Am I out in this place Alone?

First of all, I must state that I am a “late bloomer” for many things in life. I started doing the things that normally others would do at a certain age, much more late. With that being said, I shall start with this: Masturbation is the best birth control. It truly is.

But the issue goes a lot deeper than so. So lets go back to when I was a wee-lad.

From a very young age I was very sexual. I was always getting caught doing things that were sexual in nature. From what I can remember I was always curious about sexuality and it seemed fine to me. Sexuality seemed good and natural until I was told it was incorrect. My parents and a great amount of people that were present around my developing (let us say 5 years old), started to make me feel unnatural. I suppose that this behavior that I used to manifest was perhaps too much to handle for my family so they brought it upon themselves to suppress this in me. I remember being caught all the time looking at women in magazines or in the Television and touching myself. Because well, fuck, it feels good. Then I started to try to imitate the behavior with women around me. I suppose this is where things became out of hand. I guess I started doing “things” with the kids around the block and in school. I clearly remember the time when I was in kindergarten and I had a group of kids around me because I was playing with myself. I was really turned on by the fact that it was “ok” and acceptable in this area. I did not feel “weird” or unnatural. But that all changed as I started getting older and I started seeing more and more. I grew more obsessed with sexuality and then I had a sexual experience with someone of the same sex who I think tried to take advantage of me. As I recall I feel embarrassed and completely “grossed out”. This is what ultimately made me feel “dirty” and cold and unwanted.

Of course I started to suffer from all these things.

To feel shy around girls because seeing women and being sexually aroused was “bad” and “wrong”.

To feel like sexuality was something immoral and unnatural.

To feel nothing was what was expected of me.

Happiness was defined for me and I was to obey.

I was to follow these laws that were “human”.

It fucked me over. It completely made me feel horrible. I couldnt tell girls I liked them because, well it was wrong. I couldnt feel these things because it was wrong. It was wrong to feel. It was wrong. I was wrong and I needed to be set “right”.

I never ever touched a girl. I was told to respect girls. 

Nonetheless I still managed to “feel” when girls would like me. But as my upbringing would dictate I was to suppress and kill these feelings. So, every time I would have girls interested in me I would tell them to fuck off even though I did like them. I would feel powerful and “bad” in a good sense that I could have girls want me and I would dispose of them like nothing. And I felt nothing. I felt no remorse in doing so until I started to feel this feeling of loneliness. I realized at that time about death. I realized that we are merely mortals and we grow old and die. 

Suddenly, life changed for me.

If it had not been enough, to add to my personality, I was brought into a country were I knew nothing and nobody. It was even worse.

I became much more lonesome. I became a much more “cold” person. I continued to suppress myself. I continued to experience my sexuality under very closed doors and still I was caught and reprimanded. The shame. The feelings of being “unnatural” and “wrong”. There were so many girls I liked but I was to not “feel” anything.

As time progressed and I grew older I naturally strayed away from even thinking about “suppressing” myself; it now became natural and normal. I still rejected girls. I still felt “weird”. I still felt “dirty”. And I still experienced my sexuality but in secret, by myself. 

I had many issues, problems, that were manifested physically because of this “holding back”. I simply suppressed and felt nothing. I felt nothing. I remember those days and it feels as if I did not live, really. I did not exist. I was not me. This continued until almost the end of High School. What were the awkward years for many, to me it was simply living, or being; a “thing”. Like a drone or a zombie. Thoughtless. Numb. Complete nothingness.

Because I didnt “feel” or experience, dare to experience life as it is normal to many kids of my age, I concentrated in school because that was all there was for me. I excelled in school. I am smart. Educated. Intelligent. But I cannot say that it makes me feel “human”. It makes me feel as if I were simply re-learning something I already knew before. I simply do it and feel nothing. Perhaps it is why the “set” subjects such as Math, Sciences, and History were so easy to me. These subjects were all done and complete, there was simply nothing more than learning what has already been discovered and “storing” as information, or truth. I however, felt a curiosity towards the subjects of creativity.

I remember I always was told I was very creative. I have alway been considered imaginative and creative, but that was part of the me and my sexuality. My imagination was part of the “bad”. So I never expressed it. To “feel” to express emotion, to be happy, to be sad; to be human was weakness and bad in my world.

I did not want to feel empty and completely out there, alone, so I lived how I was told to. For so many years. So many years.

I started to get worse. I reached a stage where I found myself doing things that were completely immoral and inhumane. Borderline, jail-time. I was really close to becoming a true monster. The type that does evil. But I started to “feel” wrong about this. I knew this was wrong, truly wrong and repulsive. So I stopped and never did anything.

I hit the other side of spectrum. 

School was tough. Elementary, Middle, High School. They were complete fucking mistakes that I wish I could remember being “me”. I wish I would have been me, not afraid of being. Not afraid of girls. Not afraid of feeling.

Years of enslavement created a coldness like no other. Years created no remorse. Years of this created a monster that I still managed to suppress too. 

There is just so much to me that I am barely beginning to discover.

I started to “let go” of that which constantly held me back from feeling. I found philosophy and people with true contact with soul and God. For a long time this was my savior. This is what made me “feel”. The endless thoughts thawed the ice that forever kept me cold from the world. For the first time I felt “One” with the world. For the first time I felt human. I did not feel alone at all. I felt like it was ok to feel and express myself. It did not begin well at all. Years of silence, years of keeping “me” locked away was profoundly sad. The me that tried to be was a very strange animal who could barely be. It was so painful to be. To speak. To move. It was painful but good to be. I started to write what I felt. I started to do these things many had done at a younger age; to be a kid. I had fun. I had friends, friends that up to this day I still keep in contact with. Friends that somehow understood what the fuck I was trying to communicate with them. The ideas flowed, not easily by speech or emotion but through a process of somewhat empathy and feeling; perhaps the soul. Between the stutters and awkward movements of raw emotion and feeling I somehow managed to make some sense. 

I was a sight to see perhaps.

I am a sight to see when I really get excited about something.

Its an avalanche of everything that was locked up for years.

I started to express myself a bit easier. Still, writing was and is the best way for me to communicate because I have the time and patience to sort these thoughts out. I wish I could speak the same way I think when I write but it is impossible, the thoughts are a thousand times faster than my tongue and too random for me to know how they are somehow connected. I have found that a few amount of people can connect what I try to express to them and I thank them because it makes it easy on me.

I found “feeling” in people.

People are what makes this existence; their ideas, feelings, fears, happiness. Our everything is what composes our existence. 

Because I remained silent for years, because I lived like so; all I could do was simply observe. From observing, from feeling out of the equation, “out of the scene” I was able to develop this gift of understanding people. I could feel what they felt, in a way. I was always a cold person, but the people around me; their existence; their pain, their joys and everything kept me alive in a sense. I became very good at observing and using my imagination and knowledge to understand people. I knew what hurt; I began to understand what made us “feel”. The very core of “feeling” I could touch that if I wanted to.

I was mean. But I was also good. I felt powerful in knowing what made others feel. And it was wrong in toying with this. Later I asked for forgiveness for all of those I had hurt in the past. I asked for forgiveness for invading the vulnerability of people.

I grew. 

And then came the first time I felt close to another human being. It was amazing. Little can I say anymore. Little can I say. But I also learned from this also. So I continued.

In short, I find myself today feeling hopelessly alone in the world because it seems as though everyone wants to not feel. Nobody wants to feel vulnerable. I find myself around people who are mindless. I find myself in a world where nobody can understand me, or even care.

The world is a cold place and we make it colder.

In efforts for me to “feel”. In efforts to express myself. The “me” that I for so long kept suppressed. I find myself alone and misunderstood for most of the time. There are only a handful of people that “get a side of me”.

Perhaps I am too cold. 

I know that what I was is not dead, it never died; it still is.

I am so many that it becomes a problem to function. 

I am hungry for life but there is not much to feed me. There is still the feeling of uncomfortable when I do try to be. It hurts and it burns but I keep through it.

I dont know what I mean. It has been so long since I have written, “me”. It has been ages. I think I should start to figure out where I am.

I want to experience “me”. The suppressed “me”. My sexuality cannot be over-looked upon anymore. I have been out there experiencing more but it is not easy. To “let go” of this me is hard too. This one is much more visceral and dangerous. This one is a tough one. It boils the blood and burns. It consumes. But I need to let this “fire” out or it will burn me inside. It just needs “out”.

What the fuck am I saying. I just need to express myself.
Ive got to be.

Morning, Me

I get like this sometimes. Where I battle between keeping a promise. The one promise that I really felt inclined to agree, the one promise that I believed in too. To not use a girl as just any other girl. She left me that and much more. I want to say that I do not know what love is, in order to justify a lot of things, but I feel as if it were. I feel as if what we had was a form of love, so simple. I sometimes wonder what it would have been if we had made love, if I had let myself completely go one of those nights. I wonder if things would have completely been different. If she would have still left me? I dont think so. I want to think she would not have. But then again, love makes you forget about these things. It makes you not think. It makes you not be smart about things. You see, people are actually easy to read, well at least most of them, or a side of them. And here is where it begins:

Meeting someone new is a complete adventure for me. It is a trial and error type of deal. I like to sort of "tip-toe around the egg shells" of their persona. It is a hit and miss kind of thing. You cant say the wrong things unless you intend to. You cant say the right things unless you need to. With that being said, love completely makes you dumb, it takes away the cold planning that is so carefully set. Well, at least in me it does. Lets take Breanna for example, my latest discovery. I met her at work. First time I met her was this day I had to give her a ride and she hopped in. She was good looking and I had seen her before this one time that we got the chance to talk. She is white, green eyes, light brown hair, and about as tall as I am (if not even a little more). I was really attracted to her physique from the moment I saw her around. I wanted to talk to her but there was never the chance, until that day. I went on to say a simple hello, followed with a series of questions about the day, (small-boring talk that usually is followed by witty remarks and smart questions). She was not that bright at all, she was very close minded from what I could tell, a complete "farm girl" if you will, a very good looking one if any. I then went on to show my dominance in an intellectual way, it was not very hard with her, she sat there, baffled, at the spill I was laying on her about life and this and that. Before she knew it, she was back to where she had to be and I told her, "Well, we are here and off you go!", with a smart smirk. She seemed nervous and to a point surprised and as she got off I repeated her name just I could not forget it and I gave her mine so she could do the same. And the days went on and we did not really talk, I let the girls she works with talk about me. The girls she works with, I too have made acquaintances with, and I have become sort of the "interesting guy". I had time with her, to really get to know her, just around a week or two ago. She was at perfect level, I was standing up and she, sat down on a chair, a perfect stance to make her feel smaller and I bigger than her. I did an act of kindness, and that is what put her at my disposition, from that point on she owed me. I found out she was my same age, and that in fact she was from a small town, she had played Volleyball all of her life (it did not surprise me because she had the physique). She asked a little about me and proceeded to talk more about her than any other time. It was as if she felt like she needed to confess to me, which is something people do a lot and I am content with that. She disclosed obvious information that she wanted to "have fun". I asked her if she was doing anything for today, when she got out, and at what time. She replied with a maybe, a coquettish maybe while maintaining eye contact. I didnt want to completely ask her to wait for me or something. She told me she had her own place, basically gave me her address. She wanted to know if I went out a lot, to bars and whatnot. This is where things got complicated a little. I didnt know what she wanted to hear, I may have over-thought about it. I basically said a "sometimes", that being in school so much and doing this and that was preoccupying, but when I did have the chance I did enjoy having fun. She felt comfortable with me already, something most people tend to do when I give them the space. Bree went on to give me insight as to what she thought, which to be honest, but not really rude about it, is really just not that important. She went on for minutes talking about a subject that she could tell was really not important for me, until it seemed I use an excuse to get away from her to which she then apologized for even speaking. She felt dumb and out of place, I wanted to make her feel better and safe but I really did have to go and did not have a chance. I could tell she liked me, I could tell she wanted "something". But I began to become really busy with other things and I never got the chance again to talk to her.
I thought about it that night, how much I had changed, not only mentally but physically.
I indeed had changed. I had matured physically and it gave me an interesting look, something that attracted certain type of women.

I am still waiting to find the chance and move on to the next step with Bree, to walk carefully around her persona. At this age and at this time in my life I feel as if loving that woman gave me a more of a conscience, something that I needed. I still find myself having feelings towards her, despite the things I have come to discover. I do not know if it is mere sexual attraction and it will go away if we ever made love, I dont feel like it is. I feel that if we did made love I would completely fall for her, hard, like get married kind of love. Time and circumstances have a way of prolonging your life the things that are not meant for the right occasion. I am thankful that I have met her, and perhaps I have been too cold with her and it is because I constantly battle this attraction I have to her.

Sometimes I am too kind. Sometimes, as you can see I am too cold and planning, perhaps even a little "evil". What can I say? I am just a human being, another specimen existing in the jungle trying to survive. I am young and I do not know any better, at times, only when it fits me.

Where?

Where am I?
Where did I go?
Where will I go?

Sometimes I have the recurring feeling that I will never have anything. I have the recurring feeling that I will be nothing. I have the feeling that I am somehow the most heartless person in the world. I am afraid that I am the worst of them all.

It is easy to kill when one has no remorse. It is easy to kill when your memory fails you. It is easy to kill when the world is silent.

But where will I go?
Where will I end?

Hey Reader and Friend

Hello! Its Tuesday morning and I woke up with the need of writing about her, because I realized I had been hiding these things. You might not come to realize it but we hide things from ourselves and others. Anyway, yesterday I wrote twice to let her see what is up in my mind. The last post I tried to cram in every single event that involves her since we met and it might read a little confusing and boring.

I just totally forgot what I wanted to write on this one.

Ok, maybe I should try to explain what I realize now that I look back. A part of me wanted to own her, to impose my law on her, to tell her dont do these things, to have her all the time for myself; these emotions are not cool at all! I see now that I was lying to what I believe in; had I not learn from Hegel about the Ubermunschen and about "using" people? Had I not learn about true freedom? Had I not studied and comprehended Buddha's teachings along with Confucius? What had Marx taught me about people? What had been of free will? And Voltaire? Aristotle? Locke? Hume? What about Abd-Ru-Shin and all the other people which we brand as Philosophers? I knew something was wrong because I did not feel free. Why couldnt I feel happy?

I had been trying for the longest time to own her and in doing so I was creating more conflict. I was confusing and people started to notice so. Why was I being so mean to these people who were only there? The "self" wanted to exterminate those in the way of "happiness". This part of me had turned me against my friends, it had made me imagine things that werent real. It was lying to me and I was lying to others. It was hurting me and I was hurting others. Maybe this will help?

I was everything of the self! I was destructive! And here I was! Living for twenty years like this! I was selfish, I did not want to share who I was with others; that was what held me back from being who I was. I was not living like I wanted; it was living how it wanted. I wanted to change! So a day when I felt the lonliest I got on the bike and walked the dog. That day I pedaled as fast as I could, it burnt my legs like crazy but I went past that, I rode the bike without grabbing onto the handle bars going up and down hills! Holy shit! How was I doing this? I wasnt scared of falling off, I would think about losing balance but didnt care! That self was telling me "Dont do it! You will fall!" But I said "Fuck You, I Wont Do What You Tell Me!" Somehow my shirt came off and I was riding with only shorts on and I felt liberated even more! I was no longer self-conscious of my body! That night I wanted to dance and feel free! I had killed a little bit of that which hated, that which was selfish, that which was unhappy. That was one night I had one the battle. Then he showed up again, for a little bit, but I again managed to murder that which was still left. After this, I truly felt "free". And it showed all around.

I was no longer scared of being David. I was freed of what held me back before! One night while watching Apocalypto I found and understood the concept of how much the self had power over a human being! The self was a magnet for negative things. All the negative emotions that destroy our lives were part of him and all of that became part of us!

So you see, the self is the enemy to destroy. I discovered the self and killed it before it killed me and others. With this I realized many other things that I had been doing wrong.
From there on I managed to detach my-self from her. The self no longer hurt me.
I truly had found freedom!
The weeks passed and life had been more enjoyable; it has been better! I find myself doing the things I like, saying the things I think to those I see, I am no longer scared to say what I want and do what I want. Rage Against the Machine was music to my soul as I started this new life. I was what I wanted, I was writing again, I was living now!
And I hadnt talked to her at all! I still had both of her poems; the good and the bad. That day I told her I would leave them in her mailbox and I did! She read them later on that day and  said she loved them. I felt happy that she had liked them and though of no more. I felt free of all negative thought. I lived easily now. I suppose that when I commited suicide my life changed. David was a person people liked now. It was evident that I had found who I was, that I was free, that I was happy. I found myself, how some would say, seducing women around me. I, of course, had not the slightest clue because its not like I was doing it on purpose. Women started to approach me, they became friendlier towards me; more physical. I paid attention to this but thought nothing more than "Its ok". I was happy and it showed.
So you see! Ive come a long way! I look back and realize that we humans are "limitless". This reminds me of a Bruce Lee annecdote.

Bruce had me up to three miles a day, really at a good pace. We’d run the the three miles in twenty-one or twenty-two minutes. Just under eight minutes a mile [Note: when running on his own in 1968, Lee would get his time down to six-and-a-half minutes per mile].

So this morning he said to me, “We’re going to go five.” I said, “Bruce, I can’t go five. I’m a helluva lot older than you are, and I can’t do give.”

He said,”When we get to three, we’ll shift gears and it’s only two more and you’ll do it.”

I said, “Okay, hell, I’ll go for it.”

So we get to three, we go into the fourth mile and I’m okay for three or four minutes, and then I really begin to give out. I’m tired, my heart’s pounding, I can’t go anymore so I say to him, “Bruce if I run any more,” – and we’re still running – “if I run any more I’m liable to have a heart attack and die.”

He said, “Then die.”

It made me so mad that I went the full five miles. Afterward I went to the shower and then I wanted to talk to him about it. I said, you know, “Why did you say that?”

He said, “Because you might as well be dead. Seriously, if you always put limits on what you can do, physical or anything else, it’ll spread over into the rest of your life. It’ll spread into your work, into your morality, into your entire being. There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you. A man must constantly exceed his level.”

There really are no limits if you think about it! Kill your-self and Live!

-I still have to write about Love and Slavery, I know!

On the Subject of Love and Slavery

I remember once, before we got to know each other on a deeper level, she asked me, "Have you ever loved?" That time, I lied, I said I had because I felt stupid saying otherwise because what twenty-year old dude hasnt experienced such great emotion by the time? Time passed on and she slowly let me become part of her life, she shared with me, she confided in me things that others would not have. I did the same, I shared with her all I really had; which was my ideas and thoughts and the short moments of my life in pictures and words. We became really cool and once you invited me to your house for a sleepover numerous amount of times; I was scared shitless. What did she mean a "sleepover"? Thoughts raced through my mind and I ended up postponing the event until you forgot the idea. You began to know me a little more and one night you and I ended up together in a couch with my blanket. I felt super excited! Your perfume captivated me and you were there with me willing to share those moments with me. I felt amazing knowing someone gave a shit about me. We would have these late night talks about getting to know each other and then you confessed you kind of had a crush on me. I felt like a badass that night, to know that someone felt like this about me! But I tried to pull away from caring about you as a person many times, because I was scared; I feared to live and feel.

I somehow managed to find out more things about your life, things you didnt share with me directly. This, I think, is the source of jealousy; to want to have more of a person. In reality, we share with everyone a piece of ourselves, a David is shared with a friend, but only a little bit of David not the entire David. I somehow felt you mine and felt jealous I didnt get that side of you, which you shared with others. This jealousy made me doubt my whole existence; my one true friend and you. I became distant for a while; I wanted to detach myself of the whole thing rather than fix it. I thought I knew of Buddhism and about attaching one self to people and things but I was damn wrong. Somehow, again, I found relief and you where still there wanting to share yourself with me; I accepted. We continued to talk more and one time you told me that you wanted me in your life forever, that you loved me, and asked if I felt weirded out by your declarations. I said I loved you too because you cared about me and I believed in only one thing; love. That I didnt find it weird to be part of your life in a more intimate way. Things seemed really nice so far and one night when you went to watch a meteor shower I confessed my fantasy of being with you, of my fetishes, kinks, and state of sexuality. I began to feel wanted or at least understood and not ridiculed for being how I was. Now, you really knew me or at least a side of me. Eventually I found myself finding more things of you and feeling jealous again. I wanted to own you; I wanted to own a person. What the fuck was I doing?

You invited me to your house for the first time and I was nervous again. What was going to happen? I cant even remember why I went to your place that night! I met your dad and we walked your dog, I was so thirsty I bought myself a pina-colada Sobe that night! I left and nothing but a walk happened. We talked even more about life and about each other for the next few days. More time passed by and you would confide with me your unhappiness; and I my desire to help you, to make you feel happy. Eventually we organized a walk in the forest on a friday night. I was dying of fear, what would I do? What was going to happen? What the fuck! I must confess that night I acquired some "rubbers" (hahaha) because I felt like something would happen. But we walked and talked and I laid on the grass while you sat and look out at the dark and nothing happened. I took you home and felt like a jerk later because I didnt walk you to your house or opened the door for you, stuff like that! I felt stupid for trying to pretend to know what the fuck I was doing. On the way back to your place you heard me speak spanish and later told me I sounded cool speaking spanish and that you liked it. This again gave me hope in myself. But time passed and again I found even more things and I must admit I was angry like a motherfucker.

One evening, you said you were making rice pudding; and I craving for dessert, but mostly wanting to see you asked if I could have some! So, I left and went to your house very excited! I was going to get to spend somet time with you and have rice pudding! But somehow you were busy emptying out your closet and I ended playing video games with your dad the whole time! I came to spend time with you not with your dad! I felt angry and alone I wanted to be with you! So, I left hurt, that night I told you that I felt horrible for you leaving me with your dad. Its not that I dont like your dad or anything but its just that I really wanted to be with you. So I left that night without you and without rice pudding! I felt envious of those who could have you, it wasnt until I felt this pain that I started writing that cheap poetry. Around this time you had stopped talking to me for a while; I dont know why. I at first didnt understand and didnt see it and probably bothered you more than once. I somehow found shelter in writing my pain. It was the poems I read in my literature class which took this loneliness away. I wrote those to share with you how I felt, in a cool way. I only gave you four poems I wrote but in reality I wrote around twenty but didnt see the others coherent and you never got those. I felt so lonely during these times that others would notice. Me! The master of hiding my sad reality, was failing now! I slowly started to realize what I felt for you; it wasnt true love like I used to envision it. It was something else, it hurt and it didnt feel nice at all! Then one of those nights you managed to write to me and tell me that I was the one you needed, that I was the one that listened. I felt loved again, only to find out about other things that made me feel jealous and again your distance. I wrote more and more and thought about you even more. I once even wrote about giving up on you, but I think that renunciation poem spoke more of me giving up on my-self that wanted to own you. That week I talked with my friend about drinking because it was my country's independence; I lied, it was because of you. I had never drinked before in my life EVER! I was doing these things I had, months ago, never saw myself doing because of a realization.

I realized, when you left me for a while, something very important. I came to understand the theory of the "self". I had found the "self", the being which was purely selfish; the being that made me jealous, hateful, and all other bad things. Some say this is the hardest to find and destroy. I had found it and sought to destroy what hurt me. This "self" made me want to hate, to lie, to doubt, to envy, to want to own, to kill; to do all the things that hurt this world. I decided to commit suicide; I was going to kill my-self. And I did so by remembering what I once had learned from Philosophy. I somehow managed to kill that which produced evil in me and I knew it was gone because I felt free. I wanted to dance, I wanted to love and live with no fear of consequences. This was when I decided I shall celebrate the death of what kills humanity; the selfishness was gone. That renunciation poem made me re-evaluate if I was true to myself and it was with it that I managed to kill the self. That night we drank, my friend and his cousin and I felt free. I took my notebook to read to them your poem and they heard my words and pain. I told you my plan to go out and drink with him and celebrate the Independence earlier that week. You said that night "be safe" and we briefly talked about selfless love. That you wished to find someone with a true passionate love like that of the geisha and samurai. Later on that night I wanted to show you how free I was this time; that I had found myself. That I had destroyed that which made me feel embarrassed about myself; that which kept me from doing the things I always wanted to do. So that night we went to the galleria and skated like I had not done so in years! I fell, bruised, and embarrassed myself but I did not care at all. That night, my friend, asked me if I wanted to go to where you were; in that University because there was a lingerie party! I was like FUCK YES! I wanted to see you and celebrate the independence with those I cared about; but it wasnt until the next day, Saturday. So we skated and drank until it was time to go and the night ended with a harsh event. I wrote to you that night and confessed my pain for you; I could tell you this because I no longer felt like this. I wonder what you think when I write to you?

Next day came up and the week passed with no major contact between you and I. Just simple "hellos" and whatnot. Anyways, with this new-found happiness and freedom I wrote the Moon and the Sea. A lot had changed in my life, it was evident in the works. This was happy and calm; not forced. I love this piece, I was calm and happy when I wrote it; I finished it in one evening on note cards. One night I tried to share my happiness with you but I knew something was up; that you did not feel happy. You told me that night that what about you? What about those people? That you were grateful to have me in your life. I realized how blind I had been how selfish I still was. The next day I found out more things about you that made me feel like dying again; I was mad at myself. I thought I had killed that fucker! I thought my jealousy was gone but I guess it wasnt! I still hadnt given you that renunciation poem and I tweaked it a little now with these new emotions. I felt so jealous and angry but I re-read some of the other poems and thoughts I wrote about you that I destroyed later on that day in rage! In there I found traces of the "Self", with this anger towards me I destroyed those thoughts and dependency of the "self". I felt better already. I talked to a fellow thinker and he told me I wasnt the same; I confessed him that it had been for a girl that I had lost my ways. I realized I had changed, that I had lost that passion; not really lost but misplaced it. I grabbed onto some ideas and reality and rose the old flag of rebellion. I found my old ideas and started to care less and truly "kill" the self that was left. I had now truly been freed of that fucker. I have no clue if it will come back one day or not but for today I can say it is gone.

I just realized this is too damn long to start writing about what slavery and love is; I guess I will have to postpone it AGAIN!

Today is Just as Good as Any other Day.

Well I had a really interesting weekend, long story short a friend and I almost got shot! I cant stand seeing people so blind due to hate and other falsehood. Anyways, today I took two history tests to which I half-assed studied because this weekend was just filled with good distractions. I am damn sure that this is what I needed in my life; these people, these feelings, these emotions, the truths, the lies, the good and the bad. I always told HER that it wasn't until she came into my life that I really started to live and experience and it is true. I know there might be lots of people that lie about many things but I consider myself as honest as I can if someone asks me something; I will not lie. I have, for a long time, quit lying.

Anyways, today I decided to wait for HER because I wanted to see her; I wanted to feel this connection we both agree we have. Lately, ive confessed to her my attraction to her and it is honest and sincere. I used to be scared to show how I felt towards her but not anymore, I try to give myself to her with nothing in return.

I constantly have the struggle of wanting more, of wanting to be selfish, of wanting to impose myself on others, of wanting to own others. But I have learned fast that these feelings are not healthy for one and neither are they true love.

Today, we talked for a while, I got to spend some quality time with her.Today I did not fear looking into her eyes I was honest as I could today with her UNTIL the conversation steered into slavery and love. I was caught off guard and the words rushed before they could be said and nothing came out. I promised I would write about the subject and I really hope she reads this and tries to see what I see. This will be long so I will write about the subject tomorrow!

But before going into the subject lets keep talking about this woman. I call her my muse I like to refer to her as the one who opened the pandora box that is my life. Today I got to see her, I got to feel her, I got to talk to her; I got to live with her. I was on laying on the floor because I feel so comfortable around her now, I wanted her to join me on the floor but I guess she didnt want to. I could notice something peculiar about today, I could tell that maybe you didnt feel as beautiful as other days. I could tell you felt a little insecure about yourself, these past few days and today; the theory was reinforced. But understand that I dont ever judge people, especially you. Experience has taught me that when one tries to judge a person by their acts, words, beliefs, and everything else; you try to decipher that person. You dont let that someone live, in the sense that when one makes a judgement upon what he or she sees, the "judged" has now been read and done. That person which you have barely met and confided in has now been "killed" and set aside as another everyday person with no way of appearing as anything else. I dont do that with people, not anymore. I examine people but I do not make final conclusions at all; I see every interaction with that person as a new side of them, not as the same as before. Now where the fuck was I? Oh yes! You!

Today you said you felt "bitchy", you said the world did not feel "right". I wish I could have been of use to maybe tilt your world upright. I wonder what made you feel like this? All the time we talked; me on the floor and you up there eating that "delicious" fruit with cheese, crackers and nuts, I paid close attention to you like none before. I honestly think I noticed every inch of you. I saw your shoes, untied of course, maybe I should have tied them for you? Your jeans, how nicely they hugged your figure. I noticed your keys hanging from the loop of your belt. I noticed when you got up to throw away the empty bowl your shirt went up a little. I noticed your shirt was sky blue, maybe it was tie-dyed? At that moment I thought I would get a glimpse of your piercing but you were quicker than my thought to pull down your hoodie and shirt. I paid attention to your hoodie, why wear a hoodie in such a hot day? Maybe you were trying to cover something up, maybe you felt "cold" there are days when even the hottest sun in the sky will not make us feel warm. All while we talked! Next I noticed your hands, so small and white; your finger nails so nicely done. At times I found myself wanting to hold your hand never had I wanted to hold someone's hand. I noticed your backpack, you looked so "nerdy" with it. I then noticed your face I discovered many new things here. Your chin is somewhat sharp, not really square. You have beautiful lips, so red, so plump and proportionate; your teeth I noticed too, I didnt see your tongue however. Your nose, so proportionate too. Your cheeks, your smile; did you know that when you smile a little dimple on your left appears? You have beautiful skin all around, really. Your make up covered something you have been trying to hide, but not at me. I noticed your cute little scar under your eye, somewhere along the cheek. I again found myself in your green eyes, or are they blue sometimes? I dont know, im color-blind, and I cant tell sometimes. Your eyelashes were greatly done too and that glitter on your eyelids which seemed to melt down to the sides also looked beautiful. Your hair surprised me, I pictured it to be lighter and found it dark red; I like it! You have shorter hair now I think. I dont think I missed anything I can remember. And yet I think you dont feel beautiful. You are! And its not a damn cliche or something of the likes, you really are! I found myself looking into your eyes and I let you see me look into your eyes too. I want you to know you are beautiful and meaningful above all else. Your beauty could eventually fade away but what you are never goes away with time or life. Time passed and we shared ideas and experiences then you said you had to go to class. I was like "fuck! ok" So we walked to class talking about something and all I wanted to do was to have my arm around you but something didnt feel right so I flicked the hood of your hoodie and smiled. We arrived at your class and I hugged the wall to not fall because I wanted to lean on you but you were like five feet apart! We talked a little more before you went in but not before getting hug from you. For a moment I was going to say something while you were in my arms I thought I should get a breath of your scent but I didnt smell that perfume. Why werent you wearing that perfume? Why were you wearing a hoodie? Why was your world not "upright"? Why did the world not feel "right"? I dont know but I would like to know not because im curious but because I wish I could do something to help.

And that was today.

Lets Try this Again!