I may not be the one getting married, but I am nervous AS FUCK.
I claim to be calm, but the fucking stress-induced chin acne begs to differ.
I have spent this week reminiscing about my teenage year with this cousin-- the soon-to-be-bride.
We had some good times... and some pretty awkward times. Today, we don't really talk. She TRIES, but... it's kinda hard to connect with her, because while I do love her, she's... kinda vapid.
I always had difficulty communicating with her... she isn't at all fluent in Spanish, it's incredibly choppy. Each time I see her communicating with her family in Spanish, I sit in complete astonishment over their ability to decipher this homegirl's speech-- you must have some sort of sixth sense to know what's going on.
Sadly, her English isn't easy to understand either. She doesn't seem to be too fond of... big words.
It was simple to communicate and have fun as teens, because all we cared about was how cute some dude might have been... or how good the soap opera was going.
But as I entered my late teens, it just... it was too much hassle.
So... I pretty much sit there and smile at her. I let her do all the talking, which is fine by me. I'm fine just remembering our fun times... how they made me FEEL.
How does remembering my times with this cousin/friend make me FEEL? Warm. Sunny. Happy.
It was weird, but yesterday morning, as I chilled on my bed waiting for the sleep to leave my body so I could finally get up and on with my day, I looked up at the ceiling and realized I was smiling to myself (no, I don't have mirrors on my ceiling).
Hmm... that's weird... I have this... the color on my ceiling reminds me a lot of how... I feel. It's orange... tan-ish... sunlight... it's warm. I feel... a familiar, pleasant, comforting sensation in my... heart... how weird. I hadn't felt that in a while... it's like... I'm... 12 again. Hi, happiness. Hi.
Remembering the summer of 1997 has probably been the best thing I could have done. It was... it was such a great time. My mom's parents were still alive... they were still very much alert... I had hopes and dreams... and this time, realizing I had hopes and dreams didn't make me depressed.
I'd spend my days playing with the kittens and dogs in the backyard... I'd ride horses... the sun would shine so gorgeously as we went on our camping trips... I looked forward to watching the soap operas and daydream that somehow I'd get to enjoy something similar to it (the positive parts of it, that is).
I'd go out with the girls and enjoy ice cream in the afternoons... we'd walk on the railroad tracks and chat about cute boys.
The possibilities were endless. The world was my fucking oyster. No one had died. Nothing had died.
It just felt so good.
And so... while I'm stressed and nervous about this wedding-- I'm preeeeeeeetty sure I'm going to look like fucking shit, I always do-- I'm finally feeling happy. I feel like I'm being ME. I hadn't been myself in a VERY FUCKING LONG TIME.
It feels good.
I think the gloom has cleared... for now... I wish for good.
I claim to be calm, but the fucking stress-induced chin acne begs to differ.
I have spent this week reminiscing about my teenage year with this cousin-- the soon-to-be-bride.
We had some good times... and some pretty awkward times. Today, we don't really talk. She TRIES, but... it's kinda hard to connect with her, because while I do love her, she's... kinda vapid.
I always had difficulty communicating with her... she isn't at all fluent in Spanish, it's incredibly choppy. Each time I see her communicating with her family in Spanish, I sit in complete astonishment over their ability to decipher this homegirl's speech-- you must have some sort of sixth sense to know what's going on.
Sadly, her English isn't easy to understand either. She doesn't seem to be too fond of... big words.
It was simple to communicate and have fun as teens, because all we cared about was how cute some dude might have been... or how good the soap opera was going.
But as I entered my late teens, it just... it was too much hassle.
So... I pretty much sit there and smile at her. I let her do all the talking, which is fine by me. I'm fine just remembering our fun times... how they made me FEEL.
How does remembering my times with this cousin/friend make me FEEL? Warm. Sunny. Happy.
It was weird, but yesterday morning, as I chilled on my bed waiting for the sleep to leave my body so I could finally get up and on with my day, I looked up at the ceiling and realized I was smiling to myself (no, I don't have mirrors on my ceiling).
Hmm... that's weird... I have this... the color on my ceiling reminds me a lot of how... I feel. It's orange... tan-ish... sunlight... it's warm. I feel... a familiar, pleasant, comforting sensation in my... heart... how weird. I hadn't felt that in a while... it's like... I'm... 12 again. Hi, happiness. Hi.
Remembering the summer of 1997 has probably been the best thing I could have done. It was... it was such a great time. My mom's parents were still alive... they were still very much alert... I had hopes and dreams... and this time, realizing I had hopes and dreams didn't make me depressed.
I'd spend my days playing with the kittens and dogs in the backyard... I'd ride horses... the sun would shine so gorgeously as we went on our camping trips... I looked forward to watching the soap operas and daydream that somehow I'd get to enjoy something similar to it (the positive parts of it, that is).
I'd go out with the girls and enjoy ice cream in the afternoons... we'd walk on the railroad tracks and chat about cute boys.
The possibilities were endless. The world was my fucking oyster. No one had died. Nothing had died.
It just felt so good.
And so... while I'm stressed and nervous about this wedding-- I'm preeeeeeeetty sure I'm going to look like fucking shit, I always do-- I'm finally feeling happy. I feel like I'm being ME. I hadn't been myself in a VERY FUCKING LONG TIME.
It feels good.
I think the gloom has cleared... for now... I wish for good.
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