Sometimes Remembering Hurts.

Dear Keith.

I'm angry with you. I just want to tell you I miss you.  I wish you were here.  I hate the gaping hole in my chest that you left.  I hate that when I drive down the street, I see you.  I see you in the teenagers running from school.  I see you when I look at young boys with their baseball caps and their nice clothes.  I see you everywhere.  For a flutter of a second, my breath will catch and I'll fight the urge to look back, reminding myself "he's not here".  I hate that losing you was the best thing you ever taught me.

Do you remember the last time I saw you? We stayed up all night. You made me PROMISE you that I'd never EVER smoke weed. You told me, "you'll never let it go. You'll never get out of it.  Don't do it.  Promise me you won't do it Chubby." and I promised. I'm proud to say that I've stayed away from it.  And every time it is ever brought across my path, I think of you and the promise I made.  That night, you told me how beautiful I was.  You told me that you'd beat any boy who treated me wrong, and you told me that my insides were the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.  You told me "you are the best of them".  Every once in a while Goose still tells me that and I always think of you.  We talked about everything you ever regretted.  We talked of the ambitions you wished you had followed, and how Goose was your ultimate best friend.  I think Goose would just smile if he heard all the stories you told me that night.

You tucked me in and you told me that you loved me.  I remember you kissed my forehead and hugged me so tight.  And then the next morning, when you were going back to Texas, you hugged me and you said, "Remember what you promised me. You're beautiful. I love you and I'll see you at Christmas." Those were the last words I ever heard you say.  You never came home for Christmas.  Everything after that is blurred together.  If I try really hard I can remember details, but I don't like to.  I don't like to think of how angry it makes me.  And I hate to cry.  You boys always told us girls to not cry, "keep yo' chin up". I try really hard to do just that.

We found this video of you boys playing basketball.  I watch it in fascination that you actually moved, laughed, and talked.  Sometimes I think you are a fragment of my imagination.  I had forgotten how your voice sounded.  It was nice to hear it.  It was beautiful to watch you just.. be.  I miss you. It seems so elementary, yet it's so complex... But I wish you were here.

She's at it again.

I hate that feeling in the pit of your gut, when you know you've changed; not by choice, but because that's what you have to do to be strong.  People come into your life to shape you into the person you were meant to be.  It's up to you to be wise enough to choose which ones are lessons and which ones are yours to keep.    Unfortunately I'm blinded by people.  I choose to see the best in people, despite the background or the outcome.  I'm a fighter&i am an aggressor.  If you know me, you'll understand this to a tee.  At times I view this as a quality or a strength, but at times I think it's my greatest weakness. 

When I was a child, I was a girl. And I mean a ggiiiiirrrrrlll.  I'd cry at the sight of blood.  I was constantly tattling on my siblings.  I was the sweetest little cutie, with an angel face to boot.  I don't know what changed in me, but something was broken.  I used to cry myself to sleep, cry in movies, cry when I was sad, cry cry cry.  It was OKAY to cry.

I don't do that anymore, cry, ya know? I can't remember the last time I cried myself to sleep, or actually allowed myself to cry.  Not just teary eyed, but the crying from the inside out, painful tears. There is something therapeutic about it all.  Releasing all the toxins in your body and soul, escaping the clutches of your own sorrow... I can't do it.  I wish I could.  I'm probably the most awkward human being when the tears flow.  I'd rather somebody scream and threaten me with my own life than watch somebody cry.  It's okay to me that you might cry on your own, I think it's good.  But I have a hard time being around it, and I don't think it's acceptable for me to do so.  I think when people cry, they're most vulnerable.  There is a childlike image that arises, and I believe tears are seeking comfort.  I hate crying, I hate being vulnerable, and I hate comfort (unless it's from my mommy). I absolutely LOVE when people open up to me.  I love when I can be the one graced with their stories.  But for me, I hate telling people my story.  I hate going through the ick of my life and placing it upon someone else's shoulders (as if their own problems aren't enough).  And anyways, when going through my ick, it can bring those stupid symptoms of tears and a runny nose.  Who wants that?!

Disappointment cuts deeper than a knife.  For me, it's the worst emotion to feel.  No matter the cause, I'm normally mad at myself for allowing me to be disappointed.  As if believing in someone is taboo.  Disappointment is my ultimate hurt.  As the saying goes, sometimes we expect more from others because we would be willing to do that much for them.  

My mom always said, treat people the way you wish to be treated.  We all strive at this and it is a challenge everyday. But really, treat people with kindness.  Use your words for good.  Your actions will forever echo amongst those whose lives you have entered.  Do not judge others, the mere fact of passing judgement makes you the lesser, no matter the situation.  Don't whisper. If you have something to say, say it.  And make sure it's to the person you are speaking of.  I think we all know the pain of stinging words and actions, it's not fun.  Many of us get caught up within ourselves that we forget others.  Don't forget there is someone always watching and when we become reckless to that, our actions hurt others.  

I love this song, holding out for a hero by Ella Mae Bowen.  It just takes the words from my heart.  I want a streetwise Hercules to sweep me off my feet.  Enjoy.

Quality People.

Guys, I feel so warm&fuzzy inside.  I just wanna spread the love, ya know?

Lately I've been able to hang around with some really great people.  And I have thoroughly enjoyed myself.  In the past 3 weeks I have gone country dancing, bowling, I've been introduced to the lovely Cafe West, I've learned how to play Nertz, and my nights have been filled with pool, ping pong, and chillin on the couch.

This group of friends I've been introduced to.... man they are something else.  For the first time in a looooooong time, it's easiest for me to just be ME.  These people are just quality people.  And I sure like it. I love that I can try my best and my actions aren't interpreted as 'stingy' or 'stuck up' or 'too good for you' attitude.  I love how accepted I feel amongst strangers.  I've seriously known the majority of the 'group' like... hmm 3 weeks.  Tay and Rik I've known for years, and I love them dearly.

I know this won't mean a lot to most, but for me... Man I just feel good inside.

I'd like to encourage anyone&everyone to surround themselves with quality people.  People who boost your self-esteem, encourage you, and speak kind words to you.  People who genuinely appreciate you for YOU.

Ladies and gents, I feel like I just won the jackpot.  Boo ya!

Goooooooooodniiiiiggghtt!!!! :)