One damn day at a time

its been a year since you left
it may as well be an eternityof sleepless nights and cold empty days
haunted by the ghost of our past
then on a day just like any other
i see you
standing there across the street
a few steps from where i am
to me you may as well be a billion miles away
so near and yet so far i walk towards you
each step as hard as the next
my heartbeat so loud
i feel it is audible to all around me
you look up and our eyes meet
yours widen for a moment
and i find out that you still take my breath away
we stand silent for a while
unsure of what to do
then, as difficult as it is for me
i smile at you and say hi..you return my smile and say hello
you ask how ive been
i say ive been ok..but deep down inside my heart is screaming
"ive been dying inside since you leftl
iving a life so empty without you
incomplete without your smile
im listless without your touch
deaf without your words
ive been blind with no you for me to see
everything seems black and grey just like an empty piece of a shell
i drift through my existense
just getting by
ONE DAMN DAY AT A TIME"
but my mouth stays silent
we stand for a moment
uncertain of what to do..i have to go you say.. i say i have to go too
then we go our separate ways
i want to turn back and catch a one final glimpse of you
but i wont
i cling on to the curse that is my pride
struggling, i try to rebuild the walls placed around my heart
they threaten to overwhelm me
to bring me to my knees
but i succeed
slowly, i wipe the rebellious tear rolling down my cheek
i pray for rain so that i could hide the tears that threaten to spill out
i gaze at the sunny sky aboveso stark in contrast to what i feel
to the point of being insulting
"there he goes", i say to myself
"there goes the only thing that made me feel whole..
"i wipe another tear as i continue to walk forward
not really knowing where to go
only one thing is certain..
where im going.. no matter what happens..
he wont be there.
so i allow myself to turn back.
i watch his shape get smaller and smaller
walking further and further away from me
and then, with my mending heart breaking to pieces again..
i whisper.. "goodbye"

nice girls finish last...

This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and mess up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys. This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it. So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race. So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)

two blogs

hey guys! just wanted to let everyone know that i actually have two blogs.. the other is "letting go"... if you view my complete profile you'll see it.. not that im advertising it but if you like this one you'll probably like the other one coz they run along the same lines.. thanks!

Questions

I see you across the waters
you know my presence
and yet my existance is unknown to you

Do you look at me like you do the others?
do you see me as I really am?
Am I just another one of your girls?
do u choose me only because no one has chosen you?

In my thoughts I know
know that I am nothing to you
and yet my heart secretly longs
to be with you i can no longer wait

My life turns around your every move
every kind word you speak to me
fills my heart and touches my soul
every moment you push me aside
stakes pierce my heart

How can you not know i love you
how can you know me and deny me?
why do u pretend to love meand then discard me?
the fault is mine i know
when i ask myself
why do i allow it?

friends and lovers

The email below was sent by a certain girl to her best guy friend… However, the story did not end there. Her best friend replied with another email… makes you think, should it be better to start a relationship with your best friend?

Meantime Girl

She’s the one you call when you’re bored because she makes you laugh. She’s the one you talk to when you’re feeling down because she’s willing to lend an ear and be a friend. She’s not the one you call when you need a date to your company’s Christmas party, or to go dancing with on a Saturday night. She’s the one you spend time with between girlfriends, before you find “The One”.
You know, she’s the one who you keep around in the meantime. She’s not one of the guys, not a tomboy, but you don’t look at her as a “real” woman, either. She’s not bitchy enough, moody enough, or sexy enough to be seen in that light. She’s too laid-back, too easily amused by the same things your male buddies are amused by. She’s too understanding, too comfortable - she doesn’t make you feel nervous or excited the way a “real” woman does.
But she’s cool , and nice, and funny, and attractive enough that when you’re lonely or horny and need intimate female companionship, she’ll do just fine. You don’t have to wine and dine her because she knows the real you already, and you don’t have any facades to keep up, no pretenses to preserve.
You’re not trying to get anything of substance out of her. She’s not easy, but you know that she cares about you and is attracted to you, and that she’ll give you the intimacy you need. And you know you don’t have to explain yourself or the situation, that she’ll be able to cope with the fact that this isn’t the beginning of a relationship or that there’s any possibility that you have any real romantic feelings for her.It won’t bother her that you’ll get up in the morning, put on your pants, say goodbye, and go on a date with the woman you’ve been mooning over for weeks who finally agreed to go out with you. She’ll settle for a goodbye hug and a promise to call her and tell her how the date went. She’s just so cool . . . why can’t all women be like that?!
But deep down, if you really think about it (which you probably don’t because to you, the situation between the two of you isn’t important enough to merit any real thought), you know that it’s really not fair. You know that although she would never say it, it hurts her to know that despite all her good points and all the fun you two have, you don’t think she’s good enough to spend any real time with.
Sure, it’s mostly her fault, because she doesn’t have to give in to your needs - she could play the hard-to-get bitch like the rest of them do, if she really wanted to. But you and she both know that she probably couldn’t pull it off. Maybe she’s too short, or a little overweight, or has a big birthmark on her forehead, or works at a factory. Whatever the reason, somehow life has given her a lot of really great qualities but has left out the ones that men want (or think they want) in a woman.
So she remains forever the funny friend, the steadfast companion, the secret lover, and you go on searching for your goddess who will somehow be everything you ever wanted in a woman. She doesn’t captivate you with her beauty, or open doors with her smile. Mainly she blends in with the crowd. She’s safe. She doesn’t want to be the center of attention and turn the heads of everyone in the room. But she wants to turn someone’s head. She wants to be special to someone, too.
We all do.
She has feelings. She has a heart. In fact, she probably has a bigger and better heart than any woman you’ve ever known because she’s had a front-row seat to The Mess That Is Your Life, and she likes you anyway.
She obviously sees something worthwhile and redeeming in you because although you’ve given her nothing, absolutely no reason to still be around, she is.
Anyway, yeah. I’m a Meantime Girl. Been one for him. For how long, I can’t remember.
I don’t know the reason, really, and at this point I don’t even care. I just want to let every guy know who’s ever had the good fortune to have a Meantime Girl that we may be a lot of fun, but we cry, too. A lot.
And someday we won’t be around.


This is her best friend’s reply…

To the “Meantime” girl,

There are a lot of things that you have to know about how I think. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. I think you deserve the best any man could offer. I think you are the greatest woman any man could ever have. I think I’d be better off with you than with any one else. But you know what? I can’t say these things to you. I can’t lose you. I can’t allow my feelings to get in the way of “Us.”

You know what? Those women that I go after, they’re not all great, those girls and I don’t share the same things that we share. You and I laugh at jokes that she doesn’t get. She doesn’t know everything about me (because I know if she does, I bet she would look for someone better). She doesn’t know what makes me cry or what makes me angry. And when I am angry, she cannot handle me as well as you do. She hates the way I drive, hates how I dress, and she absolutely hates it when I accidentally fart when I’m with her. But… you can handle me, you can understand me. You love me in spite and despite my flaws and only a few lucky bums like me can experience that kind of acceptance. Those women that I go after most of the time may have the body, the face, the “sex appeal”, everything any man would dream of and all women would want. But there is one thing that they lack that is very important… substance. I like what I see, but it ends there. They cannot make me happy in real sense of the word. In fact, they do the complete opposite, they make me feel worse about myself every moment of my life, and that sucks.

You think I don’t notice you? I do, that’s why I spend most of my time with you. You think you are not as attractive as the “beautiful” women are? Honestly, you are. But I cannot compromise what we have. I value you too much to lose you. You know how relationships hurt sometimes and I don’t want you to have that, especially from me. I’ve shared a whole lot of my life with you and I can’t afford to lose you.

Well, all I want to say is that you’re no meantime girl… in fact I want you to be with me forever. I don’t know how to say it without losing you but maybe it’s the risk I have to take. You may be my best “girl-friend”, but you know what? You are the best girl for me. Maybe this is the risk I have to take… I love you.

Your “Buddy”

something random

"He loved me at my worst. You had me at my best, and you chose to break my heart"

I heard this when i was going thru some movie trailers on youtube. Its a pretty good way to pass the time... lol... anyway I haven't seen the movie but this part in the trailer really intrigued me. It was spoken by a guy to a girl and so i had to change it around a bit but the message is the same. I have nothing to add to this no stories or memories that apply to this quote but I fell in love with it. It's just so heart breaking. Maybe i'll add to this post or maybe I won't. I just wanted to write it up here in my blog to be able to read it in the future and remeber how a single phrase touched me.

Half - Crazy

No I havent slept a wink at all

Since you've been gone

And my eyes are kinda tired

From crying all night long

No I've never been too good at cooking just for one

It's so lonely here without you darling

Come back home

'Cause I'm half crazy

Feelin' sorry for myself

Half crazy

Worried you'd find someone else to love

No life hasnt been much fun at al

lSince you've been gone

And my eyes being to feel

Each time I hear a sound

I spent every minute asking myself

What went wrong

Can't we try to talk it over baby

Come back home

'Cause I'm half crazy

Feelin' sorry for myself

Half crazy

Worried you'd find someone else to love

But baby there is no-one else

Half crazy

For everything you saying

Half crazy

No one else could love you like I do

'Cause I'm half crazy

Feelin' sorry for myself

Half crazy

Worried you'd find someone else to love

But baby there is no-one else

Half crazy

For everything you saying

Half crazy

No one else could ever love you

No one else could ever be

Half crazy

Feeling sorry for myself

And I'm worried you'll find someone else

Feeling sorry for myself

Half Crazy