You and I

All of me,
you took.
All of you,
I seek.
One of us,
undone and in, knee-deep.

You stared me to submission,
won the gaze fight.
I fell into oblivion,
and now we must part.

I rushed into pushing you,
but I could see you were ready.
I came and I left you,
because the flame was no longer steady.

We had fun with our illusions,
experimented with our inhibitions,
fought the delusions,
and negotiated emotional definitions.

So, dear friend and lover,
one thing is clearer than ever;
you and I were special,
together!

An American Storm

A hurricane, a hurricane is awash inside of me. Three weeks in and I am already shoulder deep. Pretty soon, I will be over my head, gasping for air as this passion drowns me. I wonder what makes me such a fool to always fall in these deep waters of passionate moments that seem to consume my entire being since moment one. I can still envision the first time I saw you, the moment where you crashed into Marco and I thought -
"Who is this dick that can't see where he is going?". But you see, even in that moment, as I saw you crash and then awkwardly back off with your hands up, as if surrendering and apologizing with your gestures, I felt an electron escaping and from that moment forth, throw me into a volatile state of chemical reactions in my brain and heart and body.

And so our story started...with a volleyball game, followed by my invitation to go grab beers for all those in our team; solidified by our 48hrs-without-sleeping challenge, or our all-night-long-talking-by-the-disco while others from our group danced. Finalized by the most romantic kiss of my life at the end of that exhausting war of wills where you and I spent every moment together for more than 48hrs straight. All those sunrises, all those drunken nights, the semi-lucid memories, the friends made, the sun had, the beach swam, the laughs shared, the kisses engulfed, the eyes gazed. All of this, comes and swirls around in my brain like a tornado, distorts my view of reason, unhinges my emotional anchor.

Yes, dear sir, you have unhinged me from my axis. I am now a free electron of love, floating in your electromagnetic field, trying to find a place to fit in. I want to enter your gravitational pull so badly, find me a spot and hold on tight. But you, you are a strong asteroid set on your own course, without much care for my pull...And here I am, left again aching for more synchronicity, reciprocity, or closer velocity of free falling into each this puddle we might call love. Come on, let me in! Why must I fight for it? Why this game? Why a game at all? Why the multiple curtains? Why the hot-and-cold? Can't you just let go and let me in? Let me in! Who else can be let in if not those that are truly curious to enter? Break me in, I swear I shall not break you. Pull me in, I swear I shall not push you. Hold me in, I swear I shall hold you. For this is how I feel...for it is this that you will never know.

My words

I know; words, words will be my salvation. I know it because nothing else makes sense when I am down, words are my bloodletting, my venom spitting, my exorcism. Words are what I use to make sense of me and the web that surrounds my existence. Words are what I want to master, what I use to modify my view of life, what I find when I am left with nothing. Words are my companion, my weapon, my machine, my voice. Words, that escape daily. Words, that suffocate softly on lips and murmurs. Words, that scream silently in crowds. Words, are my reality and my dream. You come to me now, you unchain me from these shackles, disperse the darkness of my doubts, harness my inner voice.

Where does one start to change one's life? Does it start at the moment where they are lowest? Like let's say, high and drunk, where I am right now. Does one start there? The Albanian readers most likely will judge me but who gives a shit? I realize it doesn't matter much but at the same time, it does. Why so? Why can't it be simple enough to make my behaviour do what my brain accepts? What is this subordination of the heart and body? Why is this Albanian thing so strong? What is this Albanian illusion of being accepted and a good girl such a strong, strange, weird concept that keeps on taking over at certain situations? I wonder, how does a girl of Albanian origin explain that?! Men are different...from where I come from. For them, it's a different reality, a perception that is entirely favourable to them so Albania for most of them is paradise while for most women, a dreadful black hole. I realize that I might be too harsh but quite honestly, I am too susceptible to people's perceptions of me. It seems superficial but it seems almost dictatorial that I behave in a respectable manner, albeit not conventionally so. I like to make a fool of myself, but always to the degree where I seem like a harmless, good girl...that is imperative to me. Why??!! I wish I just could let go sometimes, misbehave like the rest of them...but it seems almost impossible an act for me. I wonder if I am addicted to my mask...

The 2am ritual

You trot home drunk and high, feeling somewhat at unease at the night's events. You come home and you find sleeping your gf on the bed with whom you share one because you see, you share a bachelor apartment with your best friend. She smokes and so you smoke, you help out each other but you still share a bed so why not just let her sleep and steal your laptop to the balcony? Ah yes, a much better idea! This way you get to fill up your pipe and get more high, pop open your bottle of Polish beer Zywiec so you can properly end this night. You put on some 8tracks playlist that you have been in love with and your night is golden. You listen to that shit, you take two puffs out of your pipe, a swig off your beer, and your life is complete. You wonder how people in relationships can do it but then again, you just came out of a party where couples reined and it makes you wonder....what the fuck are you doing with your life?! Not from a boyfriend's point of view because that's pointless right now but career wise, you just feel like you just came drenched with "what-ifs" and "how-is-it-possible-that-you-don't-have-a-job" statements that just cut deep into your subconscious and reverberate your fears and insecurities even more. You wonder; how so, friend? I wonder that, too! And so, you come here, at a balcony, sharing a bachelor with your best friend because that's all you can afford and it doesn't matter that you are conceding because it's the most expensive area, so you say...this is good enough, for now. For life, is all about now...And tomorrow, is about tomorrow. You are happy with the trees around you, the Casa Loma view, the park avenue, and the potential of a better tomorrow. You say to yourself, I am ok with this, for now. For I know, that tomorrow, I shall have a different now, one composing of pieces of my dreams, perhaps. And so, you continue, in this daily torrent of life, treading frantically at an abstract illusion of what you think you want...

"The Suggestive 5am Frame of Mind"

As my fellow-flirter/old-university friend and I exchange messages back and forth, the analysis of his use of "Hmms" in text messages provokes the creation and debate of the concept of "the suggestive 5am frame of mind". Dirty thoughts coupled with long-harbored feelings of sexual attraction seem to form clearer shapes and come out to play playfully and erotically suggestively. But what is my suggestive 5am frame of mind? It is a mix of hide and seek, a ping pong of witty remarks thrown here and there to provoke a reaction; albeit sexual or flirty in nature. We throw around comebacks like professional tennis players, each adamant on winning; as if the game of wits was the ultimate Wimbledon. But what is his suggestive 5am frame of mind? That remains to be seen...or discovered and further analyzed at a future match of suggestive exchanges.

Sunburn

Oh but where do I begin...it has been awhile since our last time, inexistent readers! It's been months, memories, drunken nights, mistakes, laughs since our last meet but here we are, yet again in a hurt mood. I guess the writer in me only comes out when the pain slashes deep, as if the darkness of this unknown blog somehow provides comfort and venue of talking the numbness away...in the form of typed words.

My mother had her shoulder surgery today...and I, instead of working at NCC, I decided to cancel with the pretext of my mother's surgery and spend the day with Y instead because the pleasure was more tempting than the duty of either my professional commitments or my family ones. And then 5pm rolled by and I checked my email, only to find that the position I applied for and interviewed for (twice) and thought that had in the bag (partied two nights in a row thinking I got it) was going to this other girl only because she had been there longer. At least, that's what am telling myself right now. And then I had to run and be with my mother who had just come out of surgery, a task that I guiltily had postponed till so late which I now had to fulfill (without the initial gifts in tow like the flowers, or the fruits, or the food, etc failed promises in head). So I went for the second time ever to my mother's room where she has been living for the past few months and I felt so sad, so encapsulated by the sadness of having ignored my own mother for so long while being busy paying attention to anybody who might offer good times. I felt horrible and disgusted with myself...felt a complete fake! Here I was, preaching kindness to all my friends while ignoring the most important part in a person's life, their mother. So, to make myself feel better, I decided to massage her feet with cream since they are always hurting and she always feel better after I massage them. And as I was massaging my mother's feet and my tears were rolling and making a small pond on my tights, I hear my mother all of a sudden say how only her psychiatrist and the 70+ Italian granpa are the only people that have supported her and taken good care of her lately.

It was a sentence that hit me, slapped me, spit at me the reality that I had ignored to see. I realized how much I had not been there for her, how bad of a daughter I had been...and how selfish of me to just focus on evading my problems while ignoring hers. And so at that moment, I promised to myself (as I had done countless times before) that I would change and start being there for her, that it would do us both good. So I left somehow better, but still very sad. I arrived home, saw the mess in my house, went upstairs and viewed the same in my room...and sparked my tiny roach. I listened to music and had a cigarette, and I cried briefly at intervals over my failures and my mistakes, all the meanwhile already formulating another action plan that most likely will soon be forgotten.

What I am trying to say, inexistent readers, after all this long ass story is that it is difficult to avoid problems without encountering others and without fucking yourself over even more. I realized that tonight, as I have countless times before, I must change and for the first time keep to my plans, not just write, dream or talk about them. But I suppose that this time around, we will have to see whether this is the last "countless times before".
I hope I can get over my crippling procrastination habits, my ADD, my addiction to people and my love of pursuing numbness methods. I must be brave enough to allow days of utter pain...for only then will I rise above it. My phoenix moment, perhaps can only be achieved through total isolation from others and immersion into my hobbies and work. Will I be self disciplined enough to achieve it? God knows. Will I try? Well...that...only time knows!