Cold Feet, Cold Hands

every once in awhile i get caught in a situation where i dont know what the fuck to do, it usually ends with a funny or awkward response from me. that situation showed its ugly face today. 

i rarely go to starbucks. going to starbucks to "study" is my bullshit excuse to get out of the house and surf the net on free wifi and drink overpriced, diabetes filled coffee. anyway, i go in, get my coffee, and pull out my laptop, all while facing the entrance so i can see everyone that comes in. im paranoid like that. after a few minutes of wandering the internet, someone else comes in. now in my past experiences, whenever i see an attractive girl, i tend to not make eye contact and act like everything is normal; trying to play it cool. the thing is, my play-it-cool face is the same face i make when i dont want anyone to talk to me. i look fucking angry all the time. so i strike out on the im-interested-in-you face.

back to the story. she comes in, orders her coffee. as shes waiting, im trying to be discreet and catch a look at her. just as i look up from my laptop, i see that she looking at me. our eyes meet for a couple seconds and we both look away, a little polite smirk on our faces. the moment you get caught checking someone out. i guess i have a weakness for a pretty face. what caught me off guard was that after she gets her coffee, she proceeds to sit behind me. out of the whole fucking empty starbucks, she decides to sit behind me. if i was gonna talk to her, this was my chance.

as most of you know, im not actually one to start a conversation; to be quiet honest, it made me a little nervous she sat behind me. i felt like she was looking over my shoulder the whole time, not that i was looking at anything i shouldnt have. my brain goes into panic mode. im trying to think of something clever to say, because chicks like guys that say clever shit right? so now im over here with an attractive young lady sitting behind me, waiting for me to say something,  and im just bullshitting in my head what to say. like most opportunities in my life, i did the worst thing possible. nothing. absolutely nothing. closing time came around and she gave me one last chance. she got up with all her things and pretended to throw away some trash. out of the corner of my eye i could see she was looking at me once more. again, we exchanged glances, but i said nothing.she walks out and im just sitting there. well, fuck.

 now that im writing about it and reflecting on what i SHOULD have done, im noticing a pattern in myself. im not afraid of anyone or anything. im not afraid of death. but the ONE thing i am afraid of is failure and/or rejection. all my life ive been blessed with reaching my goals and having success in everything i want to do. the insecurity of knowing that rejection or failure is a possibility bothers me. and i know what most of you are thinking. life is about taking chances, and experiencing failure is part of  life. to you it might be, but when your last 2 relationships end with a broken heart, especially since in my past situations i was so young, you cant help but be insecure about these things. i take relationships extremely serious. you're opening up to someone and letting them inside you, where your most vulnerable. maybe thats why i didnt say anything.

I have trust issues.

        

A Bit Closer To Heaven

it started out like the other dreams. you never remember the beginning, but the middle and end are what matter most anyway. i was in an unnamed city walking alone at night. it was winter time, snow was falling like confetti, the mix of light wind and ice peppered my face. all around, the buildings and skyscrapers intimidated me. i didnt know where i was going, but all i had in the pocket of my jacket was a lighter and a box of smokes. it was perfect smoking weather. i light one and take a long, deep drag. the nicotine hit my system like heroin in a junkie. i exhaled the stress.

the people on the streets paid no attention to me. even at this late hour of the night, the sidewalks were littered with characters. junkies, homeless, drug dealers, tourists, police, and your occasional prostitute. it felt like home. the inner city chaos was probably the reason i was there; i have a habit of observing people interact. i kept walking, leaving behind the crowd and taking a side street into an alley. the sounds of people and police sirens faded away. snow was now falling with higher intensity. by this time i was on my third cigarette, each pull i exhaled felt better than the last, so why stop now?

the alley felt like it went on forever. each step i took forward only made the exit move farther away. before i could notice, the blizzard began. i went into a full sprint towards the end. i still had a smoke in my mouth while i was running, but i noticed that it was completely frozen. i spit it out and keep going, dumpsters and aging walls turning into a blur. my face was going numb, but i could still feel the ice and snow cut my face like daggers. my fingers turned into icicles, my nose was frozen with thick ice, and my legs were getting heavier with every stride. i wanted to keep my pace but i fall. the exit out of the alley was about  ten feet from where i was. crawling towards the end, it was no use. my legs were frozen solid, the ice making its way to my torso. i tried as hard as i could to make it up, but i failed. my lungs were freezing from the inside. my last gasp of air evaporated into nothing. i was within arms length of the exit but i prepared for the inevitable. i layed there like the outline of a murdered body. no pain, no agony. i died.

i dont know what this dream means. ive never had one when it happens in snow. some of the faces i do remember seeing but i dont know their names. the city felt familiar but it could be just my imagination. the dream was more terrifying than i could ever describe, its something that you have to experience. its something you should never experience.


The trick in my situation was that there was no trick, no matter what the movies tell you. No rules, no secret mantra, no road map. It wasn't about how smart or how good you were. It was chaos and luck, and anyone who thought different was a fool. All you could do was to hang on madly, as long and hard as you could.

In My Darkest Hour

my brother recently had his son, about a week ago. nothing could prepare me for that moment when he came in through those gray sterile doors and announce the birth of his son. it was a moment that stays etched in your mind for all eternity. my mom and sister crying in joy, my dad was extremely happy, and my little brothers were congratulating him. everyone was happy, except me. like i said before, affection is something that im not good at showing or receiving. but this was different. this is my brother. my blood. i wanted to feel happy for him but i couldnt. at one point throughout that moment of celebration i was expecting compassion to kick in, but it never did. my emotions stood me up at the worst time.
 my poker face was on the minute i stepped into the hospital. i dont like hospitals. death roamed the halls, giving the chosen few invitations to their final dance. i was sure of it. my lungs felt squeezed and my stomach felt like it was eating itself. its ironic how most people are born in a hospital and most people die in a hospital. my dreams have shown me in a hospital before, and it was never a happy ending.

 am i reading too deep into my own flaws? what am i overlooking? writing about it only gets me so far. i need a 3rd party opinion. my own answers are becoming questions themselves. the simplest thought becomes a giant game of chess in my mind. that day at the hospital, my family saw the part of me that they knew existed but never wanted to witness. they saw past my mask and didnt like what they saw. they saw nothing. nothing but a serious scowl on a day that represents and means so much to them. to me, it was just another day. no joy, no hope, no love. no compassion. im not going to say that i dont care, because maybe i do. the situation doesnt affect me. it makes my life indifferent, even if its a major family event.

i was born with a talent not many people have. my brain is a sponge for knowledge. if i dont understand something, i make it my goal to find out everything i can and make myself an expert on the subject. which is probably why i obsess with everything. my mind is my own enemy. what it doesnt know it wants to learn, and what it learns is never enough. its past midnight at the moment im typing this and i have so many questions to ask. the main questions that's bothered me is the one i get asked frequently: why am i like this? what happened to me in my past that molded me into what people see me as? i dont know. and thats the part i cant figure out. i dont smile, i rarely laugh, and for some reason people tell me i look intimidating to approach. all i can answer with is "thats just who i am". genuine compassion was something i felt i could give out when i was younger. but life has taught me something. a person can only donate so much of themselves to others before they turn into the the person who needs.