Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Hello, pleasure to meet you.

2013-- best year of my life... at least of the last 20.

Yes, I spent a number of days depressed and crying and struggling through the motions of every day... but... I could not have asked for a better year.

I'm getting emotional and I'm stone cold sober... although I'm still sort of woozy from the travel and illness.
I'm short on time, but I'll have more than enough time to type tomorrow.

I fucking loved this year.
I loved everything.

Thank you, Universe.
If last year was the Goodbye Year, this year was definitely the "Hello, pleasure to meet you!" year...
New beginnings are scary, but oh so wonderful sometimes.

I'm a happy girl. I'm so very happy.

Sunday, December 29, 2013


Uh... Guys... Totally nix the part where I said Homeboy didn't like me.
... He does. A lot.
Guess why...
Take a WILD GUESS why this pretty boy likes me and stalks me...

What. The. FUCK?!
What the fuck?!

I don't know what to say... At all... I've been like this for the last five hours or so.
When he dropped the bomb of being born March 3rd, 1995... I froze, and initially though "Oh shit! I'm two days older than him! Nice!"
Then he kept talking... About how the groom is a decade older than him... And I froze again.
The groom is MY age.
"This homeboy just... He just... Holy fucking shit! He's FUCKING EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD!"

Homeboy got PLASTERED. Everyone at this wedding did-- drinking began at 10 in the morning.
300 BOTTLES OF TEQUILA. THREE HUNDRED! A bottle per attendee!
We walked to church-- drinking along the way.
We walked to the reception hall-- drinking along the way.
Had cocktail hour-- for THREE HOURS.

I'd notice Homeboy staring over at me all the time. Smiling. I would be lying if I said it wouldn't make me giddy.
But he never approached me (though now I know he practically wanted to know my life story from my brother. Apparently everything he talked about with Rafa revolved around me, no mention of D).
Aww.. He hates me...
The party is still going on as I type, but I have been sick as fuck with a runny nose and violent cough all day, and since the reception was in the open of an hacienda, I was cold and getting battered by the weather.
So I decided to bounce out early-- at 1... It isn't ending until 5.
Anyway, Homeboy came over to my table and very drunkenly tried apologizing to the girl next to me. (He called her old-- 40 year old. She's 26. So she was offended and he was trying to make amends)
He tried explaining the issue to me.
"Oh, I know all about it. She keeps harping on it," I said.
And this comment pissed BOTH of them. 
He proceeded to playfully cover my mouth... But in doing so, he'd wrap his arms completely around me (fucking kid knows the allure of his grasp... Damn it!). He'd also force my head up to look me right in the eyes, and place his (tequila-reeking) mouth so close to mine, I'd taste his breath.
He did this about three times, with the excuse of making me "shut up." I have no voice, folks...
He then asked me when I was leaving (fourth time asking me this), and I told him I leave Monday, but D leaves tomorrow. 
"Who cares when she leaves?! When do YOU leave?"
"Why?! What is so important you have to leave Monday?"
"I want to spend New Years in Vegas..."
"No! Stay here! Vegas is boring!"
And he proceeded to play his little arguing game with me... Constantly covering my mouth and overreacting to whatever I'd say.
He proceeded to tell me he was going to take me out to dance the rest of the night (?!), but just as he said that, they ushered us into a different room and I BOLTED.

... I know, I have issues.

Friday, December 27, 2013

Outta the way, you!

I guess I should probably elaborate on yesterday's post, now that I have time.

Since I arrived in San Miguel de Allende, the groom's brother became my companion. I didn't really notice him, despite the fact that he was pretty much my shadow.
I noticed him on Wednesday, when we all went to these underwater baths, and he was on my end of the cave (it was a very long cave with pools on both ends, one pool was inside a cave, the other overlooked this amazing cliff).
He wouldn't move. He just sat there in the pool (it was warm as fuck. It's a hot spring). Then they turned on a waterfall and he got up to stand under the stream. JESUS! His body was AMAZING. And he just stood there... Looking like some fucking god... While I stole glimpses of him like a total creep.
After we left the water, we had tilapia ceviche in the caverns... Where I once again noticed he was one person away from me... And it's when I started paying close attention that this homeboy was always near me. 
A couple of us were tired, especially since we were comming down with a cold, so we decided to call a taxi to take us into town.
Originally it was going to be my sister, our cousin, that cousin's cousin and his four year old son, and me. But then the groom's bro tagged along.

In town, it was just us... And we decided to stroll the town's streets.
He once again never left my side, and he kept asking me to do little things for him.
Little flirtations.
Then yesterday we went to these... Traditional Durango pre-wedding celebrations, and he put on the charm HARDCORE.
He grabbed me as I stood by the wall (I was staring at the roosters) and made me dance with him. This was in front of his entire family (I'm related to the bride, and only four families from her side are present. He has a minimum of at least 20 families on his side), so I obliged without protesting. 
The music is... Banda. Loud and fast. I've never danced to the beat... well, not seriously or in front of a crowd... So there I was at his mercy.
Jesus... Was he good. And strong. And sturdy. And... smelling of onion-y tacos. Did I mention he was strong? Yeah, fuck the smell of tacos, I held on to him as he twirled with me for five minutes. His legs were MONEY-- strong and muscular and awesome. He dipped me to the floor three times, all three times making me squeal with both fear and delight (weird, I know... But GOD!).
He also swigged tequila twice... That was nice. 

Then his family made us pose together and took a photo of us as if we were some celebrity couple at a red carpet event.
This whole time homeboy is gripping on to me as if he were rock climbing or some shit. (Again, no complaints here... His hands were awesome)

The night continued with some bull fighting... And we were then given a thirty minute recess to change into dress clothes for a weddig anniversary.
This is where my sad/angry post came in.

At the dinner, I noticed homeboy constantly staring in my direction. I'm all blushing and shit thinking this dude is sprung on me-- you know, 'cause I'm hot as fuck (but not nearly as much as I am DUMB AS FUCK). 
After dinner, the dance began.
Homeboy giddily walked to my table.
"YES! Dude! Score! Fuck! A hot young dude digs me enough to parade me in front of his entire snobby family!" I VERY IDIOTICALLY thought. 
What happened next?
"Gabe (my cousin I've been hanging out with this entire trip) come out and dance, buddy!" I hear Homeboy say. 
Gabe looks down at me then back up at homeboy-- who was standing directly behind me-- and shakes his head no.
Then I see another young dude invite the girl next to my sister (who was sitting between us) and then my sister gets up.
Homeboy asked MY SISTER.

I wanted to cry SO BAD. So instead of being the LOSER GIRL sitting ALONE at her FRONT TABLE, I got on my phone and wrote the blog entry... no tears on my face, just a smile... my usual cynical smile.

Turns out Homeboy had wanted my sister all along... apparently wanted to butter me up to make way for the actual reeling in of my baby sister, the hottie.

And that is how I'm always a fucking idiot, and why I prefer to avoid people. 
And why I HATE allowing myself to feel any sort of idiotic "pretty" thing for anyone.

I'm a fucking idiot.

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Juuuuust my luck

You know when you think one positive thing--let's call it a dream-- and then it turns to an incredibly shitty reality?

... Yeah, totally just happened to me... Again.
No tears though, this is actually making me laugh because, well, it's just so fucking wack, it makes me crack up. 

Nunnery, that's where I'm going. 

Wednesday, December 25, 2013


Well I'll be fucking damned... I met the most beautiful man in the world today...

... and three billionaires.

Merry fucking Christmas.

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Travel blues

I don't know if it's because I'm grouchy from the traveling... Or tired from fighting this weird throat infection... But this new place, San Miguel de Allende, sure isn't living up to the expectation. I want to go home now.

Monday, December 23, 2013



Sunday, December 22, 2013

Bloody Spoiled

I've had an awesome time here. The city is... Well, full of MY people. 
Today I spent my day in the company of my friend and her best friends. They were all eager to meet me because they think our friendship (the friend I'm staying with) and how it came about is weird (I'll write it some other day).
They are a fucking riot. I can sit and listen to them all day... Mexican slang is music to my ears and I gladly sit back and enjoy the melody.
I experienced an activity that is well known down here, Xochimilco-- they call it the Mexican Venice... But I like this one better, because as bad a rap as Mexico City may get, it's not bad at all... Starting with the smell. On these boats we were allowed to bring in as much of our own food and drink as we wanted. It was MAGIC!
We followed Xochimilco with a trip to their version of the swap meet... As in, the swap meet of the pros. I felt eerily at home, when the whole time my group thought I was going to be scared half to death.
We then returned home to a surprise get-together (wouldn't call it a party because we weren't dancing or singing... It was basically a kick-back) where I met more friends of my friend.

There was one negative incident that made me frown.
See, I get along with these people because we're so alike, especially the girls. They're chicks who swore up and down they'd never marry or have kids because they loved doing their own shit.
Well, two of them, including my friend, have daughters. My friend's daughter is a sweet, rebellious smartypants... With a TINY bit of a mean streak. The other little girl, the daughter of my friend's BFF, is... a somewhat timid little girl, soft spoken... Imaginative... Talkative Girly girl... With a weird tendency to be a little spoiled brat.
The timid little girl only wants to be liked, it's obvious based on the embellished stories she tells... And her constant need to break silences. However, if ignored for too long, or told to zip her lip, she turns bratty and mean.
So, we're dealing with this little girl's sudden mood shifts. She had been playing races with my friend's daughter, so she wasn't paying attention to her mom, who was telling her to come back and hold her hand (understandable, we were going to cross a big intersection at night).
As we reach the curb, the little girl is still refusing to hold her mom's hand and instead wants to scurry next to my friend's daughter. This infuriated her mom... And I turned just in time to watch the mom SHOVE her daughter off the sidewalk, where the kid landed on her knees on the asphalt and banged her head on a parked car.
My heart SANK.
We were all quiet.
Girl'sMom: KEEP REFUSING TO HOLD MY HAND! Brat! SEE WHAT HAPPENS! Now quit crying and cross the street on your own!

The little girl was hysterical (not the funny type) sobbing wildly... Her right knee bleeding.
My heart was pounding so hard... And I was trying my best not to join the baby (she's five) in her sobbing.
Oh you sweet baby... Oh you sweet baby!

Our group was at a loss... I mean, if we were to coddle the kid, comfort her, who knows if we'd just make the situation worse for her... Since we'd be embarrassing her mom.
Each time the little girl would look down at her knee and see it was still bleeding, she'd start a new round of sobs. Her hair was all sloppy from the fall... It was all such a fucking heart breaking scene...
After maybe AN HOUR of walking around, the little girl's mom came around and started acknowledging her daughter... Then started buying her everything... in what I can only assume was her method of apologizing for getting straight HOMICIDAL on her kid.
And that's when I understood why the girl was a brat...

And this is why I don't have kids...
I am SO MUCH like this girl--the mom-- that I just KNOW I'll fuck my kid up. Clearly she loves her kid... But she says and does some heartless, mean shit to/about the little girl... it just ruins the poor baby. Little girl's naturally sweet and caring... but after feeling wronged, she turns into an insufferable little monster, and you can't really blame her for it.
Parenthood is a fucking mess.

Sinking City

Rooming with a 6 ("AND A HALF!") year old who thinks I'm the coolest human on the planet. 
She cracks me up. And educates me. 
Mexico City is like they say... Only friendlier and less ghetto. I'm more fearful of Oakland than I am of this place... Maybe it's because these folk look just like me. (Well, I AM about three inches taller than most people here... But you get what I mean)
Anyway, as predicted, yesterday was a shitshow... Arriving in el DF two hours behind schedule...
It was a nightmare to deal with all those travelers... Especially since they all had the maximum amount of luggage. Bunch of crazies. Jesus. 
But, the thing is I'm finally safe in the house and not in an airplane.

I hope I don't get mugged...

Saturday, December 21, 2013

No mamen bola de barbaros

Mexicans flying home for Christmas-- most fucking atrocious thing I've ever seen. 
Damn near missed my flight as I stood for two fucking hours to DROP OFF my bag.

Sorry... Had to vent. I'm frazzled as fuck. 
I really hate people. 


Not entirely sure if I'll be able to connect while in Mexico, so...
Here's to a Merry Christmas... (I know I already received my gift. I'm in a good place)
Not getting lost...
Not fighting...
Not crying...

I return on the 30th, Monday at 1:30pm (uh... Mooney, can you pick me up? Terrible time to bring it up, but looks like I'll be alone when I return-- how terribly appropriate).

Thursday, December 19, 2013

Impossibly Perfect


You know how I hate running my mouth about things because then things only grow worse?
Well, for most of the day, I was away from my computer, away from my email (fuck getting that shit on my phone. I refuse to read my email that way. That would just keep me glued to my phone). I checked my mailbox after I finished my rant here, and I saw an email from the bride.
The names of our partners and our seating chart.

I read my partners name, and did only what any other human would have done: I facebook checked that shit.
Bad idea.
He. Is. Gorgeous.
A graduate from Columbia... Law.
Did I mention he is fucking gorgeous? His profile photo is this... impossibly perfect candid image of him smiling (open mouth) while looking away.
... ?
Oh god...

This is right about the time where I'm HELLA wishing for that naco dude who only listens to corridos and whose sole aspiration in life is to own a cattle ranch somewhere in the middle of nowhere. I want THAT dude.

The fuck am I supposed to talk about to a beautiful creature who graduated form the university of my dreams?
I am a grouchy med school drop out... who only wants to spend her life writing, painting, and lifting heavy objects... occasionally punching bitches in the face. I curse up a storm... I'm timid to the point where it should be-- and probably is-- considered some sort of disorder... I am bitter and sarcastic and distant. I'm in a life-long battle with depression, struggle I am pretty sure I'm LOSING-- hard. I don't fuck. I don't hook up. When I drink, I tend to cry... or pour my very idiotic heart out... or just fucking fall asleep in hopes of keeping my mouth shut and eyes dry. I don't work. Never have... well, there have been little stints, but they've all ended in a very embarrassing fashion.
I am a mouse who never speaks, only smiles... and spends social interactions praying the night away that NO ONE will notice her and allow her to leave inconspicuously. 

I think this is the time I'm going to go to bed and cry myself to sleep.

Ya vali verga... fuck.

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

9 days away

Good God... the panic is starting to seep in.
I leave Saturday afternoon... and what do I have ready? Absolutely nothing.
Well, no, correction, I do have my bridesmaid dress ready to go. That's it.
I don't have shoes, or jewelry, or... makeup... or... fuck, dude, I have NOTHING.
I must be the worst at packing.

I'm also a little scared. Just a little.
Ok, no, I find myself trembling when I think about leaving. I'm not cool with this.
On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being the MOST anxious, I'm probably an 8 right now, on the social anxiety scale.
I'm starting to think of standing in front of all those people... and I'm not a happy camper.

I am fucking hurting right about now.
Someone needs to slap some sense into me.

Monday, December 16, 2013

I don't like that name

I woke up with that itchy feeling under my left tonsil, that tickle in my left ear canal that lets me know I'm fucked-- I'm sick.

My weekend was spent visiting babies... a bunch of babies. My sister dropped by for the weekend, only purpose being to get her bridesmaid dress altered by our tailor (I mean, we've known the man since I was thirteen... so of course I'm possessive of him. Ha. He's the gentlest man in the world... never allowed me to feel shitty about myself when he'd be doing my quinceañera/bridesmaid dresses. He'd actually very kindly encourage me when he'd have to take in my dress. He wouldn't be like other seamstresses who'd do mean shit like tell all the other chicks in the wedding party about how "AnoMALIE's dropped SEVEN INCHES since I started making her dress! That's... what is that girl doing? And why doesn't she keep it up? She'd be a  NORMAL size if she did").
Since she was leaving at midnight, yesterday was spent in a whirlwind tour of her friends.
The first house was awesome. We decided to visit our "adopted brother"... and he had chocolate chip BACON cookies. Let that sink in. Chocolate chip BACON cookies...
He also has three kids under the age of five.
My sister took the three month old baby, while I was left to play with the toddler girls... well, more like "left to be harassed by two toddler girls."
I hate saying this all the time, but it appears this curse of mine, where adults randomly hate me for NO reason, and make up their mind about hating me before meeting me, is the exact opposite with kids. This is somewhat unfortunate, because everyone knows I fear/avoid children... because there are SO MANY WAYS in which you can permanently damage a child. I don't want to be responsible for messing up a kid with some idiotic remark that comes out of my mouth.
Anyway, these kids wouldn't leave me alone. They would roar at me (one minute they'd claim to be lions, the next I had to refer to them as dinosaurs), want to be thrown in the air by me... play all kinds of violent games with me... all the while, laughing like baby maniacs as if I was the most entertaining... THING in existence.
Then they'd force-feed me the cookies.
5YearOld: Excuse me. Are you hungry?
Me: Me? Ummm... no... not yet.
Two minutes later.
5TearOld: EXCUSE ME! Are you hungry?!
Me: Ummm... maybe in a little bit.
A minute later.
Me: Um... yes, yes... I'm hungry.
Melted cookie is slammed into my hand... chocolate smearing the fuck out of it... grossing me out, since it only manages to remind me of... well... poop.

As I was trying to calm the kids down, the younger one calmly sat next to me and started playing games on her mom's phone. The five year old girl walked into my lap, grabbed my face, and whispered
"Excuse me... what's your name?"
"AnoMALIE... but if that's too hard, you can call me Mimi... people call me Mimi," I say.
The five year old giggles and shakes her head.
"No. I don't like that name..." she says.
Join the club, homie.
"EXCUSE ME!" she says. "I like you!"
She was still gripping onto my face, and then proceeded to give me the sloppiest kiss on the right side of my face... chocolate, slobber... teeth.
"I like you too. You're awesome," I say.
"And smart! I'm REALLY smart!" she says.
"And don't EVER apologize for that, my friend."

The rest of the day was quick, a little on the sad side, since it was constantly reminding me that my sister was leaving in a few hours... but I did feel better knowing kids aren't terrified of me.

Then I woke up all sick.
Fucking kids...

Saturday, December 14, 2013


This girl has not been doing so well.

I've been crying since yesterday. I went to the gym with my swollen eyes and coarse voice, always having to clear my throat in order to respond to any questions from my very kind gym buddies. This pathetic sight is becoming all too common, now that I think about it-- me kickboxing or lifting weights with pink, puffy eyelids, permanent frown plastered on my face... gym buddies trying to get me to giggle, only to have me sound like some... chick who has been wailing for days.

I've been downing cup after cup of chamomile tea, trying to calm down long enough to finally just fall asleep.
I tried reading, but the books are too exiting to entice me to sleep... and it's not like I'm willing to bust out a biochem book any time soon-- FUCK THAT SUBJECT... I want to sleep, not traumatize myself.

All I remember when I wake up from naps are nightmares.
I'm not having a good time.

The only thing that has gotten me to put down the kindle is when I find myself unable to stop my tears. Reading's pretty useless... and difficult to do when giant tears are continuously blurring your vision.

That feeling, the one where it seems as though I'm being held under water against my will, is stronger than ever. I can't shoo away the discomfort... or quiet the mean voice in my head.
You're NO ONE. NO ONE, my friend. If he gave a shit, HE would let you know. Now shut the fuck up, cut this nonsense out, and grow the fuck up.

My heart just wants to see him... be near him... hear him.
But my brain wants to keep me as far as possible... to not bother him... to not be that pathetic girl.
Don't be that pathetic girl... even if you ARE a pathetic girl... keep it in the privacy of your room.

It shouldn't be this difficult-- to accept my place in one person's life-- but this time, I can't keep from crying... my heart is getting ripped out of my chest.
I'm that chick who WISHES she were invisible, visible to only one other person... and he's perhaps the dude who is least interested in seeing me at all.

Battery acid... this chamomile tea feels like battery acid.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

La del medio

Brother: Hold up hold up... is this real?
He holds my first place blue ribbon in his hands.
Me: Yeah. I won it back in 1998...
Brother: What did you do?
Me: I drew a poster. I won.
Brother: For the state of Nevada?
Me: Yeah.
Brother: How come I never knew this?
Me: ... I don't know. It has been hanging there for 14 years.

No... it's ok, really.
I'm a middle kid-- my older brother is intelligent beyond belief (and successful in all areas BUT the romance department, but that's all three of us), and my baby sister is quite the stunning beauty.
I am the stereotypical middle child.
I'm used to being overlooked. I'm used to "settling" and keeping quiet in the name of keeping the group harmony going.
I'm used to getting trampled... embarrassed, humiliated, overlooked, ignored... and all that good shit.

I'm used to it.
But it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

But it's ok. A kid learns to deal.

I'm going to go jump on clouds with some Care Bears and then try to get in some time to walk along the Korean beach in the company of my handsome, young, caring grandfather.
(Imagination-- that's what has kept my heart beating all these years. That's how I can deal. That's how I handle anything. Just give me enough time to dream, and I'm good)

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Shimmering baton

Holiday parties... they're draining me.

Parties this time of year are growing especially difficult... you know, because I'm alone... surrounded by couples and babies.
It's not that I WANT a baby, and honest to goodness, I've come to terms with the fact that I'll die alone.
I just HATE having to explain myself to others, and I especially hate the fucking pity others give me, regardless of how sincere it is or whatever the fuck-- it's pity, and I hate it.

There's a difference between pity and sympathy. I tolerate sympathy... even if it also makes me cry at times. Pity makes me cry... out of anger.

I was reading at this party today. My brother gave me his kindle, so I've been reading every single day for as long as I possibly can... even while I wait in the gym parking lot, that's how bad it is.
Anyway, I'm sitting at this party, completely engrossed by this book... not giving a shit about interacting with anyone.
Crying babies are being hauled away here and there... screaming pre-schoolers are jetting past me as they play their usual nerve-racking game of tag... older ladies gushing about babies or talking about Jesus/church/Virgin of Guadalupe festivities every other minute.
I sit in a chair, completely immobilized... mute.
And my wish is granted-- I'm given the power of invisibility.
Occasionally a lady or girl will come up to me and ask/offer a hug or kiss.

Then I feel sad.
I look up and I am completely alone, without a soul in the entire room-- the fancy living room, and no one has cared to inform me where they're heading.
I go back to reading.
Fuck it, if I'm needed I'll be called.
Then the boy sits next to me.

A few years back my cousin married a widow. The widow had two kids from her previous marriage, and were sort of having a difficult time blending in with our family.
One day, at a kid's party, I was doing my usual quiet-girl shit of sitting in an empty room, observing people-- smiling at anyone who stared too much at me, then reading some notes for school when NO ONE would look at me.
Two cousins had entered the room to sit with me as I highlighted away, and we chit-chatted a bit.
This is where the little boy, the widow's son, walked into the room and my cousins fell silent. They wouldn't acknowledge the boy, no one under the age of 30 would do it.
Me: I like your shoes! I hear they make you run faster.
The boy smiles... a huge smile, and looks up at me.
Me: I don't think I've ever seen you before (lie, I had). What's your name?
Boy: Justin.
Me: Oh wow! Really? Some of my favorite people are Justins. That's cool.
And so, I engaged the little kid into a conversation that ranged from shoes, to video games, to school, to childhood games.

When Justin sat next to me today, he did not say a word. He just looked into my face and smiled.
Me: I'm reading... this is some fun stuff.
Him: I know.

When I had first taken a seat, one of my idiot cousins had mocked him for catching him in the middle of a Candy Crush game. I told my cousin to shut the fuck up, because shittalking Candy Crush in my presence is forbidden... because the game is so fucking awesome. Justin smiled, "Yeah!"ed, and continued playing.
He proceeded to keep me quiet company at random times of the night after that... even bringing me little gifts like glow sticks and ribbons from time to time.
At one point, Justin brought me a shimmering baton.
Justin: I won this for you.
Now, shimmering batons aren't really my thing... maybe if it was a billy club I'd be all about it... but a shimmering baton? I wouldn't really know what to do with it (besides preside over some faaaabulous parade). Apparently, in the world of this adorable 13 year old boy, I DO know.
Me: Thank you... that's very nice of you.
Justin: You've always been nice to me.
And like that, the boy went on his merry way... probably to win more shimmery shit form the creepy clown lady my cousins hired for the party.

Random acts of kindness fill my heart... and make me forget how badly holiday/family parties make me  want to jump off a cliff.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Les etoiles

Knowing we're under the same stars makes me miss him more than ever... constantly... terribly.

It hurts.

What is there to miss? You hardly see him, you hardly interact with him...
I don't know... everything-- his eyes, his smile... even his fucking teeth. I miss listening to him talk, never mind if the words were ever directed at me.
I don't know anything... except that when I think of him, it becomes harder to breathe... I feel that anvil on my chest that makes my eyes sting with tears... and I just... I feel as thought I'm getting ripped apart-- a serrated knife carving away at my chest.

What I do know, is that somehow, this girl needs to keep moving, because those eyes and those smiles and those words were never meant for me.

You're just another girl, AnoMALIE! CUT IT OUT!

I'll be fine.

Monday, December 9, 2013

Pinch me

As we danced the night away, the crowd pushed me closer to Jose.
He dances sort of wildly... he likes to throw his hands up in the air.
We were in the middle of bouncing up and down, when some idiot girl pushed me from behind and sent my face directly into Jose's shoulder. My cheekbone bounced hard against Jose's deltoid.
I laughed.
Immediately, Jose reached for my face and gently, but oddly firmly, rubbed his thumb across my cheek... in a gentle, quick pinching fashion... if that makes sense.

Some people have this strange affect on me-- their touch lingers.
I know I've mentioned it numerous times, but it's only because I probably only mention it when I come across a person whose hands/arms have this power.
The touch lingers because it feels like... I get a sense of... it feels like they understand me... a sense of caring. There's a gentleness to it, but at the same time feels unusually hot... like I'm getting burned. I feel every finger, even the mounds of flesh on their palms.

A few weeks ago, one of my friends reached over to clasp my right forearm with both of his hands. I could tell he thought about it because he did it cautiously. I had told him something that made him sad, and he was compelled to comfort me, but comforted me cautiously. He gently squeezed my arm, and the burning sensation it sent through my body made me look down at his hands, then back at his face.
"... how long have you been waiting to touch me? Looks like when someone convinces himself to pet an alligator. But thank you..."

As Jose tried to "wipe away" the injury he had accidentally caused my left eye, I felt... so comforted. I smiled, closed my eyes, and allowed him to cradle my face. His firm grip on my cheek made me melt. The gentleness of his caress made my knees weak. That strange warmth his touch was emitting comforted me to the point where I had to back away before I lost the war with my tears.

It's so weird how I can sense people's sympathy for me based solely in their touch. I don't allow many people that right-- to touch me.

So many hands have slapped or poked or punched me... but the memory of them fade within minutes.

I'm always, ALWAYS shocked when I find those few whose hands possess the ability to leave lasting, comforting impressions on my skin. It makes my heart stop... my throat close... my heart burst.
I forget my troubles for those few seconds, and for that instant, begin to believe some people out there actually give a shit about me.
Not everyone out there is hellbent on hurting me, and this truth I truly appreciate... and need.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Because I love you so much

I'm only doing this because I love you so much.

Last night we partied in San Francisco with my gang and the Bay dude I fancy.
Everything was fine and fun and... well, I was enjoying my very limited time with the dude... I had missed that shit.
He very much admired my brother, and they bonded almost immediately.

Jose: AnoMALIE, do you like how I show off your brother?
Me: Indeed, I do.

We pre-gamed pretty hard in Jose's apartment. He was incredibly charming and sweet before the shots started to fly. His undivided attention was for me. I loved every fucking second.

By the time the group stepped out of the apartment (he lives in the heart of the city... very, very stunning place), I noticed good ol' Mario was a little on the defensive side... as in, he was sort of cornering me and sectioning me off from the rest of the people (seven of us). Most noticeably, he was cockblocking THE FUCK out of Jose-- he didn't allow Jose to be near me.

We proceeded to participate in a pub crawl, where the cockblocking only worsened. 
At one point, when I'm sure Mario noted my exasperation/frustration/irritation, he turned to me and wrapped his arms around me. His hug was so tight around me, I could not move my arms in any direction.
Mario: I'm only doing this because I love you so much!
He then leaned into my mouth. I quickly and VIOLENTLY turned my head away from him, as far as I possibly could.
The entire group looked over at us-- Jose included. They were all shocked... eyes were wide open.

Night ruined. I drank like I haven't done in my life. I threw caution to the fucking wind and drank every single fucking drink that was given to me (that was seven jack and cokes... seven. I had taken three Honey Jack straight shots at Jose's apartment. I was fucking DONE).

Love me? LOVE ME? Bro... no. No... no. No. Not fair. Not fair at all.
He had Skyped with his girlfriend hours prior to this bullshit move, where I even "met" her and chatted with her... then he goes and does this? Dude. No.
So much about this upset me... but I would not have been so irritated had this not occurred in front of Jose, you know, a guy who is interested in me as I am in him.
When I'm alone and miserable... and... infatuated with him (Mario), he hurts me with his indifference and that shit of which I complained so much throughout 2008-2010. Then, when I'm on super good terms with him, where I FINALLY truly see him as my brother and move on... even ask him for help to hook it up with his friend... he gets all clingy. The moment he sees that yes, I have a spark with someone other than him... the moment a decent guy thinks I'm pretty fucking cool and attractive, homeboy gets possessive.

I did dance and flirt and enjoyed some together time with Jose later in the night as we hit a club to "dance off the alcohol," but it was no longer the same. And yes, plenty of times good ol' Mario positioned himself between Jose and I... ruining moments and whatnot. The vibe turned more into that vibe of a couple of bros "respecting" the chick of one of the bros... but the WRONG BRO.

I didn't cry, but I did feel this horrible ache in my chest the more I thought of Mario's actions.
"Dude... why? Why would you do that?" was the only thing running through my head as I tried to get some sleep at four in the morning.

That's some fucked up shit. So fucked up. 
I tried for so long, I cried so much, I TRIED SO HARD to get him to love me... shit, I was even fine with just being USED by him... and he didn't take it, he didn't WANT IT.
He was young and stupid, some might say... but... nah, man, nah.

If I can describe what I felt when he said that phrase to me, when he hugged me so tightly... it would be the image of a plain, cinderblock wall under a spotlight... in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night.


Saturday, December 7, 2013


Today, I was reminded why I've always fucking hated jewelry and resisted buying any expensive shit: I lose EVERYTHING.

Last night was freezing, so I wore a scarf. 
I enetered a bar and removed my coat... and scarf. I did this numerous times.

Cue this morning. 
I feel my right ear-- a sharp object is bothering it.
The sharp metal object, I come to find, is the back of my earring-- that is all that is left of my earring.

$500 sapphire earrings... no longer a pair. 
I fucked myself in the ass by REPEATEDLY REMOVING MY SCARF.
I have never been so angry at myself. Ever. 
I cried... and fought the urge to punch myself in the face. 

Soy. Una. Pendeja. 

Friday, December 6, 2013

Love and Detached

I am more in love with this city than ever. 

I've bonded so much with my brother... Not because I'm telling him so much, but because I'm listening to him and watching him interact with others, and I'm in complete awe of him. 
He's still absolutely, irreversibly in love with Alo. His music library tells me the sad story of his heartbreak. 
I see so much of me in him...
My heart is shattered for him. 

Mario kept looking at me yesterday as we ate at a restaurant. I would not look up at him.
"What's wrong? WHO is doing this to you? You're sad... You're... Broken... But this isn't something, this is someone." I stayed silent, fought back tears, and looked down at my food. Without uttering a word, I took a deep breath, shook my head and shoveled a piece of sushi into my mouth-- my eyes set on the candle located in the middle of the bamboo table.

It's a trip to hear my loved ones say the same thing each time they see me for the first time in a long time.

I am broken. I am distant. I am dead. 

Monday, December 2, 2013

Made into a bird

Te espero, te espero, te espero...
como la niña estúpida que soy.

Me alegro con cada día que pasa, entre mas se acerca el fin del año.

Te espero, te espero, te espero...

Que coraje.

I've always anticipated this month, for one reason or another.
This year it's a bit of... anticipation and dread.

It's not easy, getting accustomed to this "No Darcy" deal with myself.
Some days I do well, carry on with my life without thinking much about the absence of my heart.
But other days... something like... the sight of a Starbucks cup makes my chest cavity hurt.
I miss him. My heart is his, no matter how hard I try to tell it he doesn't want it. He gave you away like some raffled gift, for crying out loud! How the fuck can you still only beat for him?

What makes things somewhat easy is the thought of him being so far away.
There's no way you'd hang out with him anyway, he's SO FAR AWAY. So chill, AnoMALIE. Carry on!
But now he's returning. Now, he'll be a few minutes drive away from me. How will I handle having him so close... yet... knowing... knowing he's so indifferent to me? So impossible? So not mine.

I feel this ache in my heart when I think too much about it... when I think of his return.
I know when I last saw him, I felt this wave of serenity... I felt I was fine. I enjoyed everything.
When I look back, it all feels so... airy... like I'm on clouds... but everything is silent... or like the lull of the ocean.
But... I don't feel fine now. I gave myself these month to let him go, to let the idea of My Darcy fade away, to go to rest... and it hurt, and the hurt never left.
I think of the feelings I will have to knock out if I'm ever again in his presence, and I feel sick.
He's right there... the one person your heart races for, your sight blurs, ears deafen, and room spins-- is right here, in front of you, feeling ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for you.
The thought kills me.

So I did the only thing I know how-- I planned a getaway. I am running away.
I'm leaving for a good chunk of his return to the states. I will be road-tripping during the first few days of his visit (ok, this is questionable because I still have shit to fix over here), and will be visiting Mexico from the 21st until the 30th. I will return the day after he has left.

It won't be necessary to learn to withstand the agony his indifference causes me, because... you know, "I'm not even there, so I couldn't even get an invite anyway."

... Delusions that help me go about my life-- they help me smile on good days, they keep me from crying in others.
You're not seeing him because he's not here, not because he doesn't want to see you.

It's the best I can do when trying to explain to my stupid heart why in the hell it's impossible to be loved by the person it chose to belong to, and was instead returned to sender.
(But no worries, my brain knows the truth-- He. Never. Liked. You. He. Never. Will. My heart is the only idiot that occasionally needs that tiny comforting lie)