i don't mind that i'm not okay.

honestly i think i am for the most part.

but some days, like today, things fall apart

and i am miserable with the thought of my

self-made loneliness.

then i get angry at myself for thinking that

i don't actually have things to cherish.

it's a cycle of exasperation,

but i know that sometimes i can't help myself.

it's specifically days like these,

when i get so tired of reading about dreams.

maybe reading so much murakami has taken a toll on me.

i wish i were as big as the sun

and i could swallow all the clouds in the sky.

maybe you would look up and wonder

where all of the clouds have gone

and realize i left the vast, immeasurably blue canvas

for you to be able to find me again.

some amount of days from now,

i will be back to my other self.

and that is all i can look forward to.

edit:
i can't stop myself from still thinking about you.
but that's not news; it's unavoidable.
without doing a single thing,
you hold me down in the best/worst way possible.
knowing i did what i had to do doesn't make it easier.

sometimes i catch myself getting lost in your face again,
and i hope more than anything else the next time
it doesn't hurt so much.
even after all this time,
trying my best to not talk to you (and obviously failing at times),
you seem to be the largest part of my life
that isn't myself.

i have to get these words out
so i can stop breaking my own heart.

i've had this stuck in my head for so long now:

"the midwest feels like a hollow place/

that we filled with love and industry."

- "the devil in my bloodstream" by the wonder years

and as i listen to all these songs that were
intended to be innocuous,
their lyrics bump into each other in my mind
and give me heartaches.

i didn't run for a week because i was feeling

especially lazy and ate everything instead;

tonight, when i went out,

i managed to scrounge up a dog and two cats

while minimally exerting myself.

the dog barked at me because he/she

correctly identified me as a night assailant.

the cats walked away from me a couple of yards

and watched me with great disdain.

my wanderlust knows no bounds:

not five minutes ago i looked up torrents for

disneyland specials, just so i could see footage of

that wonderful place i love so much.

i got a haircut on friday, and my brother keeps

calling me macklemore, which shows just how

powerful his brain is when used as an analytical tool.

besides these non sequiturs,

i've been pervasively despondent for the last couple of days.

i think i realized recently that although pat and i

were in each other's lives for roughly one short year,

she has had a large impact on my life.

i guess it's not too out of the realms of sanity for me to

still miss her this much.

i try not to say stuff like that here, mostly because

i use this space as a record of my thoughts

that i find important, independent of my current goings-on;

essentially, i want to write what i feel is
relatable and timeless.
however, at this juncture i cannot help but admit
that i think about pat too often,
and i am trying my best to move on with my life.

it's hard to move on, though,
when there's seemingly not too much to move on to.

another thursday:

full of hat hair, reading so much that i have a hard time

discerning what exactly i'm eating for dinner, and

enough obscure television shows to satisfy the prerequisites for a
TV Land's "Future Classic" award committee wet dream

(side note: Party Down is at least a 7.9 on the funny scale).

i managed to pencil in for this particular thursday:

wandering around the park trying as hard as i can

not to look like a miscreant, although the irony is that

even if i tried "as hard as i can" to look like a miscreant,

the fine gendarmes of Palm Desert would more than likely

consider me as threatening as a crumpled up receipt,

what with a copy of Tender is the Night in my hands

and a grin the size of a South American banana on my face

brought on by the incredibly clear sky of the day.

i've drank so much water since i've been home

that my dad has had to make extra trips to WinCo to fill up

the containers for the water dispensing unit.

essentially, since i've arrived, this family has consumed

double the amount of water.

in case you readers are incapable of some simple mathematics at home,

that means that i drink the same amount of water as

the three other humans and two dogs that reside with me.

although now that i realize, the dogs have their own special water

that has some chemicals in them to try to retard

the alarming and dispiriting rate of tooth loss

and general gingival health they've been facing.

needless to say, i find myself again at one of those crossroads

where i ask myself

"why am i eating two strips of bacon and

a microwave chicken burrito for breakfast

in the home of my childhood?"

as rhetoric as this question might be,

i'm fairly certain the phrase "dental board of california"

could be thrown into the equation without a large stretch

of the imagination or a sprinkling of petty untruths.

on the whole, i suppose i shouldn't really complain about

my temporarily lax existence.

there could be worse ways of spending one's time,

and to be honest, putting the infrequent bouts of

incredible anxiety regarding the future and all its

pecuniary pitfalls aside, i have to admit i am content.

i do feel like lately i've been swooning a bit more

from the romantic aspects of shows and movies.

i think seeing that kind of happiness in others,

even feigned with a professional mien,

gives me hope for the future.

nevertheless, even if mila kunis and elisha cuthbert

managed to mix their DNA, create a female clone from that sample,

and mature it in an incredibly short amount of time

a la Episode II: Attack of the Clones,

(and taught it everything there was to know about

21st century music and smelled of library book pages)

i would have to force myself to smile as graciously as i could

and explain to her that "i'm not really in a dating kind of place

right now, y'na'mean?"

call it fate, call it luck, call it karma.