So much that I don’t even know where to start …

And nor do I have the patience to figure it out.

All I know is that I fucked up badly, suffered a ridiculous amount of guilt, almost cried tears of relief after determining he wasn’t mad at me, carried out a completely normal conversation with him, and continue to dream about him.

Although I think I’d categorize those short films more into the nightmare section.

This is ridiculous. 2 months, and I’ve gotten a lot better …

But I’m still not over this.

FUCK.

Forget the fact that I’m bringing these issues up as a way of informing my parents about a potential problem of my brother’s. Forget the fact that I’m bringing these issues up as a way of helping him in the future. Forget the fact that I’m put these out in the open now so they can be fixed before they hinder his future. Forget it all!

Why she’s so averse to having her sons negative points bluntly articulated to her is beyond me. Everyone has downfalls (she of all people should be aware of that). The point of a parent is to identify the ones which threaten to hinder and attempt to fix. The fact that I’m even willing to sit down and discuss my observations with my parents when they’re not even aware means that I’m already doing half the job. The fact that I’m willing to execute the solutions that I myself thought out means that I’m willing to take over their job completely in the name of my brother’s welfare (since they seem more inclined to perpetuate my brother’s false sense of self-worth).

But what I can’t do is help my brother when my mother undermines my authority and efforts at every turn by patting my brother on the back from a job badly done. She seems to think that every error of his is somehow the result of something we (my family) are doing versus the laziness and lack of effort of my brother. Any negative point brought up about my brother is immediately tackled by my mother as unnecessary libel against her sweet child due to the crass and bitchy disposition of usually, me.

And so I start to wonder … does she really think her precious tub of a son is perfect? She has to be aware that is inability to put his clothes on properly isn’t normal at this age. She she has to be aware that his attitude towards everyone is just heinous from his lack of friends and behavior at home. She has to be aware that his personal hygiene is greatly lacking from the condition of his skin to the state of his room. She has to be aware that his speech is horribly inarticulate as every statement or comment has to be repeated at least 3x for a semblance of understanding. She has to be aware that his weight is unacceptable when his doctor flat out says his weight falls under the light blue section (overweight).

What I can’t understand is why mother is so oblivious to the many downfalls of my brother when she’s so very acutely aware of every downfall I possess plus more.

You douchebags.

Fact: I’m truly okay with not being with David anymore.

Sure, I’ll have those nostalgic moments where I smile to myself like some psychotic woman off her meds while reminiscing, but who doesn’t? However shitty our relationship was at times, it was still the sweetest, most genuinely innocent courtship I’ve had the privilege to experience — from holding hands on the beach to being damned indecent on the dance floor — he did it all. And even though I spend countless hours mentally cursing him to the depths hell for taking advantage of my “genuine” desire to be his, I thank him for everything. I thank him for genuinely liking me. I thank him for genuinely thinking about my well-being. I thank him for all the memories he’s given me. I thank him for giving me the opportunity to experience all the romantic cliches girls long for. I thank him for all the genuine feelings he gave me. I thank him for respecting me. I thank him for doing what I didn’t have the balls to do. But most of all, I thank him for helping me realize that although he was a wonderful catch, he wasn’t what I wanted, needed, or genuinely liked. And finally, I thank him for putting in the effort to re-forge a platonic relationship with me.

After a year, I’m glad to have said that we tried, failed, and continue as friends. After a torturously slow, confusing, anxiety filled relationship filled with beautiful memories, I’m that much more of a person. After liking, hurting, getting angry, and finding peace, I’m that much wiser and glad for the experience.

D***d C****n S**g, you will definitely go down as my favorite bastard of all time.

Thank You.

Yet however fantastic I feel at the moment, I can’t help but fear for myself. I fear for the speed, grace, and nonchalance in which I arrived at these revelations. I fear that I actually have become as heartless as people think me to be. I fear that I’ve lost the ability to truly put my heart and soul into things. I fear that I’ve lost the genuine ability to like, love, and cherish with my heart, and not just my mind.

Especially in light of my last relationship; he was supposed to be different. My whole world shook when he looked at me. My mind went blank from pure joy when he hugged me. My brain ceased to function the moment he smiled at me. I could’ve lost everything I owned in a fire and still been insanely happy if he was the one comforting me. In short, my eyes were for him, and him alone. Yet here I am today, 4 days after we broke up, happy as ever and barely able to appreciate the pain in loss.

Truthfully, my heart and mind have never spent more than a week lingering on any broken relationship. I’ve never hurt or despaired over any relationship to the point where my heart hurt enough to cry. I mean, I’ve cried — God knows I’ve cried — but always in the name of hurt pride, the fear of loneliness, a lost relationship … never a broken heart. Hell, I’ve yet to experience a broken heart since I’ve never opened up my heart enough to truly love anyone. Sure, at the time I believed the feelings I had were nothing but the purest feelings of like and love, but when the time came to separate it barely mattered.

Hence, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve either subconsciously never truly given my heart to anyone, or truly lost the ability to give my heart to anyone. Either way, it scares me. I, like every other stupid woman in this world, long to experience that powerful, moving love in which time and distance only serve to strengthen and tears and pain deepen. Hence, as a leading pessimist of the world, I fear my chance will slip through my fingers because of my heart’s callous indifference to the men that work for my heart.

Basically, my parents borrowed $600 from me since their finances were short, WHICH is already a bit ridiculous considering that I’m a poor college student that pays for all my expenses. I lent them this money thinking that I’d be getting it back in a couple weeks or so — the longest being till my dad’s next paycheck came in. Reality? Assumption WRONG.

I found out this morning, after listening to an hour long lecture regarding my unforgivably indecent habit of coming home late, that they didn’t plan on returning it till Dec. FUCKING DECEMBER.

$600 might be chump change to the section of society that have 9-5 salary jobs, but I’m a full-time student working part-time to pay off my credit card bill. And considering that my credit limit is $3000 and the first number of my balance has reached 2, I’D SAY I FUCKING NEED MY FUCKING $600. Hence, I proceeded to pitch a fit while explaining my dire need for my bloody money only to find myself being guilt tripped beyond belief. Thanks Mom and Dad, for understanding.

So basically, thanks to my parents (ironically enough), I am now financially fucked. I don’t even know how I’m going to get more money considering school has started, and I’m already working all my free hours. I’m just so lost, worried, stressed, and quite honestly, scared.

But what truly gets me is how they continue to counsel me (more like impress upon me) on my life choices and financial decisions even after asking their 18 year old daughter to help in bailing them out of financial straights they knowingly dove into.

Call me weird, but based on the decisions they’ve made and continue to make in life, I don’t think they’re in any position to be giving advice to anyone.

In fact, I find this song so smashing that its earned the honor of being my parental ringtone.

So without further ado,

my sentiments to a select few the masses:

Lily Allen – Guess Who Batman

“또 한번만 매일 ë°¤ ë³´ê³  싶다 말해줘
단 한번만
단 한번만 이렇게 안아줘
사랑해 말해줘 너 한번만 웃어줘
또 한번만 또 다시 날 보고싶다 말해줘
또 나를 ë³´ê³  웃어줘”
(D.Caprio - 한번만 Vol. 1 My First Flight)

I tried to understand him because he was working these past two weeks.
I tried to understand him because he moved into his new apt last weekend.
I tried to understand him because he didn’t have a car last weekend.
I tried to understand him because he had his accounting conference this week.
I tried to understand him because I knew he was tired yesterday.

But what I’m still trying to understand,
is why his ass wasn’t here first thing this morning after not having seen me for 2 weeks.

Does he really think txting and iming me is good enough?

It’s 3 parts yearning, and 1 part happiness.

I need to extricate part of myself out of this whirlpool while figuring out a way to maintain and nourish this relationship.

Fuck you DS for making me wait for you all the time.

You ask, they get weirded out.
You don’t ask, you’re left in the dark.

It’s a no win fucking situation.

FUCK.

I’ve never seen a species of human so averse to proclaiming their wants.

And then there’s the endless “I don’t know …” bullshit.

BULLSHIT.

If you don’t know, who the fuck does?

Idiots.

All of them.

Don’t fucking start shit if you don’t know wtf you’re doing!

CONSISTENCY BITCH!

I’ve been seeing someone new. I used to work with him at my first firm and he quit the week after I got there, but we’ve kept in touch. He’s an awesome designer, so I’ve learned a lot from him. We’re just having fun right now; I wouldn’t exactly call him my boyfriend just yet. He currently lives in Chino Hills, which is about an 45 minutes away from me but he’s going to be moving to Newport Beach next week so he’ll be closer. The drive to Chino Hills isn’t that bad though – it’s much easier than my drive to and from San Diego when I was with Joe, and a hell of a lot closer than Okinawa. Newport Beach is around the corner from me.

Anyway, I got a haircut and I also went red again. I sort of wish it was redder, but my stylist said I should go a little more conservative since I have to be a professional and the cut is already sort of dramatic. Conveniently, the salon is located next door to us in the same little plaza that my work is in. I also got some clip-in extensions in case I ever go anywhere nice and want to have long hair. Here are some pics:

view more photos of my hair in my album!

I look so different with long hair. I mean, my hair was long before, but I got 22″ extensions and they’re like movie-star perfect. I like my hair short though, its so much easier to maintain. Most days I can just wake up, scrunch, and go.

Work has been great; I’m building out the Cornzapoppin site, and it’s looking good so far. I’m excited to be wrapping that project up finally.

I’ll be hanging out with Agiri and Toya today, so hopefully Agiri or I will have some pictures to share later.