Sunday, October 25, 2009

I still get a weird feeling whenever I see your name. I'll get over it at some point; I always do. There's just something about those letters put together that makes me feel h(s)appy. I hope that anyone feels that way about me.


Thursday, October 22, 2009

"I think you're making a dumb decision."

I've never been known for my tact, nor have I ever been told that I have intelligent diction. At this point, what did I care? I had nothing to lose. We both knew it.

I put my heart on the table that night. At the time, that wasn't even a metaphor to me.

It's sweaty palms.

It's nerves making your leg shake.

It's telling lies to make the situation easier.

It's those butterflies in your stomach regressing back to their cocoon. 

Those butterflies have wings for a reason: they can fly from danger. If they don't feel right where they are, nothing is stopping them from going airborne and finding some place new. They do it with such style and panache that it's hard to hold a grudge.

 I swear the females of my past were caterpillars when they were young.

The air was getting warm again, which meant another Sunshine State summer filled with high hopes of a Don Henley song coming to life. How naive are we to think that that could even happen in this small town?   

The air was getting too warm to sit outside of a coffee shop, that's for sure. But we had to get this over with. Move on. Stop trying to relive the past.

We spend our young lives wishing we were old enough to drive a car, or go to college, or buy alcohol, or just be called an "adult." Once we hit that stage, we spend our lives wishing we could go back. It's a sick fucking cycle, but I'm not willing to break it.

She looked pretty. Too pretty. Pretty to the point that as soon as I saw her, I knew I'd hating her by the end of the night. I was half right: the night wasn't over.

Her hair was darker than I remembered, and she seemed happy. She seemed happy. HAPPY. Something I was convinced I couldn't be without her. Once again, the naivety comes into play.

That night (and repeatedly over the next five months), I realized that you must stop living your past to be able to build your future. This world isn't going to wait on you, kid. It's how you adapt to this spinning sphere that we inhabit that shows who you are.

So, I ask you: who are you?


Thursday, October 15, 2009

Everybody has a story to tell. Everybody has something to say. Everybody has certain quirks about them. Everybody has a secret. Everybody has doubt. Everybody has anxiety. Everybody has everything better than you. Everybody has a friend (whether they believe it or not). Everybody has experienced everything before you.

Everybody is put here for a purpose. Whether it be to save the world or save the one person in your life that you didn't even know you saved.

Finding out your purpose is what makes life worth living. Make your mistakes, chalk them up to experience. Rome wasn't built in a day, and you can't expect your life to make sense in that time either.

You don't need someone else in this world to make you happy. You need to keep your heart if you want to remain happy, because as soon as someone else gets a hold of it, the trouble begins (or at least that's my experience with it). You have to be happy alone before you can be happy with others.

This is the dawn I've been waiting for. This is the beginning of doing things for myself for the sake of making myself happy; not others. I've been the same kid for too long. I'm sick of who I was.

I'm sporadic with posts because, quite frankly, this is all censored. I don't want to rub someone the wrong way, and then get in trouble for it later.

This is the point where I stop caring. Let's see how the next couple of months play out.


Monday, October 05, 2009

Welcome To The New Romance
by Christopher Gutierrez

"your ideas of beauty and romance are just plain boring and outdated.

the flowers: expensive, dead and chiche'. ooh roses, you think that one up yourself? and your forced dates make more for awkwardness and ego-stroking than anything else.
and when that boy you're in love with doesnt pay as much attention to you as he did in the beginning, yep it means he doesnt love you as much as you love him. and chances are you wont live happily ever after. cause most of us dont. dont believe me? ask around.
that whole saving yourself for marriage bit? makes about as much sense as not test driving a car before you buy it. wise up.
and if you're still falling for the same 'i screech my tires, hey look what i can do/buy' dickhead, well then missy you deserve all the garbage he throws at you. like spending five hundred bucks on a car and getting pissed when it craps out on you. cause people are only as shitty as you let them be.
your ideas of romance are as worn out and warped as that old ass vhs porno you've been holding onto since 7th grade.
everyones done what you think you're the first to feel.
your prom, fuck it. its not magical. its $100 tux fees, $500 limos and throwing up in buckets at 2am.
losing your virginity that night? way to wipe out any lick of spontaneity or romance from whats supposed to be the ultimate expression of love.
wearing your hair up? yeah, only girls find this attractive. same goes for your sick fake nails, no ones buying the 2 inch thick french manicure you paid far too much for, and good luck getting those things off. ill be damned if ive EVER heard a guy say, "damn dude, you see her nails? thats sooo hott."
and long walks on the beach means sand in everything from your shoes to your car. fuck sand.

but ill tell you this, fuck if theres not more sincerity on a stage, along streetlights and parking meters or in a dennys parking lot.
staying up till its way too goddamn light outside, making out somewhere your parents dont want you to be.
this is the new romance.
its first times on parents beds.
its tripping her from behind.
its stealing cars for sneak kisses.
its 6 hour phone calls.
its text messages.
its telling your friends you love them.
its reading someone to sleep.
its video game tournaments with people you love the most.
its getting her into the show for free.
its stolen tulips from gardens.
its being able to remember what you did last night.
its having fun with sex.
its clandestine and secret.
its in late night bike rides.
its the smell of sex on your fingers.
its the split second your eyes meet hers when you're going down on her.
its keeping your word.
its breaking it off when its time.
its spooning on the couch.
its the energy in the air the 5 minutes before they ring that doorbell.

the real romance is the 10 people who truly matter in this world.
the real romance is not giving a shit what the other 5,999,999,990 think.
the real romance is the beauty of the fuck you."

Now, who's gonna help me find said romance?


Friday, October 02, 2009

I either think too much or not at all. There's no "happy medium" with me.