Sunday, March 20, 2005

Don't know where to start. Small things lead to bigger things. And I feel smaller and smaller. Sometimes I feel like our relationship is a blessing; that it gives me the peace of mind that I have been lacking in so many ways. At other times I feel bitter towards it; it forces me to realize a lot of issues that I need to address. I feel really sensitive to some things and I get angry and kind of jealous that you don't really know why. Is it because you haven't felt this way before? That you are not scarred as I am? I don't know. It's not fair for me to assume it either. But, I can't help it. I know that you are trying, as I am. But sometimes I feel like I am just trudging farther and farther. And it's scary to think that in a little while you might be so far away. And what will happen to us? I am trying not to set my heart on you. But its hard to just pull yourself out of something that you have so invested yourself in. And your fears of commitment worry me. That you aren't sure about what you want. And on top of that, I'm scred that what you may be sure of isn't me at all. Please don't go away. Please. I know I've caused a lot of distress for us. But please don't go away. Out of everything, I think you are the one thing that has been consistent. You are always there for me. Sometimes I really question if you feel the same way as I do. Can you? Do you? It's just swarming insecurities. I know we fight sometimes, but we love more...
Y pamela 4:52 PM

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

You are a jerk faced bastard; that is the god damned truth. Tonight Neil pulls another one of his shade-master moves. God damn. Just as we're in the middle of our conversation he goes "Yeah, I think I'm gonna go to sleep now." My natural response is "what?" We were just having a normal conversation and suddenly Neil has to go to sleep. I give him the silent angry voice, trying to hint that hes being a jerk, but to no avail. He's laughing at how tactless he's been. He thinks its funny. He is attempting to shrug it off, but I know inside he knows that he's WRONG. But he just won't admit it. Instead:

Goodnight; talk to you tomorrow; bye.... bye. And as I'm waiting for him to say: SORRY I hear the ringing of my alarm: Erin's Birthday is today. Fucker; he has hung up. I didn't even know.

I walk back into my room trying to put on some sort of mask to assure myself that he's not being EVERYTHING I told him makes me sad, insecure, feel like a complete idiot. We just had a "talk" on Sunday. I told him that I didn't know what to do. In fact, I had been a wreck all weekend. I told him about how I feel: I feel like you're always having to do something else. That I'm not that high on the priority list. I feel like I'm just supposed to get over everything it like nothing happened. Act like it doesn't affect me as much as it does. I feel like I'm still messed up over this whole thing, and you're just fine and dandy now that you've gotten everything off your chest. How would you feel if someone just dumped you and decided to collect you again? Or if someone told you that everything you did in the past year and a half made them feel dirty, wrong, uneasy. If you didn't want to do it, you didn't have to. Of course it's hard for me to believe you don't want to do anything; look at how we started out. I feel like I'm just waiting and waiting for you to tell me what I should do. How I should act/react. How I should feel. Because I feel like every move I make is the fucking wrong one. What am I supposed to do to make things better? I thought I did. And I was wrong. You're scared that I am in love with you til death do us part. I never said that; why would you think that? You think we're consummating our love? Why can't I just tell you I love you because I love you right now not because I love you for MARRIAGE. GOD DAMN. And on top of that you always build me up, saying that you can do things, go out when you can't/aren't able to. And I KNOW that you're parents don't let you and that you have other restricting circumstances. But why is it that I'm always the one giving in? The one picking up the slack? Oh, you can't go out? It's okay. Oh, you're mom is mad that we're on the phone? Okay. Oh, you don't want to fool around anymore? Okay. OKAYAOAKJFLKAHSfLKHASFASFIOhaISfhailoshfaisjasf.
I tell him all of these things. Spilling them out on my door step. All of my thoughts falling all over the floor. I'm just trying to crawl out of this wreckage that I am....
He explains that: he sees me a lot more than he would be able to otherwise. He DOES try really hard. Lately he's been calling me earlier. His plans are often ruined because of his parent's habit of telling him things last minute. He tells me all of the work that he has to do. All the reasons he is busy; they are legitamate. School, work, homework, etc. He knows that he plays pool and goes to the gym, but what else does he do?
I agree. I know in some ways I'm just being a snob. But I can't help but ask myself WHY do I have all of these indecisions, confusions, etc. Why is it that it's so hard?
He lets me cry and tells me that it'll be okay because we are together. That I mean a lot to him. We get over it. We drive around and see million dollar mansions in Huntington Beach. We eat korean barbeque and get ice cream after. I love him.

And tonight he just slams the door in my face. After thinking about all of these things (a time span of about 15 minutes), I call him back.

Hello?
Hello.
I'm sorry for being so abrupt with you Pamela.
I called just to tell you what a jerk you are.
Thank you.

I go on to explain to him that things like THIS are the reason I feel the way I do. He says that he feels so stupid apologizing for something that he just did. As if the apology reaffirms the fact tha he's being a dumb ass. GAH! But the problem is you just:
1. leave like its nothing to you
2. laugh things off like you didn't do them, which makes me feel really awkward about the situation
3. tend to other things before you even consider how I might feel
4. talked to me about this whole thing and acted like you understood WHY I might feel the way I do

GOD! I just don't understand why you do this? And then you get quiet as if you're disappointed that you're once again the dunce capped boy. But what the fuck do you want from me? You are the one who brings up all these: I don't want to's, and maybe we shouldn'ts. You're the one who pretends to understand why I feel a certain way. But when it comes down to the actual situatuions, you don't even know what the hell to do but laugh things off.

Damn it. Makes me so mad. But makes me feel bad at the same time.

I feel bad because:
I don't want him to feel bad for being "the one to cause the problems"
I feel like I'm always the one initiating the need to solve these problems
I feel like he feels like hes always to blame
I feel like I should be more relaxed and not complain so much

I don't feel bad because:
I don't think I should have to hold my tongue to save his feelings
If it's important to me, I should be able to freely express it in our relationship
I would readily receive him if he wanted to discuss any of his problems with me
I have been shut down in BIG WAYS by him
At least I'm considering how he feels


Damn. I don't know what to do.
Y pamela 12:41 AM

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

So I guess this past weekend was one of the more eventful ones.
Saturday night we head out to a hooka bar. Erin, Liezl, Eli, Sharisse- her friends, etc. We got caught with the alcohol and now Liezl and Shar are getting misdemeanor offenses on their permanent records. Fuck.

I just spend an hour researching this stuff.

Gah. Sleepy.


Y pamela 1:29 AM

Tuesday, January 11, 2005

You are the most inconsiderate person I know.
You make me feel like I don't matter. Like I am just there to fill space. Like I am lucky to have your presence. Like I am a bug on the wall.
I feel so small I want to crawl into a little hole until I disappear completely.

Y pamela 1:28 AM

Thursday, November 04, 2004

I feel like such a loser.
I don't want to pretend anymore. That stuff is okay. That school is okay. That I feel okay.
This weekend and the rest of the week is going to be so hectic and busy. And I am just so frustrated.
Neil makes me so mad. I hate how I am always being disappointed. I know that it probably isn't his fault. But also. That it is.
Why would he tell me that he can come down on Saturday when he probably can't? Why does he always say those things and never hold up to them? Why does he make me feel like shit when he doesn't even say anything. Why do I feel this way whenever someone doesn't come through. WHY did I choose to be in a relationship with someone like Neil.
Who broke up with me.
Who misses our friendship moreso than he does me.
Who loves me "despite the way I look."
Who says blunt remarks without thinking.
Who puts himself before me, anyone.
Who doesn't have the same values as me.
Who ALWAYS manages to give me a bruise or kick me or hurt me.
Who is always making me feel like I am giving him everything.
Who is draining me away.
Who apologizes by saying "my bad."
Who has an ego larger than myself.
Who is always a question instead of an answer....

I know why I am so angry with him... because he never knows. I have to always spell it out. And he is always talking about how much he has to work. And never really thinks about how much I do? He thinks that I am crazy and unfair because I tell him that he doesn't care as much as I do. But it is the truth. I wish I could measure it out. He would see.
I am always there for him. Whenever he calls. But I know for a fact if its after 1AM. I will not get answer. He will let it ring. He will be folded up in his sheets dreaming away. And will feel bad at my missed call. Will pout. But I would answer. I would hear the ring. I would.

There is an inherent difference in the type of people we are.

One who sacrifices and the other who is sacrificed.

And yet I stagger on. Unsure and angry at the fact that he is the way he is.
And that I am the way I am.

Y pamela 4:53 PM

Wednesday, July 07, 2004

I don't want to go to bed angry. So, first I have to write.

The Fourth of July
I thought that this day would be fun. Would be carefree. Would start in the morning and end in one of those I don't want it to be over yet, kinda ways. But, no.
My previous post ended at 4:54. I was angry then, but I had no idea the night was just beginning.
Stuck at home ALL day, I waited around until 7:30ish. Finally, my dad rolls around saying that he'll pick me up and we head to Thai Smile. It is the Maa Krua's (Head Chef?) wedding reception. I feel that facade come over me. With the polite smiles and all that shit that Thai people expect. It's part of the culture, and something that I'm used to. "Oh, you're so pretty." "Oh, you're so smart" BLAH BLAH BLAH. None of them know who I am or even what my name is. It is so fake I want to rip my mask off and all of their's too. I want to reveal them. Liars.
I wait. I have been calling Jenni all day. ALL DAY. Waiting and waiting. When she calls back I will be saved. I feel like its one of those war movies. Where you hear the bombing overhead.
Looks like its gonna go on forever. The night sky is lit up as explosions resound for miles around. And just when you think your last option is exhausted. After you've told the men to say their prayers. Here it comes, your deus ex machina. Salvation. A divine response. Not tonight.
I meet a little girl at Thai Smile. Her mom works there or something like that. She plays with those Monster Snaps that crack when you throw them onto the floor. She speaks broken English. And by the looks of it, she has no brothers or sisters.
Her mom buys her an overstuffed goodie-bag of fireworks. She is greedy and doesn't want to share any of them. But, throughout the night, I will befriend her.
I help her light the fireworks. And she shares her Morning Glories with me. We have become friends. She tells me about her brothers and sisters in Thailand. And her best friend Chloe at school. She's been to Disneyland, but not Universal Studios. Her mom puts mascara on her; an observation I made.
I try to paste on my happy face as we throw a 25 cent rubber ball back and forth. But, everytime I see those unfamiliar faces staring back at me and analyzing my clothes, my hair, who I am-- I want to cry. "I feel the tears pool up inside me and slosh around like a glass waiting to tip over." But I keep choking them down. I want to choke until I die.
Jenni never calls and we leave Thai Smile around 12:30. I come home. Defeated.
The next day, she'll come home. With her pig-nosed face covered in anime and indifference. She'll think nothing wrong of her inconsideration. And she will get mad at me when I ask where she was. We won't talk for a day and a half. But, I like it better at this point.

Today
I wake up and get 99 cent Chicken McNuggets at McDonald's with Johnny. He drives fast and irrationally. It reminds me of my dad. We go to Neil's after eating and the boys play State of Emergency on PS2.
I have that awkward feeling that I always do. That I am too obviously different to fit in completely. That my attempts at making a joke.. a joke like they make.. is completely useless, because I will never be "one of the guys." I feel uncomfortable and bothersome. They are all so into the game and I want to be too. But, I'm not.
I call daddy to pick me up. We need to go to the insurance place. He is cancelling Jenni's insurance and hasn't even talked to her. Again, I feel like the middle man. The peace maker. The messenger.
I will receive the anger from one side (Daddy, Jenni or Mommy) and absorb it as my own. I will filter out the unintended hurtful tones and give the other party the edited version. Its easier this way, I think. But I realize that I am left with nothing but the pain in the end.
And its not to say that what I hold back is easy to swallow information too. It hurts me to hear these things. But, I just nod understandingly and agree or say "I know." When really I want to scream and tell them to TALK TO EACH OTHER. To take a fucking minute and think about what they're saying. If they can talk to me like this, why can't they just say it to each other?!
It hurts me to hear all the negative talk they have for one another. Mommy's slander of daddy's family and their brainlessness. How they're all so stupid, how they'll never try to make anything more of themselves, how they sleep on the floor like they should. Everything so conveniently surpassed by herself, she is the best-- JUDGMENTAL. Daddy's quick temper and ill-fated attempts to tell me about compassion in the world, and how people shouldn't judge or get angry too quickly. How he's the one who is always the good guy and never does anything wrong, how he never gets angry-- HYPOCRITE.
What hurts me the most is that if I ever confronted either of them about their badmouthing of the other, they would deny it til they were dry. They would say I was the crazy one.
But they don't understand that I've listened to them. And I mean listened. I see their mannerisms. Their tones. Their actions speak volumes louder than their words.
At the mention of daddy mommy's face will go stiff and she'll get that alertness in her eyes that I've only seen when she talks about money. And when daddy even senses that mommy will be in the conversation he will automatically roll his eyes and mouth a curse word, usually it's fuck.

I hate being in the middle. I hate being the "nice one." My whole fucking life. I am the one to get along with everyone. I am the one who never gets mad. I am the... pawn. They push me around to listen to their problems, then get rid of me. They tell me everything that is bothering them so that it leaves their chest.. leaves their chest and heaves onto my heart. I feel like the sea floor receiving the anchor off a shipdeck.
And what hurts me the most is that my empathy, my sympathy, my ability to push my own self aside.. is understood as a lack of understanding, that I know nothing of the pain they are feeling. Because look at me, with the happy life, with the UCLA admittance, with the everything.
But, I don't think they know that its harder than anything in the world to hold onto things, to keep working for things that people just think come to you. They don't see you trudge. My dad said that the divorce hits my sister harder than it does me-- because she is older. My mom said that the divorce is the reason Jenni is overweight, because of her stress.
And they look at me and think I have it easy. That getting into UCLA was easy. That I don't know anything of life's pains or sufferings because I am NOT Jenni. Because I wasn't a year and a half older when mommy walked out on us.
My dad told me himself that "he thought Jenni would be the one to do better." Because, she just looked more capable. And then he just looked at me... And at that moment, I felt like... no matter what I did, I couldn't be Jenni. And there I was. Sitting with him and asking him about the history of Thailand, the new Thai gameshows he watched, how much it cost him to do his laundry... and still, he didn't see me.

Feels like they all just think I'm a little kid who followed in Jenni's footsteps. Like she paved the path thats why I had it so easy. But, me and Jenni are two different people. We didn't even have the same experiences, so how can her failures have given way to my success? I don't understand it.
Never in my life have I been given full credit for what I have done. And part of that reason is because I can never fully accept it.
In this whole fight to realize that I can only be who I am... I've lost that ability to ask for what is mine. Because I have never known that MINE existed.
I ask for little. And I want nothing from you. I feel that everything that goes wrong is, in part, my fault. I feel undeserving. I feel that maybe it was a mistake everything good happens to me. I feel pain and enjoy it because it makes me feel deserving of living. That my pain is my punishment for having such a good life.
But, with all this understanding. This comprehension, comes no acceptance.
Y pamela 1:10 AM

Sunday, July 04, 2004

Today is the Fourth of July. Independence Day. Its my Christmas and Thanksgiving, my only "holiday."
And I'm a lame duck sitting at home reading tales of a psychotic woman in The Bell Jar. I wonder if it may be possible that I am, myself, slipping into insanity.

Today I woke up at 12:30PM. I felt it early for someone like myself. Who likes to burrow in the safety of my Ikea bought comforter. Yesterday was such a good day, I was confused with the weight I felt on my chest when I staggered out of bed. Like I had just seen the calm before the storm.
Neil said he would call last night. But, he didn't. Despite the bawling I endured the night before explaining to him all of my insecurities, my faults and still, nothing.
I thought about the hours I sat faithfully by my phone. 12AM-- I just called him at 10, it'll probably be a while longer. 1AM-- Don't worry, it's still pretty early. 2AM-- He's with the guys, they're probably still out. 3AM-- Hopefully he hasn't forgotten or fallen asleep. 4AM-- I hope he's not in any sort of trouble. 5AM-- ...; I find myself in a dreary lucid dream of falling in love with a blonde haired boy like Buddy Willard. His hair is flowing and he is handsome. But I embrace him like I do Neil. He feels and smells like Neil. And my nose aligns perfectly with his chest plate, just like I do Neil. He wears a dress shirt, a t-shirt and an A-shirt. On the A-shirt, something is printed about God and Him being the only true love. I am confused, but pleased with my dream, altogether.
I wake up to Araceli's call. She's been reminding me for weeks to sign up for Bally's. I avoid her tactfully, but am now running out of schemes. I feel embarrassed. She expects me to come in today. She'll call again at 3PM. I will be excited because I think it's Neil's ringtone. But, my heart will fall to the floor when I read the fluorescent green text on the backdrop of endless black black black. I will not answer, this time I will press the button that says Ignore Call.
In the morning, I eat 2 pieces of pizza and some buffalo wings. Not bad, I think. I wait around until 1:30PM. Feeling the drone of Sunday mornings. Too late in the day to feel the fresh excitement of the weekend and too early to feel the oncomings of the Monday thru Friday workload. I am gray. And forgotten.
I immerse myself in The Bell Jar for an hour. Wait wait wait. Neil will finally call. And he says Happy 12monthiversary. I feel dry. And wonder to myself how he could just say that? I say Thank You.
Anger rushes to my face like a fire I once saw in the brush on the side of the 5 Freeway. My mom said someone probably set it on fire purposely, so they wouldn't have to pay someone to cut down the trees and weeds.
Last week Neil said he wanted to spend the 4th of July with me. I was happy; the kind of happy that I have often felt. Laced with doubt and uncertainty; what if plans fall through? And lo and behold-- 4:32PM he calls. Unapologetically. He'll be staying home with Bruno today, because you know dogs, they get so scared of the loud noises and fireworks. His voice is hollow and forgetful of the sincere words he said earlier.
I feel betrayed.
After I hang up, my dad, my Fourth of July Santa, calls and asks if I wouldn't mind if he played another 9 hold round. He's played poorly today, but this time he will beat them he says. I say, okay. And wonder about the dinner party he said he had to go to, for that cook at Thai Smile.

I hear cracking and whistling outside. I'm sure today someone is smiling that it is the
Fourth of July.

5:12PM-- My room is a dull yellowish-white. The color of an old blanket I have. The color of stained teeth. The sunlight seems to stir between the little ridges of the plastered walls and churn the tones. Thick thick thicker the walls become till I can see them oozing into pallid cheese folds like molten lava rolling down the side of a volcano.
I am fighting off the strong desire to scream and cry. Pop Pop Crack. I hear one of those sparkling fireworks that you set down in the middle of street and that are named those glorious things like "Freedom Fountain" and "The Illuminator."

But after I write, I feel a rush of calm come over me. Like when you jump into a cool backyard pool on a warm summer day. Its refreshing and easy to just let the water glide over you. And until it builds up again, I am safe from the frustrations of reality. I will just sit here, in my cold pool. Wading and wading and waiting.
Y pamela 4:54 PM