Secrets of Mine

I heard the vibrations of the helicopter overhead. Soon after I hear the engine, the steading beating of the propellers is now muted by the roaring engine as the machine comes closer. Then the sound begins to fade away and within seconds there is no sound. There is complete silence except for the mild humming of the fan spinning in the computer.

  I am not one for confrontation. I will simply except what comes my way and let it take its course. I may, only for self-amusement and mild curiosity extend its duration with me until it becomes restless then I shall release it back to its predestined path. Such is my experience with those I encounter so far in my existence. I have no use for disappointments, regrets, longings and wishing’s, but they are amusing notions none the less and shall give in to such human notions at times.

What I enjoy in life is watching, absorbing, feeling and interacting with the world around me and those in it.

There is no nectar sweeter than the one that you let consume your entire being.

However, there are some more sinful sweets that I enjoy. Ravaging, taking, controlling, manipulating and destroying are the darker sides of this enjoyment.

I suppose whether I will be the sugar or the vinegar depends on which side of me wakes up in the morning.

Every day that passes, I feel as if I am someone else however I know I am to be the same person. All my beliefs, aspirations and desires are the same, but the means on which I go forth and react to them may change.

Today I feel like writing. Today I feel like being a wise ass. Today I am egocentric and vain. I am okay sitting on top of my high horse, even if I may just be a boastful little lamb. I will still grin with a wolf’s smirk and laughing eyes. 

Sitting in this chair staring blankly at a dimly lit screen I ponder to myself; what am I doing here? There is the constant throbbing of my head that begins to make me dizzy. There is constant fading in and out of consciousness. What is wrong with me? What is going on? My eyelids become heavy, my breath few and too far apart. A ringing in my head makes me cringe as I slowly become nauseous. My head becomes a burden on my neck, the light harmful to my eyes. I feel sick. I feel nauseous. There is something not quite right with me, and I cannot place what it could be. My chest hurts with a pulsing pain on my rib cage. It feels as if my timid heart is beating itself against its enclosure. I feel weak, delusional, fatigued and confused.  I feel as if the world beneath me will begin to tremble and disappear from underneath and I shall be swallowed by the darkness and consumed by the unseen.

I suppose I should drink more water and eat food with substance. Do I have some inner ulterior motives? Am I trying to destroy myself subconsciously? There is too much to wonder about. As for now, I suppose I will let these imaginings slip away and I’ll fall into a deep sleep and hope for better with the coming sunrise of a new morning. 

I am a bit conflicted. A bit confused. A bit distraught. A little bit of everything that can lead to some discomfort in the human psyche. What will I do, now that a stranger knows my secrets?

Should I continue to let them pour out and spill over?

Have I said to much?

Am I at the point of no return?

What crossroads will my decision lead me, and to what ends will I end up?

I suppose all I am able to do now is play things out and see them to the end. I am nervous because there may not be any visible end. 

I made a mistake today, or at least I thought it was. However in the end, I suppose it was for the best that my little secrets got out to the person I love.

No more hiding, no more censorship. Its all raw and uncut. Just for him.

He’s been upfront, open and honest with me this whole time. Even if I feel I can’t be open and honest with most people. I am happy that I can can be with This Guy.

I love him.

I wonder at times where I fit in my house hold. I’m twenty years old an I still live with my parents. My dad was kicked out when he was eighteen/left and I never hear the end of it. I’m the eldest and I share a room with my youngest sibling. I go to college, I get good grades and all the money I get from school goes into my savings for my transfer to UC next year. However, my dad takes one grand out of my savings and pays for the bills he wouldn’t be able to pay. I understand that, but it hurts when you realize your family is at the ropes because your dad took out money on the house and most of his other money including yours and looses everything in stocks that were iffy to begin with. This wasn’t recent, but sitting here typing it up makes me recollect why we are now. 

I don’t know where to start, I suppose I’ll just call this chapter family.

I have always been the black sheep of my family, the scapegoat for everyone to shit on it seems. However, I am also the one that is expected to take hold on all the hard tasks and work. Yet, I am never rewarded, not like I expect to be rewarded. Instead, I am shot down and lowered even more. I begin to understand why I am the way I am, when I think about my position in this family. I am the dirt under everyone’s feet, there to hold everything up yet I get step on and unacknowledged all the time. Being unnoticed doesn’t bother me, what really seems to get to me over the course of these years is the verbal abuse I endure day in and day out from everyone I live with. All I can do is stand here and take it. I can’t talk back or stand up for myself, or else it gets worse, yelled at and sometimes I still get hit. It can even lead to getting beaten, but that hasn’t happened for a year a least, and I am thankful for that. 

Everyone in my home seems to take out all their aggression and hostilities on me. When I walk around in my home, even when I am pleasant and happy minding my own business, someone always has to cop out at me. Teasing, I can handle its something I have had to handle all my life, but it can take its toll. I was never picked on at school, tease a little perhaps. However it never bothered me and I could stand up to the kid if needed, so I never had any problems and I had a lot of friends by the end of it. At home, its a different story I can’t stand up to my dad, I’ll just get knocked down again I’m not stronger than he is. I can stand up to my mother sometimes, but it is caution that I may blindly ignore if it got to that point. However, it will always lead to my father. This may be the reason my younger sisters even spit on me and see me nothing more than a failure in the house hold, even though I have accomplished much more than they have at their age and have always had the best grades. It is quite sad to admit that my sixteen and seventeen year old sisters shit talk to me daily, because they know I can do nothing. There have been times when we physically fought, I would win of course, however violence solves nothing and in the end it’ll be my fault despite the causes and the outcome. Now I have to worry about the authorities, so it is best to say I rather take the endless mental torture then end up in jail for a domestic dispute.

Its always been this way though. Its sad when I think about when I was five years old, the one image that comes to mind first is when my father bought me a play dough set. I was mixing up the colors one day and he comes walking in the door. Pissed off to high heaven when he saw what I was doing, mixing the different colors together. Not like I had any clue that what I was doing was wrong, in fact I still don’t see it. However instead of telling me calmly, seeing that I was a young kid, he took off his belt. He whipped me, I remember I ran through the house after the first hit which stung my leg, but he kept at it until he was satisfied. I remember the welts it left. In fact, I remember most of the time he whipped me with the belt. I can never recall what it was for when I was younger, but I can assume it was due to screaming or yelling or fighting with my younger siblings as kids will do. However, I remember the pain, the sound of the belt and the welts it would leave. At times they’d be so bad where it hurt just to lay down. Sometimes I’d get them across the back, but most of them were on my legs and feet leaving me completely immobile. I don’t know if most parents whip their children, but I imagine if they do it is one clean whip on the bum, maybe two for good measure. I do doubt though, that it appears like in horror films with the parents blind with rage and swinging, that is what I experienced I still am terrified of my father when he gets that shade of red.

What was even more sick, was when he would cool down and come back and apologize in tears and kiss me, saying he would never do it again. Then lecture me on what I did wrong and how he got so angry where he couldn’t control himself. It made my stomach wrench and my fingers twitch and gave me massive headaches. I couldn’t comprehend why he was doing this. It was mental torture, I felt bad because I did something wrong and I felt worse for hating my father for hitting me. In the end, it always seemed that I was the bad guy…

I wouldn’t say I was physically abused or mentally abused as a child nor now, even if I was. I just know what happened, and I think I turned out alright.

Even if I have some type of depression and at times I am suicidal. However, it has gotten better. I haven’t attempted suicide in five years, however I find myself thinking about it more often than I’d like. However I won’t kill myself over words and curses. I know I am stronger than that, I am not that weak child anymore.

All I know, the sooner I am able to attain a job the faster I’ll be getting out of this place.

I hate it when we fight. It is always about something small insignificant. Why is it that we always rub each other the wrong way. Could it be because we are so close that tension and friction is caused. It is because we don’t fully trust or understand each other. We haven’t known each other long, so it saddens me when we fight or argue about little things. I don’t want this good times of getting to know you more be wasted due to fights.

I know I just shut you out a few minutes ago after a stupid fight. I know its not fair that I do that before you do it. It makes me made when good things happen between us, the next day bad things occur. Why is it? Why are we on this roller coaster ride? I wish you weren’t so paranoid. I wish I wasn’t so stubborn. I wish that we wouldn’t fight because we are apart. Is that why we fight? We get along so well when we are together. If we fight they end almost as soon as they start. They are resolved and we seemed to be closer than we were before because we understand each other that much more. I like those fights, I hate these ones. I hate them because we are miles apart, and things get lost in translation through text and messaging. I want to hear your voice, I know everything will get better as soon as I hear you on the other end of the receiver, but I’m too stubborn and proud to breakdown and call you first. I know it is both our faults, I am even willing to say it is more my fault because I could have handled it better.

But what you do when I run? You send me a large text message. Yet again, I humble myself and call you. You sound pissed off, I am upset. We give each other quick short answers then leave a long pause, then ask small questions. Eventually the silence leads you to change the topic and things slowly get better as well reach a mutual and silent agreement of apology. I suppose even if we do have long stupid fights over messages, when someone calls, hearing the voice of the love one eases the tension. I’ll be going to sleep with you on the phone yet again.

You say things to deliberately hurt me when things don’t exactly your way. Or a least it seems that way. It hurts me deeply when you say I do things on purpose in spite of you. How you make it seem I don’t care and I don’t hold you as my top priority. Even though I remind you time and time again how important you are to me and how deeply I care for you. You get me so angry and upset, and its unfair how when I hear your voice, that I can forgive you so easily without you even knowing I was upset with you to begin with. I have forgive you and forget what you say when I hear your voice, I drop down all my walls and guards and let you come in with open arms.

It hurts so much knowing that even though I do this, you say things to hurt me. You act as if I don’t care about you at all, when I let you have me in my entirely. When I let my guards down just for you. When I can forgive you the moment you say hello to me. If I didn’t love you or hold you so dearly, I would never give in so easily, I don’t give my trust so easily. 

When I hear your voice I hate my self, thinking that maybe you didn’t mean to say those things to hurt me, that mentally torment me. Maybe I am overly sensitive when it comes to those things. Maybe I read too much into what you say in fear of the possibilities it could mean. Its probably because the environment I grew up in, so I don’t want to bring it up to you. I don’t want to bring up issues that might not even be that in fear that it could be all in my mind.

Maybe that is why I can forgive you so easily and forget the things you say to hurt me. When I hear your voice, all my anxieties and worries go away. I am at ease for the most part.

I love you.

Reading quotes from movies, books about love and what someone says to the other,

Makes me realize, that the odds of that happening to me are diminished. This is because as these lines are said, they are meant for one person and that person only. So it is best to not repeat them to someone else. 

I don’t want have sweet nothings whispered into my ear if they are not genuinely from that person, nor do I want them to be reciting movie or book lines as if they were their own. I understand that they may feel that way, but the emotion behind pre-written words from someone else’s heart or head dwindles. 

I would love it more than any of the lavish gifts that I may be given by my love, if he were able to create his own romantic line portraying his love for me, or even do something spontaneous and romantic.

I understand that I am a hopeless romantic. I understand that the one I love lacks in the creative field and uses logic and science to explain things. I love him more than anything, and he is very important to me.

However I am completely different from him. I am out going, creative and spontaneous. I can be a bit out there. I am an artist. I am logical, but I tend to be more expressional.

I am in love with love lines that are dreamy and romantic, but I have come to terms that what I would adore in partner that is a romantic will probably never come.

I doubt I’ll ever come home to dimly lit candles and a trail of white feathers and roses leading me to a room filled with red balloons and my charming standing there with a bouquet of lillies and a puppy for my birthday, or anniversary or even just because!

I believe I am selfish, but I love the person that I am with so much that I’ll let all those dreams and fantasies be just that. I’ll let go of them like balloons into the summer sky and I’ll stay here on earth with the one that despite our differences and interests, I love with my entire being.

It is something that people may have or not have for one another.

Sometimes it is easily given, other times it is not.

However it is fair to say, once it is broken, it is near impossible to attain again.

1. Bubbles.

2. Tea, hot or cold.

3. The feeling sleeping next to the one you love.

4. When you finally fall asleep.

5. Waking up in the sunshine.