Stephanie

Sat, 10 May 2008 18:10:03 GMT

You affirmed that no matter what is spoken and what is left to drift along the air's spirals, we will always have a bond that wil lace us together despite our seperate paths.

"Do you love me? DO YOU?"

Refusing to make physical contact, I pulled away in defeat.

"You love me Martinez, I know you do."

"shut the fuck up, I don't love you. I fucking hate you. I will never stop hating you."

I hurt you. Initially I was the one that was bruised, but ultimately you were at the disadvantage. You formed each letter with your fingertips, reading me like braille.

"I like you too much, and I hate myself for it."

You embraced me multiple times, but not once did we make a connection of a sexual manner. I was faithful but emotionally bruised. The thought of him allowing such a disgusting event to happen triggered me to embrace every part of you. Your skin was so soft, and though your features are terribly unconventional I still found extreme beauty in your outward appearance. I always loved kissing your neck.

"Stephanie-she's a lucky girl" that fucking whore declared as she stumbled to her knees. Your dick rose as she fell. You are so disgusting.

More kisses on the neck. I still did not let him touch me.

"You bit me on my tres ojos"

"Why are you so cute?"

"How could I ever contact you again?"

What is it that cements us together the moment the sun begins to peel us apart?

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 00:00:33 GMT

The only truth.

Any remnants of a being that is fully lachrymose no longer remain.

Upon the first note I felt this immense sentiment of nausea.

No longer enveloped by nostalgia

merely shame.

What was it that truly compelled those notes to completely fulfill the needs of exactly what it was you wanted to create?

I used to listen to this in such a weakened condition, but now I am completely numb.

These are your pleas

your cries

sincerity

pain

love.

Each note is calling to me. Each note is grasping tightly onto my arm and pulling me onto my knees. The world has become too vibrant with my shame and when I force my fucking eyes open I'm only met with filthy bathwater. Though the shower releases water in small amounts, when I collapsed the water collected quickly. ' It is so therapeutic to kneel. Everything is put into perspective and you find this sense of peace'. As the water builds up I can only submerge. Before I take my last breath I am met with the image of you bending on the tile in my black sweats composing this very song. I can vaguely see my reflection from that moment. I was sitting, completely aware of the anticipation we both shared to reunite after our daily routine had ceased. Your excitement was to show this beautiful creation, and mine was to embrace you. You put on your most comfortable pair of jeans and leave. As you walk out of the building you briefly acknowledge the collection of tenants who regularly smoked outside of the building in an attempt to survive each day. My present form is standing right in front of you as you depart, desperately attempting to grab onto you. You look in my direction, as though you are completely blind to my presence and continue walking.

You reach your destination, my work at the time, and patiently wait. I was running behind you the entire walk. I stand behind you, nearly collapsing to my knees

nearly spiraling into the bathwater

and anticipate my arrival. I watched as I walked down the narrow hallway, opened the door, and greeted you with a loving embrace. My face once had color, my bones once had fat to cement everything together, and we once had a connection that refused to break long after the initial embrace. I exchanged a brief glance with myself. The alter ego who was grasping your hand tightly looked back to me with disgust. You two began to head towards the apartment. I attempted to scream but besides a loud retch, only breath came out. You shouldn't have looked at me with such disgust, just because I'm not as privileged.

Back to the shower. The water is overwhelming. Life will progress 'accordingly' but will I ever find fulfillment? Will I ever find truth? Perhaps, the only truth

Mon, 28 Apr 2008 23:33:53 GMT

The funky noodle: We were so close. So united. Lived together supported eachother. BLAHlahLA
ill sicle: ugh.
ill sicle: because you had to!
ill sicle: if you really think hes the one, then go for it.
The funky noodle: I can't. HAHA. He doesn't love me.
The funky noodle: Yeah right.
ill sicle: but really, all youre looking for is a smart, funny?, handsome guy
The funky noodle: He fucking could give a shit about me.
ill sicle: throw a car in there
ill sicle: that helps
The funky noodle: No. I want a lot
The funky noodle: too much
The funky noodle: it's ridiculous.
The funky noodle: I'm going to die alone.
ill sicle: so then find someone who DOEs give a shit
ill sicle: well no shit
ill sicle: we all are
ill sicle: life is short
The funky noodle: Ha, yeah it is.
The funky noodle: but i authentically can't enjoy any aspect of it right now.
ill sicle: ive experienced a little bit of...i dont know. lets just say you got it good. i went through some cRAZY shit recently
ill sicle: and ive nefver been so shocked or..scared into beinga normal person with a normal life
ill sicle: now i want a normal life, with school
ill sicle: i dont ever want to go back
The funky noodle: I've experienced my shit too.
The funky noodle: Believe me. I've been through quite a bit. This isn't no average jo motherfucking cookie cutter breakup.

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 19:13:40 GMT

I'm absolutely broken apart.

I am never going to be loved as much as I was loved by him.
I am never going to be appreciated.

I'm sorry I hurt you, but I suppose this was ensued.

It always goes back to the moment that ruined everything that we had.

Now I know now, at least there will never be any more good times to invoke guilt about what really happened that night.

!!!!!!

Wed, 05 Dec 2007 03:31:18 GMT

Everything is transitory, but as of late my self-esteem has been at an all-time low.

Perhaps it is the lack of a social life
or maybe it is because I have not purchased any new articles of clothing or done anything with my appearance to help extinguish this immutable desire for change..

I feel as though these are the days where I am supposed to be at an aesthetic peak, but instead I never surpass my "Awkward" stages.

I need change and a new mind-set.

And to lose fifteen more pounds to set me on the right track.

Mars Volta new years eve, at least. Isaac and I are going as the locust.
He's so cute. He's e-sleepin' right next to me.

Isaac.

Fri, 05 Oct 2007 16:44:17 GMT

“Do you get like this often?”

While struggling to repress any evident quivering I sighed. I could not articulate the words to justify the new state of shock that I’d so suddenly been rendered in. So many emotions leapt into my head and began to race at a rapid rate despite my reluctance to allow it. I successfully managed to shake my head, though through the darkness it was not obvious.

My lips throbbed, my heart slipped out of routine, and my body refused to return to a non-tremulous condition. I felt so privileged to be in such a position. He was truly a rarity and for unknown reasons his arms held me tightly at the moment and his lips were what had initiated all of this.

“It all relates to something I said earlier…”

Moscas en la casa.

Thu, 27 Sep 2007 18:02:45 GMT

You were tremulous. You expressed through broken sentences and unsuccessfully repressed groans that you had an immense fear of death. Your convictions were not in tact therefore you clung onto the very earth in which you abused. You were such a weak being but brilliantly portrayed yourself to be quite the beacon of confidence, apathy, and a complete disregard of everyone you penetrated.

One night I was beginning to touch the tips of unconsciousness when suddenly I recoiled as a result of your abrupt bout of convulsing. I immediately questioned the source of your shaken state, but your dismal expression left me speechless. You clutched onto the collar of my shirt and pulled me towards you forcefully as you began to retch.

“Hands, I feel these hands.”

Your face was lubricated with the culmination of tears and sweat. Your breaths grew shallow. You gripped my shirt tighter as your sinking progressed. It was too late for apologies. You glanced at me pleadingly, struggling to articulate the words that would have salvaged your existence.

“Where is your soul?”

Hands gripped your shoulder tightly. Every limb of yours was seized by these hands. I pulled away as I could no longer help. They slowly pulled you down.

“I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t forgive you. I allowed them to take you.

Then I too, became tremulous.

Hey remember that time

Wed, 26 Sep 2007 18:00:50 GMT

The bottle had developed a distinct white halo which helped me differentiated it from the rest. The deeper I sunk in, the less I retched from the nearly intolerable saltiness. My surroundings were dimly light, the air retained a bitter sewer smell, and slightly outdated American hiphop blared from the poorly installed speakers. On the way back to the border our group found ourselves with an excess of pesos which could conveniently be spent at a bar minutes away from where we were to cross. By this time I was already gone, but the male portion of the group insisted that we kept drinking. I received various phone calls in that bar, but one in particular caught my attention. It was Arturo, and he shamelessly invited me to hang out with him and his cousin. His intentions were evident; as was my distrust in myself when I professed that I was terribly drunk and simply could not bear facing him in such a state. He insisted, so I gave in.

All of downtown was a blur. Everything was in motion. Someone was guiding me, but refused to hold hands with me properly. Although I was numb, I could feel the pressure on my bladder quite keenly. I’m not sure who leaned in first, but by the end of the night we ended up in the same position as the last time we saw each other. Though I knew I would regret everything later, there was something about Arturo that absolutely intrigued me. I never trusted him and thought that his personality was ridiculous; at times I contemplated the merit of his sanity. Sexually, I’ve always been a selfish person but when it came to Arturo I enjoyed donating all of the pleasure. He was quite the loud one, somewhat comparable to a vigorous female pornstar, but I was forced to adjust to his reactions over time. Initially, such mannerisms turned me off completely but I found myself used to, almost aroused, by his groans.

“ I can’t believe this is the first thing we jump to after not seeing each other for months.”

“ You probably think this is weird.”

“ I feel used.”

No response, he simply instructed me to continue until he finished. I didn’t like how tightly he gripped my hair nor did I appreciate his tendency to force me downward upon command. All of his friends suspected that I was that type of girl, and at that point I didn’t even know the words that could prove otherwise.

Mon, 24 Sep 2007 23:59:00 GMT

Francisco called me three times last night.
I'm kicking my ass for sleeping through these calls.

-story.

Sun, 23 Sep 2007 18:24:57 GMT

My heart was on the verge of collapsing. I could almost feel it sliding up my throat in a fit of defeat. That night I gagged on my own words perpetually, and to placate such a feeling I made sure that the drinks were continuous. Prior to my departure I called my girlfriend to confirm her feelings regarding my plans for the night. She put up a brilliant front, completely concealing her previously evident insecurities, and convinced me that for once she was perfectly content with my immutable desire to go out. Her voice cracked slightly as she said goodbye. Before I had the opportunity to console her, I heard the dial tone. I’d been forced to deal with those incessant fits for three years. I wasn’t so sure how I tolerated it, but a large portion of my stomach had been torn away from all of the anxiety she’s caused me. I often perused the thought of leaving her for other women, but thus far I’ve failed at meeting anyone of actual aesthetic and emotional merit. Any pretty face can mislead you from the path in which you are comfortably pursuing, but ultimately it is what is most comfortable that will set you into place immediately.

At times, I couldn’t bear looking at myself. All of the horrible acts I’ve ever committed seemingly catch up to me as I began to deem myself hideous. My face sometimes becomes transparent. That evening I slipped on a navy blue blazer that my girlfriend had given me for our year and seven month anniversary when I realized that it looked terrible on me. I gazed shamelessly into my reflection in search of flaws. My eyes were rendered glossy with disappointment and immense shame. I considered myself to be a good-looking person, once. My face was nicely structured, and though my features were not extravagant, I always assumed that I retained this charisma that intensified my patently bland features. Then, I reached a point in my life in which I fell into what most would consider an “unmentionable” life style. When truth no longer was told with ease, I deemed myself a terrible person. I spent my days in a constant state of restlessness. When my love for my girlfriend could no longer placate me I searched elsewhere, often in a deep state of inebriation. I sunk into alcoholism, among other things. My family was in complete understanding of the downward spiral I was effortlessly slipping into and despite that, they allowed me to proceed.

“ One day, I will be a better person.”

I decided to keep the blazer on hoping that I would gain confidence in it throughout the course of the night. I closed my eyes briefly and assured myself that I was attractive through the means of a superficial mantra. The alarm was set, dog tied, and within minutes I was gone.

-----------

“Someone got sexy for me tonight.”

Following a brief grin, I embraced him tightly. He pulled away and began to laugh. My insecurities intensified immediately.

“That little blazer is complimenting your beer belly well, Julian.”

“Thank you.”

The thing about Alexander, my supposed best friend, is that his blunt statements and insensitive nature are what initially attracted me to him. I was spineless the majority of my adolescence, but when I met him he effortlessly cemented my insubstantial structure. Throughout high school we were infamous for pursuing our lives according to whatever pleased us regardless of any repercussion for our actions. The male portion shared a sick combination of envy, hatred, and fear towards us while we had every female at our disposal emotionally and physically. Any trifles that usually dominated the mind of the typical high school student never crossed ours. Any substantially serious issue did not faze us.

We both considered ourselves to be somewhat attractive, and as a result of this I suppose we beamed this immutable sense of confidence that made girls beg for us. Alex was heartless by nature, but it took time for me to build myself up and begin rejecting those frail little beings once feelings were professed. The only person who could break through my false exterior was Alex and he knew of this quite well.

“Where’s your bitch tonight?”
“Doing what she does best.”
“ Bjs to the neighbors, or what?”
“No, no she’s at home probably crying.”
“ Christ. How do you fucking live with yourself?”
“You say that like I care.”
“I just thought you’d bring her tonight since she hasn’t come with us in a while.”
“ You would think that I’d been avoiding dragging her along for a reason.”
“ Oh, alright alright. Y’might want to shit out that dick that’s stuck in your ass before tonight gets started. Just a tip.”
“I’ll try.”
“Well let’s fucking dip. I’ve been saving stomach room all night for this shit..”

We left the parking lot behind the plaza in which we would call home for the evening. It was rich in clubs, bars, women, and least importantly- music. We were regulars at each of these venues, being infamous in the plaza for all of the same reasons our names lingered in the mouths of our former peers. We had been regulars for at least four years, and for some reason unknown to both of us, our usually fickle appetites had yet to been jaded by the clubs there. Our club of preference was the most renown of all the places in the plaza. The people who attended were considerably attractive and cultured in comparison to the crowd that hung around the other places with cheap drinks and a stale fucking soundtrack that seemed to remain the same for months until the owner decided to retire it for an even older and tasteless one.

The women at our club, Suede, were well kept. Their eyes were usually thick with eyeliner, which was tactically applied, and they kept their hair trimmed and dark. When there was color in their hair, it would usually not be subtle. I’d never seen so many girls with shamelessly vibrant heads until I became a weekend regular at Suede. Many wore red lipstick to contrast with their pale skin and black outfits, and others purposely lightened them to emphasize their elaborate eye makeup. The girls were always so optimistic and so easily persuaded. As far the gentlemen, most of them were like Alexander and I; well-dressed horny assholes who were in hopes of catching a fade and some easy pussy. Some of the guys were quite questionable, being that Suede is usually the venue of preference for the interesting and fashionable crowd; many of them were gay. I’ve been hit on many a time and am often confused for a homosexual. I couldn’t count how many times I’ve brutally beat the shit out of the ones who have hit on me, and for some reason the bouncers and other forms of authority are perfectly content with our perpetual attendance to the place. Perhaps, like every other person, they feared us.

We entered effortlessly. As a result of the time, the crowd was nearly at the peak of it’s inebriation. I breathed in the air without hesitation, and knew that something was different. Alex and I went straight to the bar and after a few drinks we were ready to mingle.

[to be continued]

In seventeen years will you still be camille?

Thu, 13 Sep 2007 08:57:39 GMT

I don't think I'll ever really forget.

Sat, 04 Aug 2007 18:26:46 GMT

As of late you’ve been feeling particularly alone, but you have been forcing yourself to remain optimistic for the sake of keeping your anxiety to a bare minimum. This morning the sound of the radio woke you. You were upset at the fact that pre-recorded voices were the only thing to pull you into consciousness, rather then the resonance of an insecure lover. You shiver as you bitterly recall how she hopelessly clung to your motionless body until you would wake. She would be shivering, but you’d pull her in and remain still until you both began to perspire from the culmination of body heat. You were quite familiar with the taste of her sweat and tears as they were quite distinct; almost comforting. She was the conformation to your mornings. The start of each day’s progression wouldn’t be set unless you felt her small frame next to you, shivering. She’s long gone now, and since her departure you feel as though time is non-linear.

The taste in your mouth is stale. Did you remember to brush your teeth last night? The last you remember of your tooth brush is that one drunken night; someone was using it to scrape vomit off of the linoleum. You’re hung-over. You’re alone. Dad always taught you that if you take a shot in the morning of what had consumed YOU last night, you would be hangover-free. You reach for the liquor cabinet and prepare a few shots. Cheers, to yourself. Upon the first taste of alcohol you retch, then vomit. You stare at the remnants of last night’s dinner, scattered about your floor and begin to laugh. You laugh for a few minutes until you reach into the cabinet and kiss the bottle again. You wonder when the last time you have had contact with another female sober. Cheers. This is for you. This is for me. This is for us. This is for every other lonely, lovesick alcoholic bastard waking up to a floor full of vomit.

And it seemingly won’t get better.

Thu, 02 Aug 2007 01:57:38 GMT

I am going to die alone but it's sort of a conscious decision, not so much a shocking realization.

So tell me, why is it that the people who find me attractive expect me to be perfect, and when they find my faults or SUPPOSED faults they abandon me?

Remind me to never really put effort into anything again.
Oh, also alcoholism is a laughing matter and harsh reality
at the moment.

manny

Sun, 22 Jul 2007 23:42:22 GMT

Emotional.

Things absolutely fell apart.

I felt it in my bones as a strong premonition, before tribulations overcame us.

"No matter how close I get, I just don't feel close enough."

I clutched onto the spare cloth of his sweater and roughly pulled him in. I felt tears developing in the bottom of my throat as he willingly complied. I shivered upon the touch of his fingertips against my back; I deemed it as love. He understood. I sensed it in the way his thin arms embraced me.

"I know" his grip tightened "I know exactly what you mean."

Weeks later I was in the same position, but with a stranger. I gazed into his eyes while sunken into a deep state of inebriation and nearly retched. Emotion compelled me as I allowed him to pull me in and take advantage of my weak emotional state. This vulnerability is what ultimately set us up for failure. I once entitled myself that catalyst, as he was the conductor. I loved him so much that my actions meant nothing to me. Moments later he left the premise, and I felt completely abandoned. The irony remained in the mere notion that we'd both abandoned our relationship duties for the evening; only mine was to a higher degree.

"This stays between us, I don't want anything to happen with you two."

"There is nothing to salvage, at this point."

Those words were like the premonitory gag before a rush of vomit.

Whenever the states of things were not quite right, I dwelled on negativity. After a while, my feelings for him began to control me. I blamed an evident weight and spirit loss on the stress of losing my home, but the reality was I was worried about him. I cared for him too much. I lacked an understanding of how to please him, and how to be absolved of my actions prior to the dissolution. Words.Words.Words. They were all I had. I could only articulate the extent of how I felt, but evidently could not show it.

"Remember, not so long ago-when you told me that you just wanted to get closer to me?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The room remained silent. The only thing to provoke thought was any slight clamor.

Through the inevitable darkness, his features remained brilliantly prominent. I loved everything about him. His Hands: the explorers, the creators. The little vessels that retained a seemingly perfect perception as to how to please me and leave me with an immutable sense of placation that had never been found before. His eyes: Though they were not an extravagant feature instantaneously, the power that they preserved was indescribable. I often avoided gazing at them directly, as I knew that one look could kill me. He was so beautiful. They were sincere. They were passionate. His mouth: Soft, but so violent. Able to break me in an instant. Everything was so clear when I indulged in the opportunity to kiss him. We grew accustom to each other through these means. His arms: Long,thin, and thick with veins. I wanted to grasp onto them so badly. I would have loved nothing more then to take hold of them, and lead him into a direction in which he could understand me better. I wanted him to open up these arms, allow me to sink in, and understand the extent of my mind. I wanted him to take me seriously as a person, as see through the veil. The veil remained in tact, and these arms held the power to slowly remove it. His feet: Long, and proportionate. I always loved when we were laying down close, and I would tuck mine in his. I loved the feeling of seeing our shoes neatly placed next to one another, and laughing at the juxtaposition of my tiny feet next to his. His tall frame stood erect, brilliantly, as his feet willingly lead him in any direction. I wanted to control them. I wanted him to remain in place, but they would not comply. I did not have that power.

"I remember now."

Stale movements and foul words had been rendered new and sincere. His body was exposed in all of it's glory. There were few times in my life that the flesh of someone else would serve as a blanket to mine, and whenever he would sleep next to me bare- I would feel so privileged. I held the rosary I gave him in my right hand as he began to speak.

"It never happened. There was someone, but I didn't do anything with her. I told her I had a girlfriend. I wanted to see if you stayed, and you did."

I was overcome with emotion. He couldn't have been closer. I've never felt such a break through with another human being in my life. I began to weep, almost happy that all of the bad was seemingly behind us. I made an unconscious vow to never hurt him again. This was my fiancé. We had many years of these to come- or so I thought. I finally accomplished cementing the emotional void that I could not fulfill when I tried to hug him tightly. I was complete. I knew it was love. That moment confirmed it.

It is a moment I refuse to let go of.

Every day was filled with bitterness. I did not see him. I remained faithful. He didn't see it. I loved him. That was it.

It ended.

My choice, I attempted to repair.

But it's all gone now

and there truly is nothing left to salvage.

I'd love to let go of all of those moments, but I just can't. I am feeling exceptionally emotional as of late.

Sun, 08 Jul 2007 17:07:13 GMT

Getting drunk with my sister.her boyfriend. and his best friend.
Fun?

The only thing I remember is..
nothing.
But he is a violent person
and beat me down a lot and tried kissing me
and whenever he would kiss me
it would hurt terribly.
I didn't let it happen.

Everytime we laid down and I had my face pressed against his shirt I thought of Manny.
Everytime I called Manny he would obviously get jealous and butt hurt, and I would say
"This is what you do when you love someone."

He made my drinks too strong and sprayed febreeze in my eyes.

There's nothing really to salvage in the relationship at this point but I still want to stay faithful to say that I tried on my part.

Sat, 07 Jul 2007 17:57:12 GMT

There was something about him
so beautiful that
words just left me.
Aggression arose
deep-knee through pity
There, less of emotion
Sitting here, ogling
raw as you are
when you were outnumbered.
Pointed, said "I like that this
is not apart of you."
I wanted more to get a rise
a fall
into bed
my only escape.

Love is proclaimed
before recognized fault.
I said screaming
naked
"Just take me,
take this
as I am."
You never fully acknowledged
that you did not grow distant
as a result of what I hold
we can't
and did not stay resilient
now is never left
but to the right we can not help but progress
love fears you
so you remain wordless.

You're the trigger
to a
feeling
in my stomach
That overtakes me
consumes me
with such an indescribable
yet distinct
sickness

Desire is what compels me
to wrap my fingers
around a tiny sheet of skin
protecting what supports
and keeps
what crushes me
level.

my grip tightens
as I feel structure collapsing
the palette of your complexion
reverts to that of a sunset
Breathless, I cried out
"What is this, that is so glorious!?"
Your eyes rolled back
Asphyxiation
Ecstasy
as I repeated loudly to myself
"This feeling
This feeling!!"
A large thud arose
your thin frame dropped.
I asked how you liked the recognition
of pestilence
no answer
as you descended.
There is no way around this.

I hate you.

Ro's 18th bday.

Mon, 02 Jul 2007 03:19:37 GMT

The most terrible feeling is realizing that you have a dependency on someone in which you no longer desire.

I’m not quite sure what this is, or what that was-but this is why I’ve always had the strong inclination to jump at any opportunity to avoid defining the bond between another person and I as “love”. They say that the best things come to you when you are not looking, but it serves as a great excuse to leave because you had no initial desire to pursue that person in the first place…

Upset, I grabbed for the can and chugged vigorously until I was on the verge of vomiting. Manny had left the car minutes before to vomit, himself. I resisted worry and shamelessly sunk into a seemingly different state of inebriation. I’d never felt quite so drunk, so quickly. I had a terrible feeling regarding the night. It was a friend’s eighteenth birthday party, so she threw a concert for herself. It was a strange concept, but made sense nonetheless. I took the day off so I could go support Manny and his band mates. That day he seemed disconnected. I felt nothing towards and from him. I was, for the first time in months, sickeningly alone. He refused to make eye contact with me, and for once I could count the kisses we shared that day on one hand. I didn’t understand.

The call was made, and it was known that Manny’s band was up. We all headed towards the church, got our wristbands, and went inside. Rap blared throughout the venue, which already was full of familiar faces. As Manny went to go set up, I ran into Pri, Laura and Herman. Herman Knew immediately that I was drunk and sort of catered to my instable state. I continued to run into people. I felt exposed, almost naked. I then realized the awkwardness of the situation when I saw jandro, Daniel, Adrian and Joey parading the premise. I suppose it says a lot about my character knowing that a handful of ex’s being at every place I go is ensued. Herman held onto me tightly, as I kept staggering. I clung onto Pri and Laura for comfort. They all had good hearts. From the corner of my eye, I saw a tan, somewhat thick individual who was striped clad.
“Stephanie.”

It was Daniel. There was a small female next to him looking somewhat distraught. Her hair was blonde and her body, filled with tattoos. She was a pretty little number.

“Hey, it’s been forever.”
“I know, how are you.”
“Ah-out of it.”
“ I know, I can smell. Pretty much everyone can.”
“It’s weird, I have like a million ex boyfriends. Haha, counting you.”
His female counterpart seemed to have gotten upset. He whispered in my ear
“Hey, this is my ex- we barely broke up. I’m trying to work things out-let’s not talk about this stuff in front of her,okay?”

I nodded, embarrassed, and hugged him tightly. Like mostly every other guy in the room that things had not worked out with, my feelings lingered. I remained in place.

I felt a pull on my hand and was met by the image of Rogelio. I’d met him a few times before and always felt constricted by the fact that he was an acquaintance of Manny’s and that he had a girl himself. He was attractive, nonetheless.
“Why do you look so sad?”
“ Manny is treating me like shit.”
“ Why?”
“ I don’t know- he’s ignoring me.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, hey are you faded?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go somewhere.”
“You are too.”
“I know.”

We walked hand-in-hand to a place more remote. We stumbled past a long white hallway and reached an alley. He held me from the waist, just as Herman and Daniel did. I looked into the sentiment with very little discretion. Everyone knew Manny and I were engaged, but chose to disregard this.

“How are you feeling?”
“Fine, I’m sorry. I know you really feel like shit.”
“Yeah, it’s okay.”
“If you were my girl, fuck. I would never treat you like this. You’re too cute for many.”
“Yeah?”

I contemplated the notion for a second and realized my attraction for him had waned. His clothes grew baggy, hair short, and had annoying tendencies to match.

“You know, you’re so cute.”
“Thanks, you are too.”
“I want to kiss you right now, but that’s so fucked up. You’re his girl and I respect that.”
“I know, I know.”

A moment of silence.

Within seconds we were all over each other. It doesn’t always feel good to get what you want. I’m sure people saw us. I had no remorse. No guilt. It was difficult and awkward kissing him with his lip rings. I recalled all those drunken nights in Tj where Jandro and I would maliciously go at it, kissing each other until our lips bled. His snake bites always put me in a losing position. It was a funny memory to recall because I’d seen Jandro walking around from the corner of my eye setting up for his band, “Bring upon the Plagues”when Rogelio and I returned inside the venue. I caught him looking at me several times, but never a hello. Their drummer passed by, and though things between us were awkward I greeted him shamelessly. He retreated to a corner in which Jandro, Adrian, and he were sitting in. I looked away for a split second when If elt a rough nudge.

“To cool to say hi?”

It was Adrian. I couldn’t believe it. Back when Jandro and I were dating all he could do for me was bitterly enter and leave without a single “hello”. Adrian and I’s little “affair” ended on a bad note, as I jumped to leave him when Hector came around.

“No, No Hi.”

We hugged. He felt as good as he looked.

“God, it’s been forever. What have you been up to, Adrian?”
“Too much to say.”
“Oh, come on I have time.”
“No, it’s too much. Believe me.”
“Well, to start- I see you have more tattoos.”

He smiled and rubbed my arm.

“ I see you do too.”
“Ah, yes. Yes.”
“Well, I got to go.”
“Alright, see you.”

How pathetic. He was just as drunk as I was. I returned to the corner where Pri, Laura, and Herman were and remained there for a while. We danced, indulged, and just had a good time. Manny was still nowhere in sight. I decided to search for him again but on the way I ran into Rogelio. Within seconds I was against the wall as we went at it again. Seconds later Manny was in sight. He didn’t acknowledge me any more then a slight pat on the head. He was too fucked up to know how to act.

I felt so cold. Tonight was supposed to be our night, but I spent it without him and all of the congratulations regarding the news of our engagement had been followed by blank stares, raised eyebrows, and a “Where’s Manny?”.

I couldn’t fucking take it. I don’t even know how many times I walked away form him.
It felt like I was sucked dry of emotion. I lingered outside with a few others when I’d learned he just left.

I felt even more abandoned and could not help but weep. Everyone informed me that night of how they disapproved of Manny’s behavior and retained great sympathy for me. I cried on Pri’s shoulder and Daniel came with open arms; I saw sadness in his eyes.

“You’ll be okay, ma. I know you- You’re strong! You look so fly tonight, you can get any guy here.”

I continued weeping. He embraced me once more.

“I’ll take you home, alright.”

Manny appeared. We left for some privacy.

“Fuck, calm down Stephanie. You’re such drama. No one is perfect- Honestly.”

I remained quiet.

“Look, I’m too fucked up to know what’s going on. Bear with me- look Miguel and Karen are going through the same shit because he’s just as fucked up as I am and she’s just as sober and pissed as you.”

I looked across the benches to see Manny’s bandmate and girlfriend in the same position. I saw a lot of myself in her and began to cry harder.

“I’m not happy.”
I repeated this several times. He remained in place. I threw my ring at him and left.
“It’s over.”

He begged, somewhat. But couldn’t calm me. “ fuck you, FUCK YOU FUCK YOU”

Pri apologized several times.
Everyone, did.

“It’s not your fault.” I told them.

It was interesting seeing everyone that night.

“You’ve really changed”

Daniel said when we were finally alone. I wanted to kiss him before I got out of the car, but refrained. I sighed, then, silence.

My first near death experience?

Tue, 26 Jun 2007 22:12:05 GMT

“I don’t want to keep him away from you.”
She mumbled softly. I scanned the vicinity and silently proclaimed it safe. Lili had finished changing. She always held me back, but that night in particular it bothered me more then usual. We were seconds away from the other side of the border, my fiancé, and the alcohol. I had a strong premonition regarding the evening, but shrugged it off as nothing more then a small bout of paranoia. We paced across the street and were met by the sight of Manny and his friend Tommy. He wrapped his arms around me briefly and donated a small kiss. A few greetings were made, and we were off.

Initially, Lili and Tommy remained a few paces ahead of us, but as we headed out of the bridge they fell behind. This was the first time we’d all been to Tj since Manny and I announced the fact that we were together to Lili. Because of Lili’s initial pursuit of Manny, she was upset, but now she seemed supportive and almost enthusiastic towards the relationship. I look at Manny briefly to assure myself of his existence. Never had I felt secure at someone else’s disposal. His face wasn’t conventionally handsome, but there was something about him that really got to me. I smiled and situated my attention to the surroundings when I noticed two cholos standing idly on the side of the bridge. I knew immediately that their intentions weren’t merely to continue loitering. I felt our impending danger at my finger tips; my heart was thrown out of its consistency.

“Hey, you guys need anything?” One of them inquired with a tone so harsh that I nearly retched upon the first resonance of his voice.

We remained quiet.

“ You know, anything like ecstasy, coke, I mean we got it…”
“No, we don’t need anything.” Manny continued calmly, keeping a firm tone.
“What are you guys looking for? Beer? I mean we can show you to a few bars.” The cholo’s voice lost all of its charismatic qualities and seemed to have reverted to a more desperate and disgruntled tenor. I felt the fear growing inside of me; an anxiety attack was ensued.
“No, man. We’re just looking for some beer. We got some friends waiting for us-we’re going over there.”
I heard the halting of footsteps. My head shot back and was met by the image of one of the cholos grabbing Tommy by the neck, dragging him away.
“You aint going anywhere MOTHERFUCKER!”

I felt every organ drop and every orifice moisten. Manny was separated from Lili and I, and we watched from a short distance. We met glances, laced fingers, and trembled in unison as we began to picture future headlines, textured coffins, and salvation. Tommy put upa fight for his belongings, despite constant threats, while Manny remained well-composed. He handed over his things without hesitation, in order to enture the safety of Lili and I.

I anticipated his death. The scenario willingly repeated itself in my head like a broken record. I imagined gunshots, thuds on the pavement, and silence. A silence so sickening rang in my ears, nearly forcing me to vomit. There I was watching someone I cared about so deeply, seconds away from becoming harmed. I couldn’t handle it. Not many people have been put in such a situation, but when it comes you feel so powerless. I wished I had strength, I wish I hadn’t backed away so cowardly. I couldn’t produce anything at that point. I was rendered unable to be lachrymose as a result of immense fear.

“Alright, just- fucking give us your cellphones. Money. Everything.”

“We don’t fucking have anything.”

“Alright! if we fucking search you, and we find something..”

I reached into my coat pocket and just as I began to hand it to the fucking cholo I noticed the gleam in his eyes had reverted to one invoked by fear. “Just-Just be cool. Take it back and.. pretend…”
In an instant the police came and threw them against the wall. The female of the group began punching them repeatedly. We backed away and left in a huff. In my heart I realized the core of fear. We are all indeed humans, and though we may appear to be conductors, many are nothing more then cowards. Those men were nothing, but the situation was not. I couldn’t imagine how emotionally distraught I would have been if I saw Manny and Tommy die a brutal and unexpected death right in front of me.

The only way I’d been forced to deal with death was form the word of another regarding a distant acquaintance that died in relative isolation.

Lili and I held onto eachother tightly as we all paced out of the vicinity. We remained in place as many and tommy went off to go retrieve what was stolen. We all drank a few beers, and managed to squeeze a bit of fun out of the evening.

We returned t America shortly after and managed to get a taxi for thirteen dollars. I slept comfortably in Mannys arms until I was rudely awoken to the sight of his mother.

“Stephanie- your dad is here.”
I heard my father’s voice, shouting threats from the other side of the wall. She helped me dress shortly before I was forced out.

My father expressed immense shame and disgust. I didn’t want to hear it. I was left unsettled. I wasn’t sure If I was allowed to see manny again.

I’m getting to fucking unstable for these near-death experiences.

Tue, 26 Jun 2007 21:49:08 GMT

My life has been insane. I would narrate it using a lot of abstracts, but I really don’t feel like confusing anyone-or myself, for that matter. I met a boy. His name is Manny. I’ve been spending this past month with him. I think this is it. No, I’m pretty sure this is it. He proposed to me sometime last week, or maybe before that. I’m not sure. We’re getting married on my Birthday. I’m not really doing anything with my life. My heart is beating irregularly because I had three cups of tea for breakfast. I feel terribly alone at night, but that’s okay. I’m working full time now. Things with my parents aren’t working out. I didn’t come home the other night-it was sort of ridiculous. I don’t have a cellphone anymore. I’ve been sober for two days. I’m taking the year off from school and saving up to move out. I want to live with Amanda still because I love her and all of that, but I don’t know how she’s going to feel about my fiancé. 1-619-271-4626, Call me Amanda!

Life is-going to be interesting.

Also, my myspace is gone.

.

Fri, 22 Jun 2007 20:59:48 GMT

The switch to my mind was broken. It had found a proper medium in which every feeling was intensified, as opposed to the extreme in which appetites are jaded and sensations are anesthetized. The tab was halfway and the room was dark. My fingers laced tightly around a wine glass that’s condensation overpowered my grasp. It fell to the floor with a subtle thud. The carpet remained clean, as the wine had slipped into my system moments before.

Tomorrow we forget

Soulless beings surrounded me. Though their faces were clearly defined I couldn’t quite grasp a hold of the aesthetic aspect of their existence. They were sucked dry long ago within their own stories under their own circumstances that no longer mattered as they had been rendered gutless robots, their bodies abused, and their frames were simply vessels. That’s all they were now, mindless vessels. Their frames were draped with somewhat expensive clothing, which was a paradox to the decrepit environment that surrounded us. I drowned in every word spoken. A phone call was made, and arrangement set, and before we knew it our bodies swayed in a direction that would ultimately break us all apart.

Because now has never left

We were then at a plausible destination. Listless introductions were made as we became settled. No one hard particularly caught my eye that night, as I chose to be an obedient friend clinging to that one chance at integral merit. My mind still wandered and my limbs were roaming freely. I watched, amused at her supposed attempt at a pursuit. Her frame was overbearing, not only from her obviously large stature, but from her prominently trivial personality. Her jaw was enlarged, mouth small, and eyes so sickeningly vast that one glance would leave you unsettled.

Please dismantle all these phantom limbs
It's the evidence of humans as ornaments

“You’re Stephanie.” he assured me. I blinked in an attempt to recapture my sanity, and through a thick haze I returned a glance of bemusement at him. I wasn’t as sure as to whom I was, or what name was pinned onto me. I heard the rapidness of his heartbeat and between my fingertips, and felt the warmth of his soul. “Yeah, I am. Have we met before?” He looked away and nodded. I vaguely recalled our last encounter. My heart and lungs were vibrant back then. I was crying, he stood there idle with another friend simply observing. I remember his face being less broken and metal clad. He was an intimidating figure. I left shortly after. “Yeah, I remember you-you’re Manny. See I knew exactly who you were when Lili told me about you.” She shot a threatening glance at me. I sighed and backed away. I apologized for easing in on her self-proclaimed territory.

Everyone stabs all the time
Persuasion deflowers your sympathy
Everybody has chosen to help the shovels that bury me

I assumed the role of an obligatory best friend. I was forced to mediate and allow the state of things to progress like the spineless catalyst that I was. I hated being forced to remain in a consistent state of ennui for the sake of someone else’s happiness. The next day we settled on the top of a hill. Human remains were scattered about and the air was thick with rotting flesh. We all sat in a circle, neck high in inebriation. I asked if he would commit to her. “Yes”. They united through means of a disgusting kiss; the second most promiscuous of orifices, connecting as though they had actually meant something to one another. I retched, backed away, and didn’t quit reach REM that night.

Cascading kisses stalactite stems
They went and built a capsule in the cyanide pond
Where the holiest of water would have you to drown

Tomorrow we forget

The next day we were without her. I kept a distance, but eventually became sucked in. I didn’t think anything of the company until I succumbed to thought. It was suggested that feeling had developed. Was I still human? What was this attachment? What was this emotion? I felt a pull on every limb “Wait” They all suggested through sewn mouths. “ Just wait,please.”

Bottomless pit of empty names
Incarcerated habits poured from the palms
Severing the breast
Dancing on his arms

[To be continued].

Sun, 17 Jun 2007 07:28:05 GMT

One week I received a family, a seemingly sincere boyfriend, and a potential diploma.
The next week I feel as though I am alone again, lost my best friend, gained a diploma but had a terrible ceremony, and cannot cease to doubt the extent of my partner’s earnestness

I met Manny through odd circumstances. His pursuit of my best friend was obvious, but within days his newfound intent was clear and any word referencing to his former appeal in Lili was regarded as taboo. I wasn’t planning on consummating anything with him, as I was deeply engaged in a relationship of my own, but with a blank mind and listless enthusiasm I went for it. I don’t enjoy getting attached to people. When I look at him I see vulnerability and I can’t help but retch. The day we began going out I left him briefly, and though inebriated he seemed hurt. Since then I learned that I have him at my disposal, which is frightening.

Because of Manny, I have realized that I lack morals. I have not done anything to him, but I fear that like every other boyfriend I have, I will shamelessly pursue other boys and keep multiple secret lives. I have done this without hesitation many-a-time, and I feel it easing its way into my objective with this relationship. I’m scared. I don’t want to become attached to him because I feel as though the moment I give in, the advantage will be his and every lack of acknowledgment will leave me raw. I want to run far, far away. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to become hurt.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into.

God.

[Edit]
Today is the twenty second of June, 2007. I have changed since then, though little time has passed, and realize that commitment comes easily. I love him-there is no hesitation. I really do love him.

STEPHANIE AND HER BOY TROUBLES.

Wed, 06 Jun 2007 19:36:53 GMT

How much satisfaction would you gain if I divulged the verity of how you still haunt me?
Would it put a smile on your face to know that you have been slowly picking away at my soul? Would you progress as usual if for a second, you saw vibrant flashes of what we once had before you touch the tips of a novelty? I’m shaking.

Two months ago I dragged myself across the room, compelled by pure spirit, and willingly introduced myself despite my immutable introversion. You smiled, pulled my close to you and for the first time we kissed. I didn’t feel threatened despite the fact that we were temperate strangers and I had not yet quite left the ground. Little did I know that you had a girlfriend sitting at home, her insides dissipating at a rapid rate, and long hair cascading over pajamas that you gave her for your second Valentine’s day together. You grasped my face lovingly and pulled it into your chest as we danced, synchronized. “This marriage is over” I whimpered as I pulled away. I stumbled across the club and found my way to the stairs. Just as I was on my way down I felt someone tightly grasp my hand. “This marriage is forever” you assured me.

One month ago today we tore your room apart as you shamelessly gazed at your every move. I motioned you away from the mirror with my hand, but you remained. Your pupils were large from the ecstasy you just consumed and within moments your motives were clear and the level of our relationship had ripened. You smiled, enlightened by how inexperienced I was, claiming that your appetite for your supposed “ex” girlfriend had been jaded because she was limp after all those times you’d torn her apart. I was in a lot of pain, but despite this you did not stop. I heard knocking on the door. I got up to answer, but you quickly pulled me away excusing it as nothing more then his displeased neighbor. “We’re just being too loud” he panted “we’re just too crazy for these motherfuckers, baby.”

I peaked out of the window to see a petite figure with a magnitude of long, mahogany hair. Her pale face was stained with tears. I recognized her from a picture I came across while perusing the bottom off your bed. I grabbed my things and left.

One week ago today I received a phone call from a stranger.
“Stephanie.”
“Yes?”
“I’m so sorry, I hate to be the one to tell you this…”
“What, who is this?”
“Francisco, he has a girlfriend.”
“What!?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“WHO THE FUCK IS THIS!?”
[click].

Shortly after I took the bus to seaport village alone. I could hear Morrissey, slightly. A mass of feminine hipsters and their overweight girlfriends passed condescendingly as I remained alone. Richard joined me soon after. We laid in the grass as he attempted to describe the extent of his pain and the emotional void left when his father abandoned him. “You’re holding on too much. It’s a painful thing, Richard, but we all have our demons. You can’t question why he decided to leave too much. The unknown is far more vast then obvious conclusions”. He overlooked my advice and began to weep. I didn’t want to deal with this. My immediate thought was that Richard was a product of an affair, and being that his father is a politician; once he learned of Richard’s existence he fled to avoid harming his reputation. He pulled me into a grasp and began to tear away at my face viciously. I could taste the salt of his tears. My feelings and attraction towards him did not exceed platonic. I was disgusted, so I fled immediately. Later that night I crashed at Lili’s house.

Arturo picked us up and we met up with a few others. I wanted to go home.
He refused to drop me off and parked his car.
“Stephanie, I still like you.”
“Oh jesus fucking Christ.”
“I want to start something with you again.”
Not this. Not now. I have someone else in mind. Leave me be. He pulled me into face, just liked Richard had done a few hours ago and attempted to kiss me. I couldn’t have it. I slammed the door and paced to my house in long strides. I was no one’s toy, and evidently I was the only person aware of that.

I am emotionally retarded.

Francisco,

May his decrepit soul remain restless.

Mamilia.

Thu, 31 May 2007 16:47:56 GMT

[~=flashback.]

Last night I drank quite a bit of wine. I claimed to have quit these dirty habits many weeks ago, but still succumb to my cravings and overall weakness in secrecy. Usually I space out my drug and alcohol usage strategically, but lately all of these “occasional indulgences” are becoming quite consistent and consecutive within the week. Monday was spent with Thalia,Jess,Amanda, and Bella. We ate barbeque and drank a grip of beer and when pleasantly drunk, went for a swim. Tuesday, upset and terribly hung-over, I received a phone call from Eddie [The guitar-clad hero that sobered Brandon and I up at the park] and got an invite to go smoke with him. Lili and I went and got ridiculously high. I was at the peak of all of it when I was forced to go home and played it off terribly. And as for yesterday, I had a couple of glasses too many.

Brandon came over for a while; I felt strangely attracted to him. I noticed that his magnetism towards Lili had waned, and his composure regarding her was simply platonic. He didn’t seem to mind so much being stuck next to me, or listening to me ramble while as before he’d jump at any opportunity to set us apart and cling to her. Lili was off mixing more wine while we were happily conversing. I was quite drunk and was acting silly, but he seemed completely understanding of it and even played along; Lili just seemed annoyed. Like always, she grew bored with the situation and couldn’t decide where to go. She took my phone, got in contact with her boyfriend, and completely ditched us the moment he became available. She had no shame in asking her to take Brandon to see him, despite her knowledge of how he once felt for her, and left in quite an insensate huff. Any other time I simply couldn’t stand just hanging out with Brandon, but for once it seemed as though he wasn’t so quick to rid of me.

“I want to know about your life.”
“My life?”
“Yes, yes Mr. Rios. You’re so damn mysterious. I don’t know anything about you.”
“What?”
“You’re such a private person.”
“Oh, well it’s how I have to be.”
“Why is that?”
“It’s just that my entire life, I’ve never had anyone to open up with.”
“That’s so sad.”
“I tried, but it’s just so hard for me.”
“Do you feel isolated from your family?”
“What?”
“Do you feel alone sometimes…”
“Yes.”
“It makes sense sometimes..how alone you get.”

We returned to the park where we lost ourselves. It was sort of uplifting that Brandon would crack the occasional joke regarding how shitfaced he got. We poked fun at each other and led the conversation in a more formal and serious direction. We placed ourselves on the jungle gym and took turns in conversing. I would direct, then him. He was a good listener and for the first time, he really opened up to me. We shared thoughts, theories, feelings, and ideas. By the end of the night there was no longer an awkward silence.

“Remember that night we all went to Tj..”
“What?”
“Yeah, it was me you Lili John and Robert.”
“Oh yeah, what about it?”
“That was one of the worst nights of my life.”
“Well yeah, Stephanie, I mean you got kicked out of your house..”
“Not only that, there was a specific point where I really felt my downfall.”
“What?”
“Well, not only did I feel shitty because everyone tried to pawn me off on fucking Robert, it pissed me off to see how you keep pursuing Lili despite her obvious interest in John. You kept trying and trying and she knew how I felt about you and YOU knew how I felt about you, it was all so sickening.”
“Oh god. I didn’t know you felt that way. Honestly, I don’t really remember what I was doing- or much about that night because I was really drunk most of it.”
“That’s no excuse. Everything is more vivid when you’re on something. Some things are more tolerable, more acceptable, but nothing ever becomes a blur despite how much you’ve drank or how much you’ve smoked or how many slips you’ve sucked on.”
“I don’t really agree with that.”
“Well, that’s not the point.”
“What were you saying, though, what did you really hate about the night?”
“There was a point in the Hotel room where everyone was coupled off, and it was just me and Robert in the bed. I remember just feeling incredibly distraught. It was like retrograding back to this dark place that I don’t visit often, but every time I reach it I crack upon arrival. I wasn’t wearing much and he was half naked, and I just remember this warmth between us. It usually connects people, but it seemed more like a mechanism of suffocation. I just buried my head in this barrier of pillows and blankets between as started crying. I’d never felt so alone in my life.”

My tone of voice became weak as my eyes began to water. Brandon seemed worried. His eyebrows connected as his large, hazel eyes began to droop. He pouted his lips, which immediately emphasized the fullness of them. The dim streetlights reflected off of each newly pierced stud. He scooted closer. He was like a sponge that had quickly absorbed all of my sadness, and willingly took it in the depth of his pours. Rarely did I have anyone that would empathize with me, but Brandon honestly began to retain this immutable sadness after I finished speaking. I’m not quite sure what the point of him approaching me was, but he seemed ready to grab me for comfort the minute I lost my composure.

I recalled a moment from that god awful night in TJ I’d mentioned previously.

~
“I’m not coming home.”
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming home, Stephanie?”
“It’s too late, I made a mistake. I’m scared.”
“YOU BETTER GET YOUR STUPID ASS HOME RIGHT NOW STEPHANIE!”
“I can’t! I can’t. I can’t.”
“Well, you have two weeks. You’re out of this house.” [click]
I started to weep uncontrollably. I had Robert’s sweater draped around me, but despite that I felt incredibly cold. As the new hit me Arturo and his girlfriend Stephanie[ironic?] arrived. Lili was in shock, as was I, when he greeted us as though nothing had ever happened. John and Robert became defensive while Brandon ran after me once I could no long take the entire situation. “Stephanie! Stephanie!” he called after me. He attempted to set me down but I kept running until finally I collapsed and began crying harder. “No-no, Stephanie-Stop. Don’t cry. IT’s okay, I’m here. IT’s okay!” He pulled me off of the floor and grabbed me tightly. My sobs intensified as his grip matched. I smeared makeup all over his shirt and kept apologizing but he would refuse to allow me to feel guilty. I felt privileged because he was the only one who went after me. IT was all so sad.
“At least you know how much I care about you, Stephanie.”

From the distance I saw the awkwardness of the situation between Lili- Arturo’s long-time unrequited love, Stephanie- His new girlfriend that while he was once sleeping with, called out Lili’s name and later divulged his undying love towards Lili to her, and Arturo- the boy who had successfully fucked Lili and her boyfriend over and the boy who potentially ruined our friendship when he attempted to pursue me behind her back. He still had a painting of mine a long time ago that I left in the back of his car in a feverish panic. Robert, John, and Brandon were fully aware of this because I’d mentioned it earlier in the night. John and Robert joined Brandon and I, but Lili remained oblivious to our whereabouts because she was caught up in the excitement of meeting the girl whose life was completely turned sour because of her boyfriend’s incessant obsession with Lili.
“Do you want us to fuck him up, Stephanie?”
“Why? There’s no point. We didn’t even have a bad breakup. I don’t care about Arturo.”
“Come on, we’ll fuck him up for you!”
“Fine,fine sure.”
Brandon made sure I was alright before he left. I saw them approach Arturo, and then Robert began to scream. Threats were heard and suddenly Arturo began to run. His girlfriend fled faithfully behind him; I was disgusted. It was the most pathetic display I’d seen in my seventeen years of life.

~
All of this was overlooked. I suggested Brandon and I went to the car, but after racing around the park one last time. We always had fun play fighting and chasing each other, but he’d usually succumb to what we like to say “fattyattacks.” We raced to a streetlight and completely ate shit. We laughed at each other through lost breath and ended the night with a nice, lengthy hug.

I still feel as though I’ll never truly know him.

Tue, 29 May 2007 07:23:44 GMT

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: Noel
Date: May 28, 2007 11:58 PM

honestly, ifeel he'll that'll be the story of his life
porkys...
i feel bad too, cause i should figured this out and warned you, if he would do this to the band, then why wouldnt he do it in other parts of his life
im sorry i didnt mention this to you
but i was going through the same shit i think with him
but im happy i can help
i really wish i could dosomething to help you more
hes spineless and i feel dumb ever knowing him
what aa waste, what a fucking waste
i just hope you can get over him, i know you gave him alot, but theres nothing to miss about him, theres no reason to be sad for his loss, just the anger for his stupidity is all that dwindles in your memories,
cut them and be done with it, you made a mistake and itll never happen again, life lesson
be stronger now and look to a future without him
one that should be happier in my opinion

Greatest entry yet pt 2. The end of Stephanie and Francisco

Sat, 26 May 2007 22:17:22 GMT

A cluster of children were at my feet. I looked at them helplessly as they pulled me down. They each had a go at smearing paint on my face and I made no effort to shield their attacks. The other teachers attempted to help me but the children resisted. It was all fine, I didn't really care if my face and clothes were defiled with paint. It was the same to me. I was the same sore-bellied little human being regardless of what palette draped me.
"We're so sorry, Stephanie. Usually they don't get like this."
"It's okay, it's fine."
"No, really-"
"I said it's alright Ms. Deleon, it's fine."
"Okay, well you can go to the bathroom if you'd like."
"I'm on my way there."

I made my way through the little elaborate cage that separated the children from the outside. They often ran up to it in a craze, scuttling to break it apart before a teacher's attention was caught. A few of the students had perfected the process, though, after a while they grew number and disinterested with the thought of escape. Even at a young age we become dissatisfied with what we have at our disposal; it was a vile thought. I sighed and clutched onto my stomach. It was rotting away with anxiety as per usual, but aside from that I authentically felt nauseated. Perhaps I caught something from one of the kids, or maybe I was going insane. I made a run for the bathroom but before I could touch the door I knelt over to vomit. I gagged violently at first, then as nothing came out these gags would become softer but somehow more sickening. Stomach acid was the only thing to come out, as I hadn't eaten in days. I picked at the pieces of stomach bile with the tips of my toes.

As I was cleaning myself up the phone rang. I let it drag on for a couple of minutes but later succumbed to the imprisonment of compulsion.
"Yeah."
"Hey."
"FRANCISCO! ARE YOU OKAY!?"
"I'm fine. Why the fuck wouldn't I be okay?"
"THE OTHER NIGHT, I WAS SO WORRIED!"
"Why? Don't be fucking worried."
"Because of what happened! I thought they hurt you!"
"Who?"
"Those people outside of your house!"
"Oh, ha. Hahahha."
"What?"
"Yeah, I was fucking high and tripping out on some shit. They turned out to be my friend to pick me up for some more parties we were going to."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No."
"I slept with the phone next to me incase you called. Fuck, I didn't even sleep."
"Well that's night my fault. That's your shit."
"Alright."
"Hey, I'm on my way to pick you up from the preschool."
"Yeah?"
"I guess."
"Alright,fuck- see you then."

The inconsistency of his actions just about killed me upon recognition. I couldn't stand how he acted sometimes which ultimately made me question the intensity of my attraction towards him. I am a needy person by nature, and when I am not given loving sentiments in large quantities I begin to panic. He'd always come running to me when I looked away. It reminded me of the children who in time grew tired of the thought of freedom away from that fence. Anxiety built again as the nausea returned. I realized the stupidity of my actions. Lili and Brandon were right. I couldn't believe that I'd willingly given him my heart and that I divulged the extent of my vulnerability on many accounts. I couldn't believe that slept with him. I couldn't believe I blew off Jandro, an actual boyfriend of validity and merit, all Francisco. I've lost sleep and sanity over him time and time again and he didn't even want a relationship after all of this. I was a toy. I was his toy. He kept me around to spring at his every whim to fulfill an emotional or sexual void and simply tossed me aside whenever I would have the opportunity to open my mouth. Something that really got to me is how he never referred to sex as "fucking". I would throw the term around, but despite this he would always say "making love". Whether he wanted to portray himself as somewhat romanticized, or simply he was trying to refrain from offending me, the terminology softened me nonetheless.

Once when we were "making love" his tone of voice changed from harsh to affectionate when he proclaimed that he "loved me". It halted the process and entirely killed the mood for me. "Do you love me?" I asked timidly. He stopped all movement as his expression sunk. "No,no" he sighed while easing towards my neck. "I really like you." He was either caught in the heat of the moment, or still considerably drunk; validity was not an option. He began kissing my neck softly as he slipped in again. "Do you love me?" I whimpered. He agreed through long, timed out pants. "Yeah I do. Yes, yes I love you." Long after the question was asked he would groan, still agreeing to what was initially posed.

"What the fuck you waiting for?"

I looked back to see Francisco had pulled up. "Oh, hey I was day-dreaming.Sorry."
"About what, my amazing godlike cock."
"Ha.Ha"
"Get in."
I stumbled into his car and slammed the door carelessly. He made no effort to kiss me or acknowledge how happy he was to have me as his company. He shrugged his shoulders and said hello quite casually.

[Not to touch the earth
Not to see the sun
Nothing left to do, but
Run, run, run
Let's run
Let's run]

[Run with me.Run with me]

We escaped to his room. It wasn't as loving as I remember it to be, much like it's main occupant. He put in a movie and plopped onto his bed. I crossed my arms and sat uncomfortably as I observed him acting completely ignorant of my existence. It was all building up. Images would not stop flashing before me. All of those moments we shared, intimate and casual, simply tore me apart. I grabbed for my things and stood up.
"I'm leaving."
"Why?"
"I don't want to be here with you."
"Fine."
"I don't want you to ever call me again."

His eyebrows pressed together tightly. His eyes, though large and expressive, lacked any distinct qualities that made them particularly interesting and despite this, they stood out brilliantly. His face was extravagantly fierce when upset. I'd never seen him with such emotion. I became slightly worried and began to back into the door.

"Yeah?Yeah?That's what you want, huh? You got it baby"

At that moment I realized the prominence of his Spanish accent and smiled. It ultimately romanticized everything ever said, which most likely explained a large portion of how softened his words were to me. Little details in things he said were emphasized because of it, so much so that various words really got to me and some simply seemed silly. The way he timed out the "s" whenever he'd say pleasure was arousing in both a sexual and affectionate way; regardless it was an efficient emotion provoker. "It is what it is, baby. Two people coming together who care very much and would nothing more then to plea-s-ure each other." I'd close my eyes while smiling. "And that's all I ever want to do for you. Make you happy, make you complete, keep you at ease, and pleasured."
We would then embrace tightly.

[The mansion is warm, at the top of the hill
Rich are the rooms and the comforts there
Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs
And you won't know a thing till you get inside]

I shook off the memory and weakly recoiled back to our argument.

"I won't ever fucking call you."

He clenched his fist and stood up. He paced right past me then slammed the bathroom door. He didn't even stop to question as to why I was making such a drastic decision out of seemingly nowhere. I presumed he was completely aware of how he was acting and knew exactly what he was doing to me, but acted completely oblivious. He knew why I was doing this, he knew exactly why. He expected me to stand there and take all of the shit he gave me and was shocked when the threat of my departure came. I knocked on the door, pulled him out of the bathroom, and returned him to the bed.
"Wait, alright. I'm not leaving yet."

"Yeah, let's fucking talk about this."
"Francisco, I mean-fuck I don't know where to start.."
"Just say it."
"I can't deal with your shit anymore!"
"Well, that's your problem. You know how I am Stephanie, you know how I fucking am! I told you that I was a fucking dick and a fucking beast. I told you all of this so you should know!"
"Well, it doesn't make it okay. There's always some good in faults, but these are just too much. You're so fucking selfish! You only care about yourself. Look I wanted something with you!"
"And I wanted something with you at first too- I thought you were different."
"What?"
"Well, I thought it was different. I thought I was ready for a relationship but I'm not. I know that I'm going to fuck it up somehow because that's how I am and I don't want to hurt you!"
"So, fuck! Knowing that this was going nowhere, you still went along with-"
"With what?"
"You know.."
"Making love?"
"Yeah!"
"And do you feel used?"
"Yes!"
"Fuck, why the fuck are you going to be that way Stephanie? IT takes two. It was both of us who did that and we both wanted it so don't think of it that way."
"Well! I don't do that with just anyone, y'know and just the fact that it happened MUST mean something!"
"I don't either? What? You think I fucking just go and randomly fuck chicks!? NO! We had a bond, there was something there I felt connected to you."
"Well, how would you hurt me, huh? By fucking around?"
"You mean with other girls?"
"Yes!"
"FUCK other girls, I don't need anyone else. I don't fucking need anyone. I fucking hate other girls.."
"Yet, you don't want me."
"I said I wanted to be with you Stephanie! I said it many times. Many many many times! I just don't want to hurt you. I don't fucking deserve you. You treat me so beautifully even though I'm a fucking dick and I just love everything about you. I love your style, I love how beautiful you treat me, and I love your pretty face. You're too much."

I began to weep. I never thought it would come to this. All of those moments of false roughness and negligence were gone in an instant. He reached for my shoulders and gripped them tightly.

"No! Stephanie, look DO NOT even cry over me."

More crying.

"Stop, look it's not fucking worth it! Seriously just stop it."

"Yeah, you're right. Fuck it."

I composed myself, grabbed my things, and left. I made a run for an approaching bus and didn't look back. On the trip there I composed a note:

I was thinking the other day, shortly after our minor "dispute" and came to various realizations. I want nothing to do with you,Francisco, and I don't give a FUCK if you do or don't understand why. At first I had hope, but no- FUCK it and FUCK you if you don't want a relationship or an entirely platonic friendship then basically what you are asking for is to either fuck around, or to have the benefits of being in a relationship without obligation or solid commitment. You can't do that shit.

I've said it before- I have put up with a lot of your bullshit and I'M SICK of it.

I'm not even sure why I was so goddamn into you- OH YEAH! The way you look. That's the reason I was able to distinguish you form a crowd and that's what initially and ultimately held my interest. Other then your looks, you have nothing. You're fucking selfish and your priorities are way off. I could understand if you had a fucked up life, or faced rejection..or hell, even if you were beat and shit but NONE OF THIS APPLIES TO YOU! It's fucking ridiculous.

The fun can't last forever and when the party is over, what are you going to have left?

Nothing.

You couldn't survive a sober night alone. Isolation would kill you. Thought would kill you. No, better yet, deep thought would kill you.

You can't commit to anything, not even yourself. You don't even care enough to make tolerable choices in what you let slide down your throat.

You are a piece of shit, and it's because even though you acknowledge it, I don't think you realize how much of apiece of shit you REALLY are. If I were you, I would fucking hate myself. Wait, maybe you do hate yourself because like I said earlier, if you gave a fuck you wouldn't be such an alcoholic and druggie blah blah blah.

Whatever, your shit is NOT my business.
In regards to us, I'm not going to go into detail but all I ever did was try to help you and care for you, and you fucking threw me away.

GOOD LUCK BEBE!
FUCK YOU

XOXOXOXO
-STEPHANIE.

I asked him to come to my house so I could give him his guitar back, and slipped it into his pocket as he left. The note began with a large heart and various "x"S AND "O"s to mislead him. Before it started it specifically I asked him to read it before he left. He followed these instructions and I watched as his expression turned from curious to outraged. He started his car and left in an angry huff.

[Run with me
Run with me
Run with me
Let's run]

We should see the gates by mornin'
We should be inside the evenin'

Sun, sun, sun
Burn, burn, burn
Soon, soon, soon
I will get you]