark, and i love it. it suits my mood.

i need to live in my solitude until time and space rescue me from my guilt and sorrow and shame. i have to be here for awhile, at least until i feel comfortable to come out.

this is not how i wanted this to end. i love that he is such a strong person, that he has probably moved on by now, that hes someone i truly do admire and find so sexy. perhaps i didnt feel worthy of him?

im going to continue living on auto pilot, waiting for the light to turn red or green, waiting for the clock to tell me what to do. ive been conditioned to be alone, to be independent, to need no one.

i used to think this as a positive thing. now, i have reason to reconsider.

by request

last weekend, elaco came down to celebrate her special friends birthday. unfortunately, because there was an unbalance of emotions (her special friend wanted more, elaco does not until she heals from the pain from her last relationship), this visit to her maybe the last.

we drove to manhattan beach to meet martha, and on the way, we took the freeway that passes right in front of the loft, and we had a moment of silence for the memory of the dear willal.

i related to her a story, and she said to blog about it, so i will. she has never read my blog, nor does she want to, knowing how private and dear my thoughts and words are to me.

but for her, i will write this story, and then i will email her a copy.



soccer and tennis

in my first year at sac state, i was housed with this crazy ass redneck with redhair. she and i could not have been more opposite, me being urban and she being white trash.

because we had nothing in common, i didnt spend much time with her, and she complained about it to everyone on the floor.

she grew to hate me, dividing the floor between my friends and hers, and once, she sold me out on a dorm-wide game of assasin.

i spent many nights out of my room, choosing instead to bunk with the other girls who were more fun, more trustworthy, more sane, and this drove her crazy.

one of the girls on the floor was clee, a 4 ft 11 inch chinese girl who loved to play tennis. she and i began to hang out more and more, despite rumors that we were lesbian lovers.

she looked like a boy, but she was not partial to the female body. she loved me because i was her first real friend ever in her life, so when she would go home for the weekend, sometimes, id go with her.

her family owned a cabin in tahoe, and one time, we went skiing, and i refused to go down this monster of a hill, so she had to get some fine ass ski people to drive their ski mobile to get me.

white trash girl moved out second semester, and the rebel girl replaced her. at first, the rebel girl scared me. i hated her dirty friends, but in time, we got along well.

rebel girl hated college but loved college life, and lived so accordingly. she also had a great supply of pot, and on her birthday, we smoked out a high that lasted until i came back to school after summer vacation. that shit was that good. and my sister commented that i was somehow different, and often asked out loud in the vicinity of my parents if i were stoned.

one thing about clee was that she was an excellent tennis player. i was on the tennis team in high school, but i hadnt played much since then. at ucsd, my choice of sport was boogie boarding and sand volleyball. the racquet was put away for at least two years.

clee and i played almost every day. i loved tennis then. still do now. i need a regular tennis partner to play with on cool nights like this.

the tennis courts at sac state was right next to the soccer field. while we waited for a court to open up, we watched soccer practice.

one afternoon, i fell in love with a soccer player who was just my taste. he was tall, with long black hair, rugged, and leg muscles that ached to be touched.

i forgot how we exchanged numbers, but im sure clee was heavily involved in it. he and i talked a lot. i fell mostly for his accent and his voice.

he told me was from mexico, and he was here on a sport scholarship. clee and i would go to his games that were sandwiched between playing tennis and classes.

our conversations were long and enjoyable, and he would always end it with saying, good night, maria. i never loved the sound of my name as much as when he said it. later, the love is replaced when willal would say my name.

he asked me out a few times, but i never went. from our conversations, i knew there was no connection, nothing that made my heart yell at me for saying no the first time.

it was a fun time for a few months. talking every night, listening to his music, making plans. there was some play with words, strong sexual innuendos that left me blushing.

when soccer season ended, we lost touch, and by then, someone had replaced my interest. i bumped into him a few times, but it was friendly hugs and salutations.

however, my tennis game improved significantly. clee and i volleyed for many hours, and when it was too cold to play tennis, i took up racquetball.

i loved racquetball for the aggression you have to demonstrate, but more because of aaron campbell. he was a big crush of mine, and turns out, he was the one who designed and worked on doc ocs tentacles in spider man 2.

i have a thing for a certain soccer player whose legs were so hard the last time i felt them that i had to stop to make sure they were his legs.

i miss him and his hands and his voice and his legs. but most of all, i miss the me i was when i was with him.

untitled

its going into its third week now, the awful mess with willal, and sleep still eludes me. i know these symptoms, the restless nights, the waking up in the early mornings, the self-talk about why and why not, the prayers for forgiveness. and the diagnosis is this: its over.

my skin is different now, not having grazed upon his for some time. i know the last time i saw him, fucked him, kissed him, i know the feeling that past through me when i said goodbye the last time, i know how i ache for him at different parts of the day and night.

i push these memories and thoughts away, not strong enough yet to address them, but worse of all, to have to accept them.

life is good, remarkably. in a year, im going to embark on another masters program for school psychology. and im going to turn in my resume at a local community college where my beautiful friend works. she recently got married, but i thought of her the other day and checked in on her.

she said she spoke to the vp of me and my qualifications. he mentioned that there was a new program he was interested in starting, and i want to be a part of it. its bridging a gap between high school and college. this is my passion.

there is also talk with my wonderful instructor on writing up a proposal that i wasnt quite sure about because when she was describing it, my heart was heavy and my ears deaf from the grief of the separation from willal.

it isnt as if ive put everything on hold for him. i had to deal with myself and my feelings, my guilt and my relief, myself and i. i had to spend time carrying this, living in it, allowing it to run through my blood in an effort to exorcise it from my system.

im very weak when it comes to him. i dont understand at all anything that happened the last year. nothing made sense, so i pushed it away. i depressed it, looked past it, and never reallly welcomed it.

he was an incredible person from what little i know of him. still is.

but i must continue on my journey, you know? im not ready to meet anyone yet, though i know inevitably, i will spend the night with another. and so will he.

im selfish. i dont want it to happen, but like with all past lovers, i want them to find love. i want them to be wildly in love and giddy with happiness. i believe november has met someone, for which im happy.

but i truly in my heart know that i am good for willal. i know that he engaged me in this metamorphosis of becoming someone better than i was a year ago. perhaps it wasnt intentional on his part, but he had a wonderful effect on me.

am i devastated that it ended? no. a bit broken and pieced. jumbled and dazed. disoriented and lost. but i am at peace also. i know that his stay in my life was positive, and that will never change.

do i want another chance? yes. in time, after ive forgiven myself, id love to see him and get to know him the right way.

will this happen? chances are no. hes moved on, focusing on his little one, on his life, on becoming a better man.

and so, i have to let go. give up and give in.

the boy will be leaving on wednesday to see his father for the weekend. they will be spending time in tahoe, like every summer. i know the boy is excited to see his little brother.

when he gets back, we are going away. i have tentative plans, and all i have to do is make reservations to make them definite. i need this. we both do.

i want to take pictures. i want to really work on this part of me that ive not neglected but havent nurtured. i want to write in my old journal. to spend time with myself that way.

i want to shed my old skin, the one that was fucking next to him and touched by him, in hopes that someone else will have a chance with me. i tend to compare.

and i want to be forgiven and to forgive.

this is my ultimate goal.

conversations

from yesterday:
me: did you get my message? about the stalker?

julmi: yeah, this morning. did you go out with him?

me: the stalker?

julmi: yeah. just go out for coffee.

me: with the stalker?

julmi: yeah. or dinner.

me: we are talking about the stalker, right?

julmi: yeah. a girls gotta eat.

me: is the bubbling fucking with your head? im not going out with the stalker. ever.

she snapped out of it, while laughing until tears formed. i love this girl.


from yesterday, too:
me: see you later.

quinto: have a good afternoon. you look really good, girl.

me: thanks, i dont feel like i look good.

quinto: you do.

me: i have a thing for salvis.

quinto: well, you know what they say about us salvi men.

me: theres been so much said. what are you referring to?

quinto: if youve been with a salvi, youve been with the best.

me: yeah, ive been lucky.

quinto: so has he.

me: i dont think hed agree, but thanks.

such a great guy. too bad i can only think of one man at the moment.


from tuesday:
me: hey.

stalker: hey. blah blah blah blah blah.

me: uh huh.

stalker: blah blah blah blah blah.

me: really?

stalker: so, what are you doing now?

me: have to go to another meeting.

stalker: oh.

me: what are you doing now?

stalker: i wanted to get coffee. i was going to ask you if you wanted to go.

me: sorry. my life is crazy right now with all these meetings and shit.

stalker: i know.

me: going to the dodger game?

stalker: i dont know. i might get drunk, and i dont want people from work to see it. are you?

me: yeah. im talking my son. i wont be getting drunk.

stalker: okay, im going to go, too, then.

me: cool. later!

he isnt such a bad guy. still in his frat boy stage, but ive outgrown it, so now, its kind of just annoying.


from yesterday:
dimpled jc: hey, ms. padua.

me: sir.

dimpled jc: do you have any gum?

me: pardon?

dimpled jc: gum.

me: oh, i thought you said something else. yeah, you need it.

dimpled jc: i know. i almost knocked you out with my breath.

me: yeah. im glad im not making out with you.

dimpled jc: but ive got gum now. thanks.

me: no problem.

dimpled jc: now, where was i going?

me: that way.

the dimples are awesome, the accent is great, but until i get over willal, im keeping low pro.


from today:
me: so, the kids are asking whats going on between you and [my stalker].

md: really? what are they saying?

me: they say theres something between you. i told [my stalker], im kind of bummed that the kids are talking about you and and md.

md: why?

me: i told [my stalker], i thought she had a thing for me, not you.

md: good one! im going to tell the kids that you and i have something together thats why i keep going to your office.

me: way to start rumors.

md: you going to senior dinner?

me: yeah. are you?

md: of course.

me: the kids asked, and i said yes. i hope i dont regret this. but it should be fun. what are you doing this weekend?

md: nothing. what about you?

me: absolutely nothing. ive been doing something every weekend. i want to spend time with my son before he leaves to see his father.

md: call me this weekend sometime.

me: i will.

shes such a sweetie. it was fun taking pictures yesterday.

tossing and turning

ive been restless the past few nights. the last two weeks, to be exact. i dont think ive had one night where i didnt wake up, disoriented from dreams i have of him.

it took me a long time to be able to sleep in his bed. id dread it when hed easily drift off to a deep sleep, complete with heavy breaths, leaving me alone and awake to stare at his ceiling or at the midnight sky from his window.

in times when my anxiety and excitement kept me from resting, i would hold his hand and feel his energy transfer to me. his hands are strong, one of my most favorite part of his body, and they make me swoon.

i loved spooning him, pushing every part of the front of me to the back of him, resting in his warmth and his heat. this pacified me tremendously, calmed my thoughts to more manageable ideas, and allowed me to close my eyes and rest.

our connection was strong, and it was what made our lovemaking all the more intimate. the passion was born from our chemistry, and this man was truly fucking incredible.

was it perfect? no. i wish we spent more time together, frequency was an issue for me. i wanted to hear his voice more, needed to hear that beautiful strong sexiness every night.

i was uncomfortable with him putting his son to sleep at his exwifes house, and a part of me died when she spent christmas at his sisters house with him and the boy.

while i understood why, i hated it all the same. it wasnt about jealousy. he is in a difficult position as it is; i couldnt...and didnt...want to have him feel like he had to choose between obligation and me.

the holidays were hard for me. not knowing where i stood was hard for me. not accepting the type of relationship he had with his exwife was hard for me. and in this hardship, i strayed.

how i wish i could have done a million things differently. how i wish i had a second chance to right wrongs, that he had a second chance also.

but we are at this point now, where letting go seems the only viable option. it hurts, however, in the long run, it will be more painful.

someday, i will convey the magnanimity of his presence in my life to him. i have to.

in time.

so for now, i will continue to dread going to sleep. the fight for a restful night will be my struggle. in dreams, he appears to me still, and it is so vivid that i feel his lips kissing me awake.

there are the customary dreams where we are fucking and smiling at each other, cumming at the same time, and then my alarm will go off, or the sound of a horn from two streets down will blare, and then i wake feeling so lost and lonely for his touch.

i dont have the ability to control my heart or my mind. if it wanders to thoughts of him, i have to allow it the space to do so. if my heart pulls and tugs every time i see a car that resembles his or i hear his name, i have to permit the ache.

i will get over this, i know i will. that is inevitable because with time, our memories grow dim, and we remember only the important, sweetest part of everything.

i know, though, that if i ever see him again, i will go to him, search his eyes for forgiveness, and stay. im presumptuous that he would want to see me, that he would forgive me, that he would let me stay. i know this. but in my vanity and ignorance, i hope. and hope is all i have.

i need him.

i want him.

im resigned to this.

okay

i need to take pictures. badly. its my current drug of choice.

and fuck, what id give to make out with willal, to feel the sting of his bite on my shoulder.

okay.

there are days

are there times when things dont seem to matter? or worse, perhaps you dont care?

well, sometimes, there are and i dont. like today. meeting at 8 a.m. return to my office only to have students coming in. kick them out because now, teachers are coming in. meeting at 1:45 p.m. meeting at 3 p.m.

i can think of nothing else except sleep. i am exhausted. not so much physically, but emotionally and psychologically.

well, physically, too. running around, going from work to my project. not liking or seeing results, so i try to work harder.

dines boyfriend came back yesterday from his vacation, so im glad i have some free time from her. maybe tennis tomorrow? i dont know. she wants me to meet her boyfriend.

her last boyfriend was a sexy guy. something about him that conveyed delicious. i had met him briefly, once, before they got together, when i subbed for him. he was nutso.

and thats why he broke up with her. well, she was kind of pushy with him, but he was a diagnosed loco. still, though, he was just sexy.

this curent guy, not so much. she says he has a temper and is extremely jealous. i fucking hate that combination. but oh well, im not the one with him.

so. today. kind of tough. i need a vacation. i dont think i can wait until october, so im going to take some days off in august. consecutive four day weekends. i have to, you know? for my kid.

and for my sanity. i need my freedom, my spirit to run wild, even for just a few days. i feel caged in my tiny office, despite the fun i have with my students and staff. i just feel...caged.

i dont need constant stimulation, i can focus on one person or one activity. but i need variety. i need security. i need control.

i can feel my feet ready to run. i know my mind has been wandering every time i pass through burbank and see the planes taking off and landing at the airport. theres this pull towards the open road, and saying fuck you to responsibilities.

my blood has a bit of gypsy in it, i think. i dont want to live a nomadic, bohemian lifestyle. i cant do that for two reasons: my kid and my age. i find i crave financial security more than anything the older i get and the closer college comes.

but still, i have to pacify the desire in me to leave. you wont find me in a job for twenty years. you wont find me in a city for more than ten years. well, thats not true. for my son, i have to be anchored like a ship to its port.

my ideal lifestyle would not suit a fourteen year old. i would never do that to any child, especially not my own.

and i try to convince myself to settle down, to not be so impulsive and carefree. thats what willals contribution to my life, i think. with him, i slowed down. at his place, i always felt serene and comfortable, at ease and relaxed. i so needed that. its his loft. its the energy in his dwelling. its him.

there were places i could never feel comfortable and had to leave as soon as i could. i hated it when lovers tried to convince me to stay the night, when they tried to make every accomodation for me to want to stay. i just needed to leave, and when i felt an invisible restraint, i needed to leave that much faster.

when i was in college, i used to invite guys over to my place. but i didnt know how to get to leave when i was done, so id just sit in bed, unable to sleep, tossing and turning, making a lot of noise to wake up the guy so he can leave.

once, i asked this guy to sleep on the couch. when he asked why, i told him it was because i didnt like to wake up next to someone whose name i didnt know.

he was a fun guy, sweet, sexy, from what i can remember. he spent the night with me, after telling his friends to leave without him. this would not be so flattering had he not been from san francisco, and i stationed in sacramento.

the next morning, he got up and tried to get into bed next to me. was he surprised when i almost kicked his ass out of shock and surprise, having been woken up from sleep. i learned my lesson from him.

since then, id gone only to places where i can escape. i drive separately, or if we are to take one car, i drive. sometimes, i offer to meet at the designated location.

but im going on another of my celibacy kick. i need to cleanse and heal. even to forget so i wont compare others to willal.

besides, no one is interested. dines made a stupid comment about me always having someone on the sidelines. thats bullshit. i wish it were that effortless.

the dimpled jc is getting on my nerves. my stalker has become a cute little boy, that is until he asked me out again...AGAIN...today after the fucking long faculty meeting. there just hasnt been a plentiful supply.

but thats okay. im in no hurry. i like this time, anyway, where im alone again, comfortably numb. aint no big thang.

and what have i been doing? ive rediscovered my long lost passion: reading.

its time anyway to retreat, regroup, and replan. hopefully, there will be sunshine and a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

but only after the healing has been completed. so far, its just begun.

in the dream

we saw each other at a fair and he was walking towards me, smiling and holding the hand of his little boy. the boy had the widest grin and the most mischievious look in his eyes, skipping next to his father.

of course, i was confused. didnt he just dump my ass? didnt he never want me to meet his son while we were together? what was happening?

i stood still, feeling comfortable, perhaps being too hopeful, and then it happened.

they both disappeared. in a vast crowd and a fast moment, they were gone.

when i woke up, i reached for the phone to tell him, and then, it hit.

it isnt a dream. hes gone.

dammit.

just a thought

in two years or so, i may just apply to a school in san francisco or in san diego to get a masters in marriage and family therapy.

i need it, i think. i need to get out of here.

porcupine

theres a lonely stretch of road on the 5 north. its beautiful, serene, but i wouldnt want to get stuck there or live there for any long amount of time.

but my life right now is that road. health is fine, my boy is fine, work is fine. but im not fine. im empty. im restless. im broken.

and i need to be for awhile, i think. i need to live in this hurt, moment by moment, to remember. i have to remind myself to breathe. have to remind myself to smile, to respond when someone is talking to me, to walk a straight line.

funny how im surrounded by my wonderful friends who have given me tremendous support. we are all older now, so we dont spend our time analyzing or talking about what has happened. but they check in on me, invite me out, and just allow me to speak about willal when i have to.

the thing i have to do now is to think about what i want to do. i know that inevitably ill have to let go, but the question is when.

i want a second chance with him. i want him to take me back into his fold. i want him to forgive me. but i dont know if any of that will happen.

i think we both need time to figure out what has happened. i realize every day that if given another chance to go to him, i would. id do it with my heart and mind open.

the past eleven months, id been running away from him and from my feelings for him that i never gave myself a chance to find out what it would have been like to be with him.

i dont want to give him up, not yet. i want him still so much, more than any in a long time. i want him in all senses, physically and emotionally.

i was good for him, am good for him. i know this. i feel it.

connections. chemistry. passion.

its too soon to give all that up.

right?

faking it

november told me once when i asked him how he was, im faking it until i make it.

thats what ive been doing this past week. just maintaining the minimal for conversations. but my students are the best, save for the ones who hate me. theyre the little girls who have the bitchies attitudes. they want me to give them what they want, and when they dont get it, they act like spoiled children.

my stalker has been missing lately, except for this morning, when he waited for me outside my car door, and when we bumped into each other at the end of the day.

the hardest part of the day is my commute to and from work because thats when i usually have time to think. i realize that i have been comparing all boys, all men to willal.

dines tells me that everyone wants to go out with me. she said it with a bit of sarcasm and envy the other day when we drove to her boyfriends house. she thinks i dont pick up signals from guys.

i told her that if they want to go out with me, i dont understand why im alone. she said i was picky and that i dont give them time of the day.

my kindred spirit julmi wasnt at work today, so i missed her. she wouldve died at the fact that the dimpled jc came to my office at least ten times today. i think hes just waiting for her. she thinks im smoking crack.

i miss willal. i miss just being next to him. i hate the ending to our start. i hate that id grown to depend on him, to need him, to ache for him.

i want him to fuck me the way he did. i want him to tied me up and take control. i want to see his eyes as he cums.

if i had known it was the last time i was going to see him last week, i would have taken my time saying goodbye. i would have kissed him hard and held him until my arms could no longer take in his form. i wouldve let him take me, sweetly, slowly.

we were cautioned in class about the wouldves, shouldves, couldves. however, at this moment in time, i think its applicable.

i fucked up. willal is a man, still a man to this day. im impressed and all at once, confused.

im going for a drive again, not knowing where i will end up. i know i need to exorcise him from my mind, from my skin, from my bloodstream.

God, please help me.

the actor

luro and i met about two years ago. he is an actor whose heart was more into music than the industry.

we fucked the first time while stoned, and there was connection on an intellectual level. he was a musician, accepted to a fine arts school, but we never got to whether or not he graduated from there.

the next time we fucked was christmas eve. it was lovely and a day of many firsts for both of us. in between the first and second time, i was celibate.

the third time i saw him was to just hang out with him. i cant remember that episode as well as the first time, but i know why i go there.

we had tried to reconnect again, just before i met willal, but time constraints, his and mine, kept us from getting coffee.

i was cleaning out the files on my desktop, and i found some emails we had exchanged. reading over it, i miss the person i was then. someone carefree, impulsive, free-spirited.

he is one of the most creative and witty people ive ever met. those two things attract me to boys i know may not be good for me.

a few months ago, we talked, but i i didnt remember who he was. sad, but at the time, the only person i wanted to be with was willal.

willal is the only person i want to be with at this time, too.

resignation and data processing

its a lonely road i travel these days, just the way i like it to be during times like these. oh, i have support, but i dont want it, not yet, not now.

my girls surround me, and they allow me my space to talk about willal. but ive stopped that now because i dont want to hear justifications, reasons, excuses for my behavior.

i hurt now, not because hes gone, but because i did something to him that was so malevolent. it wasnt intentional, you know, not at all subconciously designed to fuck with him, as was theorized by dines.

i do not feel at all good about this solitary act that caused such a fucking rucous, do not feel good at all about not being able to look at myself in the eyes.

and im tired of it. im tired of breathing this air. even in sleep, i am not afforded a reprieve. i dream of him, and where once i called out the exbfs name in the middle of the night, it has been replaced by another beautiful name: william.

such strength in that name. i cried it out in ecstasy, in confusion, in relief. i love his name, how it rolled from my tongue to my lips to the night.

i told dines that i was going to be celibate again, and she said to go out with someone right away. how can i, i asked her.

you see, i do not talk about him. i did not talk about who he was to me because i just wanted to live in it, moment by moment.

when i met him, i did not expect him to become a profound presence in my life, in my very being, someone who had completely and compellingly affected my days.

he has shaped me and changed me through nothing but his touch, his words, his actions. i loved how i felt so feminine and sexy and creative and charged around him. how i miss it so.

i want the world to stop spinning now, for a little while. i want to suspend all thoughts and actions until i get past this feeling of...confusion.

i cannot and have not and do not want to admit the very thing that will free me: that i love him, have always loved him, for who he is without wanting to change him.

because if i said it out loud, if i heard myself say it, then i will also have to allow fear and realizations in along with that love.

how i miss him. how i miss his scent mixed with my own, his teeth in my shoulders, his tongue dancing with mine.

how i miss his fucking voice, his fucking hands, his fucking cock.

i want to run to him and tell him, theres been a mistake, and i need to correct it. im sorry, please forgive, please let me in. my life will go on, like you said, but not the way i want it to. please, please hold me again.

and i snap back into reality because his words boomerang back into my head so clearly as if hes here telling me, dont ever fucking contact me again, do you understand? dont ever fucking call me again.

i take a deep breath and hold it. i have to let it come out slowly because it hurts. it fucking hurts to breathe, to laugh, to cry.

the other day, the tears formed instantly, and i had to let them come out. let them wash away the dirt i feel, the sadness in my heart, the relief of feeling again.

i drag myself to work, to my project, to anywhere i need to be.

i know i need to move on, and i am, slowly, one baby step at a time.

complicated

i am drained psychologically. today was so difficult, first being stuck in traffic causing me to be twenty minutes or so late to work.

i just want to be left alone. when people ask what is wrong, i feel like telling them, dont you know what i did?

my stalker has now adopted the fine habit of not only visiting me on a daily basis, but he has now thought to write long notes to me about students. students who arent even mine.

i hate to shut down all of his boyish advances, but i look at him and think, dont you know what i did?

at work, there is an awesome spanish teacher who is salvadorean. he speaks with an accent, but it does nothing for me. he used to greet me with a hug every time we saw each other, no matter who was in the room. once, one of the secretaries saw him hug me, and she said, mr. q, you are married.

lately, twice today in fact, he kissed me twice on the cheek, once in front of my bipolar boss. it was quite embarassing. on my way to my car, he stopped to tell me about his trip to el salvador the last week, and how he took his family.

i had to cut him off because listening to him made me think of willal and the whole fucking devastation of the end with him. we said good bye, and i jumped into my car before any hugs or kisses ensued.

and the dimpled jc? well, he came to my office and talked about some students. he was hilarious, but in my current mood of stupor, i didnt laugh as hard as i would have done in the past. he has a little boy the same age as willals little one, so of course, i immediately thought of willal.

my girl friends were out in full support of what happened this weekend. of course they didnt automatically take my side. i was lectured about the stupidity of it all, of losing someone who i wasnt really ready to completely let go of with such finality.

but this is my cross to bear, and so i will carry it with me for as long as it takes. im going away for awhile to sort out what has happened, to sort out my insides so that i wont feel like vomitting everytime i remember his anger, and to generally just be.

life will have to wait, i guess, until im ready to face it again.

intimate details

i dont want him to ever fucking read this blog again. i dont want him to know my intimate details. i dont want him to fucking invade my mind anymore.

i need a reprieve. how dare he investigate deep into my thoughts, my musings? how dare he fucking question me and what i do when he doesnt care at all about me except when im sucking his dick or letting him fuck me?

how dare he.

how dare he be such a motherfucker when ive gone above and beyond for this fuck fest and received so little in return?

fuck this.

fuck you.

duh!!!

a clear, brilliant thought popped into my mind: he is not hurt so much emotionally by this. what is completely beat up is his ego.

wanna know why? because i was a rebound to his marriage. i was his convenient fuck, his booty call at 4 in the morning, his whore.

im not bitter about this realization, not at all. not hurt by it anymore. he never wanted to know anything about me or my boy. there was such a distance, and that was okay.

and here i was feeling so devastated by what i thought was pain when all it really is...is ego.

over.

and out.

slow

i listen to his angry voice mail alot today. four times as of now, but im sure ill replay it again a few more times before the night is through.

i play it to remind me of the sin ive committed, almost like an audible scarlet letter a. it shames me to the point of celibacy for a long while, knowing that he is the only one i fucking want.

the day passes by so slowly when i think of him. i laid in bed until about 2 p.m. unable to get up and about. the weight of the day before pinned me down on my gray bedsheets. and then, in the middle of the day as i thought of him, i got cold.

my eyes hurt from crying, tears just seem to flow easily whether im in bed, in my car, or taking a shower. i hurt so much because i hurt him.

at church, i prayed for forgiveness of my stupidity, knowing that i should be asking for his forgiveness. and then i become silent.

what can i say to him? if i apologized, it would only be to feel better about myself, and that would not even be enough. if i tried to explain, it would be pointless because he doesnt care why it happened, just that it did.

how do you apologize for and rationalize a behavior that betrayed a man and took his dignity?

the whole thing was about lust and vanity.

he asked me in his last email, of all the men you meet...you had to fuck him?

he has every right to be angry, but he can walk with his head held high. i will never know how hes doing, how his boy is doing, how his life is forming.

i sat in the pew at church, looking up at the beautiful altar, and a clear thought splashed in front of me: i will never talk to him again because he hates me.

falling from his grace is what is killing me right now. i miss him. i want to go to him, to cry my shame against his chest, to have him whisper in my ear.

i have to walk away. i have to take his name out of my phone in the event that i need to tell him how much i miss his lips on mine, how i want him to fuck me so hard, how i want it to be okay again.

because i almost did today. there was a little boy, around the age of his offspring, at old navy, and he was playing catch with his father. the little boy looked at me and smiled, and the smile looked like the one of his boys from a class picture hanging on his wall. it broke my heart.

and then just now, while i was at my project, a herb alpert song suddenly came on, and i felt myself take a breath as if id just been hit, and i wanted to tell him. i know i cant.

i sit here now ready to accept this punishment. he wrote to me, now both of you simmer in your thoughts as you rationalize your actions. that is what torments me - my thoughts.

im taking steps to leave this city. im selling some of my furniture, looking at different places for a position im qualified for. it wont be until next june that i take my son and go. i need a year to prepare a long goodbye.

ive needed to run away for awhile. i told him this, and he said to just do it. i asked him what does he suppose i do about my work, my school, and my sons school? i intentionally neglected to ask what was i suppose to do without him?

i loved his loft. being there made me feel urban and at home. it was perfectly set. ill miss being fucked on the cold, concrete floor of his bathroom.

i used to try to memorize details of his loft when i couldnt sleep in his bed. i loved the brick wall, the subtle gray paint, the exposed ducts. i loved the light next to his bed and the fishbowl that housed a tetra.

sanva told me once that we remember what is important.

i wonder what he did with the things i gave him? the watch and candles and the picture i took at the palace of fine arts i gave him for his birthday, the virgo calendar and the book about dads and the photo of the rocks at the getty i gave him for christmas, and other little things.

did he discard them the way he did me?

paying the piper

i was awakened last night at 2 in the morning with a text message. my heart jumped and stopped in midair. i was somewhere between sleep and wake, thinking of willal, and the tone of the message startled me.

i had hoped it was him, but it was elaro thanking me for picking her up and taking her home. when my heart landed, it was with a thud and a sadness and a realization that i will never talk to willal again.

i have been graced and cursed with an analytic mind. i can sit for hours doing nothing or multitasking, but my mind will always be running. lately, its project is willal.

when we first met, i didnt know if he was interested in me. he was a gentleman, respectful and sweet, and i was immediately aware at my nervousness.

the next week when he first kissed me, i felt a rush of a combination of emotions i had not felt in such a way, not even with the buddhist.

in retrospect, i spent most of this journey with him fighting myself, my emotions, and my thoughts. there was a moment early on that had it been the right timing for both of us, i would have allowed myself to feel for him.

instead, i created a distance, not because he wasnt worth it, but because i was scared. he scared me. i knew that he would be the one i would give myself up for.

but he didnt feel the same way. he told me in words and actions. to him, this was a convenient fuck, and while he showed me respect, i knew eventually that this was all it was going to be.

it hurt. i rolled this over and over in my mind, trying to come up with different ways for him to feel, but as bonnie raitt sang, i cant make you love me if you dont.

was it love i felt? yes. i loved him, still do. loved him from a distance with blanks about his life and his being that i filled in. in essence, i created him.

so, its over. im disoriented and confused. when something happens, i instinctively pick up my phone to text him, and then i remember: do not ever fucking contact me again, do you understand?

i know in my heart that he will be okay, that this doesnt affect him as much as it does me. hes a man, a strong man who walks with his head held high. i loved that so much. i loved that strength.

last night, when i picked up elaro, i almost took his exit. just a habit, you know, and my eyes filled with tears. i tried to keep it in, but when i got to elaro, she asked me what was wrong.

nothing. im fine. really.

its okay to cry, you know.

well, what good will it do? aint nothing gonna bring him back.

just let yourself feel.

and so i awoke today, letting myself feel. feel the emptiness, feel the shame, feel the burden of carrying this shit in my mind and my heart. i feel the coldness, the way my life was a year ago.

he said we had to learn a lesson from this. i taught him not to trust, to doubt, to have anger. he taught me the same.

ironically, i told him that i felt a change coming and that i had to brace myself. this was not what i hoped the change would be.

he will never forgive me, never talk to me again, never see me again.

this is the price.

closure

once, about 10 years ago, my bff from sac set me up with a guy from work. hes perfect for you, she said. hes funny, smart, and really cute. youll like him.

im not ready.

you dont have to marry him, just talk to him. i told him about you. he wants your number.

i dont know. im still in love with the boys father.

i know, but do you want to be with him?

no. itll never work out.

okay, then. just talk to my friend.

he called me that night, and we had an awesome three-hour conversation. i lived in la, he lived in the ritzy part of the bay area. he made me laugh, and i was taken.

we talked every day for two weeks. made plans, told secrets, laughed. he worked part-time for united airlines, so when he approached the subject of visiting, i was hesitant.

what do we have to lose? he asked.

nothing. right?

right. i have free tickets. ill come down, and next time, youll come up.

how long will you stay?

a few hours, for dinner, walk on the beach. then ill go home.

okay. im not ready for something more.

i know.

the day he came down, i was so nervous and knew that this could be the last day we talked. or worse, it could be the first day of a love affair.

i saw him walking towards me at the gate, and he was cute. when he hugged me, the date was over. i felt nothing. no connection. no chemistry.

we went to dinner, and then we went to the beach. he told me that he felt intimidated by me because i had a college degree and a career, whereas he was working at a shit job, not knowing where he wanted to go.

we sat on the sand, and we made out until it was time for me to take him to the airport. it was painful to end the date because i knew that we would not be talking again.

even though i knew it, i still missed him. the only way i knew to get over it was to go to la jolla and sit and stare out into the ocean. to listen to the waves and the seagulls and the laughter of those playing.

and so tonite, i went for a drive alone to the beach. i sat there and looked out at the dark, once in awhile seeing a light from a boat. i walked in the water, and i said good bye to willal.

it was therapeutic, but i know that its not going to be easy.

on my way home, i got a call from elaro. she was somewhere near usc at a party, and her ride was making out with a guy. she wanted to go home. she asked me to pick her up.

no one else can do it? im not at home.

no, ive called three people. please come. im dying.

okay, wait for me.

it was too close in proximity to willals loft, which is my only hesitation. when i arrived twenty minutes later, she was outside.

he lives around here, i said to her.

i remember you telling me. you okay?

no. but i have to be.

i know.

it just fucking hurts, you know? but ill get over it. i always do.

you will.

ill get over it, but i wont recover from him. he will always be here.

i touched my head and my chest.

breathe out

so i can breathe you in.




i love this song. dave grohl is fucking hot. its his voice that does it for me.

i feel shitty, restless, and i feel like running away from myself. i know this feeling, this anxiety, this need to escape. ive been feeling it from time to time.

its called having to deal with myself. and this is how i deal: i write, i read, i watch mindless tv, i play games, i do anything i can to distract my thoughts.

i fell asleep on the couch, and i woke up with a start, remembering willal and his voice on my last message. i fucking hate myself for this really.

i hate the stupid choice, hate that i didnt cut out as soon as the choice was made, hate that im in this state. im angry at myself, at willal, at the world right now.

i deleted the messages from him ive kept for the past year. its odd to not see the little white envelop telling me i have unread messages. deleting them pierced my heart.

i feel numb right now. everything feels deadened. nothing feels good, right. i guess it will be this way for awhile until i can figure out what to do.

but i dont have to, you know? he said never to contact him again. he probably thinks im a coward because i havent yet responded to anything hes given me.

what can i say? im sorry seems so trivial and base. it didnt mean anything, which it didnt, sounds so trite.

im going to go for a drive now. just need to get away, drive fast, clear my head.

the loss and the loser

it was a year ago around this time that my friend decided to end his friendship with me. the reason why is moot. on his birthday last year, i tried to make amends by wishing him a happy day and telling him that i owe him a drink.

his response? lets try to keep this professional.

he shut the door, and i was on my way to recovering from the slam. at work that summer, it felt odd to not see him every day, but i reminded myself that had i seen him then, he wouldnt talk to me anyway.

summer school progressed uneventfully, until one day when i saw him walking up the ramp to my door. he looked so good, the way people do when theyve had time to relax. he was also different in nature, more sexually suggestive and at ease around me.

our friendship resumed as if nothing ever happened, and we never talked about what transpired before his trip to the motherland.

and so it came to pass that on his birthday last thursday, i remembered to wish him a great day. he responded that next week, hed be free to get drinks. lets see if that happens.

*****
had lunch with roca. it was so difficult to move because of the heaviness and sadness around me right now, but i had to do it. i had to get out of bed, get out of the house, and try to be a bit social despite.

i told her all about willal, how he told me and i quote to never fucking contact me again, do you understand? in a voicemail he left last night. i had just checked it a few minutes ago, and his voice is so beautifully icy and angry.

it was hard to explain to her how it lead to this point, but i had to. and i felt physically ill. i wanted to vomit during lunch, wanted to pass out, wanted to sleep.

we had said good bye and was parting ways when i felt a tap on my shoulder. it was the gentleman, smiling so sweetly and comfortingly.

okay, this is getting creepy. are you stalking me? i asked.

no, i live here now, down the street.

thats wonderful. its good to see you...again.

you, too. hey, what are you doing now?

going home. have lunch for my boy.

are you okay?

yes.

you sure? you want to get coffee and talk or something?

no, i really have to go, but thank you.

come by later.

huh?

later. come by. we can hang out in the backyard. ill make coffee.

im sorry, im not good company, but soon.

ive heard that before.

im just really busy with school and work, you know? by the time i get home, i just want to sleep.

understood. okay, then.

im sorry. really.

come by then.

its not a good time.

boyfriend?

huh?

you have a boyfriend?

im not 12. i dont have a boyfriend.

well, excuse me. lover? husband?

no. no. listen, ive got to run. lets talk soon.

lets.

i ran to my car, and i started crying. fuck me.

willal is my loss, and im the loser.

discussions and realizations

tuesday night, dines and i were once again our superimpulsive selves, and we took a drive that lasted about seven hours.

i got a text messaged from a friend from my monday night class. she asked who it was, and when i told her, she got a look of hope in her eyes.

is he a potential? she asked.

no.

why not?

well, first, hes 29. hes got a kid. and hes someone i go to school with. besides, hes not interested in me.

what does he do?

hes a counselor at one of the other high schools.

that sounds promising. how do you know hes not interested?

okay, let me rephrase it. im not interested.

its because of him, isnt it? because of willal.

what makes you say?

because youve been with him longer than anyone since ending it with the exbf. youve pushed away others, you know?

i have?

yes. youre so focused on him. what is it about him?

i watched the dark road, lit only by her headlights and the ones from the oncoming cars. how could i explain when i dont even understand it myself?

is it his silence that says so much more than what any conversation could say?

is it the look in his eyes that betray what is going on his mind?

is it the touch of his hand on any part of me that makes me understand myself, if only a little bit?

is it the strength he possessses, a strength that i trust and respect, and because of it, i told him i was his whore?

is it the way he takes care of his son, the little boy with the fiery spirit, and the patience the father displays for his son?

i dont know. but ive been acquitted from having to find out.

every time i walked into his loft, it was like entering a part of his world. and i felt so welcomed, so safe, so peaceful. he saved me, this i know, stopped me in my tracks and saved me from what i was becoming. and i will so forever be eternally grateful.

he is an amazing man. the only regret i have is not treating him that way.

a new day

it was a restless night, full of nothing but irrationalities and turning and twisting, but mainly trying to push away what i know i will never be able to do. at least not yet.

i heard his voice in my dream last night. the voice that i came to need in my life as a constant.

come here, he said.

no, just fucking get away from me. let me rot in this shit i created.

he pulled me back to him, by the wrist. his grip was strong and comforting, and i knew i could relax again. he held me, and the familiarity of his skin and his scent - like in waking moments - allowed me what ive needed: safety.

i remember once in early january, waking up next to him on a saturday, feeling so frightened about my mom and her undiagnosed illness and the steps necessary to take to make her well again. he held me and let me cry, and i knew it was then that i fell in love with him.

but hes gone now. his last words to me: fuck you.

and i dont know if i deserve it, but i will take it because he would never say that to me unless he meant it. my fall from his grace will never be softened, no matter what kind of landing.

so, i walk away, never looking back, like i always do. i walk away slowly, and i fight myself to not have conversations with him in my head, to not need him so bloody much, to not find out how he is.

there are so many things i would have said and done differently, from the beginning to the end.

its a lesson, he said, to be learned.

i couldnt agree more.

hearing and touching

its his voice that attracts me to him initially. the first night we talked for five hours, almost a year ago, i fell in love with the deep sexiness of it.

and his hands. what can i say?

but this is too hard to maintain. too hard to manage. too hard to figure out.

so, i give up. give up the illusion that this was only a fuck. give up the man who has made me feel again. give up the awesome sex.

because at the end of the day, there is nothing left but me and my thoughts.

this morning

he has been coming to my office every day now to talk about students, never to say anything more than he needs to, and then he leaves.

his smile, his voice, his dimples all work in unison to create a charm that works on almost all the females at work, almost all except for a certain jaded few.

i asked him what he did for the fourth, and he said, i slept.

really? did you perform any activity that may warrant rest?

nah. im just not into fireworks.

oh, god, me neither.

what did you do?

nothing. just lounged around, had lunch with my son, then had an early night.

me, too.

you didnt spend the day with your son?

no, he was with his...i didnt spend the day with him.

oh. so, you just slept, huh?

yup.

boring.

you slept, too.

i know. im boring.

see.

i never do anything really.

me neither.

well, then...

well, if you want to do nothing together...

yeah, ill let you know.

and he smiled and walked away.

moments later, the stalker came over. hes become less of an annoyance and more of a little kid. he took a pad of paper and proceeded to fill each page with funny little sayings.

then he asked for my phone number. "a" for effort, i say. of course i didnt give him my digits. that would have been really careless on my part.

i need to get a life.

the gentleman

i bumped into a lover from long ago. literally bumpted into him. i was walking to my car, responding to a text message from willal, when i almost ran into this guy.

we had a meaningful, overnight relationship sometime in the early part of last year, early june after november ended our friendship.

i dont remember his name, and his quick entry and exit from my life did not warrant any sort of explanation or written tattoo in my journal or blog. he was then and is now still so very good looking.

on the first and only night of our merging, we were talking about previous relationships, long-term or otherwise, and he said to me, i wonder if im your type.

i laughed at this because of two things: first, i didnt know if i had a particular type, and second, he looked rather serious.

he took me by the chin, and stared deep into my eyes, and repeated, i wonder if im your type.

my type of what, exactly?

your type of lover, of friend, of fuck.

i wonder, too.

you dont reveal too much of yourself, and your identity is hidden behind your hardened eyes.

what if there isnt too much to discover?

ha. what if there isnt too much to discover? about you? youre a mystery.

i am?

yes. you are.

what do you want to know? my favorite color? how i take my coffee? which hand i write with?

no. i can figure that out in a second. but i want to know more.

those will be revealed in time.

and that, my sweet girl, is something you wont give me.

it broke my heart and dampened my mood , that last statement. he was a nice person, sweet and smart, but the timing was off.

later on in the night, after he kissed me hard and desperately, he took my shirt off. he kissed my shoulders, an erogenous zone for me, while he found my breasts.

he was ten inches taller than i am, and he thought id be more comfortable at kissing him were i on the bed and he on top of me.

he was good in bed, so delicious and seductive, making me feel liberated and wanted at a time i needed to feel something, anything.

he fucked me twice that night, the last time more sensual and slow than the first. he cleaned me up after he came on my inner thighs. he cleaned me as if i were a delicate piece of art, and i found this to be so appealing. i hunger for it in all of my lovers.

i almost fell asleep in his bed, but i gathered strength to find my shirt and skirt and sandals. i went to the bathroom to fix what i could to look presentable, and i went back to find him sitting up in his bed.

come here, he said.

i have to go.

i know, but why?

i cant stay.

its late. stay. ill sleep on the couch.

no, it isnt that. i just cant stay.

what do you want?

i want to go home now, to sleep on my own bed.

okay. let me walk you to your car.

no, its okay.

are you kidding me? you think im going to let you walk out?

im not walking out, im just going home.

right.

what do you want?

what you cant give me right now.

money?

more than that.

oh, good. i dont have money. listen, i had such a great time. you are such a gentleman. rare these days.

you wont find much like me.

i know.

is that what you want?

what?

me?

soon.

i left with a promise to call when i got home.

i never did.

giving in to temptation

i can still smell him on my skin, near my right shoulder, five hours after ive left him. the scent is no longer familiar, as it had been before when we spent more time together, yet when it hits me, i want him all over again.

the fireworks have started outside. im going to wash him off of me now and try to prepare myself for tomorrow. i have a major parent conference in the morning, and i have to be emotionally and mentally steeled to deal with the next two days.

happy fourth of july!!!

let freedom ring

august 2004

the week before he left to go back to his hometown in upstate new york was meloncholy and bittersweet. we had tried to make the best of it for five years, his effort more than mine, and it was time to throw in the towel.

the fighting ended soon after i asked him to leave, so the month of august was peaceful, the first time in almost eight months where there was calm in the house.

we took the boy to knotts berry farm, and the day was full of fun and love. we rode the rides, strolled the park hand in hand, laughing and kissing, pointing out things we hadnt seen in all the times we had been there. we had dinner, where we explained to the boy that the father figure hes had for five years was leaving.

the boy was silent, perhaps shocked at the news or relieved. we leave the conversation alone when the food got to our table.

the next day, i woke up next to him, in his arms, knowing that time was counting down. he stirred, pulled me closer, and his cock was hard against my leg. sleepily, i touched it, and he gyrated in my hand. he moved over me, while i spread my legs. still feeling the fatigue from the day before, i couldnt wake myself up fully, not until he entered me slowly and deeply.

he fucked me so sweetly, kissing and tugging. i loved him so much then, his unshaved face contrasting my smooth one.

the night he left was traumatic, made even more so by a fight at our last supper. while he collected what he could take in his luggages, i went for a drive. i parked my car and cried at my loss and at my freedom.

*****
i hate fourth of july. i love america, and i want to celebrate her beauty and her birth, but i hate the whole bbqs and picnics. most of all the fireworks.

i hate this day, especially as the sun sets and the sky prepares to take in the displays of color and sound, because the boys father and the exbf both made it an over-the-top kind of day.

these memories cripple me still, even though they are from the past, so until i can properly celebrate with someone i truly love, id rather spend this day with my boy, celebrating our relationship.

happenings

i could hardly contain my shock at the audacity that ellar has. she showed some mighty shameful behavior at the graduation ceremony. however, this time, it wasnt directed towards me.

and jaken? work was so carefree and relaxed on friday when she took the day off. ellar was in the office minding everyone elses business, telling people what to do, and acting that she was right. oh, the look in her face when she is corrected! priceless.

im going to post about my stalker and his embarassing display of affection that is so misguided and unwanted. two words: jackass.

this past week brought two friends from the past back into my life. the first is my wonderful bff from sac state who was so gracious enough to have me as her maid of honor in her wedding. i love this girl, and we always said that we can talk about anything and everything and pick up from where we left off no matter how much time has passed.

shes married, with three of the most gorgeous adopted kids ever. the unfortunate thing about her picture-perfect life is that she and her husband are unable to conceive. ive always believed that their children would be the luckiest kids in the world. both my bff and bffh (bffs husband) can give them financial, emotional, and mental security, and theyre such fun people.

we lost touch for about seven years because of the usual: work, lack of time, basically life, just got in the way. she didnt know i had ended the relationship with the exbf because of his age (or, perhaps, mine), his alcoholism (or my lack of tolerance for it), his lack of direction (or my fear and envy that he didnt have to decide what to do at this moment in his life), etc. he was a lovely, handsome boy, but he wasnt for me. and vice versa.

the other friend from the past is dines. it had been almost two months since we last talked. just a misunderstanding that escalated to hurt feelings and ended in a separation. i spent time with her last night, getting home at 4 this a.m. i love her, will always love her, and i dont think i can let her friendship go.

we watched notes on a scandal last night. i realized i have my own barbara. not that i think ellar is in love with me. shes the most hypocritical christian out of thousands in her little santa clarita neighborhood, but she does want me to need her. is she fucking crazy? me? need her? i will never need an old bitter, fat, white trash loser. just as an aside, it hurts me to say these words about her, but i must allow the words their freedom.

so, tomorrow, i go to work with my head held high, do my work for my students, and just look at her as if she doesnt exist. however, i know the look will show disgust and disdain. i cant seem to hide my feelings because my eyes convey too much.

i realized last night, talking with dines, that i am so unready and unwilling to have a relationship right now. dont get me wrong. i wish i were able to meet someone who is stronger than me, with whom i can rest, who has his shit together, who i know will never hurt me in the rawest of ways, who will love my boy and my dogs and me more than himself, who will allow me my freedom and independence because he knows my intrinsic need for them and because he is so secure of himself that he is secure of me, whose creative spirit will go perfectly with mine, who will be the kindest and gentlest of souls, who will belong to me and i to him. i want him to exist, i want him to be ready for me when i am ready for him. i want him to be mine forever.

but dines pointed out that im so busy that i dont really have time to meet anyone. shes also afraid i use that as an excuse to not meet anyone. i dont know. i think i need to work on myself first, fix my life first, enjoy my career first.

its sad, but i never put anyone ahead of my son or my career. i have no choice but to provide for him, to make sure that he lives a comfortable life, not just a life filled with material objects that provide him comfort. i want to travel with him, to show him charity, to introduce him to the world that is so lovely yet can be dangerous. i want that.

im going to milk this position for as much as i can. i love my school still, despite my own barbara (ellar), my bipolar boss (jaken), and my stalker. i love my students, despite the crazy ass little druggies. i love my life, despite my challenges and crosses i have to bear.

and soon, i want to share my life, my rich life, my crazy life, my beautiful life with a man.