"Our story has three parts: a beginning, a middle, and an end. And although this is the way all stories unfold,

I still can't believe ours didn't go on forever" - Nicholas Sparks / Dear John

The first kiss wasn't perfect. I've been thinking about this all day. It wasn't. It was neither delicate or like I wish it would have been. It was sweet and comfortable, like we had been kissing forever and our lips matched.

Our hands, however, were the perfect fit right from the start. As I dragged him along to follow my lead in a quest for flirtatious fun, I bossily took his hand and pulled him my way. We stopped for less than a second, the world spun, and we continued. It was like the magic spell had been finally uttered and the enchantment had begun. Everything flowed: fights were short and sometimes fun, hugs were everlasting, conversations welcomed the daylight regularly but never enough, fun was never taken for granted but always expected. We were perfect.

People said many things... all sorts of excuses to help me feel better, but the truth is I've always known that I'm an easy person to leave- and so he did.

Now, the game is back on and I am absolutely clueless to what I'm suppose to do. Confusion burdens me everysingle waking moment. Do I love him? Do I even feel anything? Am I scared ?(of course I am... scarred, too) Can I ever trust him? Will I?

Everything is so easy with him... except I worry that our professional lives are too different now, and I don't think I can get myself to imagine a world where I would leave something I love for a man... I doubt he would ever leave something for me... I'd never ask him to. In part because I'm afraid I know the answer, and in part because what's the point of taking someone's passion from them to fulfill your own?

In this book I read, she chooses to not "wait" for love and falls in a different kind of love with her best friend. She chooses sweet love over real love. I wonder if I should do the same.

as cold as ice

Her eyes are shut. They’ve been set that way.

Her skin is like plastic. Cold as ice; clammy as a cold night sweat. Blue. Red. Gray.

The circles under her eyes will be painted over; regardless of the fact that she never hid them before. She’ll be dressed with the utmost perfect dress, although she’d be more comfortable in jeans and a white tank.

Warm fresh blood will never run through her veins…nothing ever will. Maybe the last droplets of hope she once had… but she won’t feel them.

Her soul has left her body. 3 pounds lighter. She would be happy.

Does anyone ever think of this? The image of the body everyone gets to see, and the body that is there in actuality. The temperature of the porcelain cloth that hides everything that was always meant to be kept away from the world. The emptiness of eyes no one will ever look into again. The soul that now flutters aimlessly in the world.

Rest in Peace, Brittany Murphy, surely you will be missed.

In need of a break...

Kit Kat anyone?



As I sit infront of the "game room" window of my hotel at Disney world...I ....see my own reflection.



In extreme measures to find some solace in this family vacation, I decided to grab my backpack and walk as far away as I possibly could: hence the game room in the lobby. Ha.



I'm trying hard to get my mind of everything right now... I'm sure the book I have will only make things worse and after 40 games of sudoku I'm a little out-numbered...ha. So as I look at all of the reflections here... and I'm rudely told to leave by the bitter personnel....

guess no "me" time...

You Can't Always Get What You Want.

What I want is for you to be standing at my door when I come back from work on a random day without expecting it. For you to figure out where I live and come and meet me here. For you to send me roses to work and leave me a cute note in the windshield of my car.

What I want is for you to live in my proximity, and not 200 miles away. For you to look for a way to be with me instead of looking for excuses.

What I want is for someone to come into my life and help me forget about you. Someone to lift me off the ground and make my head spin every time he smiles. What I want is to be wanted by someone who won't let go, despite the circumstances.

...and the worst part about this is, that ultimately all I want is you.

"It's only the intellectually lost who ever argue."

-Hallward, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde

I think from now on, every time someone wants to argue, I'll just remember this, smile and laugh to myself.

Isn't it amazing how you can miss someone you don't really know anymore? Isn't it great beginning a story with a question. Ha. Hey! Me! Me! Listen to me. I have some questions.

1. Why do I still miss you?
2. Why did I call? (what was I thinking?)
3. What in the world was I thinking? (no, seriously, what WAS I thinking)
4. Why, after all this time, does it feel like it's been you and me all along?
5. Why do I keep thinking that you and I belong together, but our lives don't?
6. Why do I still miss you?
7. Why did I make so many promises to myself, and now I'm trying so hard not to break them?
8. Why was I sad that you didn't visit if it's not something we decided?
9. Why do you go online every time I decide to vent about you?
10. Why do I still miss you?
11. What makes me think that I deserve to be surprised , especially by you?
12. What makes me believe that there still is a chance for me to be proved wrong about everything I used to believe and now I don't?
13. Why am I wasting my time writing this?
14. Why do I still miss you?

There's no story here- no questions asked.

Oh the Journey

I was listening to the kids of Glee sing their rendition of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" during my one-woman show back from Mexico.

I decided that since I didn't have anything better to do for the next two hours I could hit repeat and sing my lungs out until I got tired.

I don't know if it was the sun sparkling on my "I'm such a badass"raybans, or my oh, so sultry hormonal imbalance, but I began crying. I'm not talking about one glistening tear ... I'm talking about a full on wailing "why God" sort of crying.

I don't think I want to go into detail about what exactly went through my mind when the hurricane of thoughts filled the insides of my toyota, but when I heard :

"oh the movie never ends,
it goes on, and on, and on, and on
don't stop believing... hold on to the feeling"

I realized it might be a little too late.

Change

I've changed the name of my blog.

It was called "Some like it happy" but then my writing was subjected to only happy thoughts and it got kind of annoying. Why? Because, surprisingly, or not so much, I'm not happy all the time.. and I've got a lot on my mind.

So I've been pondering:"What should I change the name of my blog to?" And (yes, I'm starting a sentence with the word "and") after much thought and deliberation with myself, I decided on "Rants of the Middle Child".

"Why?" you ask. Well, reader (whoever you are), because my nonconsumable thoughts are an after effect of the fact that I am, indeed, the middle child. I love my syndrome. THAT makes me happy.

it annoys me when people brag about their blog. it really does.