dreams

Suffocate on eternal bliss.

I am done.

Exhausted, drained and every exasperated feeling. My emotions are on over drive and I can’t think straight. I have no energy for the same repetitive things and gentle formalities. Living in a world full of “Yes” people, with people so afraid of hearing “No”. When did we become frightened with the truth, and become discouraged with unfamiliarity? We’ve been lied too. We’ve been told to follow our dreams, because they always come true. No one ever tells us to work hard and then watch our dreams unfold.

No. Instead we all bite the hands that feed us and expect more from the next person. We are all in for the using and taking of everyone’s resources. We stop asking for help and instead ask for people to do for us. Do this, because I can’t. Do this, because I don’t know how.  Do this, because I fucking desire it and for the rest of the world to follow. All these materialistic needs with superficial tendencies. Generations of “likes” and who can make things easier for us. A thousand moonlight superficial “yes”  are prettier and better for our complexion. Let me love you more, until I have used you. Until I have sucked all your resources dry to fall in love with the next big thing. That is all that truly matters, what you see through a filtered photograph that claims to be truth. At the risk of running my mouth, I can’t lie. People expect so much and yet want to do so little. The bare minimal of life instead of setting out to live their own adventures. Learning and experiencing, doing everything for yourself. I don’t mind helping but when does helping become doing everything? We say “yes” so often, everyone is afraid of doing things themselves. We say “yes” so often, that hearing “No” can be discouraging. If people only knew we are entitled to nothing and the world owes us just the same. The world should never be handed to us. We all have to work hard to get what we desire. People make it look easy but only they know the true struggle of maintaining a dream.

Dreams are only easy when we are asleep. Easy when everything is within our reach, when we lay our head  down at night. If only it were that easy. If only everything I truly wanted was right within my grasp. Instead I watch my dreams go further from reach and completely out of my grasp. The sweet is never truly sweet until we experience the sour. The sour has overtaken my sense of taste, that everything has remain a bitter embrace. Still I solider on, still I keep going. Because one day dreams won’t seem like dreams anymore. The blood on my fingertips will be worth it in the end. At the end of the day I will be grateful for the thousands of “No” words I’ve heard, instead of the deceitful “Yes”. In that moment I will feel I truly earned it. I can’t lie to you. Some days I wish everything was handed to me. That everyone would do everything I asked of them and that I wouldn’t lift a single finger. That being so bold would get me everything I wanted, without doing a single damn thing. I want to use people as they have done to me. Use them until they have nothing left inside. Until they are dried out and drained, left unresponsive. I want to hear a thousand “Yes”, instead of the “No” I always receive. I want to believe that all these lies I’ve been fed can be some aspect of reality. Only in dreams do these things exist. Only in dreams can I be showered in riches and my talents praised from every rooftop. Sometimes doing things for yourself hurts. The hardest thing is life is doing things for yourself, even if it hurts, even if kills you in the end.

I am not afraid to do things myself, neither should you. Do things yourself and the rest will follow. There is no harm in asking for help just don’t expect everyone to do things for you. For every “yes” you hear, next time you’ll hear a thousand “no’s”. When you use people enough, they will stop helping you. It’s time to do things for yourself, even if it hurts, even if it kills you. Because when you least expect it, something beautiful will come from all this pain. For once in your life, the sincerity of accomplishment will mean more than anything in this world.

I guarantee it will be worth it in the end, trust me.

 

 

 

 

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If I don’t write this down, I’ll never let go of it. I’ll never find my way to say the things I’ve always wanted to say. There are places that stay stitched in your memory. Vividly that you often believe that they happened just yesterday. Memories of people, places and things and how they made you feel. Its easy to misplace these thoughts and hide them deep within ourselves. But on those days when you search to remember, you find it right where you left it. Right into the depths of your soul. On the days that I don’t feel like myself, I go searching for this place. The place that made me feel the safest, that made all the nightmares disappear. It’s amazing how your mind works when you search to remember. Because its these memories that feel like they were yesterday but reality is that it were years ago.

I find myself dreaming of that house. The house with the tiny yard in the middle of the alley. I shouldn’t be looking back, I should be always looking forward. When things get bad, I find myself running toward that house in my memory. To the gravel road and the broken fences. Back to the home that always felt so large in stature. Large in wonderment and memory. The more I think about it, the more the memories rush toward me. The light that harbors inside every corner of that house, that opened up parts of myself I often forget. I was never this negative. I was never truly this heartbroken. Once upon a time, I stretched my arms out as far as they could reach and span around in circles to dream.  I felt dreams, aspirations, and believed that everything was possible. I wasn’t afraid to dream and these days I am afraid of everything. When it hurts to move on, I think of that house. That little gray house that stands in the middle of the alley. Because no matter where I go, I look toward that house to come home. Because to me, after all these years it feels like home.

It’s taken me so long to realize this but this house doesn’t feel like home. I hold my items in a house that feels fragile to the touch. We hide ourselves in rooms in the darkest corners of this house. We hide ourselves from the world, when everything used to be so out in the open. We occupy our time with being people we never intended to be. I can’t help but feel alone, feeling we lost something the moment we moved. Maybe its just me. Maybe I am the crazy one that puts too much emotion into stationary things. But some nights, I still dream that I am back there. At that little house that always felt so large in stature. That little house that always felt so open with life. That little house that felt like home to me. I’ve moved and lived in so many places. Big to biggest cities but no where feels like home. Most nights I don’t remember where I am. Most nights I dream I am somewhere else and waking up some place else. Because the point of growing up is finding where you fit in, in the world. Finding out where is home to you and where you belong.

Nothing feels like home anymore. My body is just placed in different places but none of them feel like home. Because home was where I once felt I had a family. Where I once felt like I had everything. Where my dreams were bigger than my body. I miss that. I miss outstretching my arms to the sky and spinning around in circles. I miss the feelings that went away as soon as I got older and started to forget. Its so easy to forget where you came from. To forget what brought you to the places that you’re at right at this moment. Its not that I want to forget, it just hurts too much to remember that once I was happy. Once I cared so much and believed I could be anything. Now I just feel numb, that this place doesn’t feel like me. Even though my blood, sweat, and tears formed this house, my heart never belonged here.

Never said goodbye to the house, as I should have done years ago. I never reached out my arms to the walls and said everything I wanted to say. In dreams I go back and whisper everything I feel at the moment. I tell all my secrets in dreams and forget I have to wake up eventually. I haunt myself with memories that don’t exist anymore. Looking to the past when I should be looking toward the future. But when my heart is hurting and my mind is blank, I go searching for this place. This vacant place that doesn’t exist anymore. Its been so long since I’ve been back that being face to face with it, doesn’t hold the same emotion as it once did. But once upon a time, I felt love in this house. For the longest time this was home to me. Now I have to find where I belong.

Where do I belong.

11/9/2005

Wonderland.

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If reality were as perfect as our dreams, we’d never fall asleep. We’d formulate ways to stay closer to the ground, instead of reaching for the stars. Dreaming has a way of making you believe things so impossible could be real. How vivid the sounds, how vivacious the colors, and how beautiful the people in all their splendor. If only we could stay in this dream state for a little while longer. Just a little bit longer.

Flashing lights and we
Took a wrong turn and we
Fell down a rabbit hole.

It’s silly to believe that dreams could feel this realistic, when you know deep down you’re bond to wake up. Still I find myself believing in this unrealistic nonsense that somewhere in my subconscious, this could be real. Because in dreams is the only way that you and I exist. The only way that I truly believe had we made a play, this could have lasted. The only image I remember of you is so perfectly etched in my memory. Perfectly perfect in all your splendor as dreams intended for you to be. The real world would never let me have you. Reality was too much to bare and my obsession of fears could never allow you near.

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Still I reached for you and there you appear. Magic rabbits out of a hat, watching the colors of this story turn from vivid blues to vibrant greens. Dreams are our wonderland. Perfectly perplexed chaotic perfection. Watching ourselves run from one end of the mind to another. Spotlighting our mind to believe that this is exactly what we wanted in the end. Fears in reality take away the clouds of dreams. The tremor shakes in my hands stand still whenever you find me. I know I’ll have to come down from this, I know eventually I’ll have to come back home.

I reached for you but you were gone
I knew I had to go back home

The problems with dreaming is waking up to reality. Seeing things as they really need to be. If only reality were as wonderful as our dreams. Our dreams that shield us from our unimaginative reality. Its in dreams that we can run away. Its in dreams we are free to do as we imagine and believe. It’s in dreams I can believe that we have a chance when reality tells me other wise. Maybe I just have to let you go. A day will come when I reach for you and you’ll be gone. Wonderland is never suppose to be perfect, even behind smiles we find the lies and the cracks through the concrete. Still I just want to pretend that you’re perfectly perfected, even if this is our wonderland. Even in dreams we find reality, and in reality we find our madness. Wonderland you tricked me into believing that dreams could be as pure as perfection. Instead you made me mad in the process.

In the end in wonderland we both went mad.

It’s time for me to wake up now.

 

Talking sh*t about a pretty sunset.

I am a sucker for sunsets. Where the colors of the sky blend chaotically into the atmosphere. Where the fades of sky blues tarnish into the clouds to form bright pinks to luscious violets and transition with their oranges into the dark skies we see at night. Maybe I am the only one that sees it that way. Watching this transformation of color just happen before my eyes.  The more I try and explain myself, the more people point out the flaws and dismantle the sunset that I love. Colors of sunsets are a lot like dreams, everyone has their own perception of them. No matter how many times a person puts their two cents in about color, I can’t help but feel they have it all wrong. Everyone wants this picturesque sunset to photograph and show the world. To mark it up to their own perspection of beauty and edit out all the flaws. The more they capture the more they turn it around and change it. Editing reality you take away the beauty of it all. Flaws and all.

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Maybe we are going about it all wrong. Taking pictures of the sky doesn’t give the sky it’s beautiful justice. The colors that are sketched into my mind never show up as beautiful as I photograph them. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could photograph the sky without the need of digital devices? No sunset looks as beautiful as it exist in my memory. No sunset can be photographed to its picturesque perfection. Why do I bother explaining the things I love, when someone is going to come around and change everything? You can’t put a filter on my sunsets and tell me that this is what you see. You can’t tell me that life as you photograph it is what I am suppose to see. I find myself allowing others fears and perception of beauty filter into my own ideas. I find myself wanting to change the things I once loved all for the sake of finding something beautiful. I can drive myself crazy trying to change every single one of the flaws but in the end its the imperfections that make everything so damn beautiful.

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Nostalgia always has a way of letting us down. Every once in a while people will find a way to let you down and break you heart. Sunsets will come and go and all you’re left with are all the colors they leave behind in your memory. Sometimes staring up at the sky is better than staying asleep and dreaming. Dreams are only real in your memory but sunsets are fucking there for the taking. Don’t allow anyone else’s perceptions of your reality change what you see. Then again what do I know, sunsets are just sunsets. Colors are just as over exaggerated as our dreams. Sometimes people are right, maybe the sunset that I see is in the wrong placement of everything I want. Maybe the colors that I see aren’t as important as what anyone else sees. Who knows. All I care about is feeling something other than nothing. Seeing the colors for everything they are worth, there for my amusement. I’ll never find the perfect sunset everyone claims exists. Maybe I am wrong for loving all the things that I do but for what it’s worth, I still fall in love every time I look up at the sky as the sun sets. That’s all I could ever ask for, falling in love with colors before the darkness hits. It’s through color that we truly believe in ourselves, it’s before the dark that we reach for the light again.  That’s all I could ever want.

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Talking shit about a pretty sunset
Blanketing opinions that I’ll probably regret soon
I’ve changed my mind so much I cant even trust it
My mind changed me so much I cant even trust myself

Sing me to sleep.

There’s that moment between night and morning, and I think of you. The moment the night dark skies slowly fades into the lights of the early morning. You escape my dreams and shake me awake. I see you so vividly and slowly watch you fade away. I see the sunlight slowly taking you away. There are moments I want to reach for you, but I stop. I’m tired and no matter how close you seem, you’re always so far away.

I drank too much last night. Every last drop to make the memories disappear. To drown the sounds of your voice. To take away the feelings of guilt and sadness. This desperation of needing someone, something, anything. Take away these feelings. Take away this pain. In the back of my mind it’s always you there saying how much you need me. How it was always me, you came back to. But I’m the one thats alone. I’m the one there drink after drink, alone.

If this moment is a dream, I hope I wake up. I hope all this sleeping and exhaustion amounts for something. You visit me in my dreams and you shake me awake. In dreams is the only place, you still have a memory. In dreams is the place that I knew you best. I was always the dreamer and you wished me awake. What good is being awake, if you’re not there? What good is reality when all you’re left is with sadness?

It’s that moment between night and morning. That moment when the sunrise starts to hit the dark spaces in my room. It’s the moment you start disappearing. The moment I realize it was all just a dream.

Your words sing me to sleep. Some days, I just don’t want to wake up.

6/8/2008

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You are my center when I spin away.

It’s the nights that keep you wondering. Your thoughts that manage to keep you up at night. No matter how many times you toss and you turn, you just can’t keep the images out. The same people, different faces. The same words, different spaces. This recurring deja vu that haunts you when you sleep. You pick the darkest of the nights to disappear from the world. Fall beneath the cracks and you grab only what you need.

Hit play.
Press Repeat.

You play that song. That one song that you lose everything to. That one that keeps the screams inside, keeps the madness and even the demons at bay. The melody hits, hums and you synchronize your breathing to it. You slowly disappear into the music. Reciting every line by memory and falling deeper inside the melody. The words hit you colder than any winter wind could. You embrace it. All you want is to run away. Running away into the night and fall deeper into the darkness. Watching the mist of the cold swallow you whole and watch yourself disappear. In the darkness is where you leave the worry, the sadness and even the regret. You release all the fears, mistakes and even all the madness you can’t get out in waking day. Lies you continue to tell yourself and for one brief moment you are free. The morning comes and it all disappears. The light washes away the darkness and a new day is upon us. All you have left of the night is the same song you repeat to yourself. The same melody haunts your memories as a soundtrack to your dreams.

No matter how many times you’ve heard that song, it helps you through the day. The lines that stick like second skin to your soul. The melody that transports you to different places and different times. You remember the sadness of being broken and the happiness of being loved. It all disappears the moment the song ends and you can’t help but restart. You love how it haunts you but you hate how it leaves you. Not broken, not sad, just closed off from the world and the people that don’t understand. No one understands this song better than you. Nobody. Then you fall even deeper than you did before.

Slowly you start feeling better. Slowly you find yourself listening to that song less. It’s there when you need it, right where you left it. Only to return when you need it the most. When you’re heart is heavy and you can’t help but fall back to that point. When your mind starts to wonder to the past, the present and even your sick twisted visions of the future. It will be there. Just where you left it. Waiting.

And it will be okay.

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City of Angels.

I’ve never been good with letting go.

The whole nostalgia of the past to let go in the present. Things weren’t always so bad and miserable. Sometimes they were pretty great. Dreams fade and you’re left with the dust of a harsh reality. Maybe I just like to make believe that everything was once perfect. Just go back to the 4 year old that put her hands in Marilyn Monroe’s handprints, dreaming that one day that would be her reality. The flashing lights never stop shining brightly when you’re a dreamer. The people of your past change and you become a different person when you’re older. Some how in your memories everyone remains the same. Just freeze framed into people that held the same dreams you did at one point. Every day was one big new beginning and every experience was a life changing event.

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L.A. had always been a huge impact of my life. It was where my Dad came to call his adolescence home. Where no matter how crazy the drive was, it was always bigger, brighter, shinier than any city I had ever been to growing up. After a while the trips became less frequent and yet I still loved it. I yearned for a city, I knew nothing about and dreamed every day to return to it. I found myself telling everyone that “one day, I am going to move there and everything will happen for me”. That’s the thing with dreams, we dream so vividly we forget to gasp for air. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I just knew I had to be somewhere that things happened. Where people from all walks of life migrated for just one tiny beckon of hope of a new beginning. Maybe that’s what I had always wanted. A new beginning. Anything better than the 4 years of being someone I didn’t like or the 5 years after processing a lifetime of heartbreak. Somewhere inside you knew that there was a place where you can start over and everything would be okay.

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The countless times I fled to LA were always magical. Whether waiting countless hours in front a venue to see a band or sitting directly in front of the latest crush of the moment, I knew things were happening. The countless nights I toasted to dreams with my friends or the days I dreamed knowing that every moment this was my best choice. Every time I made a mistake, it didn’t matter because tomorrow was just another day to turn it all around. I loved it. I loved being surrounded by dreamers that all wanted the same dreams I did. They wanted to be better and brighter than their past, no matter how much they struggled they knew one day it would all be different. You continued dreaming and continued to have hope for a better beginning. It was just the magically mysticism of  a city that made you believe that everything was possible. That everything you dreamed of will one day come true and everything else that happened in the past was just one sick twisted memory.

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The reality of dreams is that one day reality comes crashing down. One day the dreams you held so closely eventually disappear when you wake up. Maybe LA will always be my Neverland, where I will forever be stuck in the mistakes of my youth. We were all just lost boys and girls looking for a way to keep the dreams of our youth alive. While I have seen my life change drastically through the years, its always that memory of being in love with a city so magical that I’ve never forgotten. The only city that I’ve ever wanted to run away to, that helped me grow up in ways I never understood at the time.

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Its wrong to say I don’t miss it. Every night I catch myself missing it more than usual. I know in my heart that reality makes for a challenging adulthood and eventually our childish ways have to grow up. Just sometimes I can’t help but dream about the streets, the lights, and the sounds. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I still believe I’m back there. Back in my youth where everything was possible. Where dreams would one day become reality and every struggle was worth it.

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Now that I’m older my dreams have changed. Yet I find myself saying sorry that I let you down LA but sometimes we have to break before we can become whole again. I had to leave you to realize that I could love myself before I could love you again. You were the city that was there for me when I needed you most and sometimes I forget that. I will forever be grateful to you. Grateful to the city of dreamers who all wanted exactly what I once did. Your beauty, your history, and the light of hope that never once let me down.

I love you, LA. Always have, always will. ❤

Everybody comes to Hollywood..

Bright lights, shooting stars and all that.

I can’t even remember what the grand appeal was to live in LA. Maybe it was the sense that it was far enough from home without leaving the state. It was a large enough city to get completely lost in while a 6 hour car ride back to reality. A majority of my childhood was spent dreaming of LA. While there were endless trips to the Bay Area, it was LA that was always the most glamorous city. Needless to say every dream I ever had was to pack all of my belongings and make it big under the big marquees and the shiny lights of Hollywood. When you’re a dreamer, you spend your nights just waiting for that chance to pick up everything and walk out with nothing. That’s exactly what I did.

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Its weird how vividly I remember that move. The sights, the sounds, and most of all just finally packing everything to let my life go. For so long I believed that what I was doing was making a new start. I was picking up the broken pieces and finding a new place to put them back together. Up until the day that I moved I was constantly going back and forth telling myself that this was the right choice. I had been heartbroken for so long and it was time to finally be happy. There’s always that part inside of me that thinks maybe all of this is a bad idea. Regardless of doubts and negative influences, I left. Maybe I could finally let go of everything I was feeling and maybe for once I would finally feel better. It had been a year since I was dumped, a year since I had started my stage of never ending self destruction and here I was opening the doors to a new beginning. I needed this, I wanted this change. More importantly I needed this to work. My first weeks in LA were complete blur. A majority of them just adjusting to a new lifestyle, a new life, and moving in with someone other than my parents. Sure I had lived with a roommate before but this was different. I was finally at an age that I could be a REAL adult. However, being a REAL adult meant a majority of different factors I never really grasped the concept of. Sure I paid every one of my bills on time, but I hadn’t lived on my own in a long time. Not to mention the money I had saved for the move was slowly becoming non-existent with in the first weeks of moving in.

Was I being financially irresponsible? Of course I was.

Life moves rather fast in a bigger city. LA was no exception. Instead of being responsible for my lack of income I had coming in, I spent it. ALL OF IT. This is where I could blame a lot of factors. I will still hooking up with a guy that was in a relationship (the same guy that dumped me), I was still going back to my old destructive ways and more importantly I just felt really alone. When I moved, I didn’t tell anybody. In the span of a year after my break-up, I told 5 people I was moving. I was exceptionally dramatic, I just wanted to disappear and see how many people would actually notice. I said my final goodbyes and packed up all my belongings and left. Not before hooking up with the person who dumped me out of revenge for the whole situation. At that point, I just didn’t care. I was leaving and everyone else was staying behind while I was moving forward.

Under the Urban Lights. One of the few things I miss about my time in LA

Under the Urban Lights. One of the few things I miss about my time in LA

When you move you always have to factor in these different scenarios:

Will I find work right away?

Do I have a place to stay?

How much money, do I need to support myself?

Can I honestly afford to move out?

That right there. The above. “Can I honestly afford to move out?”.  That should have been the question I asked myself over and over, instead I took my last check of work and never looked back.

It didn’t take too long to adjust to the LA lifestyle. The moving, the shaking and the great deal of partying. I was partying for a life I couldn’t afford before I even had a job. In some ways I was partying all of my feelings, my doubts, and even all of my own personal demons all for the sake of a good time. I knew the party couldn’t last forever and within weeks the party stopped. My roommate always told me she would be a huge advocate of helping me find a good job. A good paying job, like the one she was accustom to having. While I am not one to wait for everything, I started job hunting and found a job working as a receptionist in a Lending Company. It wasn’t ideal. I wasn’t making much money but at least it was a steady income to get my life on track. Within weeks of working and trying to adjust to life, the guy I was hooking up with dumped me for second time. If it wasn’t bad the first time, it was ten times worst the second. I just couldn’t catch a break. Right around the time I was adjusting to my new life, my brother moved in. After that it became a never ending cycle of bullshit. Everyone knows I don’t get a long with my sibling. To even saying his name makes me boil with anger. I was never like that before. Sure he annoyed me as all siblings do, but the day that he moved in to the apartment on the pretense of moving in with his friends changed everything. Right around the time that I was given the boot from my “relationship”, my brother was heartbroken about a relationship of his own.  Where I saw an out with my roommate, my brother saw an out with me. While he swore he was only going to stay for a handful of weeks until his friends moved to LA, I believed him. It wasn’t that I was being selfish but I had my own life to lead. I had my own life, struggles and demons to conquer, moving to LA was my dream and here I was playing babysitter to someone else’s. Things changed rather quickly once my brother moved in. I couldn’t necessarily talk freely about any of my problems, I couldn’t even bring my problems up. I was hiding every ounce of emotion I felt and that ended up being my downfall amongst other things.

No matter how many hours I’ve worked, how many times I thought I was making it. I wasn’t doing shit. The true honest factor where I thought I was finally coming together with something, something else would fall apart. I couldn’t afford rent. I couldn’t afford to live in LA. My new life was slowly becoming a harsh reality. I wasn’t paying rent because I wasn’t making any sort of money and therefore my roommate took the blunt end of the spectrum. I should have been more financially responsible but the truth was something inside of me snapped. Of course I want to blame every factor of my feelings but reality was I wasn’t being much of an adult. Instead of calling home and asking for money, I continued to spend whatever money I had. Every week I had 100 dollars to my name and every weekend I spent everything. How my roommate didn’t kick me out within the first few weeks, I’ll never understand. Instead she was too busy being the adult. Helping my brother get work (the same work she promised she would help me find), helping out with the finances, and importantly being the sister to my brother that I couldn’t be. Did that bother me? Absolutely. When I absolutely lost it was around the time I tried to be civil with my brother. He had lived in the apartment well over his few weeks mark and still wasn’t saying much to me. He would bicker about everything, argue about bullshit and more importantly just be so ungrateful about everything. I GET IT, he was having a hard time. WHAT ABOUT ME? Wasn’t I not dumped a few weeks prior? Did I know nothing about heartbreak? If my roommate invited him out, he would go. If I invited him out, he was busy or tired. I didn’t think it was fair. Here I was doing him a favor and he wouldn’t speak to me. It wasn’t until he told me that my roommate just understood him. “She’s going through a lot of heartbreak, she understands where I am coming from?”.

WOW.

Really?

I begin to wonder what was I actually doing in LA anymore. I couldn’t afford to live there. I couldn’t even pay rent. More importantly I wasn’t communicating with anyone.  What in the fuck was I doing?

Once again the cycle of destruction started all over again. When you harbor all of that negativity inside, its so easy to attract the darkness. Week after week it was another thing. First it was breaking my hand after being dumped (one $150 visit to Urgent care, then to County ER $75 a visit later), then needing an emergency root canal ($1500 plus procedure). It was one thing after another. I missed work because of these problems and lost money because I was missing work.

What did I do? I drank, smoked and shopped.

How did I feel? Absolutely miserable.

It was just one unlucky break after another. I was miserable and most of all I was extremely lonely. I couldn’t talk to anyone. I always confided in my roommate with my problems but she was too busy confiding in my brother. Every one else lived too far and any one that lived close didn’t understand. I felt alone because I was alone, I started doing everything to make the sadness disappear but it only made things worse.

The Rent breakdown

$1050 /a month for Rent (RENT $2100)
$450 /a month for utilities (mind you this is roughly an estimate)
$300 /a month for extra expenses

TOTAL: $1800 a month.

My Income

$1170 /a month ($12 an hour, paid weekly)

My expenses
$100 / a week groceries
$65 / a month (phone bill)
$75 / a month credit card bill Wells Fargo
$75 /a month credit card bill B of A
$75/ medical expense
$129/ dental expense
$40 / GAS

TOTAL $759

Miscellaneous Expenses

$411 / a month on bullshit (drinking, dining, shopping, etc)

Monthly earnings

$0

I absolutely just couldn’t catch a break. More importantly this new beginning was an absolute nightmare. I fought all the time with my roommate. I hated the cards that were dealt before me. Once again I continued to get the shit end of the stick and everyone was okay with that. When you’re broken you will do anything to continue to be in the darkness. I did just that. However on the other side my brother was doing great. He was making good money, he was excelling at work, and while he was still heartbroken, his life was coming together. Of course I was jealous of that. That was suppose to be me. That was suppose to be my life. I was the one that was suppose to be going somewhere. Instead I was stuck. He was being praised left and right and I was just a silly sob story. My parents constantly told me that if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t be excelling. All I could think about was, why hadn’t anyone else done the same for me? Why didn’t anyone ask me how the fuck I was doing? Once again I was the savior in someone else’s life, but they only used me as a tiny blurb in their story.

Again the cycle continued. The drinking, the partying, the spending, the fighting, until one day it all stopped.

My roommate just about couldn’t take it anymore. Honestly I don’t blame her. I was a horrible person. Where I was once so hopeful for a new life, I became vile, vindictive and down right rotten. The only person I had to blame was myself. Honestly would you want to live with a person like that? There are so many things that went on in that apartment, all of which I don’t care to discuss anymore. When my roommate asked me to leave, I lost it. Not because I failed but because I was exactly how I felt. I was a loser. I was doing no better than if I stayed in my hometown.  She had every right to ask me to leave. I see that now, however at the time I was so angry and heartbroken I blamed her for everything. More importantly where I thought I had an ally in my brother, he took my roommate’s side in everything. After all she got him the job in his new life, she allowed him to continue living with her. And while I left with my usual dramatics, my brother took my place. To this day I have never forgiven my brother for that. Even though I can say I am over it, I am not. He took a life that wasn’t his to begin with. Where I continued to struggle in all aspects of my life, once again he had a hand out to make his life better. Every day I asked myself why. Why it was so easy for people like him that everyone made things happen for?  I wish I had the answer for everything.

I moved back home heartbroken, defeated and worst of all more broken the first time I left. I failed and instead of picking up the pieces, I left them piling up on the floor. I was angry and worst of all I was angry that my brother continued to live in MY apartment and taking over MY life. My brother and I don’t speak anymore. It took a year after I left for me to get the courage to even be civil to him. I was so angry with everything that went on in that apartment that I was still blaming him for everything. It’s been years since I’ve spoken to my roommate. It’s been years since a lot of things. I put all my eggs in the basket of living in LA, that I never once wondered the consequences. LA was suppose to be my new everything. What I failed to see was that LA was my complete downfall. I bit off more than I could chew and I was choking to death. Moving to LA just opened a new wave of bullshit. Instead of seeing my problems for what they were, I was running away from them. When you run away from your problems, they eventually catch up to you when you least expect them to. That’s exactly what happened with me. Maybe it was my Karma back for everything in my past. The lying, the secrecy, the dramatics, everything came back to haunt me. I was driving myself absolutely insane with my internal problems that I refused to see what I was doing to myself. I wasn’t myself when I was in LA, I was just another empty hollow shell. I drank too much, I threw up all my food, I took too many pills, I smoked too much, and every day it was the same thing. It didn’t matter what I did to hide my problems, they were always there staring back at me. I was no different than an addict, I was no different than a junkie, I  was just better at hiding everything I felt.  The only people I should be ashamed of is myself. I should have asked for help instead of crying for it but I didn’t. Instead I blamed everyone for all of my misfortunes.

This photo pretty much portrays my time in LA. Completely empty and hollow.

This photo pretty much portrays my time in LA. Completely empty and hollow.

It’s been 6 years since I’ve lived in LA. Every year I unravel a new revelation about that time period. I knew better. I wasn’t ready to move without fully being okay with my own personal demons. Never should I have left without being financially responsible for myself. I should have never offered a hand to help when I needed help to begin with. I also should never have moved into an apartment that was way beyond my means. So on, so forth. The point of growing up is finally coming to terms with the past. My life in LA was never going to work out, I know that now. While the appeal and allure of the shiny façade of LA will always intrigue me, it was never for me. I can play a million “what if” scenarios but the truth of the matter was, I wasn’t cut out for that life. A lot can happen in a year or two but after 6 years of analyzing I realized I have to stop looking back. Everything had a reason for happening and everything had to fall apart in order to find a place in my life. I didn’t understand it then but as the years progress, I start to understand it a little more. I am still not on speaking terms with my brother and who knows if I ever will be. Until I can fully put that whole time period behind me, only then I can truly heal that relationship. If there is anyone that I have to truly apologize for being so horrible is to my roommate because honestly she didn’t deserve any of that. While I may not have agreed with the tactics that happened after I left the apartment, I was never ungrateful for anything she did for me. At the end of the day she made life possible for my brother in ways I couldn’t. While she may have considered me a lost cause because of all of my problems at least she could help someone else. In a way she wasn’t the enemy, I just wished things had worked out different. Maybe in another life. Who knows.

I know things are not where I want them to be now, but one day everything will change for the better. It has to right?

Everything in it’s right place.