Deep in my Heart I’m Concealing

“Deep in my heart I’m concealing things that I’m longing to say. Scared to confess what I’m feeling, frightened you’ll slip away, you must love me.”


Normal-style entry time! The Sister Carrie essay is due today anytime before 3.00pm. I finished it yesterday. It wasn’t very difficult, but I’m not too confident that I correctly hit the topic. I hated the question because it had absolutely nothing to do with the book. There were so many things I wished to discuss, and the question asks about the setting! Anyway, Paula called me yesterday and finally I got to discuss the book~!!

I can’t decide whether I really hated the book or really liked it. It was just one of those books. Haha . . . the novel was so iono. The beginning set up the story rather well; so well, in fact that it was boring. Some time in the middle it was just a verbosely-written romance novel. Then it got interesting. I hated just about all the characters except for Drouet and the very minor character, Ames. Just about everyone ended up completely miserable. I hated Carrie, I hated Hurstwood, and I hated … yeah everyone except the two characters I mentioned. Geez, the irony, too; that Ames guy kinda had it; Carrie was so impressionable that she took in every one of his words and then did the opposite. The author was so philosophical at times! Maybe a bit too much because sometimes they felt like space-fillers or ramblings. I also didn’t agree with everything the guy was saying, but it made sense. It sounds like I hate the novel. It was really well-written, but it’s just that the characters were so ugh!

Buh-bye, the french fry. Er . . . haha.

If you’re listening …

“I’ve got an hour to find. So tell me, what do I need? What is the meaning?”

I feel so utterly hopelessly confused. Looking back, I don’t know whether to regret the year or be grateful for the experiences it brought me. It all always falls apart in the end does it not? I thought it’d hurt more, but that’s probably only because I’ve felt more hurt than this before. Pain knows no boundaries. I feel as though I should laugh at myself because I swallowed all of my words. Everything I ever told her, I should have listened and told myself because it was the same situation. Did I figure that in the end I’d turn out better than she did? Of course not, and yesterday completely proved it to me as much as a slap in the face would’ve. Everyone cheered me on and led me to believe that it was alright. But deep inside I knew the truth. The feeling was less; the idea of it felt better than it truly did. I fooled myself good.

There is another world altogether underneath my exterior. I live a private world of pain and sadness. I try not to let it affect me, but it shows. Oh, how it shows. In every smile I give, I can feel myself crumbling; I’m falling—I’m falling. I want to close my eyes, and pull the covers over my face for good measure, and cry myself to sleep—all without anyone knowing. I want to stay all alone; no, wait, I am all alone. And yet I’m still not content. I want someone to understand but am so afraid of meeting someone that does. Why, if they understand they’re no better off than I am! The irony of it all. So tell me, what do I need?

It makes no sense. I make no sense. The world spins and I watch it waiting for my turn to jump back in. I’m never going to find it am I? I’m too fucked up for any good to come this way. Oh, just leave me alone. I’ll be alright without anyone. It’s just as she said it’d be. And I’ll be just as she imagined. Already I’ve spoken of four people, five including myself, and no names have escaped my lips. What kind of a world is this? Nameless faces. Whatsername.

It’s all over. I feel as though I missed something. Did I? What is the meaning? I was unimportant wasn’t I? I was never given a second thought to. “Why does it always have to be about you?” he asked me one time. Well, isn’t it always my fault?! I provide for needless complications. In my heart of hearts I know it to be true. I find solace in expressing my worries and troubles. I believe I only did it with you anyhow. Everyone else yearns to express themselves equally, if not more so than I, but not you. When she met her, she got a taste of what I go through everyday; she even got dizzy. People talk on and on about themselves. What right have I to talk about myself when they’re so wrapped up in their tales? But with you it was different; maybe I only made it so because you never cared, but I made myself believe that it was different. I fooled myself completely. Don’t you dare tell me I get depressed when I go on about how you don’t care — you don’t!

Thinking is bad. Feeling is even worse. Emotions are for the weak. I’m awfully weak, and I hate myself. Don’t you hate me, too?

A Moment’s Wonderings

“It is when the feat weary and hope seems vain that the heartaches and the longings arise. Know, then, that for you is neither surfeit nor content. In your rocking chair, by your window dreaming, shall you long, alone. In your rocking chair, but your window, shall you dream such happiness as you may never feel.”

Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser

Have you ever wanted to cry and found that you couldn’t? You’re surrounded by people when the overwhelming feeling of tears borders your soul; or yet, even worse, when you are all alone–rejoicing at the fact and somehow pitying yourself from it all the same–and your tears may cascade as well as from any waterfall, but you are incapable of dropping a single solitary tear or cry. The sentiment lingers, but nothing to show for it. I feel so beset with emotion whilst I ponder over all my predicaments. There is so much I wish to express but doubt that it would be understood by even a most sympathetic spirit. It is with courage that I even dare write this. But that self-same courage fails me when I need it most.

This is no bluff, I assure you. As I sat yesterday in a restaurant with my family and some of our friendly relations, by the window, I stared out at nothing with thoughts swirling in my mind. I ate my food silently, only once my attention being caught by something that one of our relations said. Had it not been that she sat next to me, I would not have even caught it. I spoke quickly and excitedly–surprising myself at my Spanish–and explained the parallels between what was going on in her, and undoubtedly in my, life with the novel I was currently reading. A small bit of insight I betrayed of myself to her. I hastily finished what I was sayign and turned once more to look out the window to think over the new developments. Feeling as though no one could truly understand my situation–or my train of thought, least of all–I did not wish to pursue a conversation with someone that would feel even the slightest bit as I did. A fit of despair rose in me and I felt myself becoming claustrophobic; I was stuck in my seat with seven other people around me and nowhere to go and nothing to say–as if I would. I could not escape what I soon grow weary of. I was becoming aware of the social aspects of my life: and oh, what a life it is!

i wish to rearrange my life and my experiences in a new order. Oh, oh! Why do things hapen as they do? If only it could be reversed much as the mirror plays its tricks on us (where we see ourselves the same, but it’s actually backwards). My body shakes in anticipation at what I write. I feel as though I may reach a point which you may understand but with my unwillingness to explain what is truly bothering me, you shan’t receive one or any. Prior to my social enlightenment or entrapment as it were, if I did not want to attend a gathering it was merely because I did not want to go; now I realize that it is as if I do not make a showing there must be some reason to it all and if not, word soon spreads like flames at my insolent behavior. Why must we speak to anyone at all? Can I not just sleep my life away? I have come to know that in my sleep my thoughts follow me. But that is not always the case so I am not reluctant to slumber; however, when natural time comes to awaken the full force of my thoughts come flooding in. Damn the broken damn upon this river. Again, entrapment advances. I see no way out.

My mind is undecided: one moment I think it best to live happily and make friends and keep up my relations while another moment I think it wise to stay alone forever; which is best? I’m trying to let you know that I’m better off on my own. Still I am hesitant to be alone; it is what I fear the most. But all the people I care to keep on calling on have long gone and perhaps I only considered them important in my past. It may be that I once held people at a higher esteem and my memory recalls them as important. With a clear head, though, I can come to the realization that they are most likely no different than the people in my life now. Whatever happened to them, and what of them, and them? Do they ever think of me and what has become of me? Most likely not; the more likely they are content with their lives and going on day by day, leaving the people they once knew behind. I can think of many examples of people that behave like the latter mentioned. Of course, names will remain only in my thoughts. I know perfectly well which category I fit in, me being the one writing this and all. I hae not yet forgotten a face. Everyone is important. Consider everyone valuable. I’ve learned that although at first glance one may not seem to strike a match with someone, you might become closer to them than anyone else.

My thoughts do have an unexplainable continuity… one probably not comprehended by any but myself; and that’s alright. I do believe that I can write forever only because I can think on and on and on. I must find a place to stop and rest or make it seem as though I have.


Sunday Fun

I awoke bright and early in order to get ready to go to the circus. At 9.15am mom drove me to Uncle George’s house (well, my house). Got there at about 10am. From there, we drove to Joel’s house and helped him move some furniture. Haha, I take too much credit; George helped Joel move the furniture while I sat with Georgito. After all that we walked across the street to Staple Center. The day prior, George had told me that we had pretty good seats, but I wasn’t really paying attention. To my surprise we sat on the first row. (: Our seats were the absolute best. I enjoyed it so much! The clowns, and the cute asian acrobats all came to shake our hands. -giggles- It was quite fun. The show began at 11.30 and ended at near 2.00pm. George, Georgito, and I went back to Joel’s place and thanked him for the tickets. Joel had purchased three tickets and gave them to George. Fun~ My brother did not want to go so too bad for him.

Laura and her husband drove from Utah for the weekend to come visit us. So they finally arrived in town and we went out to lunch with them.