Absurd and unheard...

How do I begin to tell you what you've become to me? You aren't Karen anymore, and really you weren't her for very long to begin with. You aren't even Bonita anymore, though my heart still thumps at the very sound.

Instead, you have become the embodiment of love.

How is that possible? How can you, or even now as the memory of you, become something so overwhelming? I don't know how I got here, but I am...

Wait. That's not entirely true. I think that from the moment I left Chicago I began to start to see and think and feel how special and import you were and are to me. The old adage really is true: you don't realize what you have until you've lost it.

Remember how I wanted to break things off when I moved here? I just assumed that it would be the end of us. But it wasn't. In many ways, it was the beginning; it made me realize all the things that you are and how much of my heart you really had claimed. You became my girlfriend only once I moved away from you.

I don't know if I just didn't understand how I felt for and about you or if I simply took it for granted. Either way I left, and I started the down the road of being without you, even if I didn't know it.

And now, you're so much more. I've pined for you for longer than I dated you. The inspiration my heart feels for you is astounding. It's like you're a drug; I get high on you, and my buzz is the very beating of my heart.

You've become so much more. You've become my love's idol, you've become a deity for my heart. I've shed all the negative things about you, all the bad, and see you now only through rose colored glasses.

Through it all I'm strangely ok with it. At least now I understand what you've become, no longer a woman, but rather the representation of my heart and my love. Rather than try to fight it, I embrace it.

So ef it! I'm not going to dwell on it as I used to. Rather instead, I am just going to smile and laugh with it. I'm lucky to be moved so powerfully by you.

The last thought I want to share is how deeply embedded into my heart and soul you are. Today when you told me the story of what happened with your ex boyfriend, the example of his jealousy, it freaked me out. Immediately my heart started thumping and a veil of rage was pulled over my eyes. I was so hopeful that you were simply a part of my past and a fixture on my emotional mantle place, nothing more. But even now I find myself sickened with anger over how you were treated. You may have no place left for me in your heart, but it is clear that you still captivate mine.

Until the next spew of thought, me amore forever more...

the inspiration of you

How do I find words to write to no one in particular?

How do I fool myself into thinking these thoughts fall on any ears or eyes at all, even if they're deaf and blind ones?

Why do I come back here, time and time again? Why do I hold so steadfast on to you?

The honest truth is the love that you instilled in me, the love that inspires my words even now. My eyes see beauty in the world and compare it to you; my ears hear music and lyrics sung over and again, each word uttered for you. How my world still revolves around you, even though you are no longer here.

It almost amused me seeing you the last time I did. You looked so beautiful, so happy and at peace. And it was my love that blinded me to accepting that you were all of these things without me. Some part of me hangs on to you for fear that you've ruined me to love, to life, that without you flavor loses its taste. I worry that you've been it, and that I walked away from it all.

And though even now, and likely always, your love - you - will inspire my words I hold my head high. There's a big part of me that has accepted that you've left my life forever. There's the knowing that my heart will love again. And I don't feel as though in doing so I disrespect the adoration I hold for you.

I betrayed your love once when I left; I can't kill something twice.

But I've started to feel happy again. I've started to believe that maybe my heart will hold someone close again. I'm beginning to see that the flower of my love may one day again bloom.

And through it all, at the end of my days I will always know: there will never be a flower more beautiful or passionate as the one that my heart blooms for you Bonita.

I love you with all my heart mi skirls.

swingers.

holy shit Bonita. You need to watch this movie called Swingers. Really you just need to watch about 19 minutes of the movie: from the 0:50:00 mark to the 1:09:00 mark. It's me. It's my life

you're in my thoughts and heart as always Bella.

i cant believe it's been so long...

 

I can't believe it's been so long.

 

for the first time in a long time I logged in to this blog. It's not that I haven't thought about you. I think about you every day. You're the first thought when I wake. You're the last vision I have before drifting off to sleep.

 

so why haven't I been here? Why haven't I written you ask? I have tried not to. I've tried to keep myself away from you, even from the thoughts of you. Even now I am moved to tears just writing these words, just thinking your name.

 

and what has it been that my thought has been anchored upon? it is you. It has always been you.

 

 when I logged on tonight I was first and foremost greeted with how long it has been since my last post. It seems so long ago, and yet I discover the shock of having written you not a month and a half past. That may seem like a long time. And truth be told it has felt like years since I have allowed myself to pen thoughts of you. And yet it has been mere weeks. Perhaps 40 or 50 some-odd days since I've been here. 50 days that have lasted a lifetime.

 

and yet... you've never been closer to my heart.

 

it's been six months since I've reached out to you.

 

it's been over a year since I've seen you.

 

it's been nearly a year and a half since I've kissed you.

 

it's been almost two years since you've kissed me back.

 

I pass kikiriki vivero and think of you.

 

I go do laundry at free jabon and think of you.

 

 I walk home and pass crazy chicken, and think of you.

 

 I ask passengers if they have "Écureuils" in their bags, stumbling over the pronunciation. I go home for a funeral and scan the program for the word "hallelujah" since Sam can't say it. I listen to my French coworkers say "pleesure", and all I can think about is you.

 

i fly out to New Mexico, drive into the middle of the mountains in the dead of night, get lost in the darkness, submerged in a thunderstorm of biblical proportions, and yet when the morning comes and the radio returns I find myself filming the dashboard, listening to "no tengo dinero", and I think about you.

 

I no longer look at women and see them as beautiful or not; they simply either remind me of you or they dont.

 

I see pairs of pants on half manaquins and picture your gait.

 

I take picture of things to send you. I never do.

 

tonight I left work with three text messages waiting for me on my phone. They were from some 773 number not stored in my phone, so just the digits appeared as the sender. And even the unknown reminds me of you. Just the mere possibility that it could be you has my stomach in knots.

 

8am (the hour at which the last text advised me not to message back before)  can't come fast enough, just so that I can confirm that I'm crazy, that it isn't you.

 

I likely won't sleep tonight.

 

but I'll be thinking of you.

 

I love you with all my heart Bonita, from now until the end of time.

the numbers...

September 4th... That's the last time I broke down and wrote for you, wrote about you, wrote to you - or at least it was the last time I posted. As I logged in tonight I was reminded of just how much I think about you; there are a half dozen drafts I've written to post here, for you.

so what brings me here tonight? A girl, some girl, snapping her gum on the train. It made me almost crack my neck snapping it around, expecting to see you. Something - a nothing really - that plunged me deep into the thought of you.

as always, you're on my mind Bonita. I hope with all my heart that you're happy and well. But perhaps more than anything I hope you've forgotten me the way I haven't been able to forget you.

all my love for ever and a day mi skirls.

the same

it is always the same thought.

it is always you, Bonita.

sometimes I wonder if I'm going crazy. Albert Einstein defined insanity as "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." what troubles me is not that I keep doing the same thing over and over again. In fact, I have done everything in my power to do as many things differently hoping for equally different results. I have tried to avoid thinking of you, tried to avoid reminders of you, even to abandon this blog - the outlet of my own heart. But what is crazy to me is that no matter what I try I still end up with the same result; I always come back to you.

it's like the universe is crazy, and my sanity is drowning me.

I try so desperately to forget my own past with you, but to abandon my own thoughts proves to be as futile as abandoning my own senses.

I unconsciously breathe you in; I drown in you. Without attempt I am submerged and plunged to the depths of the world. And it is you that surrounds me, that captures me, that enslaves me. You hold my heart captive without effort, without attempt, without knowing.

and what am I to do?

I've tried to drug you out of my system, hoping that I can simply replace you with the haziness of misery that can be found at the bottom of a bottle, the end of a joint, or the last spoonful of ice cream. Nothing distracts me, nothing satiates me, nothing.

and what can I do? Where do I go when there is nowhere to run from my own head, my own heart. Even as I type these words now I am well aware of how ludicrous it is to be so wholeheartedly infatuated with you, so drunk on you, so in love.

I no longer feel pain, I no longer feel sorrow, desire, despair, love, hate, fear, remorse.

I am empty. I feel no more. I just have that place in which you once dwelled in my life, that place you live in my heart.

I can't help myself. I dont want to hear your voice, I dont want to see your face. But I am haunted by you.

I have run out of ways to say it. I have lost new ways to expunge you from me. I am desperate to be separate from you, to forget what was.

but I am lost without you.

live

I think life is good. In fact, I think life is beautiful.

I think the beauty of life lies in its' sorrow, its' pain. Whenever I am confronted with someone who is quite against the qualities of winter I rejoice. I begin by explaining how many great things the winter has to offer, from the snow, spreading serenity across everything, to snowballs, snowmen, snow angels, snow days, snow cones, seeing one's breath, a warm fire, cozy anythings, and hockey. The rant was usually capped with the reminder that Santa came in the winter, and so did my birthday.

before I let the conversation be, I reminded my audience the most important thing of all; "even if you don't like winter look at it this way: having to go through the winter makes sumner that much better."

and that's how this life is. The crappy shit we have to deal with, it makes all the cool stuff even better! Everyone has different levels of bad, of things they have to deal with, and accordingly have different levels of what is "good". But we all experience our own goods in a much more passionate way because of the "bad" that we must endure.

for that I am thankful to you Bonita for two independent and intertwined ways. I love you with all that I am. You are my good. You made me appreciate life because of how good it was with you in it. You are the first woman that I have loved with everything that I am.

you are also the bad. Life without you apart of it has been like the repeated ripping off of a bandaid. You and we were so good that I cannot keep myself from our memories, from my own thoughts. And each time I access you the bandaid is ripped off again. The pain is new again, the sorrow seems to have never left.

such is life Bella. I'm ok with the idea of never having you again. I have begun to realize that the pain I continuously remind myself of is to remind myself only of you, mi corizon.

life is beautiful, Bonita. And your beauty made my realize it.

yo te quiero, mi skirls...