Today as the grandest part of my birthday, we are painting my room. This is extremley neccesary for three reasons:
A) Out of our five, yes 5, cats (don't ask, my parents are kind of crazy), one of them enjoys the passtime of urinating all over my room, causing unimaginable reeking and turning an otherwise light gray carpet the most disgusting shade of bright yellow EVER.
B) My walls formerly housed a shrine to the Disney princesses as well as a few Barbie ones. This is why I was sufficiently mortified to remove all positve feeling toward brining my friends into said bedroom.
C) Google "Einstien's desk and quote". Go to images. Now imagine said desk covered in previously mentioned carpet and surrounded by previously mentioned shrine. WARNING: This may be disturbing to some people.
So yeah, in four words, my room used to suck.
So to get the ball rolling on removing this atrocity, my father marched into my room at exactly 8:05 this morning and proceeded to dump three bags out on the floor, sparing no, if not creating more than the neccesary, noise. After swearing at him for a few moments, I realised that the reason this was happening now versus another time was that he intended to apply paint this very day. Upon this realisation, I changed my tune real quick and began clearing the room. I'll spare you the play-by-play, but I threw out foour or five large trash bags of miscellaneous items and collected four and a third of the same trash bags full of items to donate to a local homless shelter, where my nanny's mother used to live back when it was an orphanage. Meanwhile, the entirety of my posessions are placed seemngly randomly throughout the house, often in the strangest of places. The only thing that remains in my room is my bed, which sits in the middle of the room helpless as my father uses it as a makeshift table. (P.S. shout out to my little bro, who we'll call Adelio. He ran up and down putting things away all day, getting more cardio and aerobics done than he's ever inadvertantly done in his life. Thanks, Ad, couldn't have done it without you!)
So right now my dad is upstairs painting while I type like mad. Okay, world, time to tell you a secret: No one, and I mean NO ONE I know knows about this blog. See, my parents owould kill me if they found out, my brother has the conscience of an angel, and I can't tell anyone else about it either because the rest of the world talks. See, that's what I hate about peple. Everyone talks, and all the time they run out of things to say, so they dig through the dusty boxes in their heads untill they find the one marked "SECRETS" and dish to the hungry creatures living in the ears of normal people. There are very few people I could ever even give the URL to, because eventually even all the coding and stuff I do to protect my life will unravel and they'll know who I am. My real identity can never be known, because it would ruin everything. So I have to hide this, because my fate hangs in the balance with every word.
As for the situation with Benicio, well, I've been thinking. I overreacted yesterday, and I just want to say I'm sorry. Yes, I still do love him. Even though more likely than not I'm just a friend to him, that's not what a good girlfriend/best friend does. As the song goes:
When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find
'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up
I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts
We got yeah we got a lot at stake
And in the end,
You're still my friend at least we didn't tend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not
And who I am
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
I'm still looking up
I won't give up on us
God knows I'm tough, he knows
We got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up...
(--Jason Mraz, I Won't Give Up)
Yes, you're still everyting to me. Yes, I'd still wither away if we were ever parted. You may love her, you may love someone else even, but I'll always be here for you as whatever you need. As a wise person once said, “Yes I love him. I love him more than anything else in this world and there is nothing that I would like better than to hold on to him forever. But I know it's not for the best. So no matter how much my heart is going to break, I've got to let him go so he can know just how much I love him. Maybe if I'm lucky, he'll come back, but if not, I can make it through this.”. After all, there are more fish in the sea, and I've got 87 more years to find him.
And one of them might be waiting for me. I guess I've been a fool to ignore him, and an ever greater one to "forget" his propostion. We'll call him Miguel, and he two other people in this Eligia and Belen.
The scene is a classroom in which sits the remainder of the original class of 8 geography students, half of which have gone off with the band or chorus or orchestra on some trip that everyone else is jealous of. (Well, everyone except me. The benefit of going to Cielo for me is that I actually wouldn't mind skipping summer vacation. I know, mega-geek, but it aint changing any time soon) Sudenly the teacher is called away, and all that's left is the four students: Miguel, Belen, Eligia, and someone you've already met. Suddenly, one of the three whose names I've given you looks up form his/her work and asks the girl across the room "Why don't you talk much?". The words set her cheeks on fire, and she tells them her story. They tell her, well this is a new place, a chance to start over. They tell her they think she's a really cool girl, and they offer her her dream: the empty seat at the lunch table provided by a girl who was going to transfer schools at the end of the year. She freaks, panicks, and denies, and they tell her to think about it. Then the teacher comes back in, and everthin settles down. I think they though she forgot, that girl they were talking to, because they never asked her again. But I know for a fact that she never forgot, and she's going to fix this. I know because that girl is me.
So this is me, the anthrophobic girl, signing off. |
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