04 August 2010

My Dearest Mitchell,

(because "Dear Mitch" just doesn't sound right)

     To call you mine is actually quite wonderful. Starting with a pleasantry of course. The written word is my forte, and I love writing letters. This will be my first to you.

     I took a few hours today to myself, sorting my emotions, thoughts, and whatnot (during which you were worried and scared, which was quite endearing.) and this is my conclusion. While I would rather express this to you in person, a letter should suffice.

     I am in no fit state to handle a deep, loving, and serious relationship. You ask me not to break you, but I am still broken by the very person who glued me together for four years. I'm in pieces. I'm tired, and you shouldn't have to deal with this. I am making excuses. I'm healed and together, but the scars strike a fear over me. I promised myself I wouldn't let anyone ever have that power over me again. I was an emotional wreck until about a month ago and I refuse to go back to that shell of a human being. It is ironic that I am so independent and yet crave emotional intimacy and the ability to rely on another person, or better yet that I am logical with the most illogical of emotions. In short, I am emotionally (if not mentally as well) unstable, set in fear, and filled with doubt.

     I have no reason to doubt you. I simply don't want you to be another one of those guys; the ones who add to all of this gear and doubt. I refuse to be used for sex or toyed with, or repeatedly abused ever again. I refuse to allow you to hurt me, but at the same time I must relinquish that power to you, and this is the part that troubles me. My fear keeps me from trusting you, but I find myself trusting you the more I fall for you. I want to like you, fall for you, fall in love with you, be in love with you. I myself must be absolutely certain you feel the same way before I let go and just fall. Your sweet words have been used on me before and I trusted so easily, fell so easily, was used, then discarded.

     I prayed about this, my torment, my confusion, my fear, then a verse gave me strength; "In all circumstances give thanks, because this is the will of God for you in Jesus Christ" 1 Thessalonians 5:18. I have always grown from all things He brought to my life, and now he brings me you. For what purpose only He knows and only time can tell.

     Be you soul mate, fleeting lover, good friend, I will accept it, and you, perfectly as is. He also reminded me that you were not those boys. You are entirely different. he has put in my heart the will to believe you, and the strength to slowly let go of my fear again. So now I will trust you, I will fall in love with you, I'll let you play the role you were meant to play in my life.

     So here is my promise to you Mitchell Victor McDaniel. I, Paulina Magbanua Libo-on, promise to love you, take care of you, hold you dear, cherish you, help you, support you, and forever remember you. I promise to make you laugh and smile, hold you when you cry, calm you when you are mad, hold your hand when you are alone or afraid, and to be forever supportive, ever present. I promise to never intentionally hurt or betray you. I promise to cater to your emotions and to be forever true.

     If you can promise to do all these things too, truly loving me in the hopes of one day falling in love with each other, then I give you my heart for your own, and all that comes with it; my trust, my love, and all that makes me

                                        My Greatest Love,

                                                             Paulina

Sunshine

Happy New Year to all of you who bother to read this!
May God bless and keep you and all of your loved ones!
Notice, I did not say family. For some family is your blood relatives, for others family is so much more than that... So to be sure that my meaning is clear, I truly do mean all of those who you love and keep dear to you. The end of my year suddenly hit me with a pang of hurt and sorrow, but who's to say that it won't make me stronger? This time I know my faults, and I will not take more blame than is my worth. I have cried, but I will not steep in my own sorrow. It is a new year, and the sun is shining.
I refuse to let that part of me that sees only the bad thrive. I have my hope, and that's all that is really needed. I look far too much to the negative, and now life is showing me that the negative is not who I was meant to be. I am loud and happy. That is who I choose to be.
The new year though does bring it's own challenge for me. My new years resolution, a challenge... If you know me at all it's quite obvious I would have picked something challenging for myself. If you truly know me you will also expect me to fail. This year though I feel something different. A strange determination fills my heart that I have not felt before. So now I will choose to be wiser, and think before I speak.
Yes, that is my new years resolution. I hope you do not think I will beging to censor my thoughts and words. Au contraire messiuer-dames! I will still voice out my thoughts and opinions when I deem it appropriate to. I believe that it is rather I will choose my words more carefully. The english language has words that have such careful connotations, and more often than not I ignore those connotations in my speech. So now I think before I speak in the hopes of improving who I am.
A new me, and a new year. How cliche. Well I suppose it's not to be helped, I'm quite the cliche person.

Happy Birthday

"Happy Birthday! We miss you!"

And it's true. All three of us miss you.

2008: A precious little girl. With the little red patch on her face. A little bit of you and I sown in.

2009: A fragile paper box. Tiny little handmade stars. Beautiful memories with every little fold

2010: Thoughts. Emotions. Love. These words.

I saw him yesterday... and he was either engrossed in the complexity that is a crossword puzzle that he held in his hand, or he didn't want to talk to me. Knowing him it's quite possibly both at once. I wanted to reach out, and hug him like I would have done ages ago... I know it's not too long ago, and yet to me it feels like ages... but I knew it would have been inappropriate. That my feelings would not be reciprocated. I want to say that I know because I am so sure, and yet, I do not know, and the little flicker in my heart called hope wants to say he was holding himself back too. The part of me that always keeps me here on earth though... is telling me just how wrong I am.

I was foolish, and when I was asked to choose, I didn't choose him. I chose someone new, someone fresh, someone who I thought wouldn't give me the tumultuous life that I had lead with today's birthday boy. I was so wrong, and now it's too late to fix the mistake I made. All of the hurt I did to someone I honestly loved. Still love. I promised him that I would always love him, no matter what happened. It's true though, I do still love him. The one promise I have honestly kept with him. The rest I can't go back and fix either. So many mistakes to such a jewel, that I didn't realize I had. Perhaps he was right. Sometimes the girl has to do the chasing. Especially when she doesn't deserve the man she chases. A man shouldn't chase a girl who doesn't deserve him ever. All of the things society and chivalry say that a man should do for a lady, should also be reciprocated.

So now, because anything else would be inapporopriate. These words are my birthday gift to you this year.

I'm so sorry for everything. You were right all along, and you didn't deserve the abuse I put you through. You didn't deserve, the fighting, the arguements, the unreciprocated love. You didn't deserve the pain I put you through. You didn't deserve the confusion, any of it. You still don't. All of the mistakes were my own. You were never at fault. You still aren't. I miss you. And despite all of the broken promises to you, I have kept one. I love you.

Diagnosis?

So in English with Mr. Miller. We read The Diagnosis.
For some class credit he said we could write a response. I didn't want to just hand him the one I had previously written on here, just for some points. I actually have to write something for the intent and main purpose of getting a good grade in his class. Having something new to write on here is just a bonus. I pretend I write to an audience. Though I know that few read this blog at all. Maybe I hope that others will read this one day?
All of the relationships in The Diagnosis are so pointless. There's the facade of caring. There are a few points where you think that someone cares for another. Then next thing you know they're doing something so crazily idiotic. Take Melissa for example (so sorry for those who haven't read the book, maybe you should read yes?), she shows moments of caring about Bill, but continually she says, "Why are you doing this to me?" Bill can't control what's happening to him, and yet she blames him for their son's personality, for their sudden loss of income. Alex seems to care for his father, shown when Bill had finally returned home, and Alex lay across his father's chest as he slept. Alex though shuts himself off from his father, giving him opportunities to connect such as in the pizza parlor, but never really trying himself. All of the relationships seem to be failures. The married people around Bill argue so much, friends are people who distance themselves from you and only reminisce about when times are good, rather then living in the now, and helping you deal with your problems.
Then you look at relationships today. How hard it is to really connect with someone. If you find that person well you are one lucky son of a gun. I am one lucky son of a gun. I have Nikki.
I received and e-mail from a teacher. He showed concern about how I was doing in class.
I cried when I read that letter. He cared about what I was doing. About my grades and what would happen to me. Maybe I'm just being a teenager, but lately to me, it seems like no one cares. I feel like Bill. I feel like the people around me at work(school) only care for themselves and furthering themselves, rather then helping others. I feel like my family is so disconnected from me and they never reach out to me, but rather leave me to deal with my problems as well as their own. Sometimes I feel like the people I love the most are the ones who don't connect with me. Bill didn't have God though. Religion was never mentioned. What would have happened to Bill if he had God? Would he still be trying to hold on in life as I do now? Would he have fought harder? Would he have been able to see more clearly? That will be an interesting topic to think back on one day.

Mr. Miller. I don't know if this really can double for my response, but I think I write better when I write for me. When I write what's on my mind, rather then stick to one exact detailed topic, and write it for someone else, or for something else. I hope it works though.

Diagnosis

So in English with Mr. Miller. We're reading The Diagnosis, by Alan Lightman. I went to a Doctor on Friday to ask her to make her own diagnosis about me. Funny enough while waiting for her I was reading the diagnosis. I just finished the book this morning.
I think it was Friday, but one can never be quite sure, but I had started talking about something in English. It came out to be how we interpret it, but that had never been my immediate thought. My classmate had said something and it triggered something else in my brain. It was a marvelous thought, a wonderful thought, a point of enlightenment in my life, but as I began to talk, and notice that everyone who was listening wasn't really hearing me, then I began to lose track of the original thought. It brought me back to, "If a Poet Has No Words, Does He Leave His Poem Blank?" I can't even remember the title to something I myself wrote... But my thought was lost, that beautiful pearl in my mind. If only I could have held onto it, then let it slide from my mind and form on my tongue. If only I could have remembered it.
A major theme in The Diagnosis is sound. Even now, I'm drowning myself out in sound even though I know better. Listening to Michelle Branch, and some Filipino singers in the background. I can hear the keys clicking, the washing machine sounding. The more I listen I hear myself breathe, I can hear my heart beat. The sounds my body makes as I'm moving, hitting things. The world crashing in around me, assailing my senses. I see the colors in everything, how it moves. How my thoughts are appearing on the screen. I can smell the smells in a Filipino house. the mixed smells of food and plants. Of the lingering scent new furniture has as it wears away, still trying to hold onto itself. The smell that is. I can feel everything. The leather creating friction against the skin of my legs. The smoothness of the computer and the keys on my wrists and finger tips. How the earphones feel on my ears. The armrest feeling on my elbows. I can also feel my own hair creating curtains next to my eyes. These sudden fuzzy black lines in my vision, that I'm so used to because of my my hair used to feel. How the edges just touch the base of my neck my shoulders. The lacking of my hair at my waist now. I can taste the dryness in my mouth, the lingering of my fried rice breakfast. I lick my lips and can taste their dryness. I should probably get water, but now... I don't want to lose this pearl. The senses are so sensitive. They attack everything, but as life goes on do we ignore it? Do we ignore every little detail? I was walking yesterday to meet with someone at the park. I was wondering... What do people mean by you need to stop and smell the roses? Do they want us to take in every little detail? Every curve of the leaf just like Bill Chalmers did when his senses were fading? If we're going to pay attention at all, why not include all the small details? Then there's no use in stopping if you can't take every little bit in. Then your sense's become attacked though, every detail in a small thing is overwhelming. I could spend a lifetime staring at one thing. Watching how it changed. How the light dances on it, around it, changing it, contorting it. I could stare at one person's face for a lifetime, and not mind wasting away. As Narcissus did staring at his own.
Don't you just love how one thought can branch into so many different ones?
In my own opinion, Bill Chalmers, in The Diagnosis, has become sick because of everything going on in his life and the lack of human communication.
When I went to my doctor on Friday and talked to her about everything wrong with me. The heart pains, frequent muscle spasms, loss of control in my arms and legs for brief periods of time. The headaches, the emotions and the etc. She said that it was all due to my stress, and that I should try and relax more. The chest pains she took a couple of tests on my heart, I'm not exactly sure what it was, just to be sure. She just said to keep tabs on it and the whatnot, and just asked that I try and relax more. Something that my friends have been telling me for so long.
I couldn't help but see the parallel between Bill's problem and mine. Have I really lost all my human communication? True connection on the intimate level... Will I eventually waste away pushing those that I love far from me? My doctor was very vague with what was wrong with me, only that I should stay calm and relaxed... All of this just made me think how much it related to my Poet Piece. As it's become nick named among some of my friends. AKA Does A Poet Leave His Poem Blank? I really can't remember the name.. That's just terrible. Maybe I'll record the conversation we have in class and write about it one day?
I can get my words and thoughts out when I don't have to speak them. If I were to speak them... Well. I really do have to trust you for me to be totally unfiltered, don't I?

My Diagnosis : All the patient needs is Love, Trust, Understanding. Maybe a slight dosage of relaxation. Definitely to get out with Family, Friends. Connection.