Happy Post #2:

Warm afternoons in the car, rocking out to 90s alternative hits, pretending we were in a summer road trip movie.

And I might have to add, the rest of 2009, too.

"How did you get to be so wise?"

"September happened."

The aftermath is always the hardest part.

Have you ever seen the world collapse right before your eyes?

More importantly, have you ever seen the world build itself back together?

There is always a third option.

In this lifetime of finding yourself deep in floodwaters, in twisted emotions and in tough jobs, you thought you could only sink into deeper water or swim furiously against the tides.

You never thought you could climb into higher ground.

It’s time for you to find a little peace of mind.

Don’t dream it’s over. Or: Don’t dream. It’s over.

The protagonist then arrives at a major hurdle wherein he begins to question the goal he set out for himself at the beginning of our story. With everything taken from him, the protagonist probes deeper into his problem, and sometimes, with the aid of an important person or object, experiences catharsis and reflection over what has happened and what he has to do. He gathers strength from this and arrives at another point of decision on whether or not he should continue to reach for his goal.¹

I’ve always wanted to teach film. It’s the story of my life.

¹Even if he decides to pursue it, the protagonist does not always win.

The pattern will form me.

One day, I will return to this. I will remember what it is like to dream, to be flighty, to feel. I will see images that nobody else can counter, because the images will be drifting before anybody notices.

I, too, will be drifting before anybody notices.

I celebrated by wearing a souvenir t-shirt.

A year ago, I thought I found an escape route. It was a shortcut towards temporary happiness.
Soon after that, I found myself back in the hole.

It's never really an escape until you're completely free.

Happy Post #1:

The smell of freshly laundered sheets when I go to bed at night.

Why nature won't take its course (I'm tired of this season)

I thought I’d let you know that they stopped growing when you took off.

You promised then that nothing would change.

Nothing did.

How does one tell what's right from what's left?

I continue to believe that I am a piece of artwork left unfinished.

The operative word here being left.

There are truths in those dares.

The only thing worse than realizing that last night's actions were so wrong is realizing that last night's feelings were so right.

We promise to stick to parlor games next time.

You'll never win the game if you don't know where to hide.

I've stopped looking for you. The sad part is, I know exactly where to find you.

Predictability is a turn-off.

Afraid of people, afraid of spaces.

I stopped breathing and you liked it better that way.

The next time I catch your attention, it will be the death of me.

I hope you like it.

And the world wouldn't have been blurry if not for the tears.

I watched her that night, as she forced the alcohol inside her system. Nobody stopped her. She wanted to be wild. She wanted the attention. She wanted to have fun.

Instead, she sat in a corner and sulked and cried all night. The night before, she had cried in bed until sunrise.

They say the alcohol numbs the pain.

No. The pain numbs the alcohol.

You're only good at selling out. And then getting lost.

You can keep telling yourself not to be scared, but that won't stop the bats from surprising you.
You can keep telling yourself not to fall in love, but that won't stop him from kissing you.
You can keep telling yourself that the past is over, but that won't stop the past from creeping up to you.

You never really were good with sales talk, anyway.

And ending up paying for the slob's drink.

Best friends come together because of their shared crises: the first time they shave their legs, the memories of first loves, the remnants of last loves, and an encounter with a creepy Caucasian slob who hit on them while being a sexist jerk.

I also decided to become a cyborg.

"What's been going on with you?"
"Not much. A lot. I stopped falling in love. And you?"
"I fell in love."
"I know."
"Does that mean you could be my rebound, my meantime, if I ever needed one, since your heart will never be broken again?"
"I wouldn't know. I never listen to my heart anymore."