Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Deux Adios

Supposedly I'm the liar, but some of us wouldn't know the truth if it beat our ass. Which it obviously has.

I wrote a long ass blog this morning recapping 2008. But fuck that. I don't have shit to say about it except I regret approximately 58.3% of it. Give or take.

Biggest lesson I learned: trust your instincts.

I knew from the very beginning it wasn't going to be worth my time, and I was right.

You might have everyone fooled, you might even be effectively fooling yourself, but I know what the truth is. Seek help, it works wonders. I don't give a shit what anyone says, or what you yourself say, something is deeply wrong with you. I would send a get well soon card, but I just don't give that much of a shit anymore.

That goes for two.

Peace the fuck out.

Sunday, December 28, 2008

An Ode to You

They say anything worth having is worth fighting for. I'm a firm believer that anything that was ever worth having is worth fighting for, worth crying over, worth swallowing pride. So before I write this note, I'll have two large gulps of my own.

My friends make me who I am. Small in impact are the bad moments I've experienced compared to the profound ways my friends have shaped my life. Though we've only been together for a few short (and sometimes long) years, it would take me many lifetimes to retell each and every memory that we've shared. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten, because I remember. I remember them all, all with sincere fondness. Some make me laugh, others make me cry, but they all remind me how grateful I am to have ever met you.

I just read a note that shook me to the core of my soul. I imagine that if I ever lost any one of you, I would forget how to breathe. But the fact is, I have. Once close, we are now distant. And I'd be lying if I said the space between us isn't still raw in me.

Some people say I don't know how to let go. I say some people don't know when to hold on.

To Courtney,
I never gave you the public and most sincere apology you deserve. I would say I'm sorry, but those words are just too used, too adulterated. And I can't think of the words to describe my regret, so instead I'll say I love you, much more than you probably know. I miss your clothes, and I miss you, and I thank you for continuing to be apart of my life.

To everyone,
If I've ever forgotten to mention it, if I've ever made you believe otherwise, or if you've simply forgotten: I love you. Whether we talk everyday, or a few times a week, or every couple of months, my love for you is undying, unfaltering, unconditional. You are my friend, and I intend to keep it that way. You guys are like my breath, and I never want to lose you, especially not while we share the same earth. In 2009 I hope we're able to strengthen our friendships, I hope we're able to get to know one another better, I hope we'll grow to appreciate each other more, and cherish our moments together, for I pray that they are long, but no one knows just how short time can be.

I could not have been blessed with a better set of friends.

Thank you for accepting me, thank you for being there to share my laughter, to share my passion, to console me in my pain. Remember that I am always here for you, no matter the time of day, or night.

Love always,
Constance-Marie

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Nectar

Nudity, mint tea, Christmas lights abstract wall art, and silence. And I just float away. Having a sense of peace and security, even if only for a moment, is amazing. That feeling, when it's true, and raw, and embedded in yourself, is amazing.

I am the creator and sustainer of my own happiness. The giver and receiver of my own peace. I do for the good of myself. I value, cherish and believe in myself more and before anything else. I put myself at the top and bottom of my list. I keep fighting, for me. I keep trying, for me. I live to be my own best friend, my own biggest fan.

I can honestly say that I've never been happier with myself and my life than I am right now. Despite the things I've been going through these past few months, despite the things I continue to endure right now, the overbearing pain, the worry, the frustration of not knowing, I am happy. And I'm happy with me.

And this is why I'm so disinterested in being in a relationship with him right now. I don't want to make the mistake of muddling the happiness that I feel within, for and because of myself, with the happiness that he's so interested in bringing me. I need the time and space to just be infatuated with myself. Hopefully he understands that.

Monday, December 1, 2008

Wealth

I suppose I missed the days to describe what I was or am thankful for, which is perfectly fine by me, because I am in no mood to go through that routine. "Oh, I'm thankful for my family, and my friends. I'm thankful for Evan, and I'm thankful for my scholarships." Honestly, it's all such bullshit. Such boring, run of the mill bullshit. I am so very thankful for acai berry smoothies, and the help I've had the past few weeks. Thank you.

I am desperately begging people not to purchase a (RED) beverage from Starbucks to support the fight against AIDS in Africa. To sell a beverage for five dollars and only donate five cents is nothing short of a deplorable, yet effective marketing scheme. Have a little common sense, people. Pass up on that mocha latte, skim milk, no froth (or whatever you kids are into these days) and use those five bucks to make a direct donation. The Global Fund, for example, will be a good place to start. Not fucking Starbucks.

Not going to New York. It would be wrong, considering it would require him to spend a lot of money on me, and though I like him, I feel like that would be taking too big of a step. Maybe Spring Break?

I sort of want to just go to sleep, and wake up when it's time for break. I'm done with this semester. I'm done. I'm done. Or at least I need to be done, before I have a nervous breakdown and plunge off the roof of East Quad. Really it's just French. Everything else is fine.

Heidi and Spencer got married. Some girls.. are just retarded. This will make for a very interesting Divorce Court episode, though.

I wish I could have the college experience everyone else is seemingly having. Like, I'm finally having a good time up here, but it's not all that. I'm not having the time of my life. I sincerely hope that these next four years will not be the best of my life. I honestly think I'm too old-spirited for this. I don't like to party. I wish I could find a good book club. I have the most fun when we're just hanging out, especially when that involves 90s music and Taboo, and Thursdays are my favorite day because they involve Black Student Union, which rocks my whole world. I suppose the college experience is different for everyone. I plan on starting my own club next year, which will be centered around minority activism. Good luck with me finding members.

ROFL at NBER for announcing we're in a recession, and have been in one since this month last year. Thank you, geniuses, for that shocking announcement, but I believe the black community called this one a long time ago.

Barack, honey. I love you. BUT WHY THE FUCK DID YOU PICK HILLARY RODHAM CLINTON?! God.

I have a nice life, I wish I wasn't so stressed and worried so I can enjoy it. Fuck school, man, and American Protestant economic ethics that causes me to feel the need to be wealthy.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Segue Glow

I've decided to return to much of my freshman year mannerisms. I loved myself freshman year, because back then I lacked the sugarcoating filter I have now. I just said what I felt. Period. A lot of people didn't like me freshman year, and I can honestly say I couldn't have possibly cared any less. I want to get back to just not giving a shit about other people's opinions. I need to get back to just doing me.

Part of me feels terrible about the Jae situation. And another, much larger, part feels like.. what the fuck is wrong with you?! We've been broken up for almost THREE years. Get a grip on life, seriously. There's only so much I'm going to apologize for, and I ONLY apologize for you being hurt by me. I am not going to apologize for being honest, I am not going to apologize for falling out of love with you, I am not going to apologize for moving on with my life. I am ESPECIALLY sorry, though, that after THREE motherfucking years you haven't been able to. I encouraged you to date other girls; you chose not to. I encouraged you to fuck around; you chose not to. You're not about to keep guilt-tripping me because of YOUR decisions. I don't care that much anymore. Just.. stop.

Moving on, literally, I've found that George makes me smile in way that I haven't in such a long time. Because of the small things, like not getting mad at me for calling and waking him at 2am consistently after having recurring nightmares. Or calling me in the mornings just to wish me a good day, except on Wednesdays when he doesn't call until after noon to wish me a good day off. Or always asking if there's anything I need or anything he can help with. I appreciate that no matter how busy he is, he always responds immediately to my texts. I think it's cute how he calls me cute names on the phone when his cousin is around, and is calling him soft in the background. I like how he asks me how I am, and doesn't consider a one-word response acceptable. It feels good that he's always so interested in how my day went, though he has far more exciting things going on in his own life. I like how I already feel important, but not pressured. I adore the fact that he always finds a few hours to spend with his mom on Sundays, and is always encouraging me to call my own.

I've finally accepted the fact that I do indeed like the kid, and that I ought not feel bad or guilty about that.

I think I'm going to NYC. (:

Monday, November 17, 2008

Stop This World

This has the potential to be quite lengthy.

I woke up today feeling quite renewed and content. But I suppose that's what happens when Little Red Riding Hood trots off to torment someone else. Either way, I feel very calm and levelheaded.

I've been thinking about the bus incident quite a bit, and I think I've settled on attending graduate or law school either here or at Wayne State, then setting up shop in Detroit as a community organizer/lawyer. I'd also like to create a broad-base organization targeting our youth. I'll discuss that in more details at a later time.

I am choosing to forgo a "prestigious" Ivy graduate or law degree. I am choosing to forgo the glamorous lifestyle as a young associate at some "pristine" law firm. While I have not put to rest my aspirations of morphing the world, I think I've now come to believe that my career should be rooted in my roots. Before I offer my talent to the world, I must first replenish the soil that nourished me.

I am going to be not rich for quite some time. But that's ok.

This decision also stems from an argument I had with two drunk anarchists in the Union at 2am, just hours before the polls opened. They were trying to convince me that this election was not important. I heavily disagreed. Because of my strong type A personality, and their inebriation, we argued for quite some time. I was mostly right, of course. But they did make a good point.

Barack Obama is such an inspirational man, many people, myself included, spent hours volunteering for his campaign. We spent hours watching the debates, and hours convincing our neighbors and our friends that he was the man for the job. But just imagine how much of an impact we could have if we put equal effort and passion into our community.

While change in policy and practice can and will have great impacts on our lives as citizens of this nation, much change must originate from the bottom. Much like the fallacies of Reagan economics, change at the top only reaches so far.

So, I've decided to start at the bottom, and work my way up.

In other news, it disturbs me how ethnocentric Americans are. In my Anthropology discussion today, we talked about accents, and how some people with non-standard American accents (which apparently is rooted in Grand Rapids, go figure) are taking classes to dilute their accents. And I was totally against the idea. Nothing busts my balls and boils my blood more than assimilation. An accent isn't just a deviation in pronunciation; it's an audible representation of your culture, your heritage, your ethnicity and nationality.

Fuck the "standard American accent." I'm tired of everyone being forced to be "standard Americans." Fuck that.

So of course some people complained that they have Korean, Chinese or Indian professors or GSIs who are hard to understand, making it difficult to learn. One girl went so far as to say that "those people" needed a "better grasp of English, or they needed to find another job."

First of all, it is ignorant and condescending to assert that because someone has a foreign accent, they do not proficiently know English. You're a dumbass for not only thinking that, but actually saying it. The people they let in college these days.

Secondly, communication is a two-way street. When someone has an accent that is foreign to you, you listen harder. It is much easier, and I'm sure less detrimental to who you are as a cultural being, to listen a little more attentively than it is for them to go about erasing their accent. If you didn't catch it the first time, I'm sure it's much easier for you to simply go to office hours to ask for clarification, than it is for them to go about erasing their accent. I am still sure that it is much easier for you to adapt as a listener, in this two-way street of communication, than it is for them to further adapt as a speaker.

Snotty bitch.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

My Moon

Continued..

1.
I am a degree less than obsessed with my own nudity. I love my naked body. I think I have really soft skin, and I love my complexion. I love the look of my breasts. I love my waist. I love my thighs. I love being naked. A lot.

2. I love to drink everything but water. I drink constantly. I would rather drink than eat any day. But I absolutely refuse to drink water unless I am dying. (And by loving to drink, I am not including alcohol, which I haven't had a sip of since I've been in college. Go me!)

3. I consider myself very sexually liberal and conservative, all at the same time. There are a number of things I'd like to do and try, but I refuse to do anything with someone who I don't sincerely and deeply care about.

4. I do not open up to people. At all. But I've finally gotten to the point where I'd like to, but now I feel like no one really cares. And I don't really know how to get started. This is all so foreign to me!

5. I wouldn't mind eating pizza everyday for the rest of my life, so long as it's good pizza. With red pepper flakes on top.

6. I'd rather be just content than extremely happy.

7. I have just as much fun doing "boring" things as I do doing "exciting" things.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Rosebud

The problem with never is that it doesn't come soon enough.

Taqee "sad-faced" me last night because he said that I have an entire "second life" that I've been hiding.

Which I suppose is true.

But apart from the obvious difficulties that come with sharing your "second life", I find it hard to do so when so many people use their "second lives" as a way to validate themselves.

It is trendy to be a glutton for pain. It makes you cool. It makes you popular. It makes your life significant, important, noteworthy.

I would love to be able to trust someone enough to be able to share everything with them. I would love to be able to share, even with only one person, the history of my joy and pain. I would love to be able to share with someone my story, and to hear theirs.

But I don't want to fit the cool kid category. I don't want to be congratulated for my ability to be so "strong," or to appear so "normal" (assuming that I do) in spite of the roads I've traveled. I don't want pity, or sympathy.

I just want it to be taken as it is. I want to be taken as I am. I don't want to be classified with the Angst Teens of the 21st century, because that's not me.

When I'm looked at, I want people to just see Constance-Marie, for all of her amazing glory. Because I am amazing. But not because I have such a "hurtful second life."

And so, I keep it to myself.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Pear

"Faith is for those who have little else."

I often wonder if things would've worked out the way they should've, if I'd still now be so consumed with finding faith. Who needs faith when one has happiness? Who needs faith when one has love? Who needs faith when one has reality?

I wonder.

It'd be good to one day not have to wonder so much.

Friday, November 7, 2008

Let It Die

Dear friend,

It's hard for me to write this letter, because the words are escaping me. I wish you could just look at me, and feel what I'm feeling, read my thoughts, understand me.

It feels good to be accepted. It feels good not having to worry about getting hurt. But that doesn't mean I want to be with you.

You know nearly everything about my life, because in an emotional rage, and mental breakdown, I told you. But that doesn't mean I trust you.

The truth is, no one likes being alone. I know that you'd never leave me alone. And that's why I always came back to you. But that doesn't mean I can't live without you.

Fact of the matter is, I have lived without you. I've experienced so much without you. And it made me realize that I'm not in love with you. And I don't know if I ever was.

I don't tingle when I talk to you. Months after we've been apart, I don't think about you before going to sleep. I don't think back on where we've been, and what we've done, and how far we came. When I'm surrounded by friends, I don't miss you.

I'm not in love with you.

You've been a great friend to me, perhaps the best I ever had. Thank you.

I want to somehow return the favor. The only way I know how is by releasing you. You deserve someone who is as passionate about you, as you are them. You deserve someone who wants, and needs you all the time, happy or sad. You deserve someone who wants you for everything you are, and not for anything you do for them. You deserve someone better.

I hope you someday begin finding yourself, as I've begun finding me.

Love always,
Marie

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Lacquer

I've been feeling so tired lately.

I almost feel as though this world is opening around me, and slowly preparing to swallow me whole. I'm losing sight of myself, and my personal truths. I've found that I'm having a harder and harder time holding on to me. Everyone is projecting their emotions onto me, and I, in turn, am unreasonably absorbing them.

Public blogging is starting to greatly lose its appeal to me. It's nice to get at least some of my feelings out and in front of me, but I find it a bit discomforting that there are people reading this who I never intended to. I'm not the one to normally share myself with people. I find emotions, particularly discontent or pain, to be especially private, and I don't feel like everyone has the right to know that side of me.

And often times I find it more frustrating than releasing because there are things I'll never be able to effectively convey to others. So I may say that I'm feeling incredibly sad, without the words to really explain why, which is, I'm sure, frustrating for others. But it's even more annoying and hurtful for me to feel all but abandoned by others when I struggle to explain myself.

So away she goes.

Friday, October 24, 2008

In Honesty's Pocket

It's exactly 3:30am and I am wide-eyed awake. This is simply unacceptable.

It's outrageous how so quickly things can change. Laughable, almost.

Actually, it's outrageous how so quickly things can become the same. As though they never changed at all. We pick up as though we never left off. We laugh together as though we never hurt. I produce your smile as though you never cried, and I love you as though I never stopped.

I guess you never do.

It pisses me off how you've forgiven me before I even found the words to apologize. I want you to hate me, to distrust me, to despise me, so that I won't be the only one.

But, passing up no opportunity to boast, I SAID if we were meant to be together, we will be, no matter fucking what.

Now was I right, or was I right?

You just can never win with me..

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Honour Marie

I am determined to do something grand with today. Considering yesterday was a blur of eating, sleeping, watching outrageously hilarious pornos with the guy down the hall (whose name I did not catch), and talking to Jae.

Who, prior to yesterday, I haven't talked to at length in months. In fact, the last time I can remember really talking to him was in March, when I finally told him I had a new boyfriend. I remember repeating to Brandon his exact words, "I wish I never met you, because I can't have you, but I don't want anyone else." That was the second time he ever made me cry.

The first time was when I tried to break up with him and he called me back ten minutes later promising things would be better. He just didn't understand why I had to let go. Honestly, I barely did either.

We were together for about a year and a half, with about an 8 month "talking" period, though I certainly wouldn't call it that. I was weird about relationships then. (Much of that weirdness has worn off now, much to my misfortune.)

Jae was by far my very best friend. I told him everything, and to this day there's no one living or dead who knows nearly as much about me. I never lied to him, and I lie to everyone. (Actually, I did try to lie once but my plot was quickly foiled.) He did almost all my research for me (and much of Brandon's, too), and I wrote one of his college essays. He did that stupid Transcendentalist Ms. Cox thing for me, I took his online college math quizzes. He called me Marietard. I called him Cherry. We spent the summers staying up all night writing songs for our band (which, as of yesterday, is called Honour Marie).

I remember the night I finally broke down and told him I had been cutting myself. He cried and yelled at me, I just kept apologizing. And finally he said, "Stop apologizing to me, I'm not the one bleeding!" I still don't know why, but I laughed hysterically. And for a moment, at least, forgot the razor in my hand.

He was absolutely sure that we'd be together forever, and a huge part of me believed it, too. Which is why, I told him, we needed to break up. I just felt like I couldn't go through life having only been with one guy. And if we're really destined to be together, it doesn't matter, right? He didn't get it. I still wanted to be friends, he couldn't handle it. But he promised he'd always be there whenever I was ready. I didn't believe that, but every time I talked to him, no matter how many months had elapsed since the last time we talked, he was always there, always open, like nothing ever changed. I told Brandon that every time I talked to him I felt like I needed him in my life.

But I cut him out. Because he's the only other person who ever knew the real me, the girl I used to be, and still partially am. He's the only person who ever witnessed my hurt and felt my pain and could recite my stories as if he had experienced all them himself. And I just want that girl to die. The girl who hates herself, and hates everything around her, and cannot find it in her to ever forgive them. The girl who went through so much, and endured so much, and feels so much, but says so little. I want her to die. And I knew if I cut him out I could at least pretend to be the person who I "am" today, without anyone being able to call my bluff.

And I thought I was doing the right thing. But maybe I wasn't. And I still find it hard to believe that I could hurt him so much, when he never hurt me. And to think that I could find it in myself to ever love anyone else, knowing fully well they'd never be able to love me the same, because who knows shit about me anyway?

I think I'm afraid to be loved for the person that I am, and not the person I pretend to be, because loving her would make it ok to be her, and I don't want that to be ok.

Fuck, why is this happening to me?

I was doing such a GOOD JOB at pretending. But I guess you can't run forever.

I just find it funny how it always comes back to him and I, up late at night, talking about our band.

Friday, October 17, 2008

Mágoa Desgosto

(For reasons unknown to me, I've been having random flashbacks not so infrequently lately. They come in my dreams, they come while I am eating lunch, and they come, as did this one, when I am on the bus. I actually intended to blog about this when it happened, so here we are.)

The night my heart broke.

It was dark, raining and for an August night, cold, I was sitting on a bus past midnight, in route back to Detroit from Birmingham. I remember attempting to dust the dried tears away. I remember having cried that night over something that would soon seem so trivial.

The bus came to stop just inside the city. The doors open, and first a lady with a single crutch hobbled unto the bus. She slowly and painfully made her way to the back, while her male companion entered the bus and searched desperately through the pockets of his tattered jeans for a way to pay. When he did not find the two or so dollars that he knew he did not have, he tried to plead with the bus driver that he just needed to get her to the next stop; the bus driver asserted that she did not give free rides.

Watching the lady use the crutch to force her way to the front of the bus, I looked at the several other faces on the bus. None of them seemed to have been watching, hearing the same thing as me. None of them seemed to have cared that it was raining, dark and cold, and he was without a jacket, and she was obviously injured. None of them interjected, pleading with the bus driver to show mercy, or offering them the two, or so, dollars they needed.

Not even me. I sat there with anger in my mind, sadness in my heart, and 74 dollars in my purse. And as much I as wanted to shove the small green wad into the man's fist, some cowardice in me left me frozen, and shivering, in my seat.

I am the girl who dreams of saving the world, who dreams of being a champion and a voice for those who are otherwise defeated and silent. And I sat there, and did nothing.

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Philophobia Philophilic

She again crept into my dreams. Her eyes that way, her voice that low..

And per usual, I woke up with tears puddling into the fibers of my pillow, burning mascara into my eyes, a thick coating of sweat heavy on my brow, and an audible scream for help, though I know, like the first time, no one is there.

It's almost 1:30 am, and I do not want to go back to sleep like this. I am alone in a dark room, in a strange place, and I am admittedly scared. I reach for the phone, knowing that the three people I'd normally call in this situation I cannot. Because I have a new phone, and thus a short list of contacts, his number is first in my address book. I press talk, expecting him not to answer.

But after two rings, I hear, "It's about time." "What?" "That you called.." "I told you I wasn't talking to you today." (Something that I previously decided in order to safeguard myself from plummeting for him.) "Right, I remember you saying that.. But I guess I stayed up late in case your mind changed." "Bull. You always stay up this late. Nice try, though." And we laugh.

He asked me why I decided to call; I told him I had a bad dream and just wanted to hear someone's voice. He asked had I been crying, and I, thankful that finally someone could hear dried tears in my voice, almost shouted yes. He asked what the dream was about, and here begins a problem I foolishly did not foresee. I had already decided in my mind that I would not unload unto him my private history, as that is sharing too much, and getting too close, and just clearing the cliff for plummeting. But as I pressed talk, I forgot that I would have to tell him what the dream was about. I'd lie.. Duh.

"Just your run of the mill boogie man." "Ok well, for the sake of you getting back to sleep, I guess I'll just believe this lie." "Not a lie.." "I know enough about you to know that a run of the mill boogie man dream would not frighten you into swallowing your pride and calling me after you swore and swore all morning that we couldn't talk." "...Technically, it's a new day." (Pride saver, y'know.) "Ok Constance-Marie. So, what was your dream about?" (Time for a new lie.) "Eh, it's complicated, and it's too late for me to try to explain. You wouldn't get it." "I hope you know that this is not the way to build a relationship. With all your lies, and whatnot." "I'M NOT LYING!" "Ok. But if you were, it's probably because your dream was about something that happened in reality, that you don't want to tell me about, because you don't want me knowing all your business. Which is cool, y'know, if you just say that. But you're not lying anyway, right, so it doesn't matter." Blink. Blank stare. "I... hate you."

And thus began the dismantling of my tears. I somehow found it in me to spill forth everything, every detail that made my body shudder, or my voice crack. He asked me when these dreams seemed to surface, and for the very first time, I was able to make the connection between them, and certain transitions in my life. I asked him what I should do to make them stop, and he decided the only sure remedy was to call him every night. I laughed, and he changed the subject to lighter things. We talked for some time, and I finally relaxed, and started dozing off to sleep. I remember hearing him say, "I'll call you in the morning."

I'll think about answering.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Proprioception

It's odd how things resurface. Memories, emotions, fears.. Disturbing, even.

Haunting. Staring me in the face when I glance into a mirror. Creeping into my dreams when I close my eyes. Hiding, even, behind every smile I still manage to muster. And believe.

Where does the line between belief and reality blur? Where do the two overlap, and where does one trump the other? I believe I am happy. So why does reality keep making this so hard for me?

I wish I could transcend what reality believes is appropriate for me. Ok, maybe I shouldn't be happy, hell, perhaps I don't even deserve happiness, but for once, I AM.

Let me fucking have that, please. I shall deal with reality some other time.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Don't Stop Dancing

My gripes with atheism.

(It is important to note that this is not an argument for theism, deism, agnosticism, or any other personal belief system. Nor is this an attack against any individuals, or groups. Refrain from taking offense, but feel free to defend your personal beliefs as you deem necessary.)

If the history of this universe was made into a calendar year, January 1 being the day of the origin of the universe, life on earth would have appeared on September 25. The first humans (meaning the first members of the homo genus, not necessarily anatomically modern humans) would have appeared on December 31 at approximately 10:30pm.

I thus find it shocking that we, arguably one of the most recent additions to the universe, find it within our ability to draw sound conclusions about it, particularly conclusions based on unavailable evidence, or the absence of evidence (depending on who you ask, of course). Turn in a 6th grade science project in which you create a hypothesis, are completely unable to test it and thus unable to prove or disprove it, yet you somehow conclude that your hypothesis must be true, especially because of the fact that there is no Earthly way to prove or disprove it. You'd likely get an F.

This is one of my biggest gripes with atheism. For most atheists to be so scientifically-motivated, their evident breech of the scientific method astounds me. Science simply does not work that way. You cannot argue that because if there was any evidence of God, it is not available to us, so He, She, They or It must not exist. You cannot similarly argue that because there is no evidence of God, He, She, They or It must not exist. Science disapproves of these hasty conclusions, atheists, you should know better!

For other atheists, their biggest issue with God ties deeply to religion. Some argue, for example, that the Bible and other religion doctrines define God as being benevolent, ominous and omnipotent. They then asses the condition of the world, and conclude that if there is a God, HSTI (He, She, They or It) has either allowed billions to suffer in the history of our Earth, and is allowing still millions more to suffer today, which would make HSTI malevolent, or HSTI simply does not have the power to change the conditions of our reality, which would make HSTI powerless. Therefore God, at least as defined by the religious doctrines of those who follow HSTI, does not exist.

One initial rebuttal to this argument is that the condition of the world is due entirely to human causes, and HSTI does not have to get us out of this mess, especially when we're making no collective efforts to get ourselves out of it, which can be reasonably argued. But an atheist can easily reply to that, and commences the ongoing, never-ending typical argument.

There's instead a much better, far less contentious argument that can be made, and only minimally debated. Atheists, all of whom oppose religion, all of whom inherently must believe religion is man-made, use the principals of religious beliefs to disprove God, which is not only cyclical, but entirely illogical. "If men decided that God must be "benevolent, ominous and omnipotent" and HSTI is not, God must not exist." Doesn't make much sense, does it? You see, most atheists in making their arguments for atheism, or against any other belief system fail to fully separate the concept of God from religion, such as in the argument given previously. Inability to separate the pure possibility of God from the religious conception of HSTI leads to automatic failure of your argument.

For me, it's simple. We live in a world, a universe of most unknowns. Though we have discovered a lot in our brief lifetime as anatomically modern humans, it is more than fair to say what we do not know more than trumps what we do know. To make an assertion as strong as saying, "I know this cannot possibly exist," with no evidence available for either side, is egotistical, and counterintuitive.

Long before Darwin came along, there were several who hypothesized macroevolution, but there was no evidence supporting it, yet no evidence opposing it. That, obviously, didn't make evolution any less possible, or real.

Monday, October 6, 2008

Plight of the Unharmed

I have been ever so unfortunate to never have experienced serious heartbreak, as it pertain to guys. A nick, once, perhaps a scrape. But no cry-myself-into-dehydration-while-eating-Chunky-Monkey-ice-cream-and-replaying-Mary-J.-
Blige's-I'm-Going- Down heartbreak. No RL-and- Deborah-Cox-We-Can't-Be-Friends
-Because-I'm-Still-In-Love-With-You heartbreak. No Waiting-to-Exhale-burn-any-
reminder-of-you-because-how-could-you-do-this-to-me-after-so-long heartbreak.

And it is because of this, that I have no deterrence from getting reinvolved with guys. See, much unlike the lucky girls who have once had their hearts shoved through a meatgrinder and then served to them raw on stale bread, I have no man-guards up. Besides my usual inability to fully open up, there is no all-men-are-dogs bitterness stored in me, there are no stay-away-because-I-refuse-to-be-hurt-again bars around me.

And it is because of this flaw in my life that I am traveling again down the path towards having a.. dare I say it.. boyfriend. Why does this keep happening to me?!

You see, I have always been pretty apathetic towards guys. I've never been boy crazy. I've never seen the major appeal in having a boyfriend. I find most guys in general to just not be of my caliber, and therefore, I remain unimpressed with the entire gender.

But somehow, some opportunist snake (first Jae, then Taqee, and now him) slithers through my shell of disinterest, and before you know it, much to my resistance, I am boyfriended.

I wish he would just leave me alone.

I'm bullshitting you. I actually like this kid a lot. Because:
  • He's 6'4", a little darker than me, and has dimples. (See Fiest.)
  • He has goals, and is actively pursuing them.
  • He challenges me, often.
  • He's not close, and is not mutual friends with anyone in my circle. (Thus the ability to do my own thing, and have immense privacy.)
  • He's been celibate for 2 years.
  • He recognizes me as being the shit for reasons beyond the obvious. :)
Life sucks.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Untitled, as for now

I remember telling Taqee, quite a while back, that my biggest fear about going to college would be that I would lose all three of my "best" friends: Courtney, Brandon and himself. And here we are, not even a month into my 4-year college career, and my fear has been effectively realized. My three best friends: gone. I think it's most weird because, though I saw it coming, I never saw it coming.

Courtney and I mentioned several times in our four year friendship that we couldn't foresee us ever ending on a bad note. We were just too compatible and carefree as friends for something like that to happen. Yet, here we are. Though we've hung out twice (by circumstance), things are not the same. We never talk. We never meet for lunch. We've been shopping, once, but we didn't pick out clothes and go half on them for our "mutual closet", as planned since freshman year. In planning to go to a few parties, I remembered a top or dress that she has that would be perfect to wear, but I never called her for it. She never called me for my top or dress, either.

Ironically, about 48 hours before we broke up, I was telling Luke that I couldn't see me and Taqee having a horrible break-up, and that I couldn't see us not being best friends anymore because of it. And though I strongly believed this, a few days after we broke up, I shared with Valor my fear that I was going to lose him as my best friend. And here we are.

I am now going to do myself and my day the favor of opting out of further explanation about Taqee, or even mentioning Brandon.

Despite the aforementioned, I am utterly, thoroughly and completely convinced that the universe is rigged so that everything always works out in my favor. Nothing can convince me otherwise. To prove this point, I will use a few recent examples:
  • Kalisha, Helen and I were walking off campus to Wireless Toyz to buy me a new, temporary phone (because I was going insane without one). As we were walking, I was called some names by some drug-addicted tranny. So after walking for about 30 minutes, we soon realized that the Wireless Toyz we called was on Main St, across the street from the Big House, which is NOT in our definition of walking distance. Begrudgingly we turn around to start heading back to campus, but I convince them that we should take another way back, so I wouldn't have to see the tranny again. As we're walking back, and just on the outskirts of campus, what do we run into? A Wireless Toyz. So not only did I get my phone, I also won't have to catch a bus when I go to return the bitch. AND I got to enjoy a nice stroll through Downtown Ann Arbor with my buddies.
  • I planned to swap rooms with some girl who has a single in Couzens, which is on The Hill. I was very excited about switching with her, despite its sucky location, until the rude bitch just stopped replying to me. Yesterday, I got an email from the Housing Director offering me a single at my current residence hall. I, obviously, had forgotten that I put myself on the waiting list for a single in East Quad. Now I get my single, and I won't have to leave the absolute best location on campus to get it.
Those are just really tacky examples of my faith that no pain that I ever endure, and no disappointment I ever feel is in vain. Every hardship that ever interrupts my path will only cause me to take a detour, that is actually a better road for me to follow anyway. So bring on the pain, baby, because I'm loving this brighter future.


Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Healing

I, seemingly randomly, just had a miniature emotional explosion, of sorts. I was listening to Prelude to a Kiss by Alicia Keys, and every single word she said just.. struck me, like a blow to the face.

Around this time last year, I set out on a journey of sorts to really heal me. And thinking back on it, a year later, I don't see that much progress was made. In many aspects, I feel worst off. I'm more wounded now. I'm more guarded now. I feel like I made decisions, and put myself in situations that have done nothing but add to my hurt, or mistrust of others. And I regret that.

But I also regret trying to handle this on my own. I didn't get this way because of my own-doing, and chances are I'm not going to become whole again alone either. Fortunately, all of this has strengthened my relationship with God, and I have grown to depend on and trust Him more than ever. But I think He needs to send me an angel, just to help out a little.

Sometimes I feel
Like I don’t belong anywhere
And it’s gonna take so long
For me to get somewhere
Sometimes I feel
So heavy hearted
But I can’t explain
‘Cause I’m so guarded
But that’s a lonely road to travel
And a heavy load to bare
And it’s a long, long way to heaven
But I gotta get there
Can you send an angel?
Can you send me an angel?
Guide me

Feist

I have a compelling urge to blog, but no immediate thoughts come to mind.

I've decided that I'm a much too forgiving person. I forgive so many infractions, even without an apology, or without a clear attempt to redeem oneself in the future. But what's bad is that I somehow equate forgiveness with wiping the slate clean. So from here on out, I'll forgive you, as in I will not unnecessarily hold your mistakes or even your malintent against you, but it is going on your record. And a person is only allowed so many chances.

So I don't want another boyfriend for a long while. (Then again, I can't remember a time when I ever sought a boyfriend, but still somehow ended up with one, again and again.) But for the sake of it, I've decided to compose a list of some qualifying qualities:
  1. Tall, dark and handsome. And by that I mean 6ft, espresso, and handsome, not pretty, not cute.
  2. Able to start, maintain and for the sake of God, end a conversation. The ending is crucial. Give me a reason to want to ever speak to you again.
  3. Motivated, driven and future-oriented. Be confident and intelligent, and not intimidated by the fact that I am, too.
  4. Have a life, and do not make me the center of it. I am not a needy person, and I am a college student. Which means I don't require much of your time, and I don't have too much to spare for you, either. Which is why ol' dude was told to call me at 1am; I simply have things to do, and you need to get in where you fit in. Be similar. Don't always make room for me.
  5. Have a steady job and a car.
This is all obviously in addition to the mandatory respect that must be exhibited at all times, the love for one's family and God, and of course, being a bleeding-heart, America-hating, borderline socialist liberal.

Not too much to ask, right?

I cannot wait until December! December is going to be the best month ever. For one thing, school will be over. At least for three or so weeks. I also get to see my pride and joy, Brandon Morrell Keeler, and my secret boo Steven Andrew Banks. AND, I'm going to New York for a few days with friend to help him pick out clothes for his store, and to celebrate his 20th birthday. Not to mention the joys of the Christmas season. And my daddy's birthday! I officially love December now.

I'm nauseous.

I'm about to drop $800 on this course training so I can get my professional certification in event planning, particularly wedding planning. It's my secret love, and when I move away next year (or the following year), it'll be my side hustle, so to speak.

My moon, my man. Take it slow, take it easy on me.

Sunday, September 21, 2008

Labile

I've made the decision to skip French tomorrow. Je regrette!

I'm starting to settle into life at the University of Michigan. And it ain't so bad! I've decided that if I can't move into the single, I'm just going to accept things with Maia the way they are, and continue to "do me", as they say.

Lately, (and by lately I just mean these past few days), I've been overall a lot happier. And I don't mean the ecstatic sort of happy that leads to a tsunami destroying a village of 500 people, no survivors. Just.. more content with life. I've been in the pursuit of clarity and understanding, and I'm starting to get it. Slowly, but definitely surely.

I hate having regrets. I feel like most, if not all, of the decisions I make I do so with purposeful intention, and after much thought, so it bothers me deeply when I must come to regret the decision that my logic and emotion led me to. So far I've lead a pretty regret-free life. Hopefully my best intentions will keep it that way.

------ Thirty minutes later. ------

I believe I'm the type of person who would do practically anything for a person I really care about. Being made out to be anything other than that pisses me the fuck off. If you need something and I have it, it's yours. If you need someone to talk to about anything, I always make myself available. And if you ever need someone there, I'm there, without invitation. That's who I am. That's who I've ALWAYS been. I've always fucking been there. Despite ANYONE'S mistreatment of me, if you need me, I'M THERE. So now I'm fucking pissed.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

To Zion

It's intriguing how time can so drastically affect perception. All other things being equal, an elapse in time has the power to alter personal emotions, and transform universal ideals. This fascinates me. It relieves me. Time may not heal all wounds, but it certainly can change how you view them.

(It upsets me that people, literate people, have yet to master the use of "but". On Facebook, someone's political views are listed as, "Very liberal....but, I'm voting for Obama." No no, no ma'am.)

I'm sleepy, but I feel bad about taking naps because my roommate never does, and I can just sense her judging me. (It's bad enough that I choose to eat cookies and chips at midnight, and frequently make early am runs to the vending machines for a lemonade or Sprite.) I went to sleep last night, or this morning rather, at about 5am, and woke up to start my day at 9am. My friend called me at 1:15am which sparked an argument because we agreed that we would talk at 1am. The argument lasted just short of two hours. We spent 1 hour and forty-five minutes arguing about the value and significance of fifteen minutes. Ah, irony. It was, however, the funniest and most insightful argument I've ever had.

But things, as they always do, took a turn for the worst and soon commenced the "let me get to know you" conversation. But we've been friends for over a year now, so it's not as if he doesn't know me, so it was more like "let me get to know you" conversation. And there's the problem. Multiple problems, actually.

Problem 1: I haven't been single long, and I don't believe in rebound guys. Especially not good guys. I've rebounded on some clowns, but who cares.

Problem 2: I wouldn't give him the time of day when we first met (though at that point in life, I wouldn't give Pharrell Williams the time of day if he tried), but I just have this guilty feeling that the only reason I'm giving him even 1 in the morning now is because.. ahem.. money. And I know that's not it! But it keeps coming into my head, and it's hard to ignore.

Problem 3 & 4: To be discussed later, if there later becomes a need for further discussion on this kid.

In other news, after much meditation and discussion with said friend, I've decided that it's not that God doesn't want to see me happy, rather he wants to see me happy for the right, and only the right reasons. He doesn't want me to find happiness in any place, because if happiness is found in the slums, there's no reason to ever leave. It makes sense. I feel you, God.

Sunday, September 14, 2008

Foible

Anytime I am happy, something happens to bring me back to the sad individual I am obviously destined to be. This entire weekend is the proof. But more on that later.

I'm trying to stop thinking about Brandon. Thinking about him makes me.. sad, and upset. I'm happy he's having such a great time, but I also feel like shit because he's having such a great time without me. And it's like, even when I am having an ok time, I always think about how much more fun I'd be having if Brandon was there. And I don't think he does. I just feel dispensable.. I feel like he got over us in like two days. And I'm still having a helluva a time coping. Euh.

My mom is a fraud. Liar. Fake. Full of shit. Got my hopes of an actual relationship all up, just to shit on them for the millionth time. Should've saw this coming. Should've saved my tears for something worth crying over. Should stop being so forgiving, so vulnerable to being hurt. By everyone.. Why does everyone have the ability to hurt me? Why? Why does everyone who know I'm hurt, hurting so much... insist on hurting me still? Why?

If I died tomorrow, I'd be upset. I can't imagine dying without the chance to live..

I want to leave school and go pursue my secret dream. But it requires money, of which I have not a lot. But I'm considering selling my soul to unnamed person so that I can get started. Is it worth it?

I wish my roommate would leave so I can cry, and clear my mind. I can't finish this without doing so..

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Viduus

I don't understand why God doesn't want to see me happy.

Barack Obama once had an 8 point lead for white women voters. After the pick of Palin, McCain now enjoys a 12 point lead with white women. God doesn't want to see me happy. He just doesn't, I am now thoroughly convinced.

A huge, and growing, part of me just wishes that I could marry rich, and then use that money to do the work I wish to do with the world. There's no college course that truly teaches humanity, fairness and balance. I know what I really want to do, I know how I need to go about doing it, and I think it's bullshit that I have to go through umpteenth years of schooling to help people the way that I know I can. I know I have the ability, and want, to change many lives. Just let me do it! I'm about go browse sugardaddies.com..

Being young is annoying. I hate having limited control of my life. I hate not knowing where I'll actually end up. I hate this constant feeling of pressure and impending failure and unhappiness. I want to fall asleep, and wake up ten years into my future (waking up once briefly to experience my wedding).

(Taking a brief break in thoughts to mention that I absolutely love Brandon Brown.)

I feel awful. My muscles, particularly my back muscles, have been aching and cramping since Sunday, I have a cold, and to top it all off, I started my period today, like a week early, and before I had a chance to go home and pick up my medication. Now I'm going to overdose on liquor store Motrins. See how God doesn't want to see me happy?

I think I am finally coming to grips with the fact that I have a fairly low level of self-esteem. It bothers me to actually type that, so I'm keeping myself from erasing it for the fourth time. And it's weird because it's not that I think I'm horribly ugly, or dumb, or fat or any of those things. I actually think I'm a pretty amazing girl, most of the time. But it's literally my self-esteem, my self-worth, my self-value. I constantly feel like I don't deserve anything, like I'm not worth much. For many reasons recently I feel dispensable. But, I'm on my period, so that could have a lot to do with it also. (So cut my wrists and black my eyes, so I can fall asleep tonight.)

I keep getting excited about coming home this weekend because I think I'll be able to see Brandon and Steve. ..Epic fail. But hopefully I'll be able to see some people, like Dino, who I surely do love.

I'm looking for room swapping options. I can't deal with this too much longer. I've counted ten, TEN times today I've seen my roommate and she hasn't said a word to me. Twice in the streets. [Warning: Random hood moment following.] This bitch got me fucked up.

I want pizza from the liquor store (it's truly delicious!) but I cannot get up and walk. God does not want to see me happy.

Sunday, September 7, 2008

Breviate

It has been a little while since I've blogged, so I'm going to do a lot of summarizing, so be forgiving if this is not as eloquent as wanted.

College, or University as it is known to our English counterparts, is.. well, interesting. Though I admittedly lacked enthusiasm about going, I still feel as though my expectations have yet to be met. Perhaps it is because I never really set any, so instead of being wow-ed with surprises, I've been disappointed with the reality of it all. But I've been here short of two weeks, and I know that things will change. I'll get used to sharing quarters with someone I don't feel very comfortable with. I'll get used to not seeing familiar faces in my classrooms. And I'll get used to my daddy not coming in my room multiple times a night to open my heating vents. I'll adjust. It'll be fine.

In other news, Sarah Palin. If one ever needed proof that John McCain was a typical politician with less than typical political foresight, there's Sarah Palin. I don't, rather I cannot go into how at this moment, for fear of getting insanely irate and popping a blood vessel, but it's coming. But allow me to briefly say that two years of executive experience as a governor of an all but nonpopulated state does not make you more experienced or capable than Barack Obama, nor does it make you even a half equal pick to match the pick of Joe Biden, an international affairs wizard, Sarah Palin. Frankly, you fail. Miserably.

I got to spend nearly this entire weekend with Taqee. We had a nice time almost the entire time, until this afternoon, when things took a drastic, unexpected and quite ridiculous turn. Giving no details, he was wrong, I was wrong. And it took us upwards of four hours to finally never admit that, and move on. We're, as he would put it, nutty. But I love being with him, so even when he upsets me and I want to "blow his shit in", I really just want to play with his hair, too. This is so homosexual, God.

Soon to follow this will be a long excessive blog about my fears and insecurities, because as of right now, I have enough to share.

Monday, August 25, 2008

Wawa Aba

All summer I've dreaded the arrival of the past few days, and the next few to come. I wondered for hours on end how I'd say goodbye to the other half of my life who has always been by side, literally, for the past four years. I wondered if I would cry as I hugged my love and joy for the last time in what could be weeks. I wondered what my days would be like, without them.

And though I did have to say goodbye to my best friend, and I will have to give a final hug to my boyfriend, I won't have to know what my days would be like without them. I am finally beginning to realize that the bond I share with these two guys cannot be broken by distance, nor time. For no good relationship is ever always stagnant, as with changes come character and strength. And the separation or loneliness I may sometimes feel is nothing that a phone call, Greyhound bus ride, or occasional flight cannot remedy.

It doesn't matter if we're 40 minutes or several hundred miles away, or if I see you in December, or in a few weeks, I know that in some capacity, you guys will always be in my life, and I'm ashamed that I ever doubted the power of the love I feel for you, and the love you feel for me.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Retrocede

A year ago I wouldn't have ever imagined we'd be here today. I knew you only as the weird, skinny kid, who used to sing Mary Jane to me, but would change the words to Marie James. Though it was funny, I found it to be incredibly creepy.

I remember the day of homecoming you called me a bunch of times to see if I was still coming. I was in the car with Kalisha and Brandon, and I told them, "I wish he would stop calling me!" And when I got there, you was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, flowers in hand. I felt weird because I barely knew you, and didn't like you, and I didn't want you to waste anymore money or time on me. But I thought it was incredibly sweet that you did that.

Or the time you showed up at two in the morning to see me off to Philadelphia because we wouldn't see each other for two weeks. You brought me Sour Patch Kids and cranberry juice because those are my favorite. To this day that's the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me, but I remember telling Brandon as we pulled off that I thought maybe you were far too into me, and I not that far into you.

Now sometimes I wish I could hear you singing that song, or walk down a few stairs just to find you waiting there for me, or get a random surprise visit.

I guess I didn't appreciate it much then, and I suppose I'm paying for it now.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

Primrose Path

I was listening to Anywhere by 112, and thus inspired.

-------------------------------------------------------

Never has my flesh been inspected so thoroughly. My maculate ebony skin becomes beauteous at the pressure of his perfecting fingertips. Eager sweat gathers in the small of my back as dew begins to settle upon my lips. A closed smile lingers there, begging to be parted by your touch. Cleverly you tantalize me, your wandering fingers carefully avoiding my unwavering breasts, your saccharine lips only gently grazing against mine. Submitting to my hushed pleas, you turn my body into your clay, gracefully sculpting me against you. Your shoulder fits perfectly in the crook of the back of my knee, my left leg wraps tightly around your core. Frozen, for only a moment, we appear to be a bronze statue, glistening in the light of the distant stars. And then you enter me. Slowly. Cautiously. I sense the passion in your loins as your excursion of me quickens. My soft flesh buckles beneath your strength. Calamity grows deep in my lust. Rough trembles begin at my thighs and travels in quakes over my body as I explode. My fingernails dip deep into the earth beneath me. My walls collapse making it impossible for you to escape. Every trace of my pain is waved away as your delectation pours into me.

Your body comes down upon me heavily, flattening my breasts. Slumber captures us, and it isn't until the sun rays shine upon us that you retreat from me.

Sunday, July 27, 2008

De Novo

Friday, at work, I heard someone talking about choosing our days. "You can choose what sort of day you'll have," she said. And I, who am the apparent victim of circumstance, shook my head no. No, you certainly cannot. But today I feel otherwise.

Yesterday could've been a bad day for me. Things were said, and other things were not said, that could've left me hurt and upset. But I chose to have a different day. Instead of crying, worrying or regretting, I cleaned my room, took a long shower and had a great time with my friends. Then I came home, and stayed up for hours talking to friends and enjoying music. I had a good day.

And I will have a good day today. And tomorrow. Some things are simply not in my control, and it's about time that I learn to accept that, and not allow things that I cannot control to control me. I have a choice.

And I'm choosing a better life than this. I have spent years, years, unhappy, burdened and hopeless and I am finally tired of it. I've had enough. I deserve better than this. I deserve happiness, I deserve peace. I have allowed her issues and problems to keep me from enjoying what is rightfully mine.

And I am finally done.

Friday, July 25, 2008

Trepidation

I am pitiful.

If ever there was a person who lacked deeply in self-constraint, it was I.

Or was it? Or am I?

What, exactly, are we?

And, you, of course, have it.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Syndrome and Rosary

Idleness is normally when the throbs of a painful reality can be felt. Idleness, silence, and solitude. So it's no wonder that this is the first time since that I've felt this deep sickness, this jolting in the pit of my chest, now that I'm sitting idle, silent and completely alone.

Well, that was about thirty minutes ago. Now, the streams of unwanted tears have dried upon my cheeks, burying into my skin, and burning into my soul. They also decorate the silver paneling of my laptop, and have left an invisible path from one wall of my room to the other, a path that has been walked raw by my pacing feet, my racing mind. A quiet voice in my head is hopeful. "It's all for the better." "It could be worse." All for the better, could be worse. The better, be worse. Better, worse. It's hard for any portion of me to believe it.

If I ever faced such a daunting internal conflict, I cannot remember when. The love for him just wants him to be happy, no matter what must be sacrificed. The love for myself just wants.. him, and his happiness. I try to look back and remember when those two could no longer coexist, and I cannot.

Harder than looking back, is looking forward. I believe the ill feeling in my chest, the one that makes me want to double over a toilet and purge every ounce of emotion from body, is caused by the fact that I pray that one day we'll be, and I'm not sure if he does. I pray both silently and audibly to any One deeming me worthy enough to hear my pleas that seven days ago wouldn't be the last time, not knowing if that was his intentional secret goodbye.

I feel weak, fragile and certainly confused. Yet, grateful. Grateful for every moment, every kiss, every touch, and even more importantly, every thought he had of me. I'm grateful for our continuing friendship. And I'm grateful for our destines, that allowed our paths to momentarily align, and will perhaps align them again.