Monday, May 27, 2013

And the days are passing by.

May 16, 2013. 11:34pm.

I had a dream last night, the kind of dream you make a conscious decision to wake up from into the night and the plot, the feelings, the thoughts stick with you no matter how much you want to shake them off.

In that dream, we were in love. Whether it was once again or still, I couldn't tell. The only thing that mattered was that I felt needed, cherished, appreciated for being myself. He held me and told me he would never let me go, he kissed my hair, my fingers, my lips, he whispered he loved me.

Everything changed in a blink of an eye.
Suddenly, I was alone. Hurt and confused. Shivering in the darkness.

In the dream, he left me--
He left me yet again.

May 17, 2013. 11:04pm.

I still remember how loudly I laughed
When you told me keeping quiet was a skill.
We haven't talked in four months;
Four months and eleven days, to be precise.
I'd lie if I said I never think of you
And you'd be surprised how much I've changed.
One day (after you told me to live my life)
I understood. These days I tell people
I'm good at keeping quiet.
If they laugh, I let them be.
Everyone needs to find out on their own
What it really means.


May 17, 2013. 11:14pm.

Does it even count as leaving
If someone you love stops talking to you?
After I awoke from that dream
I thought to myself
"Well, so now he's left me twice."
Maybe it was the closure I never got.
And maybe my love for him still lives.


May 26/27, 2013. 12:01am.

Like the whiskey tingling on my tongue
The feel of you was still there when
I touched my cheeks. I've rubbed them
With soap and cloth and water
And the smell of you still lingers.
I've been trying to forget all about
Your wandering fingertips; as I close
My eyes and pray for sleep,
The saltiness of my tears creates
Crooked paths down my face.
I can't help but lick my lips.
Even those still taste like you.


May 27, 2013. 9:32am.

These days I wish I could just walk around with a sign around my neck that reads 

"I'm being nice to you because I can't be nice to myself."

Haven't been feeling very inspired 
Or useful
Or valuable
Or cheerful

I guess that's why I keep smiling and telling others everything is going to be alright and that it's important to keep fighting.

I can't take my own advice (I never could.)

Things have changed. Every morning I wake up with tears in my eyes and never remember the dreams. I've tried; the more I try to corner them, the more successfully they fade into the new day.


Sunday, May 12, 2013

May 11, 2013. 11:01pm.


I've been writing poetry and drinking whiskey like water.

An old lover returned to me last week and we've been inseparable ever since. She comes every night and wants to stay near so all we do is lay in bed, count the heartbeats, streetcars, songs of the drunks and syllables in my verses. We've always been in a love-hate relationship; regardless of our complicated history, I always greet her with my eyes and arms wide open. Someone told me once she was a bitch but I couldn't care less. (Chances are she slept with most of you as well.) We're as intimate as we've always been.



The only thing I wish for these days is that I find a way to live my life in happiness. Cliché, I know.

11:11. Here I go again.


I've been feeling so lonely lately that I often find myself standing by the windows, observing people down on the street, imagining what kind of lives they lead and what makes them who they are.


As always, I pushed everyone who cared away, forgetting again that trying to surround myself with new people is exhausting. Honestly, right now I don't really have the necessary energy so I'm lonely on my own. I'm beginning to realize it's tragic when you only trust yourself and it makes me a little less hopeful for the future as I need other people to trust me, which is, as a matter of fact, difficult if I can't make it work both ways.


twelve streetcars
one national anthem
three folk songs
seven airplanes in the sky
and countless vicious circles I can't seem to be able to get myself out of.

And the night has just begun.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Emotional intelligence (n.) the ability to identify, assess, and control the emotions of oneself, of others, and of groups.

The test results were in. A nice lady in a hideous colorful sweater told me to stay seated in the chair from which my feet couldn't reach the ground and left the office to call my parents who were sitting in the waiting room.
She called me exceptionally emotionally mature for my age, with the scores falling far above the average range of other four-year-olds. She even pulled out some graphs and charts from the depths of her ancient collection of proof of exceptional emotional maturity and let my parents bathe in the warmth of promises that in her life, their daughter was undoubtedly going to reach unheard-of greatness.


I was 5. My brother was almost 11 then.
My aunt had come to visit and brought us chocolate bars. My brother ate his the same day he received it. I saved mine and pulled it out from somewhere several days after our aunt left.

"Would you like a bite?" I asked.
"Why'd you ask that?"
"Because I'd feel bad if I didn't."
"I wouldn't want that."
"Wouldn't want what?"
"Have that kind of feeling.


I was seven. My mom asked me what kind of a Christmas gift would make me happy. I said I didn't really want anything other than for all kids in the world to have homes, families and enough food. I got the Christmas usuals and a Barbie doll.

I was twenty-two and on my way home from the supermarket. There was a shaggy-looking homeless man on the corner of the street and I thought he must have been hungry.

"Would you like a loaf of bread?" I asked him.
"Keep the bread and give me money instead."

I couldn't believe it. Completely and utterly shocked, that sentence left me speechless. My body decided to follow my legs and as I turned to continue on my way, I heard:

"You're just a pretty girl who knows nothing about life."


I'm not a kid anymore. In some aspects, I really haven't changed much: even today, my greatest wish is for everyone in the world to live in happiness. However, the difference between now and then is that these days instead of Barbies I get people's amused looks. And no, I haven't learned. I still know nothing about life.

I guess I've just gotten used to the fact the joke's always on me.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

On the edge.


It's hard to feel beautiful
when someone keeps pointing out your flaws.
It's hard to feel accepted
when someone says that all you do is wrong. 
It's hard to feel worthy
 when you're never good enough.
It's hard to feel happy
when someone constantly puts you down.
It's hard not to feel misunderstood
when no one ever tries to see through the walls.
It's hard not to feel useless
when with one word all your efforts go to waste.
It's hard to enjoy life
when you're slowly dying inside.


It's been a difficult week.
Hurtful things were said.
Multiple lines were crossed.
I tried. But I have my limits, too.
(Haven't spoken to my father in two days.)
Desperately looking for a job so I can move out and live my life.
Maybe I'm just being the drama queen they used to call me when I was younger.
The truth is that I can't take this any more.


The good thing is I found the tears I had officially declared lost a while ago.
I discovered that I can still feel. Sadness, misery, failure, disappointment.
I'm telling myself all of this is better than nothing. But.. is it really?


Friday, April 26, 2013

People run from rain but sit in bathtubs full of water.


Sometimes I feel like our lives are parallel to the existence of the closing credits. You know, like when the movie's over, some of the bigger lights guiding the way along the stairs come back on, and most people stand up because, well, it's time to go home-- and the movie theater gradually falls silent, and you just sit there, looking at the list of people who shaped what you just watched into a coherent whole and look around yourself, just to spot a few people in the room who, like you, stuck around until the very end, and the sense of togetherness, the feeling of familiarity just becomes blatantly obvious.

The flow of people in and out of my life has always been a reassuring constant to me; I've been hurt numerous times throughout the years and learned to leave before I was left, yet the people who mattered always managed to find a way to keep up and stick by my side. I am not terribly good at relationships; in fact, I'm terrified that other people feel like I'm not good or fun or worthy enough to be wasting time with. I like to run and push people away out of pure persuasion I'll eventually hurt them much less if I'm out of reach. And maybe it's a subconscious test to see who will care enough to call. I've hurt myself countless times with the realization I'm not as unforgettable as I would like be; they say that sometimes it's the people you haven't heard from in a while who'd like to talk to you the most (just don't know how. I certainly don't know how.). Some days it just hits me how many bridges I've burnt and how many people I've hurt along the way. But then-- life goes on, it certainly does not stop for anyone, and we keep walking, jogging, running, making turns and U-turns, building and burning bridges. The thing is-- no matter how alone we feel, there will always be people who will catch up, swim side-by-side with the ruins of our burning bridges, people who will want to stay and watch the end credits with us. And even those who walk out of the movie theater to go home right after the closing scene-- we might see them again sometime, maybe even in the same place, as it is possible, after all, that we share a similar taste in movies.


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As for my no-binging/ hearting challenge..


I'm learning to say no to my emotional hunger.
I'm also learning not to sabotage my achievements in the process.
That's a good thing, right?

Love always,


P.S.Peri, love, I have a bad feeling about a comment or two I made on your posts. Check your spam comments tab, maybe?