On Your Rememories

Dear Comrade,

We have been separated for far a long time. It was great, however, to somewhat see that you are becoming better. You are training yourself to become someone that you feel is better. Dear Comrade, you dried a river in me, one that I thought was perfect. One that I did not know was possible to suffocate. It is great though, as much as it hurts, it's all right. I know the laser of betrayal is still hanging on your lungs. I know. But however much it hurts and pins you down, you have to see that you are attempting to become someone strong, but you already are. You were alone as you say, you were betrayed by one of the most horrible betrayals ever. You were lead on, stretched apart, ripped aside, and glued back together. Wherever you are in this world, I hope that my love for you will not do what it did before, and that is rip another piece of you, but give you luck, potential, hope, and a kick on the side to get things done. Dear Comrade, I, with all my heart and regrets, ask for you to hear my sorriness. I am sorry. And I know that sorry does not mean much to you, but it does to me. It has this huge meaning behind it, with all these little stories in between. So I am sorry. I am sorry for taking you to the moon, pulling out the gun and shooting it so all those stars can come out of it and amaze you. I am sorry I could not understand the Japanese symbol for "Love" that you pinned to the tree. I am sorry that I was not a good navigator for your Z. I am sorry that I did not get on the other side of the fence when you took me to the house up in the hills. I am sorry for walking back and forth through the entrance of the beat down house as you stood inside listening to my stupid words, those words that I thought meant nothing to you, but indeed scraped your heart. I am sorry when I couldn't find your house the day I went out looking for you to get an answer to the question you never answered. I am sorry that I never ever took a trip with you to the top of the Lindsay mountain. I am sorry for meting you at the new high school, and listening to you say that I am tall, but that you've had a tall girlfriend before, ans I interpreted as something different, something that was not the obvious message. I am sorry when you came to visit me, the last day we saw each other before our fight. I am sorry that you left your wallet under the chair on the porch, "accidentally." I am sorry that when you came back and I answered the door, the image of us catching each other's eyes for that mini second, the picture has been tattooed in my memory. I am sorry for not knowing why. I am sorry that I am going to leave the country and stay away from you. I am sorry I want to be oh so next to you. I m sorry for when I passed you by at the graduation, when you were with your little brother and I was with some friends. I am sorry I kept glancing towards your direction. I am sorry for that time where I texted you while I was in STATS class in college, to do an imaginary race in our texting. I am sorry I couldn't hurt you like she did. I am sorry that they had a true relationship with you and I didn't. I am sorry for jumping to a conclusion the day you fought. I am sorry that every time someone calls me typical, that surging burn runs through me, because I'm a "typical fucking Lindsay person." I am sorry that we might run into each other again. I am sorry that every time Elephant Back blooms green, it adds another time of despair and sorrow to me. I am sorry for not telling you. I am sorry. Dear Comrade, I am sorry for mispronouncing the word Comrade. I am sorry for it all. But I am not sorry for falling in love with you.

Crash.

Crash.
My name is Crash and I'm alone.
I didn't want to write alone, because it feels as if I'm exaggerating.
Like my mind just said alone, and I felt the burn. That burn I get when something really hurts me. Like when my mom talked about separating from my dad. Or when I remembered how much I loved Jonathan. See? I almost got it again, when I wrote his name. I feel stupid, whining about the things I'm putting myself through. But I know it's my choice, but something bad happens, and it's almost as if I make myself dwell over it, just to feel pain. Maybe I feel as if I don't have enough pain to be considered a human being, but I do. Maybe I see myself doing beyond the freedom I've always wanted as a child. Like getting in a train, watching the stars, taking a night walk or run. My name is Crash, because  I'm crashing my life, "but it's okay because it's a challenge, and I love challenges," I tell myself. I cannot have myself crying. No one will ever see me cry. Because my name is Crash, and physically, I don't crash.

This is what I want to dream

4/17/2012

I want to dream that I am a stepping stone to someone’s success, happiness, and anything but failure. I want to dream that I myself can lead a whole army and not fail. I want to dream that I can help everyone become what they can in life, and acquire all their necessities. I want to dream that my skin is beautiful to the eyes of whomever sees me. I want to dream that I won’t take things to the point where I make others feel uncomfortable, or against me. I want to dream that this world is full of individuals living as one, and take note of it. I want to dream that government and the people create peace. I want to dream that people were never killed by hatred, discrimination, or anything besides natural sickness of age, or death without pain. I dream that everyone dies peacefully, and acceptably. I want to dream we grow strong by good things that happen, and not wait to gain strength when our hearts are broken. I want to dream that my hands can pick up a boulder, and not have envy on me. I want to dream that we can all move on, be secure, and be ourselves without having to worry about leaving bad reputations. I want to dream that bad reputations do not exist. I want to dream that fighting is a sport, not a defense. I want to dream that I can jump off a plane, and feel no threat. I want to dream of perfection. I want to dream of ways. But without imperfection, I want to dream that we can manage.

Kill me, Decision.

I want to say that life is beautiful, because it is. I want to say that even a shed of darkness can make a day oh so wonderful, but it doesn't  The mentality is so stuck on what we desire most, and what we dis-love most, that sometimes we forget to see the little wink someone gives us. Today someone told me about keeping a mentality of a child, and you will be happy forever. If you begin having the mentality of and adult and think money, money, money, it can cause more trouble. And the decisions I have been demeaning myself about will put me at risk. It will put my whole life at risk. It seems like such over exaggeration, but I've seen it before. Cleverness has to be your best friend, and if this decision I choose comes into action, I cannot mess up. However, money does not rule me; I can live life without money, but not without trade. This is obvious. I cannot threat too much to see my life go into pieces, as if I can’t do anything in this world, but I will wear a smile. What is it that will keep us rich and healthy, happy and lightened? I want to see the world, but my decision can change my life.

"You're only a third"

Some people can adapt to change very quickly. Thats me. Others, not so. Some, experience new things they never thought possible, and again, this happened to me. It's actually happening right now, and I swear to you, it burns.

So, something bad happens in your life. Okay, screw it, let it go, don't think about it, live life, breathe air. Okay. Fine. My way of viewing things that go bad. Apparently though, my always-happy-always-laughing personality decided to take a rest. So im stuck into what i promised myself i wouldnt do.

Mourn over bullshit.

They say it's healthy to let it out, even psychologists argue that our self-pride is too great that talking about our feelings seems like a coward thing to do, or that it goes against our personal motives. It's hard to hear youself talk about things that SEEM so simple to fix. It's one of those "why the heck am I being so childish about this" type of thing. One of those "I sound so weak saying these things."

And then on the other side of the story, you can adapt easily to changes, but when you come to a place that holds so many memories that you made yourself store them so deep that they're practically forgotten. My mind and my heart were battling. And when the mind and the heart battle, the body gives away. And thats what happened, I gave away from him.

"Y aunque nunca te alejaste de mí
Siempre existió temor que cometas fraude mi amor
Y ahora comprendo que mi corazón
Merece una explicación
Ven a explicárselo!"