My best friend just bought a brand new car. I still don’t have a license. I was slightly jealous for a minute. I had a “what the fuck am I doing with my life” moment. Our senior year, she’d pick me up for school in her mothers ford Taurus we called, “the tank.” one morning, it was negative 8 degrees out, and she had no heat. Her little brother never said anything (he doesn’t really say much) I’m sure our morning energy drove him crazy. once spring came, we’d skip the last half of the day and go to the beach. We’ve created countless memories in the tank, and when the tank broke down, it was like we lost a friend. The joy it brought me over came my jealously, and I’m so proud of it’s driver for this new car accomplishment. She named it “Cali”
She’s my hero. She’s the only person I know who doesn’t care what you think of her. There was this one time during “a chorus Line” reversal that she asked me for beauty tips because I’m pretty and guys like me. Other than that, she’s the type of person who doesn’t try to impress you. She posses an indifference for approval, and it’s impossible to not be consumed by her energy. She’s living her life for only her, and even with today’s standards, that’s pretty badass.
The thing is, she’ll probably say the same about me. We have an inside joke that if we were to warp into the same person, we’d rule the world. Our name is “julinda.” somehow our flaws would balance out our strengths and all that would be left would be a force of awesomeness in the shape of a woman.
Her new car has reminded me, that I may not be exactly where I am in life, but I’m in California, just like I wanted as a kid. It’s not what I expected, but for the time it’s home. I’m not a famous comedian, but I do comedy when I can and when I want. I have a failed relationship but I loved. If I just keep walking, I’ll get to where I’m going.
It’s hard to sit around and be sad when you know where you’ve been, and are surrounded by people who know what to say when you’d rather not talk. And when I stop and think about all the amazing people I have in my life, i wonder why I waste my time on the negative ones.
Linda bought a new car, and is going on to bigger things, and I have a new found freedom, I know I’m on the right road. My feet will get me wherever I need to go….and when I trip and fall I know I have someone to call to get me right back up.
What’s more important than that?
There are hundreds and hundred thousand quotes about love. The one that always stuck with me was “It’s better to have loved,and lost then never loved at all.”
The reason it sticks out, is because I always thought it was bullshit. My entire life has revolved around loss. When I was young I decided love wasn’t for me. I know, I sound so dramatic (well I guess I am) When I was six, and my grandmother died my Mother told me to say goodbye to my cousin Natalie, because I would never see her again. At the time Natalie was the most important person in my life. We were inseparable. She has lupus, so as kids she was forced to stay in the shade while my brothers and the rest of my cousins were free to roam free during the summers. Instead of leaving her alone, we’d find fun games to play in the shade. This involved a lot of time indoors, playing with snails on the shady part of my aunts front yard, and attempting to catch fire flies at night, when the sun was no longer a threat. As I’m writing this, I realize this is probably the reason I’m not very active and outdoorsy….
Suddenly, she was gone. How do you say goodbye as a six year old? How can do you comprehend why your mother would want to take someone away from you. This also caused a rocky relationship with my mother. She did this. She wanted to hurt me. Now, at twenty-seven. I know she didn’t, but it doesn’t make it any less painful. Natalie and I were never able to fix our relationship and now she’s just another one of my Facebook friends.
Fast forward to thirteen year old me, when my Dad left. I dont even what to finish this. He left. I was sad, and again i was unable to make sense of it. This story is still unclear to me. And wish to not write about it.
I’m a big girl now, so I can’t continue to hold onto these awful memories. I know this, and everyday I try to let go. I can’t let my past dictate me and I have to be tough, and know I am responsible and in control of what I do next.
So last year, I fell in love. Real. Fast. True, undeniable love. Totally unexpected. But it happened. So I decided to let it happen. I told myself I would deal with the consequences. I would take whatever came my way. The good, the bad, i wouldn’t hide from it. I feel that’s what I did. It wasn’t always perfect, but when it was…it was. And that was enough to keep me going.
And now Its over, because of alcohol, violence and another woman’s vagina. And I’m overwhelmed with emotions. I want to hide. I want to sit behind my bedroom door and cry. Like I did as a child, but i know that just as a little girl that didn’t fix anything. It won’t know. So what do I do? Pick myef up, brush myself and move on. Right? The problem is that is so much easier said than do. I’m still in my pajamas. I haven’t brushed my teeth, it’s 12 in the afternoon and I had cigarettes for breakfast.
I want him to love me. I want to believe he did, but as I look back on the relationship it seems less true. I know one day, I’ll wake up and it will suddenly make sense to me. I’ll stop being so naive. I’ll see him the way my friends did, the way my mother now does. This to me is the scariest part.
Despite his flaws, I loved him. There’s a part of me that wants to believe that he’ll come back and be his old self again. That he’ll get sober. He’ll learn to clean his dishes. And mop when Its needed. He’ll take me on a trip like i always asked. He’ll tell me I’m beautiful. He’ll compromise. He’ll apologize and really understand what he’s saying sorry for. He’ll buy me or pick me a bouquet of flowers just because. He’ll actually stop and take a moment to listen. And most importantly, he’ll think about me and what I want.
I know the truth is, I’ll never get this. And goodbyes get easier as you get older. And no matter who he his, who he becomes, I loved him. And that’s all I need to move on.
I woke up drunk at 7:30 am. Walked home from sleeping on a friends couch. I slept for 4 hours. The walk home was awful. I felt stiff. I thought there was a chance I was going to fall over, vomit all over myself and die alone in the heart of oak park California, on a beautiful spring day. But I didnt I survived. My waste of time boyfriend greeted me at home, with his pathetic, half hearted “I’m so sorry for what I did to you(the night before) lines. I ignored him and tried to get sleep. Went to work at 1:30 pm worked until 8 pm at one job, then straight to another. Got called back to work at job number one, from 11:30 pm until 3:30 am.
I worked for 14 hours (I think, bad at math…)
Came home to a locked front door. Woke up lame boyfriend and I’m currently sitting outside, writing this on my shitty iPhone 3GS.
Live is pretty shitty.
But I didn’t die.
Ive been drinking.
and so have you. You’re passed out.
but i’m awake. which makes me think, I’m better than you.
but i am not.
If we had children, well, thats the thing..I don’t want children with you.
because you’re different when you drink. I wouldn’t want a child to be around someone with such an inconsistent behavior. you like me either way, but you show me a different kind of affection when you’ve been drinking. i cant decide who likes me more. You, or drunk you. it’s frustrating.
either you, will not have sex with me. maybe thats why i don’t want your babies. i can’t imagine the act of “creating” with you. so it’s a turn off. you may be a turn off.
but i like you. you make me laugh. and you make me feel sexy.
and maybe that should be all i need. but it isnt. i want someone to be with me. and i mean, not just next to be, but with me. to feel the things i do. to see and hear and know what i know. maybe i want too much. maybe im crazy.
you go somewhere else when you drink. your eyes wander and your face hangs down. you become weak and unattractive. you turn into a little boy, and not the little boy i like in you. that loves to talk to me about silly things, and computers. a boy. a little bratty, spoiled boy. that i would otherwise ignore. youre the little boy who leaves rice all over the floor at the restaurant i work at. just an annoyance.
i want you to come back and be with me, but I don’t know how to find you.
Sometimes being an adult can be scary, like at the end of every month when I’m anxiously counting my tips, and realize I’m $16 short for rent this month. Those days I thank the god I’d otherwise deny, for giving me one more day of work. I get really depressed and tell myself, I will not buy another pair of shoes no matter how perfect they are for me, and I really didn’t need to buy that bottle of wine when I went grocery shopping.
There are days when I wished my mother still dressed me, even though, I can’t remember days like that. My mother stopped dressing me as soon as she realized, I was pretty adamant about being true to my own style. I just wish I had that choice back. Nights, when dinner was already made for me. Even if my mother insisted on me eating meat, when I told her i didn’t want to. I think i would be a lot more productive if I had my father asking me if I got all my schoolwork done. Sometimes, I cry just because i know, I no longer have my brothers to console me.
I love my new found freedom. I love, not being told what i can’t do. All this independence has given me time to think about what I want out of the rest of my life. Luckily, my parents raised me well enough,that i never have to question who i am, no matter how hard things get. I am so fortunate to have a family that loves me, and I know will never let me fall, but sometimes when you’re standing on the edge, all you can see is the bottom, and at that moment, a childhood indulgence like Nutella becomes more than a delicious treat, you realize it’s your life saver.
“I used to think as I looked out on the Hollywood night — there must be thousands of girls sitting alone like me, dreaming of becoming a movie star. But I’m not going to worry about them. I’m dreaming the hardest.” -M.Monroe
Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.
Page 1 of 2