Every single thing in the planet, in my opinion, is relative. Feelings, religions, truth. I had dinner with friends, the kind of dinner where, rather than talking about our lives and insignificant selfish things, we talked about everything else... although also rather insignificant. Childhoods, holidays, beliefs, science, after-life, life in other planets, the universe's infinity.

I'm a blind believer, always have been. As everyone else, from time to time, I doubt particular things of my beliefs, but for the most part, I have blind faith. It is not until you ponder, and discuss, and actually have the time and energy to question everything that you come to understand nothing's definite, nothing's really real, nothing's assured. We will never come to understand so many things.

Holidays and historical characters have been invented by mankind... is it in the purpose of giving us something to look forward to, something to believe in, something to fill our days? Christmas, Thanksgiving, Independence Day, Valentine's... We cherish these holidays so much - some of them mean so much, some of them mean so little... or nothing, but we dedicate entire days upon celebrating so many things. History, after all, is written by the ones who win... and no matter how much we study it or how many texts we dig up we will never fully know history - not both sides of the story, not the real events. History is finally what we choose to believe in. The past is so unclear... and so important. It dictates and helps us understand our present and so many other factors of humankind. And yet, so insignificant - why should we care what happened before, who killed who, who invented what. If you think of it, it doesn't really matter.

Adam and Eve, the Big Bang Theory... Whenever will we know? Documentaries and theories have been published on how all of humankind's beliefs and religions have their origin on the sun's cycle, on the constellations, on the universe's movements. The basis to one religion was found on the scriptures of another religion dating thousands of years earlier, and so on. Most old religions have direct and perfect resemblance on how the universe operates. The infinite universe. Although now studies have postulated that the universe is actually finite, and not infinite as we believed in. Another thing we will never really know.

But the future... well, it's even more of a question mark. What's real? What beliefs? Which God? I've always been one to think that religion doesn't matter when discussing the after-life, we will be judged or accommodated according to how good we lived our religion's beliefs, how good and truthful our actions were. No matter the religion, after all most of us are born into a religion, we do not choose what to believe in, but rather are educated in it. We didn't get to choose. And if you choose, it doesn't matter what you choose, as long as it speaks and teaches of good and not of evil. Having said all that, I wonder... who's right? It's exhausting just thinking of it. Of course I do not wish to die, not just yet, but I truly crave the moment when I die and finally see what happens, who's our God, why everything is as it is, every historical fact. The origin of us all.

Of us and every other type of life in the universe. I'm a firm believer that we are most definitely not the only ones in the universe, we are not alone. Whoever or whatever made us didn't just create us. Be it God or the Big Bang Theory, us humans weren't the only thing to explode out of nothingness, the universe is too damn big. Then my thoughts wander to the planets, the moon. We got a man to the moon. Imagine being in space and turning your head, seeing the earth from a far, seeing the moon, the sun, lying there in complete emptiness. We are so incredibly little and insignificant. We are little tiny parasites.

Sometimes I think that if someone's watching us from above, he/she probably is having a laugh... at our lives, our dramas, our questions, our stupidities, our so many guidelines of what to do, what not do, us working, playing, partying. We are like tiny puppets, ants... We are so different and yet we are all very much the same. We are nothing. And he/she is probably having popcorn. Also laughing at this post.

Sometimes I feel like I don't do enough for others, I feel so unaware, and also so guilty for doing nothing for so many people living in so deplorable circumstances. Some other times I feel I should focus more on me, throw away every belief, rule, limit, and live as if we were never to be judged - cause maybe, we aren't. Maybe there's nothing afterwards. Or maybe our souls stay here, wandering around, doing nothing. Maybe we are reincarnated. Maybe we actually go to heaven - perfect infinite paradise. But then again, I can't tolerate the fact of it being infinite. No matter how good or great it is, this state of heaven, how can it possibly be forever? What happens next?

What happens now?

Tomorrow I'll wake up and continue with the life I've lived until now. Tomorrow it will all regain significance. But, from time to time, it all appears utterly insignificant.

Every so often we find ourselves attached, or rather too attached, to things, places, routines, people... We're stuck, we are addicted. We seem to be unable to function properly without these. Our heart, our necessities, or our lust gets us hooked.

Rather often, we get this feeling towards people. Those people that are part of who we are, that when defining ourselves or while telling our story we find it impossible to not mention them. Angels. People that have formed us, helped us through tough times, people that get us, that know our very essence... they are able of making us laugh until we cry, they push us when we're slowing down, they pick us up... people we are grateful to, people that make us feel honored to have them in our lives... those few that we truly consider family and that truly make us be the best of who we are. Through the course of our lives we don't bump into many of these people - they are not found on any street corner. Generally - or at least, in my case - we befriend these people on our teenage years.

Dear friends to which we can truly show our colors. We can truly be ourselves.

I've never been good at goodbye's, and I've always been a sucker on this whole addictive-over attachment-friend thing. My guy best friend left a year ago and got back awhile ago - to this moment, his leaving has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure. I couldn't possibly imagine my life without him. Luckily, and obviously, I survived. The good, terrible, and ironic thing about painful things is that they don't kill us. Not any of them. We do survive, but what's important is how we survive - barely our fully. I pined and cried and barely survived the first months, then of course, I decided it was time to change my perspective. I got back to being me. When he got back I could've sworn things wouldn't go back to the way they were, I was glad I had worked so hard on taking down a notch our over-attached dysfunctional relationship. But now we're back. Back to how we were before.

It's great - it's a vice, really. Having someone so close, so attentive, so trustworthy. On the downside, I can't help but wonder if this friendship is keeping me from finding someone for myself - a real relationship. The trouble of having really good friends, is that you find it is too much fun, too easy, and too comfortable - so much, in fact, that you don't even want to hang with new people or to open up as much. You've got enough. You're happy.

My mind, though, keeps telling me to let go now. It's the smart thing to do. There's no such thing as taking it down a notch now, we're fucked. It is either all or nothing, and we know it. When it comes to me and him there is no way on keeping boundaries, speaking every once in a while. He wouldn't allow it. It is either our intense friendship... or nothing. Letting go. Totally. As in, making a best friend a mere friend... an acquaintance almost. Someone I bump into at school or parties, we say hello, 'how are you?', share superficial updates of our lives, and part ways. 'Cause I know, for sure, that if we let it go further than that, we are doomed. It's cruel, but it's the sane thing to do. I just don't want to. I'm fine as I am. I'm perfect. I'm addicted. Then there's also the heart issue - "What if I love him?"

I think I don't. Or I don't know. It's a blurry answer. The thing is, even if I did, I wouldn't be with him. We wouldn't function together, not as a couple. I know that.

I'm just unable to let go.

Now, another friend is leaving. His time away is still undefined. That kills me.

It's not as painful as when my other friend left, it does't feel as real. I had no time or mental capacity to anticipate the horrible feeling of 'goodbye'.

We said our goodbye's, we hugged, we swore to keep in touch. It was easy, from an outsider's perspective. The thing is, I feel a knot on my throat, I feel like crying but I don't. I wanted it to feel more real, to give it more meaning, but I seem to have run out of tears and am stronger now. And if I cried, I would be wishing I wasn't. I'm just unable to let go.

I'm in a car. Going fast on a highway I don't recognize, everything is blurry outside. My best friend, who is miles away, is behind the wheel. He's wearing a weird gray military type of suit - he sits there motionlessly, eyes straight ahead, but he seems 'gone', he's driving as if by instinct, not really knowing where he's headed. I'm reading aloud from a piece of paper I supposedly wrote for school, rushing through it, anxious to hear his opinion. It's titled "The Art of Forgiveness", or the Beauty of... I can't really recall the exact name. I'm halfway through it - ranting on and on of the beauties and advantages of forgiving. Being forgiven is always a relief, we don't necessarily forget or vanish the weight or regret of whatever we did wrong but, being forgiven, let's us off the hook - we exit 'awkward territory' with whoever we wronged. But forgiving someone is a whole different story. It is known we can't always forgive AND forget - personally, I think one never forgets. But forgetting or not forgetting is not the problem, the problem is HOW we remember or recall it. Forgiveness allows an easy painless flashback when, time from now, something in our memory triggers into remembering. The act of forgiving is more advantageous to ourselves than to whoever wronged us. Forgiving implies understanding, if not understanding at least excusing, if not excusing at least coming to peace with something... and letting it go. It helps close a chapter, a cycle, or whatever you think it is. Forgiving someone doesn't necessarily bring back things the way they were, it doesn't always improve the situation with whoever harmed us or gain any control of their future attitude and actions toward us - BUT, it manages to cure or renovate OUR attitude or feelings toward the person. It brings us at peace with ourselves. Coming to understanding with the fact that people screw up, screw us, or don't always act in our best interest, helps us heal a wound. It's soothing to forgive. Maybe we won't forget but, at the very least, we change the way we perceived it and improve the outcome. Truly forgiving eliminates future feelings of remorse, vengeance, hatred or anger. Maybe he/she will not release the weight or gravity of what they did wrong, but WE who forgive, do for ourselves. It went something like that... He kept driving, blinking, nodding every now and then, and frowning a couple of times. It ended with, and I'm paraphrasing - "Always forgive 3 times, never any more than that. The first time is their fault, shame on them. The second is your fault, shame on you. And the third is merely to prove the first two were no joke, simply to reassure ourselves he/she is not to trust. But do forgive." "You're probably about to tell me I'm some crazy philosophical hippie, right?" I laughed. I looked at him, he remained quite for a while. Then, "You are willing to forgive anyone, for anything, 3 times?!" "Well, yeah," I said. "How come? I mean, you'll only get screwed over and over again... But well, I'm not complaining, thankfully you've forgiven me for loads of stuff. I just don't understand how you think people should be willing to try again, go back for more, risk being hurt again. Again, I'm not complaining... You see, I generally expect the worst from people, everyone is selfish and will always see first for themselves." "Well, I prefer to think everyone is essentially good. I'd rather expect the best and be disappointed, that way you create a filter - those who live up to the 'good image' I have of people will become very important people in my life, as for those who disappoint me... well, at least for a while I indulged under the happy illusion they wouldn't it. They did, and I learned my lesson," I answered. "But you, expecting to be disappointed, only live waiting and anticipating as to how and when it will happen, and those who won't disappoint you you hang on a thread from the very beginning." Silence. He still wouldn't look at me. "Actually, I didn't expect bad from you. When I met you, that is. I had this very good image on my mind built of yourself. Once I got to know you, you even surpassed my expectations. Yeah, we've hurt each much too many times, me more than you, time after time I still place my entire trust on you, I don't know about you. No matter if you hurt me, I still see you make me a better person. I never had you on a thread. I think you've had me many times, just about to fall. I admire your view of things, I admire how you relate with people and how you help and love unconditionally those around you. I truly respect you. I think you'll have a great family one day. It's amazing how you give advantage to someone who you've just met by thinking the best of them. But I think sometimes you risk yourself too much, forgiving 3 times... well, that's why you suffer so much... sometimes." The stores around the highway started to look familiar. Now known streets and houses began to appear in sight. He went on, "You still haven't forgiven me for the last 6 months and... for my mistakes. I know it's been more than 10 times you've forgiven me. But it's you and me. It's different. 3 doesn't apply, I think we're way past that. (Silence) You gotta forgive me now, you gotta forgive. When will you trust in me again? You've got to forgive me. I didn't hurt YOU, I just screwed up some things in the past 6 months. Have I disappointed you that much?" "The thing is you still haven't mended your mistakes, it's not that you harmed me - it's that you harmed yourself. I'm trying OK? I just haven't been able to let go of it." "I'm truly sorry I disappointed you, DON'T hang me on a thread. You used to say you had me on the very top-shelf remember? How far down am I now?" "You know that yourself." "You expected more of me, I know. You always say that.," He snapped. "I never have. I expect the same as always. I expect 'you'." He looked sad. I continued, "Hun, out of all people and out of all my friends, you're the only one who ever surpassed every expectation I had for a new person, every expectation I had of you after listening to my friends talk about you. You should know, no one has ever gained my entire trust as fast as you have, no one has hurt as me as much, but mostly no one has ever made me not lose track of 'me', and admire so much who I am. Exactly who I am. The thing is, the past year you never really hurt ME directly, but you lost track of who you are and what you think, and now you're now who I expected." I glanced out the window, my reflection on the glass, and we were again on that unknown deserted and unfamiliar highway. On that very moment he finally turned to look at me. And right then, I woke up. It was one weird dream.

Maybe I'm tired of pondering... of fighting... against him (my best friend), against his pride (this friend I kinda like), but mostly against myself. I'm tired of waiting for him, of anticipating when and how he'll finally come home. I'm tired of the same ol' hypocrisy that surrounds and takes hold of half of my friends. I'm tired of lies, scams, and pretending. I'm tired of "hanging out", doing the same thing every day. It's finally summer vacations and I'm supposed to feel free, but I feel like a bird in a cage. Am I not taking enough risks or are risks overrated? Maybe risks aren't the problem. Maybe caution isn't either. I've recently found out I have no hobbies at all... It took me about 5 years to know this about myself. I'm restless, living off take-out and chips, sleepin' 'till noon, and going to bed way to late - even for vacations. I need to get a hobby, something for myself, something to waste time... or 'use' time, rather than waste it. I'm tired of everything... and of nothing. I need a change. I don't know exactly what. Mostly I think I need to head out of the city - out of the country. I need to go where no one knows my name, somewhere where I can walk around dressed to the nines, or dressed in something totally so-not-me like shorts, a punk t-shirt, converse, disheveled hair, big sunglasses... I need to change my hair color, but I won't 'cause in a month I'll see it for what it is - a rash decision for a quick change that didn't work. I need to be outside more, do all these things I long to do but never end up doing cause a "better", lazy-er, more typical plan comes through at the last minute... or because I simply don't get out of bed. I'm not depressed - I really am not. But I need... something. I'm not sure what. I hate summer, winter's my thing. Winter clothes, cappuccinos, gray skies, and unlimited lazy time with friends soothes me. Somehow this same things don't soothe me in summertime. I'm not particularly fond of the clothes, I get easily tired and annoyed after spending too much time with the same people, and although I get too drag my ass all day and do nothing I become anxious and tired of it. Maybe it's the heat. Maybe summer's too long. Maybe it's because he's not here to fill my days with stupidities and this whole bunch of different things he forced me to do. Maybe I need to get excessive amounts of sun, even though I don't like it that much. Maybe I need to move, run, and bathe in the sun so much until I come to love it, 'cause summer's too long. I better get accustomed to it. I'll probably drive a few miles and hop on a boat with some friends, spend all day in the sun, drink, dance, talk, ski... It's a good solution... for a day. What about the day after tomorrow? I need something to fill my days, or a solution to stop the anxiousness. And I most definitely need to stop anticipating and aching for his arrival.

I think I'm in love... No, right now I have no doubts or love-y feelings for the bastard who is millions of miles of way... But for good ol' him - he that lives a few blocks away, he who was the first guy I ever opened up to. He's proud as hell, stubborn and sometimes pompous... But he's part of who I am, he's my first and oldest best friend, maybe not the best or closest now a days... Evpen though, lately, he hasn't been top-shelf, he has the advantage of longevity - he's been there for ever. I had 2, 3, 4... - countless shots. Damn the vodka, but mostly damn the tequila. It gets me horny, clingy, and terribly honest. We had fought 2 months ago, when he still was with his ex... Suffice it to say, the fault was his. He wouldn't accept it, lose pride, he wouldn't seize... he always just won't budge. Today he did. Finally his stubbornness and pride fit, or clicked, with my horrible will and instinct into making people honest. After 2 months, and over too many tequila shots, he accepted his mistake - he then turned to me, stared into my eyes, like a kid so lost and vulnerable, "Yeah, this is it... It was me, I accept it. I do. And I don't like it. I don't like the fact that it's my fault. See, I'm giving up my pride, right now. I know that's the thing you hate the most of me, and there it is... I'm giving up my pride just for you. It's just -" "...Incredibly nice," I answered, "thanks, I just can't come up with anything else to say... I don't care if it's 2 months late, I just needed to hear it. So, thanks." I kissed him on the cheek, he smiled, as all our friends stared at us, disturbed by not knowing what the hell was going on. After 10 long years of friendship, it's the first time he's accepted he was wrong or said he's sorry. You see, to me saying sorry and accepting my flaws and mistakes comes easily - I'm not bragging, I'm not... I just am this way (which my best friend now a days says it's my biggest flaw and my best quality). I barely kept myself from kissing him all night... and he tried to kiss me, about three, five or ten times. But tonight was not the time I'm sure. Two friends drunk on tequila equals a disaster. It's disturbing and disconcerting that someone for whom I haven't felt nothing for in so many years, is now giving me flutters, butterflies, goosebumps... and he touches me and I just... - I just can't move. I'm stuck in this horrible state of doubts, horny-ness, and that damn 'friend zone'. He won't take the first step, that's for sure. No matter how many people have said he's always loved me, he never will take the first step. He's not willing to 'lose his pride' that much. He's too immature. I am too, I guess. I've been ignoring this for weeks now. Now, I just don't know if I should act on it. I still have a feeling 'everyone' isn't always right, I still get a feeling he just sees me as a friend. I love and hate the friend zone, I love and hate the 'hunt', I love and hate kisses not given, I love and hate not knowing, I love and hate tequila shots, I love and hate him, I love and hate my guts (or lack thereof), I love and hate tonight... I love and hate it's 50/50, I love and hate knowing that it might be the best thing that ever happened or it might turn into fuckin' hell. I love.... and hate... not knowing.

I am finally out - no more finals, no more school work... complete nothingness! I still don't know if I'll be doing summer school, but I'm more inclined not to... I want nothing more than complete and utter laziness... I know I'll be shooting myself in about 2 weeks... you see, I love summer vacations... but really, it's too much... they're too long... and the sun is exhausting. I am more of a winter person - winter vacations are the best... the perfect length and the perfect weather... On summer vacations there comes a point when you get tired, seeing your friends daily and trying to come up with new things to do gets quite tiring. But winter... Oh, winter... I could live on winter forever, rainy days are never enough... I can never get tired of coffee, cozy get-togethers with friends, long days of bowling, long chats, movies, tv-series marathons, lying on my couch with my dearest friend... I still don't know if I passed a subject, my final exam was yesterday and I won't know 'till tomorrow. Complete anxiousness. I'm nervous and stressed, but that didn't stop me from going out tonight, catching up with friends, barbecue and beers, laughing and forgetting I'm still hanging on a thread. It's good not to know. Not yet. My mind is constantly filled with doubts. I still don't know if he's the one, if he isn't... if I'll soon get the happy ending (or beginning) I deserve, I still don't know if I'll be the soccer mom I so long to be - 4 boys, I still don't know what I'll do tomorrow night, I still don't have a plan... I truly have no idea where I'm heading, I just know happiness is not the destination, but the journey. More importantly - at least for now - I have no idea when he'll be getting back. Could be tomorrow, could be in more than a month. Generally I hate surprises, but lately I've come to appreciate the beauty of them. Anticipation isn't always good - it involves increasing your expectations and the possibility of being disappointed. As for not knowing - well, it has its charms. Doubting, nervousness, adrenaline. After all, life is one big question mark, so I better get accustomed to it. And I'm so over thinking and pondering and calculating (or rather, miscalculating) as to what will happen next. Who knows? Who cares? It feels quite good not to know. I won't worry any longer or lose my mind thinking stuff I can't control. I'll go where the road leads... or maybe I'll make a new one. Not knowing feels great.

Today I found something written on an old notebook I was about to use to make a final study guide... Totally unaware of what I was going to bump into I flipped the pages looking for a white one, I was thinking of exams and formulas and schedules.... and suddenly my mind was swept by this piece of notes, about 7 months old, and I was now immersed on feelings I had back then... I was truly transported to that time as I read more of it - I could almost picture myself wearing what I had worn the day I wrote it. Here it is.

 I've been 100% sincere and 100% a hypocrite.

 I've been 100% a good girl and 100% a bad girl (at least to my standards).

 I've done the career change.

 I've been fully happy and alive, and have had a 100 reasons to die.

 I've never had you.

 I've fooled everyone. And I've fooled myself.

 I've mistrusted and I've been mistrust.

 I've done the merry-go-round.

 I've been amazingly smart and also utterly stupid.

 Sometimes we let go of our standards, sometimes we evade and overpass (by miles) our own and others' trust.

 I don't think I've ever been truly in love, or maybe I just haven't decided on what love is for me.

 It pains me that everyone has Mr.Perfect picked out for me, as well as my wedding scenario and my kids' names. It pains me that it ain't him. 100% not.

 His pride doesn't fit me, even his great smile doesn't fit me.

 It aches that no one believes me. It's not that I'm being stubborn and blind - it's that I KNOW, the way you just know when it's about to rain, the way you know milk has gone bad.

 'Cause my Mr.Perfect I already found. And my wedding scenario I don't care about. And my kids' names fit him and everything about him.

 He's just not who I'm supposed to love. Who I'm supposed to match with (trust me on this one).

 Who I'm supposed to ache for - even when he's besides me, and mostly when he isn't.

 I have no console, nothing to brighten me up.

 No solution, and truly no possibility.

 Out-of-bounds, one might say.

 It's common knowledge we all learn to love again, I just don't see it.

 Maybe I'm being stubborn and blind.

 I would be these for him.

 Just for him.

I'm a total chick-flick junkie... I love all movies - mystery, sci-fi, cartoons, comedy, even movies like Superbad (wow) and Old School... but there's no such thing as chick flicks, the good ones... I search the paper on a daily basis on the lookout for the next one, the premier date, the plot, the reviews... It's a sickness really. Also, I cry in every movie - all types of movies, in my entire life I've only seen about 10 movies that didn't make me cry. Everyone knows I'm sentimental as hell, but not this much... Except for the people that truly know me, people like him, people like my 3 best girlfriends...

 Even when I try my best not to cry or am so angry with the world that I'm so sure nothing could touch my heart... even then, I do... At the very least I well up, tears on the verge of falling, watering and trembling eyes, moist eyelashes.

 And I enjoy it. It gives me pleasure to just cry my heart out, even to the point where I can no longer catch my breath and I start producing this horrible hurt-dog noises. Few movies have really made me bawl like hell, movies like the Notebook, Moulin Rouge, When Harry Met Sally, Casablanca, Step Mom, If Lucy Fell, etc. This movies I always go back to, over and over again - I feel in a way, this movies define me...

 Yesterday I watched MADE OF HONOR, and I highly recommend it. It's a typical chick-flick, the same old formula as always, it's not like an AMAZING movie, but it's so good... Anyone who watches it will laugh for sure and it'll touch their hearts. But mainly I loved it because I feel it's linked to me and my dramas, me and my relationship with him... And although things have been rough lately and our friendship is very much at risk, that is very much like us. I am 70% Hannah, and he's definitely 90% Tom (except he CAN say 'I love you', and he says it EVERY time and in EVERY way).

 I went with a girlfriend and the entire movie she kept glancing at me, knowing I was thinking 'This is me and that is him', widening her eyes as though telling me she knew that no matter how much I say nothing like that will ever happen and how convinced we are it's just friendship, my every doubt was now multiplied by ten and rushing through my mind... and deep deep inside, in the bottom-pit of my heart where my shame lies, actually wishing that were us, the movie were my life.

I swore I wouldn't cry, I felt I would lose my pride, let the movie win, let the opinion of others (specially my girlfriend besides me) win, and accept right then and there, in the middle of the crimson-chair filled cinema, I was vulnerable as hell, so afraid of winding up alone... or worse, afraid of finding the perfect guy... the perfect guy, who would turn out didn't know me like HE did.

 That's one of my biggest fears. And one of the things you risk when you have a male best friend. You get to know the meaning of unconditional love, you begin to love a person for exactly who he is, and you begin to be loved for EXACTLY who you are. You place him so high up on a shelf, you're scared you'll never find someone who compares. From that point on, you'll ALWAYS measure every man in your life up against him, against the guy you have on a golden throne. Against THAT fucking guy that crept into your life and became a part of you are, a person that knows all your shameful moments, manias, and disgusting little facts - the guy you came to like so much, that you turned every thing you disliked of him, every one of his flaws, into qualities and little unique things you love.

 Watch the movie, it's amazing. And yes, I cried like a baby. The only one in the entire room.

 Oh yeah, we have our own 'white-and-chocolate cake' thing, our own game for picking things out, our same dislike/terribly honest/weird first meeting, our own day of the week... His stalker also exists, he also orders my coffee just as I like it and delivers, he also orders for me at our favorite sushi place (and pretty much everywhere else), and the list goes on.

 Ironically, we have a pact - I'll be his best man, he'll be my maid of honor.

 And I hate the south of ***** (city where he's at) - his phone has had no service for the last couple of days. I'm going nuts.

 ___________________ _________

 Now, if you're a movie fan... Here's some of my recommendations:

 -When Harry Met Sally, another best-friends movie... and Billy Crystal is terrific

 -You've Got Mail... tom, tom, tom!

 -About a boy, quirky and touching...

 -Big Fish, wonderfully weird

 -Under the Tuscan Sun, this one's just magical...

 -If Lucy Fell, a box-office failure with horrible reviews... 2 best friends, Sarah Jessica Parker, a great song (You didn't kiss me) and an amazing exaggerate ending

 -Casablanca... no explanation  required

 -Breakfast at Tiffany's, nothing beats glam-girl Audrey Hepburn

 -Keeping the Faith... religion doesn't matter, love conquers all

 -Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind... WOW!

Lately I've been listening to sad music. Old songs. The type that don't get us down, but rather put our feelings into words... and listening to them just soothes us. Sinatra never seems to fail, Henry Mancini's Moon River, Bon Jovi's first heartbroken singles, Sweet Child o' Mine, Augustana's Boston, a little bit of Whitney Houston, and another bit of Joni Mitchell. The type of songs that remind me of rainy days, gray skies, tears, as well as Christmas, friends, long chats accompanied by wine...

 The last days I've become addicted to this 2 others songs, they're not new to me at all but I recently felt what they meant, came across both of them by accident, and found out how much I truly love these songs. 

 Check out Guns n Roses' November Rain and Ray Charles' You Don't Know Me (listen to Michael Buble's version as well - WOW). Here are the lyrics.

 NOVEMBER RAIN

 When I look into your eyes

I can see a love restrained
But darlin' when I hold you
Don't you know I feel the same

'Cause nothin' lasts forever
And we both know hearts can change
And it's hard to hold a candle
In the cold November rain

We've been through this such a long long time
Just tryin' to kill the pain

But lovers always come and lovers always go
An no one's really sure who's lettin' go today
Walking away

If we could take the time
to lay it on the line
I could rest my head
Just knowin' that you were mine
All mine
So if you want to love me
then darlin' don't refrain
Or I'll just end up walkin'
In the cold November rain
[ Lyrics accessible from http://www.rare-lyrics.com ]

Do you need some time...on your own
Do you need some time...all alone
Everybody needs some time...
on their own
Don't you know you need some time...all alone

I know it's hard to keep an open heart
When even friends seem out to harm you
But if you could heal a broken heart
Wouldn't time be out to charm you

Sometimes I need some time...on my
own
Sometimes I need some time...all alone
Everybody needs some time...
on their own
Don't you know you need some time...all alone

And when your fears subside
And shadows still remain
I know that you can love me
When there's no one left to blame
So never mind the darkness
We still can find a way
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
Even cold November rain

Don't ya think that you need somebody
Don't ya think that you need someone
Everybody needs somebody
You're not the only one
You're not the only one

 

 YOU DON'T KNOW ME

 You give your hand to me

And then you say, "Hello."
And I can hardly speak,
My heart is beating so.
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well.
Well, you don't know me.
(no you don't know me)
No you don't know the one
Who dreams of you at night;
And longs to kiss your lips
And longs to hold you tight
Oh I'm just a friend.
That's all I've ever been.
Cause you don't know me.
(no you don't know me)
For I never knew the art of making love,
Though my heart aches with love for you.
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by.
A chance that you might love me too.
(love me too)
You give your hand to me,
And then you say, "Goodbye."
I watched you walk away,
Beside the lucky guy
Oh, you'll never ever know
The one who loved you so.
Well, you don't know me
(For I never knew the art of making love, )
(Though my heart aches with love for you. )
Afraid and shy, I let my chance go by.
A chance that you might love me too.
(love me too)
Oh, you give your hand to me,
And then you say, "Goodbye."
I watched you walk away,
Beside the lucky guy
Oh, you'll never ever know
The one who loved you so.
Well, you don't know me
(you don't love me, you don't know me)

I hate the fact no one knows for sure what happens after we die. I hate being so convinced on heaven and hell, I judge everything into good or bad, black or white. Even more, I hate doubting - you come across people so convinced on an afterlife, reincarnation, nothingness, limbo or whatever. And you question everything you believe in.

 I loathe wondering and not knowing, I despise unresolved mysteries... It makes me unable to sleep, I toss and torn, wonder and imagine, and after 5 minutes in I completely doubt everything, I find myself frustrated into thoughts of nothingness, existential questions. Sleepless nights.

 I'm the type of person who is inexcusably unable to miss the ending of a movie, even if I hate it, even if it's so scary it makes me cry, even if it's a movie that was wrongly named 'movie' when it truly seems cheap porn... No ending, no sleep.

 No matter how bad the movie is, the ending resolves things. Endings allow understanding. Even the worst endings are pleasing, 'cause it allows us closure. And generally, all endings are good ones... not necessarily happy, but they leave us at calm... and I expect the same out of life. Hopefully a happy ending - if not, a calm one at least.

 And I lie so sure in my comfy bed that everything will work out perfectly - don't you feel that? Even when things are going HORRIBLE in every sense and in every way in your life, and even though you stress about it, and bitch and moan that you're royally fucked and you have no way out... EVEN THEN, you feel everything will work itself out. Well, what if doesn't?

 Everything is so... uncertain. Don't me wrong, I love uncertainty, I love the element of surprise... but after awhile you simply NEED to be certain.

 You know when you are overconfident on a game or bet or something, and you're so damn sure everything it's gonna work out perfectly you can almost feel it... and then, BOOM, everything turns out the other way around? Well, sometimes I feel that way about life... Maybe I am overconfident. And honestly I make no extra-efforts on making sure my life turns out good, I do everything OK, but nothing at its very very best, honestly I don't trouble myself looking for the perfect guy (plus the perfect bank account) like my friends are already doing, I'm a good person, would be a good wife and mom, but I have never cooked anything (unlike 2 friends of mine who impress guys with their cooking skills), I don't have a mega-hot body to compensate for it (although it's not bad), I'm not making any back-up plans in case my dreams don't come true, I'm not so concerned on being #1, of my friends, my family, my career, my job, my savings... I'm not a 'settler', but I am kinda comfortable and laid-back... I have never liked the spotlight, it makes me uncomfortable, I prefer laying low and getting true happiness. Now, people who push themselves to excel in every aspect of life can maybe give themselves the luxury of overconfidence... One could tentatively taste and touch overconfidence, when the odds seem to point their way, 'cause basically they're pretty much set.

 Now, odds or no odds, when I look around it seems it works out for pretty much everyone, what if it doesn't for me? And I don't mean like getting married, but everything. What if life doesn't happen for me? Plans go astray? Friends go away?

 It's terribly unnerving. I hate having these thoughts.

 I hate the cold side of the pillow, 'cause after a while the cold side is the warm one, and you have to switch again. White blankets wrapped around my body. The sound of air-conditioning.

 Is there a God? Why do medicine and religion always clash? Until what point is man allowed to manipulate life and health? Why are we trying so much to prolong life, when we simply should be improving it's quality? Why bomb for peace? (it's like fucking for virginity) Why so much fuss over Holy Land?

 Who needs drugs? Find your fuckin' natural high... What happened in a person's life that made them fall into alcoholism, drug-addiction, perdition, I always wonder?

 Why do best friends sometimes back-stab us? Just because they can? Why jealousy?

 Why do marriages fall apart? How can people marry for money? Don't they know their marriage is set to doom?

 Why are some of us so afraid of being hurt? Why are we still not willing to risk everything for love? Who the fuck cares, after all the bet is only yours and only you will then get a change at true happiness... Why so many stereotypes? Why so many barriers? Is there only one true love? Should soulmates be friends or spouses?

 Why do we go through years and years not knowing what we feel for a person? Are we so fucked up, we simply can't figure out what we want? Why can't we want what we need and not need what we want? Why the inner-fucking-fight of heart or mind? Shouldn't it be heart, no questions asked?

 Why are we waiting to hit a certain age to start behaving as we know, respect or believe in? Why do people wait 'till they hit 30 to leave all sorts of bullshit behind? Don't they know you only live once? You never get those 30 years back, you'll never as young again? Why do people use 'You only live once' as an excuse for doing every kind of shit? Is the guilt, hangover, or pain that comes after 'the shit', something you want to fill your once-only-life?

 Is it a waste of time wondering something I will never find the answer for? Am I digging my own grave by wondering at night instead of figuring out how to make MY life? Are friends for ever? Is passion necessary on a successful marriage? Is it OK to desert some friends? Why do 'goodbyes' hurt like hell? Why do we blind ourselves in front of uncertainty and trouble?

 ___________________ ____

 "I don't have a plan!" -Rachen Green

 "I don't have a plan either... Phoebe, do you have a plan?" -Monica Geller

 "I don't even have a 'pla'." -Phoebe Buffay

For a long time, I've been of the idea that people are forever. That when you find something true and real, you gotta stick up for it, fight as hell to keep it. But breakups happen, the closest friends become acquaintances, families are tore apart - people change. Some things are not forever, eternal, disaster-proof, pain-free.

 Change is a rather relative term. And the phrase 'People don't change' is so true... and so false.

Generally one can't change or mold a person, one can't change how another thinks, change a person's paths or ways... but every so often we hear about the guy who gave up everything bad in his life, the girl who converted and is happily married, the family who made it stick.

How ironic, as society we always praise those that were so lost and found their way again - the motivational speaker, the ex-addict, the husband who repented. Why not praise does who never go wrong? Those who never wander off their righteous paths?

 The thing is some have to hit rock-bottom to appreciate everything they lost, some have to lose everything to be willing to make it stick for as long as they live.

 Still, generally most people do not change. A hypocrite will always be a hypocrite, a liar will always be a liar, a boastful proud asshole will never stop being one. 'People don't change' generally refers to bad aspects, flaws.

 'People don't change' is also bullshit. Some do, they don't lose their 'badness' and find righteousness,& nbsp;but these people who do change are the ones that lose their ideas, beliefs, virtues, righteousness, their past lives... they change some things of who they are into something bad.

 It is terribly saddening when someone you care so much for, stops being who you once knew. Relationships change.

I have no doubt that when one a person changes his attitude or attentions toward you it must be horribly hurtful - but then again, this sometimes is the change that allows closure, that makes you able to say 'Goodbye, I deserve better". But for me, the worst change is when a person is still the same person towards you, with you, but is another different person by himself/herself.

 Someone you met a long time can be the same person with you, love you as much, treat you as well, but have changed into an entire different person. New ideals, beliefs, values... actually, not new ones, but lack of old ones.

It hurts to the core of my being, it makes me unable to sleep. Someone I knew this way, with certain standards, is lost in stupidities, peer pressure... emptiness. A friend of mine actually changed - people can very much change... into a bad version of who they were... and sadly I find the situation very difficult to reverse, now 'People don't change' has me by the neck, I cannot change him back, not until he wants to himself (will he ever want to?).

 Impotence in all its power.

 I've said all I have to say, I've done all I could do. My words are in vain. I can no longer keep this up, I'm tired of trying to help someone so out reach, so sure that he's right, so sure of not having changed. 

I kind of gave up by now... not 'by now' actually, but just now. Hours ago. And it is not lack of love, deterioration& nbsp;of affection, but pure disappointment& nbsp;to the point of exhaustion.

 Unfortunately I don't stop loving him at all. But how can one support someone they disapprove so much of?

 An important indicator of real intimacy and true friendship is when 2 people are able to see the world as the other one sees it. We always did, even with some many differences - I always asked of him not to act or think as I had been taught to, but as he had been taught to, even if that was miles away from what I believed... and he asked the same of me. It was true understanding. We were so synched.

 But now, this is too much. I can no longer visualize the world as he does. He gave up on, not what I believed in, but on what he did. I don't know if friendships endure that. I don't think they do. Unfortunately one cannot live merely off love and affection.

 Is is giving up too quickly? Is it unfair to lose contact with a person who wants to remain so close to you? 

Is it selfish to hurt someone you love? Or rather, hurt someone that loves you?

 I figure time will decide. For now, I can do no more than wonder, pray he does well. For now, I'm giving up.

 Thankfully, over the last weeks I've come to understand friendships are not necessarily forever. Some people are put into our lives to help us through tough times, to enrich us in a certain moment, to help us grow. Some relationships are meant to be for a while are meant to end at goodbye... It's always better to leave a game when your at your best, that wait until it gets bad and dirty to finally retire.

 A good goodbye is better than a bad one, or none at all. For now, I don't know what will happen. I just know it hurts. I just hope it'll be for the best. And I just know you gotta hurt every once in a while, hit rock-bottom, to then appreciate all that's good.

Sunday morning, rain is falling. I love that song.

 

 Today I woke up to the sound of water outside my window. Clouds rolling on by. It's slightly cold outside.

 I pulled out a thin long-sleeved t-shirt from my winter boxes and started my day at 4pm.

 

 It's midnight and it's raining. I loved it when in rained, back then when he was here. I loved his early messages telling to me glance outside. It's great when you are waken up by a good call or message, when you don't mind having to get out of bed. I loved how much he would kiss my forehead. The first drop fell and he would instantly head to my house. He would come in with 2 coffees in hand, smoothies, junk food, sushi every once in a while. Always to find me asleep on the couch covered with my beige blanket. He wouldn't wake me, but snuggle with me. I loved to open my eyes and find I wasn't there alone. I felt his warmth and I felt safe. His snoring didn't even bother me. How he loved my beige blanket. And after several rainy days it no longer smelled of soap, it no longer smelled of me, but it smelled of us. This deep penetrating scent we both made together, the combination of our sweat, lotion, vanilla, musk. This scent I ache so much for. I feel I catch a whiff of it from time to time, sometimes I imagine it, sometimes it's real. Friends have told me I smell of him sometimes. But I don't, maybe a little. But it's different. I loved those afternoons doing nothing, long days of nothingness. The first days of winter we looked our best. Jeans, boots, cashmere sweaters. Then we became family. Sweats. PJ's. We found out we both wore Hanes socks and Calvin Klein underwear. At night the couch was no longer fluffy, it had holes shaped like our bodies. I miss those holes. We always intended to get out, but we never really got up. Long days, but time flew. Rented films spread about, nintendo cables across the living room, styrofoam containers with left overs. I loved it when he brought me flowers, just because. I loved how he hugged me, to the point of suffocation. I was never suffocated, by his hugs or by him. In fact, I felt empty when he wasn't here, my couch was fluffy, my living room clean. Even my family felt weird when he went away. But he would soon be back, 10 hours later or just as soon as the sun rose. I loved his laughter. I loved how he came in and out of the house as if he were family. He got to know all about my kitchen, he would stand up and be back 10 minutes later with bowls full off stuff. I loved he even tried to wash the dishes. I loved how he mocked my attempts at cooking. He would always offer to do the frosting of my horrible chocolate cupcakes. I loved his hands. I hated his dirty short nails I never got him to keep clean. I loved his nails, actually. I loved he would caress my arms until I fell asleep. 10 or more hours on a couch. Right then and there, I forgot how much I loved to smoke, I was so comfortable I totally forgot about cigarettes. The rain poured on. Late at night he would head home. Now I smoked. Totally in peace with myself, with the mess in the living room. The last hug was always the best. The kiss on my forehead. The smell of rain and wet soil. The good night call. Each in our house. Each in our Calvin Klein underwear. Smelling of the other. Singing ourselves to sleep. Literally. And not wanting to say goodbye. But we did, happily, knowing tomorrow would be the same.

 

Time cures every scar. Time soothes every heartache. Distance helps us let go.

 Still, I think we can't always forgive and forget. No matter how much time has gone by or has much distance we get, we never can actually forget.

 But we need time and distance. We find out again who it is that we are... We get back to being ourselves. It makes you more 'you'.

I once heard this quote that we shouldn't try to be someone else because we'd always be a day late. How true.

 Me, I'll never be the easy kind of girl. I'm easy-going, laid-back, open-minded, and free to do almost anything, but I'm complicated as hell. I'll never be someone to settle things easily, or to quickly settle for something. I won't settle. I'll never be easy to convince. I'm stubborn. I'll never be able to just jump out of bed and get out of the house. I think I'll always be unpunctual. I'll NEVER give up a friend without putting up a good fight. I'll never understand that people, for the most part, simply do not change. I'll never stop being a masochist. I'll never be able to just say 'ok' and move on, without first mourning as hell and going through weeks and weeks of sad music. I'll never give up on people after the 3rd big disappointment, like people should do. I don't think I'll ever give up faith or hope.

 I'll always find my cure on friends, dinner and wine. I always have and always will.

 Lately I wonder a lot about those people who never really make any real connections, who never get their 'person', or get them and let them go. I have 3 great ones, 15 good ones, and a bad one. That bad one, still doesn't stop being my person.

 I wonder about 2 friend of mine who went from being the closest of friends to complete strangers... or well, enemies rather than strangers. They had 'it', that 'it' you have with your person(s). That connection that is so unique and true, and so different one from the next. They were completely in sync.

 Now, one stole the other's boyfriend, had a quick relationship, and now the guy is back with the first one. How she took him back? I don't know. Mainly out of spite, I think. How is it she took him back, when he's an asshole, and she didn't take back her best friend? How was the other so unashamed and un-remorsed about stealing her best friend's boyfriend?

 Don't they feel alone? They seem alone. Both of them. And they're both the complicated bitch type of people who'll never find another 'person' for themselves as they had each other.

 I'm just back from dinner, instead of partying like crazy and drowning myself in alcohol as the cheap solution I always use when I just can't find my cure. When I can't find the glue to put my shattered pieces of heart back together. When my mind is a gray cloud. My life feels like a storm.

 And it rained today. I love it when it rains. It soothes me and I find nothing gets me down on a rainy day. The air feels clean.

 Dinner was the kind of thing that doesn't feel like dinner. You're somewhere else yet you feel at home. Several friends of mine agreed with me on having a low-key saturday, going somewhere new, getting far from home. We drove to this restaurant we had never visited because driving the distance meant laziness. Distance is a concept that always provokes laziness. Driving far. A 12-hour flight. One of our 'persons' in a another country. Laziness.

 I love going out for dinner when it is not really dinner, but more of a talk show. We all get our 30-minute talk show. Complete attention. Absorption on whatever topic we decide to talk about. School, old boyfriends, dates, poop, religion, news... or things as boring as the weather. Things that we can truly talk about with real friends. Chit-chat doesn't exist in this world, the world of a circular table covered with a linen table cloth, candles, bottles of beer, glasses with wine, shrimp, oysters, pasta, rib-eye...

 Completely unknowledgeable of the many other tables and people around us, of the so many other things going on around, outside, far from ourselves.

 It might as well be a lonely table in a lonely room in a lonely city. So unaware of the world. When the entire world keeps on moving and we are at pause.

 Dinner became a 4-hour thing, of which only 40 minutes were spent eating. I love to eat. But the best part of eating is what comes afterward.

 The restaurant empties. The bar closes. Butlers walk anxiously around our table, urging us to leave. It's closing time. We barely notice it. We suddenly realize we're not that younger anymore, as much as we love discussing stupid things and talking about sex and poop and things so meaningless, we now are immersed in deep talk, real things. We are now a younger versions of our parents, we realize. Horrible, the moment you realize you are becoming what you so much tried to not become. We are now the spitting image of our parents, we now remember how we hated and criticized them for this, we pulled on our parents clothes begging them to leave the table when they spent 3 more hours on the table, talking with friends about things we never understood. We were young then, and bored at their conversations.

 It's not so bad. We realize that now.

 We are older, wiser. Even if we're only a bunch of 20-year-old who are still a little hungover from the night before. We've grown.

 We are still very much ourselves. The same we were back then.

 We sometimes lose track of who are, we are driven into other paths, into other ideas, by people who don't know where we come from, who we truly are. But here over a white linen table cloth and ash-trays full to the brim of cigar-butts, we are surrounded by people who do.

 It helps each and every one of us. It helps me.

 Change is good. Get out, do something different. You're 20, you don't always have to party like a maniac. This new restaurant doesn't remind of him, like half of the ones in town do. I've made emotional attachments to almost every place I ever visited with him. This is new, it's not his at all. It's just me. Try a new perfume. Find the one that makes you feel confident. I got rid of the one I left him smelling of. Every once in a while, dress differently. Something totally out of your style. Play with your hair. Burn a CD for your car filled with music so unlike you you'll feel powerful while driving the same old streets.

 Soon you go back to your music, your clothes, you get new 'likes' but always go back to your classic ones, to your trademark bag, your trademark smell, your trademark friends. You become more you. Over and over again.

 But never lose those old friends. Those that made my Saturday night feel like being home again. The ones that make you so unaware of time, curfews, or what you are putting into your mouth as you talk about what's going with each ones life.

 I'm getting back to being me. And I won't stop being all the good and bad things I am.

 The night ends with cups of coffee. We realize we now look 60.

 It's not so bad. It's really good, actually.

So we argued for hours... and hours... and it seemed like weeks. It seemed as if he were back here again, sitting across the couch in my living room, and we were having one of our fights. Only this one was far worse than any other. He was miles away, but I felt him here, so close I could almost feel my fist punching him. Punching his ego, his stupidity, his curiosity.

Even though I could sense him sitting besides me and almost see his eyebrows going all the way into his hairline and his mouth becoming smaller and smaller, as it always does when he's guilty, he truly was miles away - not physically, but emotionally.

Emotionally miles away, he talked as if he cared, he argued as if he felt it, and he cried as if it was true, but deep inside I knew my words didn't have even half the impact they did then. I was right.

 As we were about to hang up he brought up the typical inevitable question. He seems to be able to conjure this phrase out of thin air, and I am trapped, into what feels like a very real corner. "Do you still love me?"

 Honestly, not as much. No matter what people say, love decreases when you are disappointed by someone. Maybe not love, but caring.

 We did same old dance, he groveled, I pitied him, he cornered me... this time I didn't give in. Somehow for some reason, this time, no amount of tears could erase his stupidities, his becoming someone else. His becoming into a stranger.

 A cold "Yeah", and I hung up. He knows "yeah" means "shut up", and he knows that I'm physically unable to say the literal words "I love you" when someone truly disappoints me, when somehow for some reason I no longer feel it. Not at the moment, at least.

 That became the first time ever that we hung up without me saying that I loved him back. Before that, I told him I no longer care to ruin my friendship by saying what I thought, I no longer was afraid of losing him - the risk of him disappearing was worth saying what I had to said, was worth screaming what no one would ever scream at him.

 Still, I gotta say, we left things unsaid - I couldn't say more, I felt it was not the time or maybe... I had run out of balls. As for him, he didn't even answered to all I said.

 I told him I knew after that he wouldn't be at all compelled to call me. I didn't need any explanation. He tried to deny this, but I knew he would maybe never call again or he would wait weeks before he did. I also knew he would not once again, at least for a month, would call me drunk, out of fear of frightening me, out of fear of giving me a reason to scream again, out of fear to make me be right again. And he just can't stand to be proven wrong. I told him, although he tried to deny it, that I knew. And he knew I knew... he also knew this time I was OK with it, I would be OK with him not calling, I maybe would be better off.

 Two weeks went by. No calls, no mails. Just cold awkward messages that had every feeling hidden between its lines. We went back and forth and played a game of tennis for a while, both of us not willing to give in first. Until he broke.

 His messages became from completely pointless to jealousy and regret. He asked me about a guy, and I gave him the honest answer that I really didn't care for the guy, he was an ass. I asked him if he was happy now, he was - followed by messages filled with I love you's.

 I still didn't give in.

 Until Sunday night. Sunday nights always make me do stupid things - they're the culminating point of the week, the reflection, the 'nothing better to do'. A message. "I feel like I no longer know you. You've become another person."

 I unleashed hell. Messages are man's worst invention. There's no taking it back, no erasing, it's there and it's there, it's readable, and it is subjected to the interpretation of what that one person wants to make out of it.

 We argued. More messages. He denied it and he begged me to never say that again, he swore he was the same freak that I had met, the same very person who wouldn't stop loving me no matter what. And he begged me to write I felt the same way, when I didn't he blamed it all one me. Apparently I was the one that had changed. The tortilla flips again... and again... and again... as it always does when it comes to us.

 I was truly coming to believe that we would never talk again, no more calls. Yesterday he called. It was the shortest call ever because I said goodbye as fast as I could. He simply called to say hi, to ask how I was, and to tell me to take care and, of course, to say how much he loves me. In his voice I knew his confidence trembled, his words told me he was shocked to his core that I was truly OK, I was much better in fact. Maybe I am better of. Maybe not. Maybe I will never know. 

 Maybe I would like to remain "off", but my heart wouldn't allow it. I'd love nothing more than to say "This is it", but I'd be lying.

 Today I went out, had shrimp and wine, cleaned my mind, talked with friends I hadn't really heard 'cause I've been living in my head for a month now. It was good, it was a small pleasure I could feel taking over slowly, and my chest began to move slower, my breathing became rhythmic again. I could almost feel the summer breeze literally washing my troubles away, it cleansed my skin, my mind.

 As I drove home the radio station I hate the most suddenly won my attention. I saw cars move nearby, red lights glowing, green lights sparkling, the street lights making shadows that crept into my mind, I didn't feel time, I was so immersed in my mind and into what the guy was saying, that I really didn't care if I got home, I could've kept driving all night. I don't know if I was going at 20km/hr or 150km/hr. It really didn't matter. Time. Speed. Distance. Why do we measure it? Why does it matter? Why not measure time by how much we get done, by how well we make use of it? Why not measure speed by how fast or slow we live, by how we enjoy or let the moment pass by? Why not measure distance by how far we feel and not how far we are, how much we are able to remain close when we really aren't or to grow apart when we're sitting next to each other?

 The DJ played corny background music, as it always happens in the radio station we hate the most. It's elevator music or the kind they play at Macy's as lazy shoppers make their way through clothes racks. And the guy talked about trust, about friendship, about the closest of friends.

 I was tempted into changing it, my hand mid-air, but I kept on listening. He talked about betrayal, he was saying relationships will never be the same afterwards. He wondered and made unanswered questions about why we betray those who have given unconditional love, those who we know we will never be able to replace, those who truly know who we are. He invited the listeners into appreciating that person, YOUR person. He said betrayal or losing someone's trust doesn't necessarily end a relationship, "You might keep on talking", "He/she might keep on calling". Out of routine, out of the fear of not being alone, out of now wanting to leave this person no matter how hurt we are.

 But trust? Trust is now dead. What's the point on keeping calling or talking if it is now this superficial empty-shell of relationship/friendship. Will we ever be able to have or get back what we had?

 I was now blocks away from home, when had I gotten here? What path had I taken home? It was all a blur. City lights. Confusing thoughts.

 Maybe this was me. Maybe we lost our trust in each other. He betrayed me and I betrayed him. Is it betrayal if I crossed the line with the only purpose of helping a friend, of lending a hand, of having him take conscience?

 It doesn't matter. We both feel betrayed. We talk but we say nothing.

 Still as I parked I wished he would be here on my doorstep, just out of his weekly reunion with his friends, waiting on me to have a cigarette, to talk about nothing, but mean everything... even if it's nothing. Like he did when he was here.

 Now a stranger is in another city doing whatever it is his friends do, whatever it is he does or think now. And I'm entering my house by myself. Another stranger, in another city.

 

 

It's been quite a while since I last posted. He's gone now, way gone - miles and miles away. If you don't know who I'm referring to, please check out my previous post.

To be honest, when he was here I don't think I ever actually decided on my feelings for him. I would say he was just a friend, but truthfully, I doubted it more than once - I always kept quite. He didn't. He did call me once, 4am midweek, trembling voice, to tell me he was falling for me. I quickly rejected what he said and asked him to consider a confusion whatever he thought he was feeling. After a few weeks we were able to go back to normality.

Now that he's gone my past life with him (when he was here, that is) is even more unclear. It looked like love, a lot like love, me and him, and vice versa. But how come back then we were so certain it was nothing more than a dysfunctional friendship? We cherished our friendship above everything else and believed ourselves lucky to have whatever it was we had than no one else did. Lucky? Now I wonder how nuts I was. I still adore him, appreciate him, and sometimes am rather lost without his words and support - he truly got to know the real inner self of my being in a way people that have known me for 10 years still haven't been able to. I should've kissed him before he left - I cried the most I've cried in my entire life and I clung to him with all my strenght...and he left... and I kept on living. Not living, but walking lifelessly around in a life that didn't feel mine for the next couple of weeks or so.

And I didn't kiss him. If I had kissed him we would finally have settled that enormous question mark between us - if we were even remotely in love our relationship once he left I'm sure would have been healthier, less competitive, and with loads more patience. And if we would've finally left the L-word to rest, it would have been the perfect way to say goodbye. We would've kept talking and loving each other, maybe we would've competed in certain things, and we certainly would've fought, but then again we would've been able to advice and support each other on going out with others, on sleeping with others (in his case), we both would've understood we have no reason or right to claim things from each others, and neither one of us would've been offended when we disagrees on each others' decisions and actions. But we didn't kiss.

In a way, we left the question mark on the air, and the power still up for grabs.

Our weird relationship and dysfunctionality grew, if anything, to a point where we don't recognize love from hate. As much as he can bring me back to being me when I lose track of myself, as much as he can make me smile, as much as he supports and helps me in every existing way, he claims rights that aren't his. And I do as well. More than once did I swear I would stop talking to him altogether and turn him into a mere aqcuaintance, into the old friend you simply lost contact with. But each and every time I failed, I needed him and he needed me every time everything else stopped making sense, which was every time we stopped talking to each other.

Although we grew in different cities and different religions as well as beliefs, we learned to respect each other's ideas 100%. He supports the fact that I'm against pre-marital sex, and I'm OK that he's totally on board (and probably sleeping around quite a lot now that he's there). Although some things we had to learn to respect and accept, we stood similarly in others. For example, drugs. We both consider it a major "no", and he always talked seriously against drugs since 2 of his cousins are actual drug addicts (and no older than 20 years).

But he went away. And he began doing drugs.

Occasionally. Lightly. Marijuana. Sporadically.

I restrained myself on saying so many things I wished I'd said from the start, out of fear, out of not wanting to lose his trust, out of knowing that no matter what I said he would try them as well. For one thing now I accepted his probably not only doing marijuana, I accepted I've kept quite out of fear, and I recently had the balls to confront him. Of course it didn't go well, but he cried like a baby like he always does, he begged I continued to love him, and asked for forgiveness. And for the first time, I didn't cry. There was nothing sad or even pitiful of the situation, it was angering in every level. He quickly said he was sorry and all that shit... for hours and hours.

And he seemed destroyed, truly destroyed, by everything I said to him. But nowhere did fully agree with me. We didn't reach a solution as we normally do, he didn't give in. I know he will certainly do it less often - I KNOW. But he will definitely not stop, and judging by his crazy friends he'll probably fall when he's offered something else. For the first time ever, I hung up without any sentimental crap. No such thing as I miss you, I love you, not even take care. Its the coldest hang-up we've ever had.

And as I predicted he would be afraid to call again. His pride has kept him from calling me for over a week now (when we have never exceeded 3 days). Although he's messaged me, saying how destroyed he is, how incomplete he feels by not having me there, and all that shit. All I answered was he had finally truly disappointed me, he had finally realized my fear of his becoming into a stranger... and that unfortunately not even then did I stop caring for him. But he was right, I am no longer there. He doesn't have my support anymore. And I'm lost with nothing else to do. I'm not calling him. Not writing him. Not giving in into being there for him. Into making everything appear OK.

But I can't help but suffer and hurt by the fact that he isn't calling either. Where is he now?

Probably having a smoke with his stupid friends. Now truly thousand of miles away from me.

And still he thinks he can fix things by simply saying "I love you".

People often say best friends of the opposite sex don't exist - they don't just say it, they assure it in a matter-of-factly way like if it was a proven fact. They bet and assure that that particular relations hip is completely unexistable, as if scientists had actually placed a guy and girl together in a test tube and an explosion had occured.

I believe in the possibility of a guy best-friend, of boy-friends... I believe in it to a point that I'd actually consider them brothers or mates. I am living proof. I have 3 best friends, 2 of them I've known since I'm 13 years old and I've hit on them both - for a small period of time and always winding up with the conclusion that I'd clearly confused love and friendship. It's such a thin fine line.

As for the other one, I met him exactly a year ago. This hot jewish guy crept into my life in every possible way, he got under my skin, he won my trust in matters of second, he became family, he became the shoulder I'll always rely on, the kleenex, the solution for an easy laugh, the date for whenever I'm dateless, the brother, son, father, and even possessor of my conscience.

He became, by far, a closer friend than half of my friends (except for the half that I've consider sisters since forever). He knows everything about me, he knows my family, he comes in and out of my house as if he was another member of the family, he knows every little detail, every little quirk or mania I suffer from, he knows when I have my period, he knows me in every mood - he probably knows more moods of mine than my family does. We kept a relationship where we could speak horribly to each other, scream every possible insult, but balance it with every bit of respect for each other, every nice gesture and detail for each other, and way too many hugs and kisses on the forehead. We reached an unknown level of trust to any of my friends, who would classify my relationship as insanely dysfunctional - we decided to take that as a compliment.

I love him. With every part of my being. I care for him like no one has ever cared for him, he's told me so and I know so. He looks out after me and I look out after him, almost to the point of a motherly figure.

There's a fine line between love and friendship. And although I am sometimes so sure I look at him as nothing more than a friend, every now and then a doubt creeps into a mind and I wonder if I actually truly love him. How does one know? What's the big difference?

The thing is, I am attracted to him. He is to me. But we've been careful to never let it get further than grabbing each others asses. Although this doubt tells me I maybe do love him I'm sure I wouldn't want him as a boyfriend. He's not ready for that, I don't know if he'll ever be - he has a wandering eye, he's a player, and it's once in a decade he does actually care for a girl in a way that would make him want to take her home and meet his jewish family (which are, by the way, wonderful people).

We've been close to kissing several times, we've always backed out on the very last second. He's going a year away in less than a month, and I don't know what to expect of our goodbye. I can't imagine being without him. I can't imagine what we'll even say at goodbye - although I have gone over it a thousand times in my mind I know reality will be pretty damn different, I think there are many things unsaid, many things we've both always been too scared to say (and we've said some pretty big things by now). As great as our relationship is, it's by far the most complicated thing I've ever seen - far more than the most complicated and self-destructive relationships (real ones) that my friends have had. He doesn't love me (like, really love me, to consider me his girlfriend one day) but lately he's gotten possessive and insanely jealous - he discards every guy that gets anywhere near me, which never happened before; he won't allow anyone to kiss me, he won't allow me to do many things. Lately I've hated him as much as I love him, and he has hated me. It's inexplicably and insanely weird.

We've spent months singing ourselves to sleep, although not so much now. We've lately cried freely with each other, more me than him; and we just keeping calling each other to get out tiny stupidities we'd like to say to each other in case we forget on the very last moment. Now it's all happiness when we're together, we're both trying to cherish and absorb every single second we'e together, we almost don't even know how to act when we hang out together, we just both keep smiling and hugging, and it's awkward and weird - I want to cry half of the time; I've actually cried daily for a week now, although he doesn't knows this. He keeps calling whenever he's drunk to sing me every sad song, love song, and goodbye song ever written, we keep reminding each other of the things we should be careful with, of the things we should keep away from, the people we don't want each other with, the millions of warnings and orders we have for each other.

I don't know if I'll be ok when he goes away. He's a part of me, and I say and mean this in a literal sick kind of way. I'm actually terrified to tears whenever I think of him not being here, I'm terrified I truly won't be ok.

And the question is, should I kiss him before he goes away? I wouldn't kiss him the day before - we won't have any alone time I think, I'd kiss him this very weekend... I truly do not know if it would be great and comfortable or if I'd ruin my last weeks with him by getting everything awkward and complicated. I know everything and nothing at all when it comes to him.

Hey, shit happens. Undoubtedly. Shit happens.

Plans go array. People go astray. Love dies. People come and go. Confusion strikes.

He's gone away again. He's somewhere else. Falling again for perfect her.
And I'm left here again, crying, and aching over the fact that I didn't act fast enough.

What is it that we wait for? No one's gonna call us and say the world's about to end or to say we've got 3 years 7 months left. It's not a matter of last-minute rash-decisions. It's a matter of knowing that everything can end just as sudden as it started, that people change, peoples' minds change, decisions quiver, and sometimes it's now or never. It truly is.

Can't we understand that time does go by? That some things are actually a one-shot kind of thing? That we truly gotta seize the moment, take the opportunity, risk the chance. And make 'what if?' come alive.

Our head won't always be able to dictate over our hearts. Shit happens. Sometimes we're so exhausted to pat ourselves in the back and cure our own hearts and pretend we're OK. Sometimes our own heart gives out. And, most of time, it's later rather than sooner when we finally manage to understand that we screwed up, that we let it go, that it's not his or her fault - it's our very own.

Things are left unsaid. Hearts and doors are left ajar. And we breath in deeper, we wonder more, we even sleep more trying to shut out our minds.

We gotta make things happen. WE gotta make things happen. Why wait? Why wait for flowers and compliments as if we'll someday find them on the street, as if we hope we'll cross paths with them? What if we don't? What if it's left up to us? We gotta make things happens and take risks. Flowers and compliments will follow.

And, undoubtedly, shit happens.

Undoubtedly. We gotta take a last shot. Our own very shot at finding our own cure, at finding what can make us sleep, and what can make us breath.

He who can get us back to being us.

Sometimes we find ourselved torn between love and lust, between zsa-zsa-zsu and old loves, between friends and lovers; sometimes we find ourselves so troubled and confused. Sometimes, quite often, we find ourselves at a crossroads, and sometimes, quite often, we end up in a train wreck.

Sometimes we can't distinguish between movies and reality, and we can't understand the difference between real desire or the simple obsession of wanting to win. Is it a victory letting someone go and accepting his happiness with someone else or is it a victory picking a battle until we win over her - over the other one?

Sometimes time brings people together, sometimes confusions does, and sometimes we fall... harder than we ever expected.

Sometimes decisions and choices seem tough, trying seems unbearable, and our energy has left us, and a glance at our hearts still won't answer the question. Sometimes we don't know what we've got till it's gone, we don't know when to let go, when to give up, when to keep up. Sometimes it all feels incredibly ironic - and we're lost. In a dead-end labyrinth.

My best friend, Mr.Big, gave me a white rose last week - this tall beautiful just perfect new-born white flower. It was beautiful.

To me a flower has always deserved a lot of attention, I would be given flowers and I would keep them in beaitful vases over my study desk in front of my bed, I would change the water daily, and made sure nothing got in the way of its view, I would see it early in the morning and late at night giving a hell lot of attention to all its tiny details. Specially white roses.

There's nothing as pretty a white rose or a tulip or those colored kinda daisies.

This one is by far one of the most beatiful anyone's ever given me, and by the next day all sort of clothes, books and bras lied cluttered around it.

I forgot to change the water every single day, and I haven't even given it more than 30 seconds of attention. At Thursday when he called I remembered and gave it a look, it was still beautiful, just perfect. Usually when a flower shows the smallest sign of death I stow it away in a closet where I hang them facing downwards and later place the dry flowers in vases.

Yesterday I came drunk (but in a good way) and looked at it - the flower was brown, with its top inclined and its leaves brown - I made a mental note to throw it away early today.

It's Sunday, it's 3 a.m. and it is still there - lonely and sad with dropping petals.

Sometimes we forget things, we forget little things that made us smile whenever there was a void or a little bore in us. It's not that a flower doesn't deserve attention, it does, but a time comes in life when we forget those little things and clutter things beside them (better things, like shoes and partying).

The past months have been great and the flowers got a whole lot of attention, but now it seems I have no bore or wasted time in me. My days have been filled with coffees, parties, friends and laughter - even more so than before. A whole lot more than before.

It's sad that we let things slide and it's sad to say I haven't paid attention to the beatiful little things. It's sad that I've thrown away the "what with people think?", a bit of my morals and my caring and have been partying without a care in the world. Then again, what a month it has been!

I don't know what it is that bothers me. I missed this beatiful rose in bloom and had a hectic week, and I regret not having been here to pay enough attention to it - or me come to that - and I regret knowing that I've wasted a whole lot of seconds watching flowers before.

How do we balance our time to appreciate the little things as much as they deserve? How do we balance out the partying and... us?

Why is it that time after time we fall by the same mistakes, we stumble over the same rock, and fall for the same type of guys - why is it we fall over and over again for that same old guy?

Yeah, mistakes shape us and, together with lots of other factors, make out who we'll become and make up our destiny... but sometimes do we truly learn from them?

The 2nd time we make the same mistake is always probably due to our hidden hopes that this time something would've changed, that we would win over them - a hope that this time around we would be stong enough to overcome it... But what about the 3th, 4th, 5th, or 20th time...?

Maybe it's routine, maybe we can't help it, maybe (even on the 30th attempt) we still have hope...

Again... do we really learn?

Is it normal to repeat the same old mistake for the 100th time?

One remedy could be to let go of hope after the 3rd or so... but where would that get us? Without hope we've got nothing, but with it we've got ourselves a bruised heart and probably a bruised ego.

Should we just 'learn' and let go of hope by the 3rd mistake, stick to that, and risk the chance that maybe if we'd kept for the 4th we would've won?

Or should we risk losing and getting harmed, keeping hope even after the 10th?

How do we know the next time could be different? How do we know if people really change? What defines if we're stong enough for the hit (or the strike, come to that)? How do we know we won't get shitted all over once again? When it comes to risks and chances how much is too much?

When you're in love you never know if you've spinned out of sense,
or if everything has finally begun making sense.

It's leaving the world of black and white, and everything becomes gray.

You never understand why the sky is now much more blue, why the wind blows in such a playful way, why everything tastes sweeter, why rainy days suddenly seem so great.

Please add your own small comments on love in the comments section, and I'll pick out the best ones and post them later on.

So tell me how you feel when you're left alone, when missing's all you've got in that shallow hears of yours. Tell me what it's like to build illusiong and shatter them, to break a heart, glue it back and play some more... Just tell me what it's like... And how is it you get your mind to fool your heart, and look me in the eye as if there's nothing there... And baby, baby fake some more and tell me how you manage to breath when left alone, with shadows in the wall and ink staing in the floor... Tell me what it's like.

Let's face it, we all have a Mr.Big in our lives - just like Carrie had hers. My Mr.Big is my very best friend, a year older than me, skinny and cute. I have been head over heels for him several times several years ago, and as of 2 years ago I've come to really get over that counfusion and realize friends is much better when it comes to us. He's the guy that calls 3 times a day (and vice versa, I call him) just to sing a good song he suddenly remembered, just to tell me his newest twisted dream, just to discuss life's twists and turns, and to tell each other every tiny little thing that cracked us a smile that day, or that angered us as well. We share every victory and every failure, we share similar tastes and likes, and a very similar way of thinking - which people often remind us, calling it 'synched'. Mr.S it's a guy my age I've been head over heels for since early this year, or maybe late last year - I've lost count - and he's the typical guy that as much as we have in common we have in dis-common. He's a guy people often judge as the 'really nice guy from class' and that's it. He's not one of the guys me and my friends usually hang or go out with, although we all have a good relationship with him. I saw much more in him... and we simply clicked. He gets how complicated I am, and I get... I don't know what I get, except that he's the nicest guy I've met and I'd love nothing more than to have him take care of me. _________________________ __ It's stupid and just plain foolish of me to thing I still have hope, to still thing I have a chance with him. It's stupid to spend all the time at a club or at school acting as though if he were watching, to sit in my porch at 2a.m. having a smoke with still some vague hope to see his headlights on the street as he reaches my house - coming just to say hi and hug me. I do this very often - fantasize about his visiting at 2a.m. - because that's what Mr.Big would do - pop up at 4p.m. or 2a.m. just to chat and hug, sometimes calling beforehand and sometimes without any notice. Proposing we go to some taco stand just because, or go take pictures at a touristy spot just for the hell of it, or arriving with a book of drink reciped to experiment in the kitchen for awhile (although it's piña coladas the only thing we ever succesfully make). It isn't actually fair to him or to any other guy that I compare them to Mr.Big, it's just that he is someone that's been climbing the charts for years, someone that I have mounted on a very high shelf, and someone that's as spotaneous and caring as I ever hope a boyfriend will be. See, he's my catch, my safety net for whenever I'm about to fly off mi senses, for whenever I'm about to break. He's who I'm willing and wanting to spend every sad moment, every lonely moment, but mostly every fun unforgettable moment. Bad thing I just don't feel for him that little something we need in a relationship - that charm or zsa zsa zsu or whatever the hell it is this other guy fills my body of. Shame I just can't force myself to love him, any more than I can't force this other guy to be Mr.Big.

Maybe love is a made-up fairy tale, maybe an unreachable illusion, maybe as tangible as a kiss, maybe a drug that should be banned, maybe a narcoleptic, maybe a shot through the heart, maybe it is yet another term for friendship with passion, maybe it is a whole new term, maybe it is sweet, maybe it is bitter, maybe sometimes both, maybe it is where we least expect it, maybe it's standing right in front of us, maybe it really has no rules, maybe it should have state laws, maybe it is the answer to every question - then again, maybe it is the question.

Hi, after months of posting (maybe a year or more, can't remember) I stopped doing it, erased every post ever written, and forgot about my blog... in a lame effort at being less complicated. Truth is, post or no post, I'm complicated, to my every last living cell. Sometimes saying all these things I mean to say, aloud to all my friends, still can't fill the void I have for screaming every sentiment and every feeling. So here I am again - exposing every thought I have, have had, or could possibly have. This is just me.