Everything. It’s time for my mind secrets to come out before they manifest themselves into my reality. Isn’t it?

“No, this isn’t you. You never give up. You’re a fighter. You always fight. You never give up the fight.”

I’m tired of fighting. I quit. I want to quit. Everything.

Pull myself out of everything. Finish school and move where I can stay away from the monsters that caused this. Where they’ll stop speaking to me so much. Forget everything I once knew, everything I’ve let myself become. And run as fast as I can away from here. From a place and from people who will never need me as much as I need them now.

I’m ready to surrender and become another statistic in the world I’m slowly becoming part of. I’m not meant to set out to do what I wanted. I’m ready to get swept away from what I’m tired of trying to control. I’m tired of the repetition. I’m tired of vying for the control of my life, for vying for the love of people who I take in as family, I’m tired of fighting myself.

I’m not a fighter.

I am my mother.

Z.

And the night was old yet young all at the same time. And at the same time, we had no real sense of “time” to begin with. The leftovers were put away. The drinks had been barely touched. Those who had work finished them. It was like every other night we spend together, though this one did have a special purpose which I won’t disclose here. Still, a primary reason was to spend time together. The boys were in the living room playing video games, with one on the piano jamming all night. The girls were in the kitchen painting, with one sitting on the counter writing her life away. It was a night like any other night but that didn’t make it any less special than the last.

No matter the routine or repetition, each visit has a new revelation, a newer and stronger sense of belonging, and a brighter smile — as if we were seeing each other again for the first time. Yet at the same time, a sense of familiarity because we make it a point to come together every week. I could rest, assured that my family wasn’t going anywhere.

After weeks of losing my sense of love, my sense of belonging and my sense of reality; I’m here gathering myself and trying to find my footing and my sense of stability. All after a short-long weekend of people inadvertently reminding me that they don’t quite mind having me there and that my touches of assistance don’t go unnoticed.

I’m giving it all time, knowing I won’t quite have myself all together until the summer. I’m beginning a new step, a new and private journey that I won’t talk about until maybe June. Several, actually, but there’s one in particular that I know will help greatly and push me into doing what I need.

I’ve not much more to say at the moment, other than I’m ready to stop wasting time. I just need a little lot of help getting there. And hopefully, it won’t go untouched by my family.

Z.

“Let’s face it,” she told me once, “these two? They are our forevers.”

Taifinakpo’.

In Chamorro, it means “no end, limitless, infinity.” Personally, I prefer that term over “tiot tiempo” which is the dictionary term for forever.

There’s the thing about forever.

“What I meant when I said, ‘forever’ is that we might not always be this close but if you call, he will always be the one to come.”

I don’t know if she’s trying to justify anything or just trying to come up with some crap excuse for something, but I think that’s a load. Forever means forever. Forever means at the end of the day, we are Ted Mosby’s gang or FRIENDS or The Golden Girls. If we’ve found forever, it means we’ve found the real FRUIT or Brother Bears or Bombshizzlefritz. It means, the sexies and the crazies will never leave each other’s sides ever. It means, we will always be this close.

It means, we might marry other people, babysit each other’s kids and interrogate anyone that someone tries to bring home. But it means that, at the end, it is us vs. them. Always. It means that no one can get in the way of us, even if they tried. That in 40 years, there are four spots on the porch that are guaranteed to be filled possibly with tea and sushi.

All with the least romantic intentions possible.

So she’s got some ‘splainin to do.

Forever means forever. If we’ve found it, there’s no excuse nor settling for any less.

And that’s as black and white as I’ll get. Whereas usually, I am a canvas with paint splattered onto it, slowly dripping down the texture and intermingling with neighboring colors.

I have thought about it quite a bit for a pretty good chunk of time. What I said to her today as I cried in a mall parking lot.

It’s not easy. I’m not easy.

“You’d be asking him to change.”
“I’m not asking for him to change.”
“Well, think about it in his black and white way: you’re asking him to change a behavior that he has because of the way it affects you. And if he’s trying to keep you as a friend, then he can’t. Because it means he has to care more when he shouldn’t have to.”
“And that’s why the ultimatum.”

“It’s just getting really fucking hard to be friends with you!” This was two weeks ago. I was near to tears, losing my breath and losing my mind. “I can’t talk to you!”
“Then don’t talk to me!”
“Then, I don’t know why we even bother being friends if we can’t talk!”
“I don’t know, either.”
Silence fell upon us as I stared out the windshield to the dimly lit street. We were parked outside my house. Almost 11PM.
“You’re making this really complicated.”
I glanced at him quickly as a cynical smile graced my lips before responding.
“Well, I like things complicated.”
“Well, I try to keep away from that.”
“I know.”

It would be easier. To let it go. To stop being friends and just be work buddies and arms-length acquaintances. He wouldn’t have to drop a work day to work for me and I wouldn’t have to drop food off for him at work.

It’s just so hard. Just knowing how much we frustrate each other and hurt each other’s feelings so regularly? It’s painful for me to even think about. I don’t want to hurt his feelings but when he frustrates me, I have to say why. Changing the pattern means changing the dynamic and that would take so much more time and patience than we should offer each other.

And while I love my complexities, I would love to do him the favor of making everything just so much easier. And let it go.

And I don’t exactly anticipate for him to object for that reason.

But see, saying that might offend him. How is there winning?

“You two are polar opposites.”

You know, in all the years of my life, I’ve had exboyfriends say that to me. “We are complete opposites, that’s why we’re so attracted to each other.” I always smiled and nodded, never once believing it for a second. J and I were so much the same that it drove us both crazy and at the end of the day, I backed down from being so tired. A and I were so similar that people actually mistook us for each other from behind. There is almost no way that C and I aren’t similar, we’re attached at the soul.

But this, this is different.

He is and functions the opposite of myself. It’s almost comedic but it’s more frustrating than anything. I say right, he says left. He says hello, I say goodbye. He says that this means that but I say that correlation is not causation. I’m not even sure where we’ve ever been able to find common ground except for the fact that we make fun of everything there is to make fun of. Cynical old man. The only thing we have that is similar is the fact that we are both stubborn to a fault.

I suppose it makes sense, considering he is the uncanny mixture of all the people I’ve held close to my heart.

“See, he’s so black and white. You said it yourself. You’re not. He likes to be three steps ahead, that’s why he’s so good at chess and pool. He reasons and uses logic to plan things out. And with you, he has no idea what to do. I’m pretty sure he questions your friendship even more than you do.”

It’s almost painful. The fact that I see almost no merit or value in keeping you in my life. I’m so ridiculously clouded with the pain and frustration we cause each other on a weekly basis. How we argue about things that shouldn’t need to argue about. How we argue in general, to the point where I’m actually being asked whether or not we’re in a position to be arguing.

I think about what it’d be like to not be your friend. Not seeing you at Christmas or Thanksgiving or all the trips we plan but won’t always carry out. More closer, I think about what I would be like if I don’t see you this weekend. My heart feels slightly lighter at the thought. That’s bad, isn’t it? Maybe it’s the playlist from last year that’s talking. But I almost revel in the idea of not getting a headache from not having you there. No one to tell me it’s stupid that I celebrate birthweek or that there’s no way there’s something wrong with me — even if the former was just a joke.

Maybe your cynical comment from the other day would be right, sir. Maybe in a few months, we will stop being friends and no longer have to deal with each other.

But then, there’d be no one to have lunch with on a random Tuesday in the month. No one to call my little sister “saran wrap girl” or give me presents that I won’t use for the first few months. No one to make me sushi at request. No one to always pull through I need him, no matter how much it inconveniences him, and do so in the best ways possible. No golden retriever — meaning the actual dog and a metaphor.

“At the end of the day, you call and he will answer. He would do anything for you, even if he had something else he had to do.”

So what then? What do I do now? It’s us vs. our (mostly my) impatience with the situation at hand and that’s a decision we’d have to make collectively. It’s not about what I want, it’s about what you want too. When we’re together, I can actually see the waves of frustration emanating from your form or the way your eyes glaze over when I’ve said something that hurt your feelings. And I don’t like it. 

I told you not to get attached because I was sure I was going to end up hurting you. I protect and nurture, not the other way around. I need to know how to fix this, how to make this better and easier for you without bringing any more pain further. And if that means letting you go, then I can rest knowing I’m no longer a stressful part of your life.

Saturday, April 12, 2014. 

I waited patiently for her to come out of the bathroom so that I could use it. We’d all survived a lot in just that week alone — from her near death, to me nearly losing myself to the point that a friend asked me to seek professional help, to the book to the shoot that took place that day. Thing is that we survived it together. We sought each other out for help and love and responded in that way, despite the bumps and the scuffles that took place in between.

At the end of that day, I was waiting for the bathroom to be free while the other two sat and chatted about a good time — while we were all extremely exhausted to the point where we all just knocked out when we each got home and slept until morning (except I woke up early for a 10k). And we reveled in each other, our successes, our faults and our love. 

And when she exited the bathroom, she said, “were you thinking what I was thinking?”
“Yeah, I was. As I sat there and absorbed the presence and vibe going around our table. All I could think of was the word ‘forever’.”
“In my voice.”
“With my narration.”

At the end of the day, after thinking about it and waiting to write about it and hoping to God she doesn’t make this an issue, I made my decision. I chose forever. Relationships in general are not filled with rainbows and butterflies. We will ridicule, be irritated with and down right hate  one another — friends, family, what-have-you. But if at the end of your birthday, all you want is a small group of people in your living room eating sushi and tacos and watching some B-list movie you can make fun of the lighting of, then you know you’ve found people you want to see forever with**.

And I decided that if you chose forever too, then I will be as patient as patient gets.

Taifinakpo’ i guinaiya-ku para hågu, para todu hamyo. I familia-ku.

Z.

** (this is actually saying something, considering how I usually do my birthday).

Dreams of Ke$ha, my favorite girl coming home from a life-threatening surgery and the thrill of doing what I love. My loves are here at the palm of my hand and I will take them with me. I just needed something to come home to. I’m still a little off, still a little out there but I’m here and in recovery. I am home. And I must stay for them.

I’m feeling charged with love.

Hey you,

I have decided that spilling the whole world out on your shoulders is too much to handle, isn’t it? I’m sorry. The identity crisis, the happenings between us, my multiple personalities and my past will trickle in slowly and in time. However, you must come to understand the gravity of my situation. You must understand how important it is that you know what the problem is and the thing is I’m not sure of the problem.

I don’t have a clue to what I have and I don’t want to know what I have. That’s like a cloud looming over me and it took me a full year to accept the fact that I’ve been unwell. But I am owning up to it now. And I don’t want to be in permanent recovery so help me. I refuse therapy that isn’t my own, I refuse to see a “professional”. Misdiagnosis happens at an alarming rate — the wrong diseases are diagnoses, diseases that don’t exist are diagnosed and medications are given out freely without second thought with patients who take them and end up worsening their conditions or giving them conditions that don’t exactly exist.

Call me paranoid.

But I am.

I don’t trust anyone with my mind but myself and my loved ones and as long as they are all around to make sure I don’t lose myself totally, I have nothing to fear. As long as I am charged with the fuel that is the love of those people.

You must learn just how severe the condition is. You must learn the difference between the me who is about to lose it and the me who exists to stay. And you must learn how to bring me home. This is all up to you, however. Because you must accept how hard it is to be my friend sometimes, but this is all so it can be easier for you.

Pandora’s box. It is open, isn’t it. Except this one is mine. We can do this. We can deal with the spirits released and continue our journey through uncharted waters.

But. Only if you would love me enough to do so.

Z.

I am worn. About a month ago, I came down from my identity crisis and started to become the power house I once was. Fearless, some would say and I was making myself proud again. I was loving myself again. And I still do. I love myself and my capabilities. But I’m at a stand still once more. Stagnant. Not for any reason other than I relapsed and one day after another provided its own stresses and now I’ve come to the place where I’m about to lose myself once more. But it’s darker and rougher than before.

Tempted. I’m very tempted to stop fighting the monsters in my head today. So tempted to give in and let it take over me. Maybe it’s because our conversations lately have me so damaged that I’m tired. Or maybe it’s because I just want to prove a point and allow you to see what scares me on a daily basis. But I don’t even think unstable me would be so corrupt that it’d take that route. I’m not that much of my mother’s daughter.

But I don’t know what’s on the other side. That’s the thing. I’m so detached right now. I feel outside of my body as if I’m getting ready to leave it for the rest of my mind to take over. I’m holding on but I’m so tempted to let go. The difference is that I won’t have as much of a grip on reality that I used to.  While during the identity crisis I was still me, albeit someone who never really exists, a part of me knew who she was. Reminiscent of scared 16 year old me in a bad relationship.

This is different. I can feel it. It’s a whole different thing. I don’t know what it is but this is a monster I’ve never dealt with before. If I lose to this, I’m not sure I have a chance of coming back. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, or what will become of me when I do. I just know that if I do, I won’t be consciously aware of what I do or say. I will have lost myself and I’ve only ever done that fully once before and I was fortunate that it lasted two weeks and I came out of it.

I think this is a deeper trench I would be entering. I don’t think I’m stable enough to pick apart what is and isn’t real. And I won’t be aware. And if/when it’s over, I don’t know if I’ll remember any of it.

I need to find a way out but I don’t know how. I feel like as time goes by, my chances of finding it become slimmer.

Help.

I want to stop fighting you. I need you to see what you’re doing to me. I need you to understand how much bigger this is than you think.

Help me understand what you think. And understand what I know. Can we just fix this? Because I’m tired.

And if I give in, it will take all three of you to get me out. One will not be enough this time. Her to hold my hand, him to remind me what I’m fighting for and you to anchor us all.

To myself:

Don’t let it fester. Don’t let it fester. Don’t let it manifest into something it doesn’t need to be. 

This is what is real. They care for you. Do not hurt anyone any further. 

She loves you. He loves you. They love you. There is nothing they won’t do for you. It’s tried and true. 

Come home and please stay. For them. You need to love them as much as they have loved you.

Please stay. 

Z.

“…is that one day everyone will turn their back on me because I made a mistake.”
“Well, the only reason that would happen is because you stopped being yourself.”

October 2013. And the conversation continued as I explained that I meant that the fear is that the reality is that I’m a horrible person and that everyone realizes that and abandons me because I’m not worth the time. The fear is that I am not a great person and because of that the world would abandon me. This came from the high school relationship that convinced me that I’m an overall shitty person. My fear is that that asshole’s words would be true.

But as I went over this fear in my head tonight and thought about that conversation with my good friends…I realized it happened. So maybe the person hasn’t turned his back on me fully but he turned his back on the idea of “us” because I made a mistake, because I stopped being myself. Because he is now under the impression that I am someone who I am not.

Almost as if that conversation from October would foreshadow what would happen months later.

Z.

I. Am. Happy.

Oddly empowered. All this time I’ve been scared of this outcome. I’ve been scared, despite knowing that I needed it. And I hadn’t realized how well I would take everything.

Reality check.

My final reality check.

My final button.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been all up in the air because I didn’t know how to reclaim my fearlessness. After the break up a year ago, I went through a minor identity crisis while I rediscovered the person I once wanted to be before the relationship. I realized that I should never compromise myself that much again, but he needed me. And I still believe he needed me at that point. I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. Because I wouldn’t be who I am. I would not have come this far.

I tried. I tried to regain myself but I choked every single time. And I tried for months to try and recapture the person I one was, who I wanted to be. But to no avail, and the funny thing is that my weakness was someone — who at the beginning — was my stabilizer. He still served his purpose as time passed but as I continued to be someone I was not, that all went in vain.

That night, was everything I needed. I’m sorry that it had to be him but I already knew. I already knew. That it all had to happen in order for me to come to this point. It had to be him. It had to be then. Everything that needed to happen, happened albeit under a seemingly horrifying circumstance.

And as the words that zoomed past me, accusing me of being someone who doesn’t exist, I began to recapture myself. The search for self identification is now over and I know this wholly. As long as I don’t let the world psyche me out, I will be okay. And I won’t. And I have to do everything I can to not get bitter. But now, I know who I am. Though, a part of me always did.

I found it. The last piece. And all the people who have come in and left a piece of them for it, helping it to form me, have done their job. This man has done his. He came in at a horrible time and reversed everything that I had worked up to at that point, pushing me to grow in reverse. While I understood it as it was happening, nothing could stop the inevitable end to the situation. Lord knows that I did try to keep it from getting there. But we all knew that I needed it. He became my weakness, and still I do not know how.

It wasn’t like that in the beginning. I could talk to him, I could be myself around him. But somewhere, somehow, the stresses of the nothing that was took control and turned me into someone who couldn’t be the person I needed to be and in fact, someone who I was not. And as I retell the story to other people who know me well, they are perplexed of the opinion that he holds of me. However, I admit my own fault for allowing it to get to the point where he has come to the misguided conclusion. There was nothing I could do to stop it. To him, I became the sheltered, spoiled, rich girl who I was not. Someone who needed to be taught, who hadn’t experienced enough in her life to know what a hard life looks like.

In fact, I am a strong, independent young woman who spent her life hated, under appreciated or neglected. Her entire life was an emotional and mental struggle as she dealt with everything that was thrown at her with as much grace and gratefulness as she could. She self-sacrifices on a regular basis, giving those she cares about nothing short of her entire world. She has nothing but reach herself out to protect and care for those that she loves even in the worst of circumstances. Because of it, she is one of the most respected people in her family. Someone who her family now fears of her successes instead of looks down upon.

Through it all, she experienced her share of psychological trauma; the cycle of fear, anger, and sadness. Finally, she settled on love and her heart is forever full as she continues to do what she believes is right with no fear of the consequence. She can do anything she puts her mind to and the people she loves can trust enough to know that she can succeed. She is invincible and her heart is on fire.

And all it took was a break from herself, a minor identity crisis and someone 10 years older than her to make her feel like she is someone she is not.

He was my final piece of the puzzle to shape who I am. He was the last thing I needed to fill in my giant Richard Scarry puzzle and make myself whole. I don’t need someone else, and I’ve always known that. But now I can open myself to a partner in crime and know that I can take on the world with him. He can trust me and I can trust him. He just has to meet me, the real me. The final me.

Little Miss Confident Strong Doesn’t-take-your-shit-or-no-for-an-answer Fearless.

And in confidence I can say that she is here to stay.

And she isn’t so little.

Look ma, I got my shit together faster than I thought I would

Z.

Once you must fall in love with your best friend….this will teach you who your true friends are, and the fine line between friendship and more.

He was my first love, the one that I was 1000% certain that I was going to end up with in the end. Along with a ton of other people, including his adorable grandmother. After a good 3 years, I finally reached out to him and told him I didn’t like being angry with him. We reconciled and to this day, I tell him whenever I fall in love again. Still, I talk to him as if it were yesterday. But then I know that all we’ll ever have was yesterday. He’s my first and no one could compare nor forget but he could not be my last.

He taught me the innocence of love, how it’s supposed to feel. How it’s supposed to give you butterflies and make you nervous and bite your lip and make you not give a damn who is watching. He taught me that my final love needed to be my best friend, my partner in crime and pusher of dreams.

Once you must fall in love with someone you believe to be perfect. You will learn that no one is perfect, and that you should never be treated as any less than you deserve.

He was my late teens love until right before I turned 20. I thought he was perfect, that we were perfect. Together. There was no one who could read me better and likewise; to this day that still holds true. Maybe I no longer need him or ever will but he is my soul brother, my spiritual counterpart. The person who knew every thought I’ve ever had before I did, God’s gift to my soul. He taught me how to relax, and smell the roses and how to be patient.

Still it was through him that I did learn what I deserved. He wasn’t abusive, he didn’t treat me like an option but I sure as hell didn’t deserve the way he never met me halfway — even if it was because he was scared to. He taught me that even the best people will let you down and how he let me down. But I’m glad he’s happy now and I’m glad I got to be the one who was strong enough to teach him who he needed to be. He taught me that even perfection can be settling, that perfection is merely concept.

Once you must fall in love with someone that is exactly like you. This will teach you about who you are, and who you want to be.

He was my second love. He was me. He fit perfectly into the picture frame that my family portrayed before me. He got off on his anger. He was irrational fears and jealousy and paranoia. He threw temper tantrums like a 3 year old and refused to take fault for anything that happened to him. He instilled the very same fear in me that I held over other people for years. Power hungry. Control freak. Center of the universe. He taught me that I need to give some of myself in order to give back, that it’s not all about me. And I gave him my world.

The asshole but blessing in disguise. He humbled me, to the point where I loathed myself for years and still do a bit to this day but he humbled me. He is the person who damaged me well enough to turn me into someone that I’m slowly but surely learning to appreciate. Through him I learned exactly who I didn’t want to become and that was him. He turned me into little miss fearless independent driven and forever learning girl.

And when you’re through with all that, you learn that the people who care about you the most are the ones that you hurt, and the ones that hurt you are the ones that you needed the most.

And I have. Repeatedly, I hurt people in my life but that’s how I know that they care. And I know that the people who have hurt me in the past are only the experiences that I needed in order to become who I am today, as much as they have torn me up and spat me out as if I were no one. And now here I sit having learned the lessons on how to love, how to be loved and how to love myself through three very different people. Yet all the same.

And how I’m starting to figure out the kind of person I will need for the rest of my life.

But most of all, you learn that love is only a concept and is not something that can be defined, it is different to each person that experiences it. And you will learn to respect each and every person on this earth, knowing that everyone only wants to be loved.

My ultimate wish holds true: the wish that everyone on the planet could be happy for one second, feeling loved and loving themselves. And here’s to hoping that I can give away the love that I’ve done nothing but receive for so long while I took my personal hiatus.

“He’s so happy now. He broke you and you fixed him. Does that make you mad?”
Perhaps not but I wish I hadn’t been taking my loves for granted for the last couple of months. I wish I hadn’t incurred so much damage from those years or at least have realized it fully sooner. I wish they knew me the way that the others did. I hope she doesn’t disappear. Angry me left for a while and has come back and is now a functioning part of me. Loving me left for a while — choosing to fend for herself out of the fear that she’ll make poor choices before she can stop herself — and she needs to make her return before it’s too late.

And hopefully they, too, will know love through me.

– Z.

And you’re listening to “Breathe” by Anna Nalick off of the radio by Spotify. And you’re on Facebook because it’s your job. And you scroll by a picture of your ex-boyfriend and best friend with his new girlfriend. And you can’t help but feel a tinge — of what, I don’t know — but it isn’t happy.

You ever get that?

It’s not jealousy. HELL to the NO. She can have him. I don’t want him. That ship has quite sailed and ain’t redocking. I ain’t got him nor patience for him. Or maybe I wouldn’t need patience for him now. It isn’t jealousy. Jealousy is wanting to hold on to something that is yours, fearing someone else will take it. It isn’t jealousy.

But it’s envy — the wish you had that is/was lacking in your own life. And it’s not that I don’t want him now, I don’t. It’s wishing I got that when I did have him. Why did I have to work so hard to get what she doesn’t have to now? And I didn’t even get that. Err, when I did, it didn’t last more than a day. It took years. Years of my pushing and lectures and irritation and his own self realization. I have to admit that it tickles my irritation bone.

“Now, why weren’t you like that when we were together?”
“You know why.”

And I did. I exhaled deeply and accepted it. I got to be the girl he hurt over and over again, who was strong enough to take it. Not sitting down, of course. I fought back. At the time, I was what he needed. I needed to be the best he’d ever had. To help him realize what he needed to be and do. To show him exactly what fearlessness is all about. It took me to bring him here.

and it suuuuucks. for me.

Because like my sister, someone else gets what I had burned over for years. She turned hers into a monogamous guy who keeps his promises. And I turned him into a fearless monster who doesn’t take “no” for an answer.

Very Good Luck Chuck if I don’t say so myself.

But I’m not dwelling. I just had to put my thoughts onto virtual paper. Expressing myself and what not because evidently, if I don’t write, I burn a hole into the ground. I don’t long for him. I don’t want any of that back. I’m seriously just. saying.

Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have a couple of TEDtalks to watch with chicken and broccoli and Tollhouse ready-made dough (yuck) cookies and sevenberry sangria hot tea and………

Z.

Every single time you meet a new group of friends, you always think to yourself “This is it. These are my people. These will be the people I die with.” You imagine what it’ll be like when you all start having kids. When you all start sagging and losing your minds. You laugh at the thought of chasing each other in wheelbarrows (yes, wheelbarrows) at 75 years old.

Then one day, you start to drift. You start having different priorities and realizing that you’re all moving in very different directions. I always say that the saddest part of growing up is realizing that some people won’t and that the saddest part of moving forward is everything you leave behind. And many a time, you will leave people behind. I’ve only one stable friend since I was 5, kind of — we weren’t really friends until high school despite always being in the same group of friends. And this person, my best friend is someone I know I’ll always have next to her soul brother. Because we always take a little time to make room for each other, no matter how busy our schedules are. I ask her if she wants to have lunch after finals and he’ll check me during down time in the barracks.

I love you (all of you), my bears. I do. And I don’t love you any less, because despite everything I can’t feel any sort of disconnection between us. I don’t want to let you guys go but at the same time I don’t know how long I’ll continue to hold on. And it’s not even that anyone’s really trying to hang out, but I feel like going to you right now will leave me unhappy. It isn’t you, it’s me. I’m still working some things out with myself.

But then there’s them. An attractive bunch. Super stars. Jack of all trades. These people can do just about everything and I’m just kind of here, hanging onto their coat tails waiting for them to get either bored of me or just lose patience. Maybe it’s my thirst to learn more or my selfish gain to make something of myself, but I find myself chasing after them once or twice at a time. It’s rather reassuring when they chase me back.

The difference between you and them is that if I die with them I know why. It isn’t because they are better or more efficient or prettier than you. It isn’t because they are the cool kids and I want so badly to bedazzle my jeans too.

Tonight, myself and one of them laid under the sky and stared at the stars. This isn’t unusual. If you’re close to me, you’ve done this with me before. I’ve done this with y’all. Conversations aren’t necessarily different, there’s always some bit of deep topic as long as you’ve got the right people by your side. But with you, the conversation would more than likely be about superheroes or videogames or something stupid on Youtube.

Do you know why I like to stare at the stars? Do you know why I started staring at the stars when I was in high school? Because it helped me to write. Some of the best lines come from starry-skied-and-eyed nights, either alone or with myself.

You know you’ve found the right people when you look at the same stars and see the same things.

The difference between you and them is that we don’t see the same things; hell, we don’t see the same stars. I have seen more shooting stars with them than I have with you. Not that it’s any reason to judge.

While we laid under the stars, she envisioned how she would paint the sky and probably hearing some kind of suitable sound track to go with it while I imagined Vincent Van Gogh’s “Starry Starry Night” (in Dr. Who episode form) and pondered the kind of story I could write.

We are artists. We are set on loving the world. We are set on changing the world. We are set on the world. We don’t look at the world and see us, we look at the world and see everything but. We are focused on the bigger picture, the future, what could be. Sometimes, we have a hard time keeping our feet on the ground but we have enough sense to not let it get out of hand.

We don’t get odd jobs to get us by for the next month. We don’t do things to entertain ourselves for the moment. We expend all our resources, our energy and ourselves specifically because we want to give everything we do our very best. Because we will only do what we believe deserves our very best.

Albeit, we currently do have odd jobs because we’re getting really broke….because, well, we’re artists. The starving kind. And two of us are in school.

The difference between you and them is that they are me.

I need them and I only hope to God that they could ever need me as much.

So if and when I drift away from you like a piece of wood in the ocean, this is the reason why I’m still with them. And perhaps I am defending whatever action I plan to take in the hopes that you don’t talk shit. But perhaps, this is because I also know that they would never if I left them. In fact, I think a part of them is waiting for me to take off.

But I don’t plan on going much elsewhere unless I have them with me. I am only as good as my team. And I refuse to do it without them. So unless the band breaks up due to “creative differences” I’m sticking around.

We’re just a bunch of Dreamers. Thinkers. Innovators. Doers. Crazy people with large appetites. But we’ll stop at nothing to create our reality.

So when you see the khameleon kahulo’, you best recognize.

Because we’re doing this for you.

Z.