you say he's just a friend.

things have been sailing smoothly & i feel older and wiser. i'm constantly changing, hopefully always for the better. i'm trying not to mess with a good thing, and trying not to overanalyze every detail. i'm hoping this is an easy way of saying "things are gonna be okay."

this is for you.

first and foremost, i only wanted you to be loved. i gave you all the love i possibly could, and somehow it wasn't enough. i trusted you blindly, millions of times. i wanted to show you that someone could genuinely love you, believe in you, and be by your side even when you make mistakes. i could go on loving you unconditionally, but it's killing me to have false hope for you. you're so put-together on the outside, but i know the real you. i have so much more love surrounding me than you do. that's why i know i'll be okay eventually. i wanted to give you part of me, part of my huge heart that seems to believe in you because of the glimmer in your eyes. i want to be your best friend, and help you, and love you, and still see you on your good days and smile and remember things that made me fall for you. but you are a broken person. you only hurt those you love because you're too scared they might do it to you first. i try hard not to hate you and love you at the same time. i try hard to remember that i do know the real you, but you are a shitty person. i shouldn't want to change you, only you are allowed to have that desire. you already know what you lost when you lost me. our bond can't be duplicated. i worry about you often, but i know you wouldn't want me to. with time, i just hope you can appreciate what i tried to do.

mellon collie and the infinite sadness.

unhappy. but life is okay. it's a cycle of emotion, turning its wheel like the london eye. next stop: unknown. less than two weeks until i move into the apartment. i fear no matter where i go, there might be that little rain cloud following me.. i'm trying to get an umbrella. a sturdy one. one that can't be carried off by the wind or get broken by the rain. the pattern doesn't matter so much anymore, i've found. you have one that can match your outfit, but shit--you just end up soaked and cold.

blissful summer nights with my lovely roommate. i'll have my freedom, but that means nothing anymore. jobs are essential, and i know i can't hide from that. i need to get my life in order. i need a job, and i want a more stable direction. i need a more powerful brain and a smaller heart. neurogenesis, please? i'll get it right, eventually. AMOR FATI. i'm trying, nietzsche. if i'm ever going to become a non-biased, emotionally detached therapist, i need to take a little more control. now i know why i always fight for the pants.

blah blah blah. so here i am. i, alexandria, am in the valley. jobless, single, & unsatisfied. i won't settle anymore. i'm getting what i want and where i want to be. i'm going to amsterdam this year. i'm getting a job. and i'm staying single. i'm doing it, all of it. and i'm going to be happy. i'm busting out the secret, and i'm going to read it until my eyes fall out of my head. c'est vrai. bon.

you make me cum, you make me complete, you make me completely miserable.

it's been awhile. i find it almost difficult to update any of my blogs when i'm happy. i suppose it goes along with the idea that when i'm happy, i'm too busy pleasing myself to jot it all down. my blogs are for raw emotion.. heartache.. low days. writing this out is not a cry for sympathy, compassion, or empathy; rather, it is a proclamation of a tortured heart and pierced soul, both of which are trying to drain out the horrendous pain. if i felt more articulate about the intricate details of my loss(es), i'd eloquently put them into words; sadly, i can't begin to put life into my story.

break-ups are always like a small death. la petit morte, if you will [not in the sexual sense]. for me, being the passionate hermit & the closet romantic, i always feel close to a metaphorical sense of death. soul meets soul on lover's lips, they say; what happens when they meet, intertwine, and attach? love happens. when one of the souls decide to leave the fusion the two once created, the other is left with a whole half missing; empty, broken, and in solitude. everything gets shoved into a different perspective, the solo perspective. lunch for 1, the open space on the bed, awakening to four lifeless walls, inside jokes that will never be shared, snappers (not a bowl for two), walking alone without a hand to hold, tears that fall on the cheap cotton shirts from forever 21 instead of an acid wash american apparel tee, spooning a body pillow over a body, etc.

in a way, falling in love is losing yourself. you become someone else with the person you've fallen for; you mesh to combine each person's best qualities. when the combination starts bringing out the bad qualities, there is also death. he told me once, "...our bond that is only ours. No one can ever destroy that. it will always exist but maybe left behind." unfortunately, i am the handicapped lover who stays (despite getting dropped off and left), hoping that he will turn back around and come get me. when worse comes to worse, i stay until someone else comes and picks me up. love always seems to find me in the most awkward and worst of times. yet at the same time, the moments couldn't be more impeccable.

i used to live "for the moment." repercussions seemed insignificant at the time. at times, i feel obliged to revert back to revenge because of all the pent-up animosity i've accumulated; revenge is temporarily sweet, right before the metallic, bitter taste creeps in and resides for weeks. no thanks, i don't have the black heart for that anymore. relationships are never for the moment. they are moments that gradually build up to form a strong foundation. there are never mistakes, only choices that could have been made differently. good choices, bad choices, everything happens for a reason. if anything, that is the only thing that keeps me going. i believe in love, because i've had it, felt it, and tasted it. but, i absolutely do not have faith in it. i know truthfully that it is real and exists, but it is breakable, unreliable, and fickle. if i have learned anything, it is to guard your heart at all costs, no matter how good it feels to give yourself completely away. eyes on the stars, feet on the ground. & the following is probably not true for the majority, but be brief about your past. even though you, yourself, know it is all in the past, it can still truly turn things into a topsy-turvy wonderland. don't bring your samsonite baggage into your new louis vutton.

i've been nothing short of insane for a few weeks. i go from angry to sad, heartbroken to mad, pathetic and willing to denying and refusing. honestly, it's hard to keep up with me and my emotions. "i am a war of head versus heart. it's always this way; my head is weak and my heart always speaks before i know what it will say." i left because i refused to cry more, yet i run back because he is my "go-to" person in times of despair; that, in itself, is irony if i've ever seen it. i manually leave post-it notes in my head with scribbles of infidelity and lies, but there are more automatic, unpredictable notes that fly my way and speak of the love that once existed. i've always been terrible at choosing sides; i, like love, am flawed. never perfect, but always honest. never a martyr, but always a saint. i suppose the cherry on top of the stake through my chest is that i was resilient and smart, before he melted me into "boo"-goo.

love hurts, but at least it makes me realize i'm still alive.

katy perry <3

Love is "Brutes"

hi. i just broke up with my boyfriend. or should i say, it was the other way around. i am a cornucopia of emotions. i go from mad to sad, bitter to optimistic, nostalgic to regretful.. i'm a little bit of a mess. these emotions, they rear their ugly heads at night, when i close my white door, and twist the lock to the right. no one can bother me this way.. & if they try, i can bury myself under the 4 layers of blankets on my 4-post Queen of Aran bed. i walk on the cold, wooden floor with my bare feet. i've given up my faux-fur slippers; only people in love can feel warm and fuzzy. i sit on my black computer chair, prop one leg up to tuck it under the opposite knee. even logging into myspace or facebook is a little heartbreaking. being in vegas for the weekend refrained me from altering my default pictures.

"burn all pictures where he looks sexy, and you look happy." - Carrie Bradshaw

i drown myself in old messages, an album full of pictures of us, and wonder.. about nothing in particular. what's he doing? what am i doing? why am i alone again? it's a vicious cycle of rhetorical questions; nothing is ever solved, only an excuse to say "hmm" instead of exhausting my eyes of saline (that comes later).

LATER.

"OHMYGODOHMYGOD."
(She sobs.) how rudimentary of me to reminisce about everything i used to, and still do, feel for him. why things had to end, even though i tried to halt the beginning.. how i let myself fall into a giant pool of love and affection.. it's all so new to me. guard down.. fists up? no. that was the old me, who wouldn''t have thought twice about the final moments of the relationship. Pre-Sergio Alex would have already found at least 3 victims to use post-breakup. Maybe 4, if you count the German, restroom-seeking admirer.

Post-Sergio Alex cares. and is still in love.

All this nausea and shortness of breath rushes through me. Mentality affects Body. nothing can prolong this.. the next few weeks will be hard. time does heal all (.. most) pain. i'd run the big hand on the clock around and around until i reached 11:00 AM. did i mention i'm a sucker? he's coming by tomorrow to drop off my birthday present. i'm a fool, who happens to be digging a grave deep enough for the hearts of 10 men.

once the internet has done its duty for the night, i unplug the AC adapter from my computer's socket. i breathe heavily, for i know what's coming. with the gentle push on my desklamp's switch, the lights turn off. i walk exactly 4 steps toward my bed. my full-sized bed with pillows and donovan, the build-a-bear we made together 4 months ago. oh, the irony. as i crawl under my stolen CSUCI fleece blanket and tuck myself in, i wonder what tomorrow will look like. as slowly and as carefully as ever, i turn to the left into the fetal position, grab donovan and hold him for dear life, and douse my pillowcase with love water.