You. It always comes back to you. The one that got away. That's you.

Her. It should have been her. I learned how to deal with her through you. I need another her.

Him. I bet there have been plenty of him. I don't want to know. I can't blame him (but I do).

Me. I used to be me. You may have changed me. I want me back.

She. She is the one that all the songs on the radio are about. She doesn't deserve it.

He. He comes and goes. He doesn't remember you past last night. He doesn't stick around.

They. They don't know. They wouldn't get it if they did. They wouldn't care either way.

It. It is gonna slip your memory. It wasn't a major part of your life. It was what it was.

I. I am still here, goddamnit. I can't forget the memories. I can't get away no matter how hard I try.


xxx.

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.





xxx.

"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?



xxx.

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.



xxx.

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?

xxx.

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




xxx.

I have never been able to remember my dreams.

Ever since I was really young, I have told people that I just don't dream. Of course, that's a complete lie, but it sounded cooler than telling people that I can never remember them. I can remember a handful of dreams over the past two decades, one involving Hulk Hogan on a motorcycle coming to my house when I was three or four. Nothing I say makes sense.

Over the weekend, I had a dream that I remember still, which may not seem like a big deal, but it is to me.

In this dream, I died. I don't know how I died, and I don't know why I died. All I know is that I died, and I was reincarnated into myself at age 12. I don't understand it at all, but dreams that are understandable aren't fun to look back on.

I remember talking to everyone that I was around in my dream, and telling them how I had passed away, but it was really me inside this body. I was scrambling to get to a pen and piece of paper to write down everything that I could remember from my past, because I didn't want to lose it. I wanted to hang onto every last thing from my past life that I could before my new life kicked in and gave me a clean slate.

The two things I remember writing down: The Gaslight Anthem's "Great Expectations" and the name of the love of my life. I think her name was Amanda. I hate to disappoint any Amandas, but I don't think I've ever fallen in love with any of you. Maybe it's foreshadowing. See you in the future, Amanda.

I just remember being so afraid that I would forget everything from my past in this new life I was given, as if the future wouldn't ever compare. I think that's how I have been feeling for the past few years, which is why I kept trying to hang onto every old friend I had. It's silly to pretend like the people I've met over the past year or two can't compare to friends of the past. I'm just a sucker for nostalgia.




xxx.

"...But you were pretty cool. And I daresay you still are. But you were such a cliche, in an adorable 'I'm to cool for you highschool lame-o's' kind of way. 'Who the fuck wants to be happy anyway?' Boy, you used those lyrics nearly to death. But in the best possible way."

"One thing has never changed-there's your heart, right there on your sleeve. Why, I can see it all the way here in Maryland...So you were a bit pompous, maybe looked down your nose at one too many people. You most likely excluded some people that you could consider friends, but chances are, a lot of them weren't all that anyway."


These were taken from a conversation earlier today with an old friend that knew me better than I thought they did. It almost rendered me speechless. I hope they don't mind that I posted this. I did it because it means something to me.

I have a tendency to call people out on everything they do wrong. It's part of my (c)harm. I don't mean to do it necessarily, but it just happens. The problem here, besides hurting other people's feelings, is that I cannot take it in return.

Every receipt I had coming to me for things I have said to people really effects me more than it should. I take everything that people say to heart, even if I lead on like it doesn't bother me. I don't know why I do it, I just have a tendency to genuinely care more than I should.

Should I change, or should the world?



xxx.

I just want to find something that fits.

Fits into my schedule. Fits into my brain. Fits into my heart. Fits into my lifestyle.

Something that means as much to me as the other person involved.

Something that won't leave me so paranoid that it will go away.

I don't know what's good for me anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I want. I don't know if that's all a bad thing.

Are you gonna stick around?



xxx.

I'm a big fan of Jeff Rosenstock.


xxx.

I'm reading through an old writing journal of mine from 2005/2006, and I've come to the conclusion that either: A) I was so much cooler back then; or B) I was a pretentious prick.

Reading this stuff, I realize that a lot of it really isn't that bad. It's not revolutionary, but it's not bad. You can tell that I was listening to a lot of Fall Out Boy at the time, because I was trying to make puns and plays on words. I tried so hard to be different, but all it made me was the same as everyone else.

"And though you may not know it, I'm the reason why you dream. While you lie in bed and think of me, know nothing's as it seems."

That just screams arrogance. I love it. I wish I still had that and believed it.

"This hand writes all the shit I just can't pretend."

I wrote love poems, too. That's something I don't think I have done since then. I told a friend of mine the other day that I am better at writing feigned sadness because I grew up on country music. That was a realization I made as I was talking to her.

I was young. I was in love. I was as reckless as a scared, straight edge boy could be. I was wide-eyed. I was bushy-tailed. I was intelligent. I was egotistical. I was trying to be a carbon copy of Pete Wentz, with a little bit of Max Bemis, and a whole lot of Hey Chris. I was what I wanted to be, but didn't realize it until years later.

I need to find whatever it was that was making me write how I used to. Whether it's listening to Fall Out Boy and Say Anything nonstop, or watching hours of The OC, I am in dire need of my muse.




xxx.

This is what professional wrestling needs again.




xxx.

"Time Bomb"

It has been said that you must hit rock bottom before you are able to bounce back. I have officially found out how far down rock bottom is:

It's right below finding out that everything you thought you knew about someone has been a lie.

Imagine sharing five years with a significant other. Imagine sharing thoughts with this person. Imagine sharing dreams with this person. Imagine sharing secrets. Goals. Your heart. Imagine sharing your most important (or so I once believed) years with this fucking person, just to have everything change in a day.

Was it worth it?

Ultimately, I never knew I signed up for this. I didn't realize you were on a timer, set to explode with the truth someday. I was happy being so ignorant, and ignoring all the signs that were thrown at me.

All the signs that I wish I could call you out on now, so I wouldn't be where I am (fighting sleep and thoughts while driving around some city I couldn't care less about.)

Yes, I know we all have our problems. Of course. Do they realize how serious yours were? Or that you only tell people about them when you were lacking attention? No matter how hard you try, you're not an 18 year old "tortured artist."

My problem, you ask? My problem was you.

Was it worth it?

So you said it "relieved tension." I say that you can't go even a minute without being the spotlight.

Who is this new guy, anyway? Does he know about me? Did you tell him anything about your past, besides these scars that you once kept clandestine?

This is the bouncing back I need. This is my renewal. You can have your new friends. You can have their drug addiction, as well as all of your baggage back. I'm throwing all the memories, all the feelings I had for you away.

What you and I once referred to as "making love" will now just be my greeting card to any attractive female I meet along the way. I don't care what that makes me, or what that makes them for that matter. Whatever it takes to get you out of my head is what has to be done.

It's like you were just in time to wreck my life. I've never been much of an architect past LEGOs, but you knocked this all down faster than the castles I made when I was eight. It's time to build a better foundation. Huff and puff all you want, this house will no longer be blown down. Not just by you, but by anyone.

Was it worth what you did to your wrists?





xxx.

Type. Select. Erase.
Type. Select. Erase.
Type. Select. Erase.
Type. Select. Erase.

This is my current trend in writing these blogs:

Type. Select. Erase.

Sometimes, I wish everything in life was able to be deleted this easily.

Type. Select. Erase.

It's not so much writer's block as it is a kinked hose. Too much is going on in my head.

Type. Select. Erase.

I'm gonna get all of this right someday.

Type. Select. Erase.

You can't believe how much I erased from this. I can't believe it either.

Type. Select. Erase.



xxx.
(type. select. erase.)

If there are any two shirts I'd love to re-own, it's these two:







Someone point me in their direction. Thanks.



xxx.

"When a boy writes off the world, it's done in sloppy, misspelled words. If a girl writes off the world, it's done in cursive. I'm searching for her."





xxx.

I hope there is somebody out there that is a lot like Anna. She has always been the epitome of perfection for me...is that weird? Is it weird that, even though this song and episode both have completely different meaning to me these days, I still hold this close to my heart?

Call me what you will, but if there's an Anna out there, I'm going to find her, and she won't be another notch in my belt.

She's better than that.





xxx.

I wish I could tell you how many songs you ruined for me. But, that's okay. I'll still listen. I just have an empty feeling in my gut when they come on.




xxx.

I am happy. For the first time in a long time, I can say that for the time being, I'm happy and stress-free. This time around, I'm doing things my way.

I'm going out and meeting new people. I'm down 30+ pounds thanks to the encouragement of my friends. I'm fitting into shirts I haven't worn in years. I'm loving it.

I have hopes for the future these days. I don't know where I want to be, but I know who I want to be. I'm not the same kid that would get torn down at the drop of a hat. Thick skin and a brain has finally come into play.

Living well is my best revenge to all of those I have lost. I didn't need you, anyway.

Here's to those still around. Those that didn't run. Those that are there for me. Those that let me crash on their floor/couch. Those that call me out on my bullshit. Those that would rather be bored with me than bored alone. Those that travel with me. Those that let me tag along. Those that respond to late night/early morning texts. Those that let me complain. Those that I can call my friend and absolutely mean without a shadow of a doubt.

You are the people I owe everything to. Blood is thicker than water, but I swear that my water isn't something to scoff at.



xxx.

Sometimes you just gotta kill 'em with kindness.



xxx.