~underknownholiday

I decided that I would write something this week. So here I am. Damn...

I've been watching series where things don't go quite as planned, but they go realistically. They go in a way that's the only way that you can imagine after that, the way it's supposed to be. Meant to be. Maybe. This little paragraph will be relevant in a moment. I'm going to skip ahead a little bit.

Like this. I probably shouldn't be talking about this here, but I find that writing everything out helps me, especially when there's someone out there who's reading it, who's listening. I find that quite a few people read it, it makes for great entertainment, I know. This is it. This is what I want to say. You don't love me. At least, that's what I want to believe. Heh. The thing is, a few nights ago, several nights ago, I got a text message in the middle of the night, which brought me back from the edge of the land of sleep. It told me that someone out there really missed me. And I replied with a rather cold, summed-up, 'No-you-don't.' I told him that he could stop missing me now. That it was okay. I didn't hear anything back for a while. Some time later, I got another message. It told me that I knew for a fact that I was loved and that I always would be loved. The message froze my heart. I have to admit I smiled, but it was a really stoic, rigid smile. The truth is, I don't know it. I don't know that he loves me. I don't believe it, to put it mildly. {shrug} Before I left, he told me that there had been love but that it had died on his end. I can't remember what I had done. I think I might have laughed a little bit at it. Then, I remember going upstairs, telling myself not to look back because I knew that my eyes were welling up. But I looked anyway. How can a person so in love now, just stare at me blankly like he did and then shut the door on my welling eyes? How can a person so in love now have told me that the love had died? I can feel it. I can feel it slip right through my fingers like hot sand. No matter how well you cup it in your hands, there's always some that falls through. And in the end, you're only left with a little bit. In the end, that little bit of sand isn't even enough to warm your hands.

So, I've been thinking. Was I really in love? Did I love him? I've asked myself that over and over again. I know that I used to, but do I still? That's been the most troubling question. It will be sad if after all of that, after he has found that he really does miss me, that there is a void there...It will be sad if I really don't anymore. I told a friend of mine at work, that some of the most impossible, stupid shit happened when I was in Utah with him. It had truly felt like the harder we tried; the more we hurt, the more it felt like some otherworldly force was trying to rip us apart. When I moved, everything became calm. The world stopped spinning long enough for me to see, to breathe, to feel something other than panic and chaos. I told my friend, I said, I'm pretty sure that we weren't supposed to be together at that time. It might not have been the place. I think it was just time. I know for certain that we weren't supposed to be together like that, at that time. I know it. Whenever I think that, there's this overwhelming warmth and calm that settles over me. I wonder...I wonder if we were ever supposed to be together at all. Near the end, I couldn't manage to be happy. It was like I didn't want to be happy. Can a person be so afraid of happiness that he would reject it like that? Was I just not able to accept it, that it was all right to be happy like that?

Everyone used to say that we were a perfect match. The truth is, it really wasn't as black and white as that. We had our ups and downs, just like every other couple. Sometimes they were horrible. When we were first going out, we weren't even like a couple. We didn't act like one. We never called each other. We might get together at a group thing or see each other at school. We went to prom with each other. I remember liking him when we went to prom with each other...but at first, I was never bothered that he left me out of things or didn't tell me what he did the day before or the day after. I had been really down all the time actually. There was this other girl and...I felt like I was never enough, like I would never be the same as she was in his eyes. I suppose because of that, at the very start of it, I was that way: laid back and smiling all the time and spoiling him to ribbons. I'm sure that some of you remember reading about all of it in my journal. {sigh} At some point, I guess I started to get jealous. At some point, I started to really feel and, inevitably I got attached. Son of a bitch, did I get attached. I couldn't believe how much that other girl affected me, how much it pissed me off, how terrible it made me feel and how much more I cried, how much more...more than anything else, I cried.

Anyway, I really like this one series called Honey and Clover. A friend of mine introduced it to me. It's about life. That about sums up the entire series. I like it...because it describes the choices that humans make and why they make them. It describes them and also tries to explain them, although, I think saying that it describes it is a much better way of saying it. I want to watch it again. It leaves you with this warm and clean feeling and makes you want to cry in the joyful sense. Some things you just can't explain, right? It's the kind of series that leaves you in awe, leaves you calm and happy, even if it's just for a little while. It may not give you a new perspective on life, but it gives you a different one on the perspectives you might already have. I was so impressed with it. I wish that I could create something like that. I wish that my storytelling was so rich and smooth. I wish, that even though the story might be hopeless, my voice can sound full of hope anyway. Love. And the meaning of life might be two different things for a person, which is something that one of the characters in the series says. To live, every person might need love from somewhere, but it doesn't mean that that's the sole reason for why they live. Which is both a beautiful and hurtful, ugly thought. But I think that might be part of life. Learning and realizing things that both contradict and compliment each other. I just wish...I wish that I could understand those things. I wish that I could accept them sometimes, too.

Love is not pointless, sometimes it just isn't the point. How do we fix it? How do we fix everything that happened? How are you going to fight for me? How are you going to try? Why? And why am I so damn happy, even though it hurts at the same time?

News on my Art: Well, let's see. I've been trying to draw Sighn. I think I've got a hand for him again. It took me a couple of tries to get back into the groove of drawing him. Hell, why did I make him so...diffcult? Attitude-wise and character design-wise. That's what you get for putting detail and a little bit your own heart into a character. That's what. I've also been developing the story for my North and South Korea...not parody...I know there's a name for it. LOL I just can't think of it right now. I think you can call it more of a 'what if'...then anything. And there's also a rockstar in it, damn that NANA series. There is a rock band in it. I have no idea what I'm going to call it. All I know is that the lead singer is actually from what I've come to call "The North," and he became a singer in The South after a lot of sacrifices and hiding out. And...he is BAD-Ass. LMAO I'll post a picture as soon as possible. I promise. As soon as I get his design down just the way I want it.

All right. Thanks for reading guys. {Sigh} I know. More complaining. More reflection. Geez, I'm crazy.