Never Say Never

I've been seeing Huante more and more these days. We've talked more in these past two weeks than we have in the past three months. It somehow worries me in sense; I have never been able to guess what his motives are--as I'm sure he does the same with me. Both of us have become masters at hiding our feelings from each other, even when we're sharing the most private stories to one another.

I was thinking about death the other day which to some of you might freak you out at the thought of a teenager having such a morbid tone in any part of her life, but this is me--take it or leave it. As I was thinking about death, I realized how for many of us, enough just isn't enough. Just when we think we have so much time to do everything and we procrastinate on everything, feeling so sure that the next day we will awake and be able to quickly rush onto the next task at hand, we really don't have much time. 

I think about my own death. Whether or not it'll come soon or whether I'll have the privilege to live a good, long life. And the reason I started thinking about this is because day in and day out I worry that I will never be able to FULLY talk to Huante. I'll never fully to be able to talk to him about everything that I want to tell him. I want to tell him and everything and anything. 

I just don't know why this is so important to me now more than before. 

The Other Side

I stopped believing in Love a while ago. I can't exactly remember when. I remember thinking that it still existed sometime during elementary school. I was watching The Lizzie McGuire Movie around that time. I remember watching Gordo watch Lizzie and hold in his feelings. I remember believing in fate--that if you wanted something long enough and hard enough; if your feelings were that strong, then you would get what you want. That true love, when it is meant to be, will find itself in the end.

But that was a long time ago. I don't believe in fate..or in love anymore. I want to believe in it though. Love, I mean. I actually really do. But it seems so goddamn trivial and mediocre to me. Seeing my parents makes me think otherwise. Seeing what Mikie's girlfriend has done and sacrificed for Mikie makes me think otherwise. 

Love is a complex thing and with all complex situations that fall onto my lap, I just can't stand keeping it there for too long. Eventually, I have to stand up and leave it on the floor, just laying there. 

I don't know when I'll be able to pick it up and accept it. It's just freaking me out that the more I walk away from it, the more Love keeps getting shoved into my face. By everyone. Well not everyone. But everyone that I think matters to me. It's frustrating me.

I want to join those on the other side that say love is so deeply amazing. I want to believe Kenneth when he tells me that the day I fall in love, I'll realize how beautiful it truly is. However, that's not the case to me. I can't picture myself falling in love. Allowing myself to be that vunerable with another human being--well, another male anyway. Even Jorge, who is closer to me than I'll actually ever admit, doesn't know everything about me. 

I wonder what it's like though...I wonder if it is actually nice.

Look After You

It's always have and never hold.

You've begun to feel like home.

What's mine is yours to leave and take.

What's mine is yours to make your own.

This song has been getting to me these past couple of days.

Mainly because he sounds so sad. 

So desperate to look for a companion.

So willing to do everything and anything to get someone...

...Like my dad. Who basically quit his job because my mom didn't like that he drove women around. He deleted all his clients' numbers from his phone. 

He loves her that much.

and she's just loving that she's got him where she wants him.

They're back together now.

I give it __ months. 

We'll be back to square one soon.

Needle In A Haystack

"I'm not telling you this to get mad at you. I'm telling you this because I want you to shut them up." -Mikie

It did not start out so great at the beginning, even though I thought it was. I had just gotten my new AdiPures. White with gray streaks and a green outlining along the gray. They're a sight for sore eyes. And on top of that, Kikan had just given me his Chelsea jersey because it fit him too big and he knew I wanted it. I felt good in my fresh outfit and was ready to go play soccer at Campus. We got there and as always, I was the only girl. I've gotten so used to this that it really doesn't bother me.

Or at least I thought it didn't.

We played a 6v6 and within the few minutes the opposing team had already scored 4 goals on us. I could see Mikie's face of frustration as we were losing. The passion he holds for this game is so noticeable..more than the rest of us. Mikie passed the ball to me in the back, telling me to send it up to Isaac who was near the goal. I passed it and realized that my already pulled groin had just gotten worse. The pain was excrutiating but I had to hold it in. I stopped for a second to text on my phone when Totti came from out of nowhere and scored on us.

"Come on Amy! Are you serious?!" Isaac yelled at me. They all had a look of anger in their faces. I turned to see Totti and noticed he was laughing. He thought of me as a joke. He thought girls playing sports was a joke. I look at him with his oversized pecks that made him look gay and his feminine looking face, arrogantly smiling because his team was up by seven goals and realized how much I hated him. I hated him for being the kind of person that my brothers often become. I hated him because of the fact that no one could stop him, even though in reality he wasn't even that good. 

But most of all, I hated him because he was right. Totti--this immigrant from Italy-where essentially his nickname came from--knew that girls shouldn't be taken seriously. I hated him so much at that moment for being right. For seeing me when I was injured and unable to play to my fullest. I hated him.

Even after the game was over and we had come back and won 15-12, I still hated him. Even after I had scored 3 goals on him, I still hated him. I didn't like how he made me feel. Belittled for being a girl. He made my brothers not like me for being a girl and not being tougher. I probably will always hate him for that moment. For making me feel as if I didn't belong on a soccer field. That's the worst thing someone could do..

Let's Fall

I feel very weird at times realizing that I now have a boyfriend. That's been my thought since it happened. It's not so much that I'm scared of him...just that I've been so used to being alone, not really expecting much from people that now that there's this person that likes spending time with me, and likes being with me..it's just weird.

Though I can't deny that I haven't enjoyed the time I've spent with him. It's been a blast and I actually do like him. But liking him is as far as this feeling of affection goes. I don't expect myself to fall in love with him and for the most part, I don't want to. It's like a wise friend of mine once said, "Kids these days can't tell the difference between love and lust." And the fact that he already told me he loved me (mind you he was at the time heavily intoxicated at the time) just makes me worry how long this will last.

Hopefully the fact that he was drunk will make us forget about this nonsense for the time being. 

My Green Pitch

I came on blogger today and realized my mind is too caught up in all these mishaps at home. Although that's rather normal, we all have different worlds we live in within our front doors that others only hear about but never experience. And although I do tend to bitch, moan, and whine about so many complications in my life, there's much of it that I rather enjoy. 

Soccer, evidently, is one of them. That green pitch, those goals post, and of course, that captivating ball, they all form this triangular balance in my life that make me just relax. 

Soccer to me is something more than just kicking a ball between two posts. It enriches my life in ways I can't describe. My green pitch. I don't know what I'd do without it. <3 

There's Fire At Both Ends

"Parents are douchebags..."

The more drawn I make myself to better understand my dad or--more importantly--my mom, I am always constantly reminded why this choice is obviously wrong. Today was a great example of that. They got into another one of their very peachy fights where everything goes. They don't care who's around. The closest one is always drawn in. My dad refuses to talk while my mom just follows him like she has a string connected to him that won't let her do otherwise. I don't blame him for not talking. My mother has a habit of not being able to handle the truth. She also always has a way of toying things around so it seems as if he is the one doing the wrong. And despite the fact that my dad isn't looking for the fight, despite the fact that he just wants to satisfy her with half of the truth so she won't go crazy, despite the fact that my brothers and I are my dad's only friends (he constantly tells us how we're his best friends) and she has all the friends in the world--my aunt next door, my aunt down the street, her friends at work--despite all that, she still continues to kick him out of the house. Because that's the best way things can get better. 

What angers me more is the fact that yesterday her and I had this talk about how she wants very badly for my father and I to have a stable relationship. She kept going on and on about how glad she is that him and I are so close. That him and I can go to downtown together; I don't get bored when he takes me to work with him. She is so happy all this is happening.

No, mom. The truth is you hate it. You hate every second of it. You hate that I call him my friend. Your insecurities get the best of you & you feel compelled to take him away so that maybe...just maybe...he won't be around and Mikie, Isaac, Kikan--and most of all--me, will have no other choice but to come to you. There's only one problem. The more you do that. The more you push my dad away by saying he's poisoning us, the more I lose faith in you. 

And I know this is wrong. There's no denying that he does tell us to lie. But I see why he tells us to lie and I agree with that.

But my father has as much blame in it as well. There's fire at both ends, I know that. When he tells us that we'll be okay without her, that we'll work it out, him and I, and then the next day he goes to her, telling her "Let's talk. I want to work it out with you," that is what pisses me off about my dad. What's the point of making my brothers and I go through moments of passionate sadness only for them to turn it around for us yet again?

And though my dad does have some blame, my mother always ends up taking the cake for these predicaments. Either way, they both get me mad.

"Your mom & my dad should go bowling..."