"I am a Millennial. Generation Y. Born between the birth of AIDS and 9/11, give or take. They call us "the Global Generation." We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. Some say it's because we're the first generation where every kid gets a trophy just for showing up. Others think it's because social media allows us to post every time we fart or have a sandwich for all the world to see. But it seems that our one defining trait is a numbness to the world, an indifference to suffering. I know I did anything I could to not feel. Sex, drugs, booze. Just take away the pain. Take away my mother and my asshole father. And the press, and all the boys I loved who wouldn't love me back. Hell, I was gang raped, and two days later I was back in class like nothing happened. I mean, that must have hurt like hell, right? Most people never get over stuff like that, and I was, like, "Let's go for Jamba juice." I would give everything I have or will ever have just to feel pain again. To hurt."

Fell in love with Dutch painter, Pieter Aertsen's Northern Renaissance oil-on-wood-panel piece, "The Butcher's Stall," which is coincidentally housed in a University in Sweden. What are you trying to tell me, Universe?

"I will wait for you." She said, endlessly.

It seems like everyone around me is on antidepressants and mood stabilizers, maybe it's working, but they're no longer a pleasure for me to be around. And it almost makes me not want to go back on medication either. I don't want to become my medication.

Remembering another life where I was engaged once at 17 for about a year? I could've been with my high school sweetheart forever. Nobody really thought we were serious, but we were. I was really mean and unhappy and unable to handle everyone else around me when he wasnt around. And I threw my ring at him one too many times, so he threw it out the window in front of me. I don't know why, but seeing that image in my head still kinda makes my heart drop into my stomach. 

I always feel, at least, a little bit delusional after watching Hannibal.

Heard surprising words after a mutual friend exclaimed to me how you never really spoke to each other, which I thought was strange, afterall he was your DP. I wanted to console him and say, "It's okay, I'm still trying to decipher if everything he told me was lie. So I honestly don't know what is worse, talking to him or not talking to him."

What I do know is that Anthony is very, very sweet.

Just woke up from a gnarly nap. And I have no attention span. I'm just fucking tired. But a giant Swedish man was following me around today, he looked like a fat version of you. It made me laugh.

I know that love isn't everything, but it's something I have to remind myself more often than not.

The funny thing was, I never needed any validation I just wanted to hear you say it. Always trust your gut.  

Missing your stupid voice. Your accent. The way you look at me. The way you laugh when I say something funny that catches you off guard. The one 'lone locke of hair that falls so perfectly over your face when you're talking to me. Pulling that said locke behind your ear. Waking up and staring deep into your soul while you stare back into mine. The way the light came in through my window to spill gold all over you. The way your skin just absorbed the sun. The way yoyr fingertips dug into my skin. When you told me you were just trying to keep this professional, but you couldn't take your eyes or your hands off me.When I was mad at you, but still showed up to set and endured your torture. I miss kissing your pain away. Each and everyone of your freckles. And when you would tell me the things you love about me. I miss being too tired to kiss you back and fervently waking up to kiss you because I knew that soon you wouldn't be there anymore. I miss the way you told me how scared you were of the future. I miss our little talks about life and the universe and why we do the things we do. I miss showing each other the bits and pieces of ourselves that we were too afraid to show anyone else. I miss that we don't talk anymore. I miss that you are not my world. I miss that I am not yours. I miss you so much but I don't know even why anymore.

One of the last times we spoke, you asked me why I never met you at the screening. That you looked for me. And you were sad. And alone. And I'm supposed to believe you didn't send me a proper invitation to keep yourself at a distance. Poppycock. 

My poor father is so sick, and I've had my head shoved so far up my ass dealing with some stupid asshole's bullshit, whom I don't even know, that I forgot about the only asshole in my life worth giving a damn and another fucking chance.

I am not a drug-addict, I am a pleasure-seeker.

Just don't ever think that if you came back to me I'd just let you waltz in and sweep me off of my feet. You still hurt me and made me cry, when you shouldn't have and could've easily avoided it.

Crying all night because I'm not drunk anymore and all I want is to forget you exist. It's happening. But today I remembered. These are unfortunately some of the only memories I have of you. Although I don't mind much.

No one will ever understand our love because I don't think we even understand it. From what I've learned, that's what love is. Complicated, heartbreaking, soul shattering, it's not easy. That's for sure. It's in your gut. You feel it. This time, it was much stronger. Core-shaking, is what Cathy called it. It was like how every time I saw you, your soul grabbed mine by the spine, and it was as if we needed to be together. We needed to be one. We were one. At once. Before some God somewhere decided that we needed to be apart to find our way back to each other. Maybe so that we could both learn how to live and love ourselves first, then each other. And what we had was us prematurely trying to shove ourselves back together again.

The worst part is when I wake up from a dream about you, and I swear I can still feel you there with me. Smell you on my sheets, the sweat, the booze, the sex, and how even after it all, you still smelled so clean. I thought this was only supposed to get easier. I still wake up and see you there next to me. In my tiny bed, cramped. We're facing each other with only the early morning sun covering us, legs entwined. We are just looking, searching, longing? into each other's eyes, just staring into each other's souls. The sun was so bright that day, I couldn't remember if your eyes were green or blue. But they were neither. More gray than anything else if I remember. But I would like to remember.

The last time I had you, I couldn't stay in bed. Though I wanted to. I knew if I did, it would take me deeper. Now all I can do is run away as far as I can go, and hope that one day you remember what this is, and you end up at my door again.

 I want that you are always happy. I want that you are always safe. I want that you are always doing what you love. I want that you are always loving who you are meant to love, safe and warm. Somewhere with someone you can call home. I want that one day you have your beautiful red-headed, freckled children. I want that you get to see your 30th birthday, and your 40th, and 50th, 60th, and every single one thereafter. I want that one day you can see me for who and what I actually am. I want that one day we will see eye to eye. That we both won't be so broken and sad and hurting each other. I want that one day we can work together again, coexist again, and love again. Not the same way we did before, but better. Where each day with you is better than the last. I want that one day we won't need any drugs or alcohol, but only each other. Just us. Nobody else.

 I'm difficult right now, but I promise that I'm worth it.

Spoke too soon last night, I couldn't sleep, maybe you read my stupid blog post. Oh well. This is what I needed. Thank you. I'm over it. And I'm over you. After this week, my unfinished business with this town will be settled. I can move on with my life, and walk away like none of this ever happened. Because perhaps that's what this is, all this ever was, and that's all you were. Just a figment of my imagination.

The thing is, there's nothing sexier than an honest man. And I will take your baggage along with mine as long as you're honest with me. That's all you've ever been, since the day we met. Honest, a little scared, but you were honest. 

And I let my ego and bad habits get in the way of that.

Is my childhood so fucked up I can't remember a better time than getting McDonald's after church or just hanging out at the pond? With my two different family's under one dysfunctional roof.

Last night, a new friend asked me why I ever left Virginia in the first place, and I was literally dumbfounded. I wanted to stay and talk some more, but the entire situation just caught me off guard.

The thing about me is that I'm not the type of girl that settles for less. I know what I want and I go get it. But I'm also very, very patient.

How come its only when you're gone that I realize all my skeletons are gone too?

Because when neither of us were strong enough to bring us back together, it was our passion for filmmaking that did.

I will keep my intentions to myself, but I have intentions. And maybe later they will manifest, but right now, I won't get ahead of myself. Good things come to those who wait.

"Just go away and get out of my head," she said. As if the solution would be so damn simple.

Because slicing my throat seems like the easiest thing to do right now

When you're in love with someone, you see how broken they are and you love them anyway. In fact, seeing all of that sort of makes you love them more. But that doesn't give them the right to treat you like shit.

And with this last note, I salute you. Cheers, love.

Weed does nothing for me, like it once did.

The first and last time I told you that you were perfect, you got mad and told me that you didn't know anything about me. It sounds all too familiar. <3

Waking up as soon as your REM starts kicking in because it seems the person you are dreaming of is right beside you.

When your manic depressive tendencies literally make you sick to your stomach. I can't handle this whirlwind of emotions, I need to cut something out. Something or someone. And it makes me sick because I know exactly which one I need rid myself of but I don't want to. Only 4 more weeks.

For the first time ever, I cried because you're leaving me in a month.

This one is constantly surprising me. But also with him, I'm also constantly surprising myself.

My problem with therapy is that I'm sitting across from someone without any of the same values or interests and I let them dictate my life because I tell them certain things that are always misperceived. I don't know how to explain myself. Or I don't want to explain myself.

My therapist told me a lot of the things I believe I am perceiving in real life are actually in my head. But now, I'm just stuck in my head. I am even more confused than I was before. How can I analyze anything I'm doing or what's going on, if this is all happening in my head...what is real?

I thought therapy was supposed to help me, not make me even more overwhelmed of the amount of things I can't do right..

There are always the ones that somehow make you feel beautiful, but they make you nervous because you aren't sure if you're good enough for them, or if they're even good enough for you. Other times there are the ones that you can enjoy the silence with and feel serene for the first time in ages. Highly conflicted feelings. Sigh. Why can't I just know right off the bat which one is better for me?

Maybe nothing feels right with anybody else because it only feels right with you. No. I'm just unsure of life, and surrounded by four really great guys who will never be you, but offer me much more than you ever did. Five, if you count my neighbor I partied with once. One offered me financial stability. Another a trip for the two of us, anywhere in the world I wanted to go. And this third one, I'm pretty sure would offer me his heart and all the love in the world if I let him know. The fourth one, Idk, he's the most like you, he's not racist, but god, is he dumb. He kind of fell off my radar for a little bit. So this is what I'm dealing with. In a perfect world, I would have nothing to complain about. But it's weird, I don't really have any complaint aside from I don't know which one to choose. And that's the thing. Because I really don't have to choose anyone. I don't have to do anything.

I haven't really done any work since Sunday. What's wrong with me? I can't focus.

I'm so sick of this city.

Giving someone the same advice you give yourself.

I just wish I could be singing again. And not constantly feel like I'm leading my life in the wrong direction.

Finally readjusting and devoting my life to me. It can't be my job to try to make everyone happy except myself anymore. It's difficult. And it's lonely. But I'm getting used to the fact that I don't have to settle for less, or settle for someone who is doing nothing but hurting me. Not just with my boyfriends or lovers, but friends too. I just want to be happy, and stable. And strong so that I don't get taken advantage of anymore. But really. I'm at the point in my life where it's actually easy to block out the bullshit. Things that don't matter. Some of it, at least. I may or may not just doing a damn good job of hiding in my apartment, and looking as if I don't have a care in the world. The people that are currently in my life, are in my life for a reason. The people currently falling out of my life, or those who are no longer present in my life, that was for a reason too. It's sad sometimes, but I would've never learned better otherwise. Last friday I had my first alcoholic drink in about a month. That was pretty awesome. But I got wasted. And of course drank myself into the next day. But I haven't had a drink since! Also, low-and-behold, now that I'm the only smoker in my group of friends, I'm not broke before I get my next paycheck! But see what I mean? I don't have to make myself suffer because other people are suffering too. Tinkerbell helps so much.

I'm tired of trying to get myself to believe that things are going to change.

I wish I wasn't do scared to start dating again

Having to remind yourself that person no longer exists..

I always thought if I was just myself, it would be easier for me to weed out the bad ones or from the good..but I guess some people are just better than others at pretending.

I've changed so much for the people around me. It feels like enough. I'm not even myself anymore. I mean, is that not enough?

I'm kind of a lot like Charlie from 'Perks of Being a Wallflower.' I don't think it occurred to me so much since I read the book. But maybe this can help you understand me a bit more.

Can people just let me be skinny and leave me alone? Ever think that maybe I feel good the way I am? I'm eating. It's fine.

But apologize often. I need to stop utilizing this for madness.

If only self-medicating never lead to substance abuse.

My family always puts me last on the list of importance for anything. Hence why all my psychological problems manifested into..this.

I can't help but hate you both for how I've become because you still haven't taken responsibility for how fucked up it was to have a child after neither of you gave anymore fucks. Every ounce of trouble I got myself into growing up was because I didn't know better, and nobody told me otherwise growing up. I didn't know what right from wrong was. So every couple years I find out something new, something bad that has happened in my life, that I should've said "no" to, but I didn't have any guidance or anyone to tell me these things were wrong.

I have always been treated differently because I was too white or because I was too Filipino.

And that's why my father wonders why I never call. And my mother wonders why I never pick up. Because both of you created this monster, and it's just, "well, what can you do now?" You all think I can deal with it on my own, but I can't. I've tried for so long, and I'm tired.

So let's all just give our problems to God, drink and smoke ourselves into oblivion and just fucking forget about all the mistakes we made in life because we can't do anything about them now.

It's hard. When you finally find your psychotic other half, you don't want to let go. No one will understand you like they do. And they and everybody else knows it.

Sometimes I wake up with a completely different outlook to life. It's not everyday yet, but it's been that way the past few weeks. My therapist says I even sound different, confident, and content. Now if only I could figure out how to eat regularly so I can stop the little weird phases. I want to be healthy. But it seems like everyone around me doesn't. And it's difficult for me to cut the energy between us. Slowly, but surely. I do feel a lot better though. I finally feel like I'm living.