i've known that for years... but funny how i don't heed my own advice

i'm done investing my emotions and time into situations (and induviduals) in which i don't get the same in return. there are far too many people that i come across in life who are willing to accept what i give, and also offer the same to me in return; and even knowing this i still (almost every damn time) push and push thinking that "one day" i'll miraculously get what i'm hoping for from that "one person"... hell, maybe that's the exact reason why i strive so hard for them in the first place; and that much optimism isn't necessarily what'll get you what you're hoping for...

so yeah, moral of the story, that excess time and emtion that i invest into "you people", will now be savored for those who will appreciate it...

everyone has something to offer, and sometimes there are just people who don't want it... there is nothing wrong with that, it just makes those who actually do (want it) that much more cherished... right?

and ps... eve didn't eat an apple... it was most likely a date or a pomegranate, (which were native to mesopotamia, or modern day Iraq) at the time... so who the fuck started saying it was an apple? damn pretentious renaissance artists that's who... psh.

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His Little Man, Her Little Rei....

.. ..

A single teardrop ran down my flushed cheek as my turquoise eyes fell upon her lifeless body.  It hurt me more that I hadn't known it happened in the first place, than her actual death, though I knew it would hit me later.  It had begun as a dreary, grey, dimly lit day.  The kind of day where you are stuck inside the house due to the drizzling rain outside.  Even though it was summer, the temperature had managed to drop to a chilling forty-five degrees.  I had always loved days like this.  I awoke to the light pitter patter of raindrops hitting the roof.  The canopy that surrounded my bed, was usually crimson in color with golden trim, but today it looked more of a rotten plum color with the color of decaying leaves as the trim.  My blue eyes were lazily fixed upon my ivory ceiling fan spinning round and round, I was being lulled back to sleep by the light combination of sounds.  As my eyes began to close, my bedroom door flung open.  I jumped and quickly turned my head to see who or what had opened my door.  Just my cat, which had now found her way onto my bed and nuzzled her silver and onyx striped face into my stomach.  I patted her head and arose from my bed to feed her breakfast.

            A cold jolt ran through my body as my feet touched the floor and I immediately began a search for my bathrobe and slippers.  Unsuccessful at locating my bathrobe, I settled on just the slippers.  After serving my cat her breakfast, I graced my presence outside of my room and toward the dining area, where I would await to be served my breakfast.  The walls of the hallway were a rich, deep, sapphire and the molding was of a bright snowy white.  The hall had not looked so long before, the length of it seemed endless, like a black hole.  I could hear the echoing of voices from down the hall.  It was then I realized my parents were home, they usually weren't home.  One worked in a top notch advertising firm and the other was a doctor.  So unless you waited around their bedroom door at three in the morning, you didn't see them until holidays, days off, or if I was lucky…a weekend a month.

            Picking up pace as I strutted down the hall, I finally reached the end and saw the faces that went with the voices.  They were finally home.  It became apparent to me that it was positively glacial and an avalanche of goose bumps overcame my body, probably because I was clad in no more than a solid white tee, boxers and slippers.  My lips curved upwards into a grin, delighted that my parents were home.  On my left, Kellan.  On my right, Kyan.  Kellan's hair seemed a fake albino-like blonde, yet it was all natural and went nicely with his milky white complexion.  We both had ocean-like eyes, both blue and deep, yet today, his gave a look of worry and grief.  My smile faded as I abruptly turned my head to face my father, Kyan.  He pretended not to notice my staring.  They were both dead silent, the room was deafened with it.  They were both gussied up in ebony suits and dress suits and I gave them both a questioning look.

            My look went unanswered, "Uhhm…Is everything…okay?" I asked somewhat uneasily.  My dad looked up at me from what he was doing, and in a cool, swift voice replied, "Of course it is" He continued, curving his lips into a half smirk and sarcastically, "why wouldn't it be?".  I recognized this tone as one he use for making deals in the advertising agency.  I wasn't convinced and in an innocent, playful, curious voice I questioned, "Did…someone die?" as I lowered myself onto the couch and began to fiddle with a piece of string.  From the corner of my eye U could see that Kellan wanted to answer the question but stopped himself and looked away, the way he always did when he felt some sort of guilt.  His lips became crooked and his eyes grew wide, then squinted.  He sniffled and tried to hide his flushing cheeks whith his porcelain hands.  It struck me then that something was not right, but I didn't dwell on it.  Kyan turned to face the mirror and began slicking back his chestnut licks and answered me firmly and in a somewhat moody tone "Yess."

            Interested, I wanted to find out who had died.  Did I know the deceased?  I felt like a detective looking for clues, though I probably should have been upset at the news that someone my parents knew had passed away.  I asked who, and Kellan began to mouth an answer but Kyan interrupted saying "Oh, just a colleague of mine…you don't know him," he continued somewhat nervously, half convincing "old, about seventy years…"  The look on Kellan's face grew a bit puzzled, but not as if he were confused.  His face wrinkled at the forehead in a worrisome manner and he bit his lower lip as if to refrain himself from something.  His hand, shaking, brushed though his hair and gave away that what Kyan had just said was a flat out lie.  Kyan lied…a lot, but not to me.  Not his son, not unless he was hiding something.  Knowing I wasn't going to get any straight answers from them, I looked Kyan dead in his honey-colored eyes and plainly said "well then…I'm going too," Feeling the tension I had caused with my words I added "it would only be courteous of me."

            The both of them looked at each other and then at me so fast their necks could have snapped.  They replied with a jittery 'NO', but I refused to take that for an answer, so I replied much more stern and with a raised voice "I'm going!"  They were trying to hide something from me and I wouldn't have it.  With that my father put his hand on my shoulder and asked me to be seated,  I knew something was wrong and goose bumps crawled all over my body, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as a familiar chill took its regular route up and down my spine.  Anxiousness overcame me and a cold sweat broke out.  Now shaking, I was digging through thoughts trying to put together puzzle pieces of who might have died.  Everyone I knew of was in good health, or so I thought.  It had to have been someone I cared for and loved dearly.  The words that were spewing out of my father's mouth seemed so far and distant, a blur.  As my eyes locked with my father's, I grew dizzy, the name 'Mama Lucha' arose and became the only think I heard that made a clear connection.  My pulse increased dramatically and my blood rushed.

            My mind raced back in time trying to recover a memory from long ago.  I was only three at the time and it had only been a week after my mother had left.  My dad and my grandma, Mama Lucha, thought I was taking it rather well.  I spoke well for my age and she began teaching me a variety of languages: French, Italian, and her personal favorite, Spanish.  Her delicate wrinkled hands felt like rose petals as they caressed the side of my face, and her tight brown curls clung to her head.  She wasn't a thin, strict, mean grandmother; she was a thicker, carefree, loving grandmother.  She never let me out of her sight; her honey eyes watched me everywhere I went.  She made it her life to protect me, especially me, because now I was motherless.  She talked with my father for hours while I sat and played in front of them.  It was that spring day that he told her how I was being brave, a little man, his little man.  She replied in Spanish "Porque es mi rei" and flashed me a warm smile.  The both of them smiled at each other for a bit then she reached out to hold his hand and said something in French to him.  His head was slumped but he managed to give her a reassuring nod. Rei means King in Spanish, I was her little king and she had become my mother.  I was only three.

            My mind returned to the present.  Mama Lucha, my grandmother.  I hadn't even known she had been ill.  They had planned on not telling me, and I grew furious.  My face turned red, like heated metal over a fire.  I yelled and threw every curse I knew at them, and they just sat there, heads down.  They knew what they did was wrong.  They looked like two school boys sitting in the corner of the classroom being punished.  They apologized, but it wasn't good enough.  Thanks to them the only woman I ever looked towards as a mother figure never got a last look at me, thanks to them I never got to say goodbye.  I left for my room without saying a word to them.

            My eyes blinked hard and re-opened with tears ready to burst at the seams.  I needed to pick out the perfect outfit; she was royalty in my mind.  With a grim face, I carefully chose my attire.  With the exception of my creamy pearl skin and tawny cinnamon hair, I would be dressed in all black.  In the shower I could shed some anger and pain.  When the water reached its steamy perfection, I took a step in.  Water cascaded down my slender, prepubescent frame, drenching my hair to the color of burnt firewood.  The air became thick and heavy, I liked it this way.  I lathered my build with a bar of soap and rinsed it off.  The splashes of water hitting the porcelain shower floor seemed musical.  No harm could find me in here, this was my sanctuary.  Stepping out of the shower I grabbed a crisp, clean white towel to cover my bare, saturated figure.  I made my way to the closet and pulled out my outfit.  I grabbed a fine toothed comb and slicked back my hair for a clean, demure look and kept it in place with a few mists of hair spray.  I wiped a few stray tears from my pale sapphire eyes.

            I walked out of my room, glared at my parents and then requested to be taken to the funeral home in a separate car, I wanted to be alone.  I needed to think.  So my parents went in one car and I in another.  The limousine drove for what seemed like hours down a winding path.  I could see the funeral home a little more than a half mile away.  Flocks of people dressed in black.  They reminded me of ravens.  The sound from the windshield wipers were now echoing loudly as all other sounds faded out into nothing as we neared the funeral home.  Everything around me turned into slow motion.  Passing by the inky clouds of people, I wiped the glass of the window.  My family.  None of them looked sad, they looked solemn.  I wondered how they could contain themselves when the matriarch of our family had just died.  I suppose it's just like every other funeral we'd ever been to.  I hadn't cried at those funerals, but this one was different.  This was my mother.

            The car came to a stop behind my parents' limousine.  I could see a blurred image of my parents stepping out of the car and embracing morning relatives.  I could see my dad point to the car I was in and then lower his head.  I heard the limo door open and everything returned to its normal, fast pace.  I faked a smile to the driver as I stepped out into the brisk outside.  I could feel the dampness overcome me as I let a vreath out.  It quickly transformed into a crystal cloud before me.  I could feel the heat of a thousand beady eyes on me but I chose to ignore them.  My eyes were fixed on the ground ahead of me.

            Everyone stared as my parents walked in while I followed a good distance behind, head slouched, tears held back.  I signed my name in the book and gently picked up a mourning card and placed it delicately into my left shirt pocket, right over my heart and walked into the room where she lay.

            Open casket.  It was open casket.  I should have known…every wake I ever went to was open casket.  To see her laying there as if she weren't dead at all but sleeping, just taking a rest.  I could have sworn I saw her chest move up and down as if she were breathing.  She looked so delicate, angelic…beautiful, as she always did.  Looking down at her was so painful, like someone had ripped my still beating heard out of my chest and beat it to a bloody pulp before placing it back inside me.  She didn't look dead, she wasn't dead, she was alive to me.  No,..She was dead, I tried to tell myself over and over again but it wasn't going through, in my mind she was sleeping.  A river of tears fell down my hot, red cheeks, pouring down more and more by the minute.  My vision blurred and I became weak and dropped to my knees.  All sound had disappeared and the whole room was muted over.  I couldn't even hear my screaming.  I was going mentally insane on the spot, she was the closest thing I had to a mother and she was gone.  She was my mother.

            I called out to her as if she would answer, but she didn't, not that she didn't want to, but she couldn't.  Perhaps she tried to in spirit but I couldn't hear her over my sobbing.  Kyan rushed over to me telling me it was alright but it was not alright, how could he tell me it was alright when it wasn't, when she was laying there in fron t of me dead, gone, never coming back.  My grandma was dead and he was telling me it would all be okay.  It only made the tears come down heavier and I grabbed her hand.  Chills rushed over my body like an avalanche from the iciness of her skin.  I started talking to her in Spanish, she loved it when I spoke different languages.  She still didn not wake from her eternal slumber, yet I still refused to believe she was dead.  She was not dead, she couldn't be.  Alive! She was alive!  My bawling grew so loud they finally had to pull me away from her.  It only made me howl even louder.  Why would they tear me from her?  I was hysterical.

            They dragged me into another room, too far from her, my mom.  My fathers walked in, they wanted to console me but I didn't want to be near them, I wouldn't let them.  I was still bitter with Kyan, he stepped closer to me as I slumped down onto a couch and sobbed.  Teats blurred my vision and I could only see a figure in front of me, I knew it was Kyan by the way he stood.  He lowered himself to his knees, to make eye contact with me.  I slapped him, he gasped and as I aimed to slap him again he grabbed my wrist.  My free left hand slapped him, he slapped me back.  In shock, I started to hit him, my hands in fists, trying to hurt him like he hurt me, but I didn't want to.  I wanted to hug him and tell him I loved him.  I needed that hug, I needed him to hug me and tell me he loved me.  The pounding of my fists came to an abrupt halt and my hands feel down to my sides and then squirmed into my lap.  My head bowed down low, eyes squinted shut and face crumpled with hurt.  My eyes gave way to a flood of tears and I could feel the heat of my fathers eyes beaming down on my, wanting to make it better, or so I hoped.  I pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed ferociously at my now bloodshot eyes and looked up at him.  He was crying too, partially for my grandmother, and partially for hurting me.  My arms sprang from my lap and around him, I just held my dad close, buried my face into his stomach and cried as I tugged at his shirt in an attempt to pull him in closer.

            The sky outside was now weeping as hard as I had been earlier, like the fury of a million rocks being thrown at the floor at once.  I ended up falling asleep.  I had cried myself to sleep in his arms and just like when I was a little boy worn out from the days hectic events, he carried me back home; his little man, her little Rei.

There is a price for everything in this world. Even if something says free, it's not free. Think about it, everything you've ever received or any relationship you were in, it all had a price. Love has a price, but how much are some willing to pay? Sometimes it hardly seems worth it. Love is pain as some say. But how much pain must you go through before enough is enough? I've been to social workers, counselors and finally a psychiatrist. Is it healthy? I don't know. It seems so wonderful at times. But then, I look back at it. And I mean REALLY look at it, and I think to myself, was all of that heartache worth it? Were all those tears worth it? Did the laughs, smiles and butterflies i still get when I talk to him make up for all the pain? Does it make up for his actions. I feel somewhat neglected. I feel like somehow we drifted. I feel like I need this relationship. I want it more than anything. I want it to work. I love him as a person. His sarcasm, his sense of humor, his sick and twisted mind. His looks just add to everything. I feel like he is the definition of perfection. And that I am not in the least bit worthy of his love. It's a difficult thing, this love. You can ask me over and over again to talk to you about my feelings, but in the end, how do you expect me to talk to you when you're never around for me to talk to. It hurts to se your picture everyday knowing ur really not there at all. But I try to stay strong and hold on. It's when I keep it bottled in that it hurts the most. Because I can't tell just anyone. Their mind capacity couldn't possibly fit everything I have to say nor would they be capable of understand what I'm going through. It feels as if this very blog that I'm typing out right now makes no sense at all. I feel a if I'm just spurting out nonsense. It is nonsense and theres no point in typing this. I'll be fine tomorow. I just want to know I'm wanted. That I'm loved. I want to feel that love again. That love where you look at the person and you start to blush and get those butterflies. Where you're nervous to talk to them, yet eager to at the same time. I want that love where you know you can talk to them whenever you want. I want the love where they'll call you in the middle of the night because they can't sleep. Or when they call you before bed to say goodnight. The type of love where they tell you they love you for no reason at all. I want it back. I want to feel secure. I don't want to be lied to. I want to be able to trust everything they say, no matter how far away they are. I want it terribly. Is all this wanting worth it? I don't think I'll ever know. And I don't think anyone will ever be able to give me an answer. I can only hope that what I want works out for me.

 

music: Oasis - Wonderwall

UGH!! i decided to look up tom felton for the hell of cause i was bored and havnt talk to him in while for that matter. and what do i find but a streaming list of imposters! ugh it just makes me overly mad that some people will sink that low for attention that isnt really towards them. i mean r u really that bloody lonely? go out. get friends. get drunk! do whatever makes u happy FOR REAL, not in a fake manner. just ugh. but not come to think of it its funny. wait till i tell tom. be funny if one of them WAS him, even tho i dont see how he could do it he is of course working. well, he could when he got back home everyday, but still..sleep. so yes it will be something to talk about when i talk to him again! which will prolly be in the next 10 minutes or wait diff time zone well ill call hm today...if i remember. byeness oh yeah before i go. i lovemy girlfriend with all my heart catherine lilly i love you my one and only im happy u told adrien bout knox and chad if u hadnt i wouldve never gotten it offa my chest tyhanks you sooo much baby. --davE

after everything thats happened, and for someof you who know more, *COUGHCRAIGCOUGH* lol...neways yeah things are going much better id hafta say. im not trying to forget about those whove died, its just my way of dealing with death. i pretend they moved or something. i dont like to think about death is all. gives me the heebie jeebies. so yeah, my dad got me a new cell phone, which means hes lightening up on me. josh is great, josh is the name of the kid that girl left at my house. hes a good kid. umm yeah im keeping the kid for those of u who dont know yet... im the godfather to my cousins new baby girl. just i can tell things are lookin up. i feel as if everything is going to be fine. like nothing can hurt me.... i met a great guy online, well we havnt met yet exactly, but i we mean to this weekend. I hate it when people look at me that way. like im crazy, or dumb or something. like i dont make ne sense. i dont want people to look at me that way. i dont care ifu dont believe me, just dont look at me that way, bad things happen to people who look at people that way. so yeah um thanks for the comment bryn,,...but everyone knows UR the hott one. oh yeah craig i had a continuation to that dream,....no blue balls lol. i will send u the pics as soon as i can. although i dont know when that is. so yeah ill let u guys go now...just wanted to let everyone know that things are definatly looking up for the better

lol i made up my own saying lol. kinda like marching to the beat fo ur own drummer, well i figure, if u use that saying, ur not marching to ur own beat, cause uve used someone elses words. figured u had to make ur own sayin up to etablish u do march, sing dance or whatever to ur own beat or....something like that. oh you know what i mean....dontcha? lol here are some of my other cool sayings:

"if bananas dont have veins, how do they get bruises?"

"if swimming is good for ur figure,...explain whales to me"

"drink apple juice cause oj will kill you"

"oj simpson is the black guy who killed his white,...I MEAN WIFE!"

"im dancing to the jukebox of my own diner"

"live now or forever hold your peace"

yeah thats all for now,.....

--dave

its snowing out!. man o man o man. i think this'll be a reapeat of that blizzard we had back in '95 or '95. cant remember the year. o well i was kid then. i still am a kid. and i intend to be one for the next 20 years. off topic. . . neways yeah my cousins sweet 16 was today and my mum decided not to go cause of the snow. wed get stuck there overnight!!! yikes! i feel bad now tho, cause like nobody went. and they spent a shitload of moolah on that party. i wanted to. but were gonna buy her a shitload of gifts now, ...since we couldnt go and all. i feel aweful terrible. and dude i am freezing. its positivly freeztastic! i redid my profile. u likey??? lmao. i love quintuplets. funny show. i want dead like me to start their new season already. ive been waiting forever it feels like. wow i can type. haha. this reminds me of the time when my friend sed i had A.D.D., and i sed, "what?!? add??" it was so funny. haha. neways ill let ya go now. i hope i survuve the snowstorm of '05. hit me up..

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sorry i havnt been on lately. dunno, guess ive been busy. well neways. this girl sed i was 'cute' that i act cute. cause i named my old ipod (who died RIP), Tiffy, and i told her i burried him in my underwear drawer. she sed that was cute. yeah i say funny things sometimes. and i do appreciate the comment, im not bitchin lol. oh yeah and the other day, yesterday to be precise, some kid threw water at the fire alarm to make it go off, it did, so we had to go outside in like 1 degree weather. freezing. and of course, i was wearing a t shirt!! yikes :0 but anyway, my teach was llike, "all of u get to the top of the hill!" so we started climbing. and i was like "jesus its freezing out, it feels like im in alaska!. . . .I AM NOT AN ESKIMO!" everyone just laffed. i like making ppl laugh. feel its my job to make ppl laff. plus its fun. yeah im a funny kidd. -->

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wow. i was only supposed to wait a week to come back, but i guess i slacked off, and ive been gone longer than that. sorry yall. ummm yeah. neways. i was in class, and my teacher was listening to my conversation to my friend. i was telling my friend that when i was little, my mum and dad used to send me to the YMCA for an after school program, and that on my first day there, i didnt know what to do cause i was scared, i just stayed in the locker room. and then all of a sudden, my teacher goes "well thats because you were weird when you were a kid!" i was like wtf! she def had no right to say something like that because 1. i wasnt talkin to her 2. she shouldnt make assumptions like that about ppl she doesnt even fucking know! and 3. because it shows unprofessionalism on her part. yeah well i text my dad and told him to get her fired not only because of that, but bcuz shes a horrible teacher who has no patience. ugh i really dislike her.

pissed off and bored right now cause i can't do anything with this account till ive beeen on for a week. gonna leave for a party in a bit, . . . but still! :O yeah, neways today, i was walkin to lunch, and some idiot closed the door to the lunch room hallway. so i had to open it, only i opened it too fast, and my finger got smushed between the door and the brick/concrete wall. it hurt so bad. now it looks like a blown up balloon. :0 it was gross . . . gtg noe. PARTAY