Hopelessly Waiting

Jan. 21, 2011
chpt. 6
Bk. 4


I'm afraid. I'm so afraid of rejection and heartache.

"Try not to suffer," he says to me. That was like saying, "Try not to breathe."
But I do, and I am.

In so little time there is much to remember of him. And so little. Not a day goes by without me waiting for him. Waiting for what? Waiting for him to reject me. For him to tell me that I'm only something to look at, not to love.



Love looks not with the heart
but with the mind
therefore is winged cupid
painted blind.
-Shakespeare


When I really think about it, I've never known true love. Pain is all I've known. Maybe it's supposed to be that way.

I walk the path less walked

Tuesday, Dec. 7
chapt. 13
Bk. 3


I walked outside while it continued to snow. The snow was deep and fresh.

I looked around and saw that the only prints around were mine.

How much easier it was to just walk into a path already made; worn out it was. But I've chosen the harder path where I've made my own prints, tripping and stumbling in an effort to reach my destination.

It's lonely, too.

Other paths are straight. they go one way and end. Mine goes with my heart, and twists and turns with it's motions. It's unlimited.

I don't need anyone to follow. I'll take the road no one has chosen. I'll walk the path less walked, where ever it goes.

From a distance

I stood and watched from a distance as my sisters clung to a relative begging him not to leave. This was strange to me. I didn't care whether he stayed or went. Why did they?

I turned to my mother, who sat on the couch annoyed with my sisters' behaviour. "Mom, was I ever like that when I was their age?"

"No," she said. "You weren't really attached anyone but your father."

She was right. When I was very young I remember only crying for him, and rejoicing when I'd see him again. The first person to ever make me laugh when I was a baby. Mom was always upset whenever she mentioned this. 

When I was 11, my father told me that if there was anything that I wanted, he would give it to me. I told him that I wanted to see him, be around him. I didn't get it. I didn't ask for anything else.

It's strange how the more I wanted him to be there, the more excuses, lies he used to try and keep me away. He blames me.

I haven't done anything. God is my witness.

I've tried so many times to be closer to him. There's a wall in between us; there's no passing it. It's too thick. Too late. He doesn't even know my favourite colour. How can he get to know me? I call him on the phone, and I can't think of anything to say. 

My mother always said to me that he cares about me. He loves me. But it confuses me that he doesn't call. His new family is more important now. For me to squeeze in...there's just no room. I just stand back and watch. It hurts to be on the outside looking in. He was my father once. I bet they didn't know that. It's good that they don't know a broken family. Even if I came first I'm illegitimite. I hate that word. It means I don't matter. Well, that's what it means to me.

I remember being young and crying at night, because I had a bad dream. When my father came out of his room, I thought he would scold for being loud. Instead, he hugged me and rocked me and told me that "everything is okay".

Everything was okay. He loved me. Past tense.

My english teacher was a wonderful father, he talked about his children all the time.

After school one day, I was doing an assignment, and he said, "Come on, I've got to go home and see my kids."

I thought it was funny. That was a joke. I started to laugh, "You don't really mean that,"

"Of course I do, they're my kids, I love them, they are the most important people in my life."

and I wanted to cry because i've never heard a man say that before. I was 13. I didn't think it was possible.

 I asked my father to take me to the hospital when i was 14. Even though I couldn't take pain, I was willing to go and get the mini-operation, I just wanted this pain to go away. But he wouldn't take me because it would hurt. My father said no. 

I've always promised myself that I would keep my own family together one day. I'll be damned if It breaks. If he leaves me, let it be because of death, not because he didn't want me; It has to be because he has no choice.

Messed-up Media- Nutella = Chocolate Not Smarts

I was up pretty late one night, I was watching TV. You won't believe what I saw:  A Nutella Ad. That's right. I could swear that there's more to it. What I mean is, the message they're trying to send is that Nutella makes kids smart. You should buy your children Nutella  so they can start building an Italy tower out of LEGO blocks. 

Nutella is Chocolate. Don't kid yourself. I tried to get my parents to buy me a chocolate spread saying that it'll help me do better in school.

"Well, my grades would be better if you bought me some Nutella. Only 5 bucks. Plus tax."

Yeah, right. I'll tell you what's a guarantee: Tooth decay and a bigger waist line. Can't stand the truth? Then sit. 

You are what you eat. Chocolate is a cocoa bean.They're round, and so are you.

Guess what else? The media is trying to deceive us Again. I read an Article once that tried to tell me that excercise makes us gain weight. Now chocolate is brain food. Forget the "We added vitamin C" bit. Have an orange. Eat those veggies. It just saves all the confusion. And lastly, but not the least, use your common sense.

Last Chapter of book 4

It’s so hard to say to myself that they don’t care about me. But it makes it so much easier to move on.

There’s pain in my heart when I think about them. It doesn’t go away, and It hurts to try and forget. It hurts to Deny everything that has happened.

I won’t forget. Everything will be forever in my memory, in my heart. Even if I won’t see them again I’ll think of them softly, always.

http://www.johnwiegley.com/

it's a good site!!!

your love- book1 chapter 2

II

Last time I loved it didn't come back to me.

It had rained often, which I saw as a bad omen for heartbreak.
Rumours started to really get to me. It started when Shamaya told me he still cared about me enough to come back. That was a lie.

I was losing it.

I heard his voice, loud and clear. It made me smile again, and I remembered why I still held on. I love you, He whispered. He loved me. My heart burned with emotion as I fought against me and lost my mind.

I began to feel happy, I daydreamt of him all day. I wanted to believe in this rumour. That he loved me.

It was another one of those nights when I snuck out to take walks around the block. I heard his voice again, but when I looked around he wasn't there.

A man called my name with a french accent like my love, Davet. When I came close I saw that it wasn't him this man was much bigger. This guy was Lance. He called to another guy: Davet.

Davet walked up to us, glanced at me with a smirk, then walked right past me to a bench. He refused to come near me. i was hurt.
 He didn't say goodbye to me before his disappeared, and then he returned and refused to talk to me. Say hi.

Lance yelled after Davet talking about a girl talking about a girl Davet liked, but I couldn't understand the rest.
 "Me?" I said.
"No, some other girl."
I didn't want to here more. i left the scene.

I wasn't surprised that he'd change his mind about liking me. They always do.

Funny how love always found someone better to love than that someone.

Was there something wrong with me?