I miss the mountains. Those vast, giant wonders made up of all shades of greens and browns with trees that resembled sprouts of broccoli from afar. As a child, I used to stare across town at those distant swells on the Earth from the gated window on the eighteenth floor of my building, imagining all sorts of mysteries deep among the leaves and branches where wild birds nestled. Kneeling on my sofa facing the window, elbows on the backrest, I would daydream of endless snippets of happenings among imaginary people and cartoon-like animals that could talk.

Those long-ago days seem to me now like a dream. Had I ever really lived there, so utterly far from here, on the very opposite side of this planet? Had I ever really been that young and simple, or was I ever simple? That girl with her bare feet dangling from the edge of the sofa, chin in hands, lost in a world of fantasies, she had been me, clueless at the time of how numerous years later, I would be sitting in an apartment half a world away, wanting so badly to be able to somehow grasp that moment again, bring it back, hold it close.

Yes, I miss the mountains.

It was an amazing weekend, more than I ever expected. I've returned to this city with not only a sun-kissed glow, but also a new outlook on life. This life that is so fleeting, evanescent, especially in hindsight. There are no reasons good enough to let anything get in the way; no fears large enough to acquiesce to cowering behind facades of any kind. The fateful friends that had so abruptly entered my life this memorial day weekend had taught me some great lessons. It will without a doubt be a challenge to fight against the harshness of everyday life and hold on to the things I've learned, but I sure will give it my best shot.



On a separate note, I should've known I was wading into dangerous waters, letting so much ride on this spontaneous yet somewhat plotted gateaway. I had expected this trip to perform something of magic, sending out to the Atlantic Ocean my injuries from failed attempts and squashed hopes and a certain sense of loss with a warm eastward breeze, conjuring from thin air some sort of epiphany that would appease my conflicting thoughts with a wave of the palm tree, like a magician's wand.

I clung to these beliefs all the way up until my plane landed at LaGuardia Airport, only to have them fail me when I found myself sitting in my apartment, too exhausted to unpack, back again among the things that make up my daily life. I realized that neither of those things had happened, nothing had shifted. And I permitted myself to wallow in disappointment and submerse for a minute, or more truthfully, an hour, in these dangerous waters before I pulled myself out for a lung-filling gulp of air.


There will be no magic here, no miracles.
But there is time. And time, I know, will surely make it all okay.

And he thinks I've forgotten, but I have not.
All that's happened, I of course remember, how can I not?
I'm no heartless woman, I think we all know.
But I'm not a damn fool either, I hope you all know.

It's at times like this, when you flow through my veins,
that I argue with myself, it wasn't all in vain.

But was it?
You sure are convincing.

Mistakes, don't we all make them?
Surprised? I don't think I am.
But why am I not surprised?
Have I become so jaded?
Has this here become my expectation?
The illusions that people so meticulously build to disguise their primitive wants and needs, from others and from themselves, have they ceased to work on me?
Are they really that transparent?
So perfect on the outside but what secrets lay hidden beneath?
What are we all hiding?
Who was he who was willing to slash the throat of his picture-perfect family for one night of pleasure? Who was I to not care?
And who am I to sit here now in my hungover haze and attempt to make justifications for myself while passing my judgements onto this someone who I know, but hardly know?

I'm exhausted, really.
This dance that we did, it's left me utterly drained.
Back and forth we swayed, I didn't even realize how tired I was until I finally stopped at the realization that I was out on the dance floor alone.

It's a mixture of everything: happiness, anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, and now...relief?
Relieved that now I know what I've always known.
That I would've never settled.

It had never been good enough for me.

So I've finally arrived at a conclusion. This thing that's happened, this unbearably excruciating thing, is good. Looking back at all my notes and thoughts over the past several years, I realize that I had almost lost myself in the last one. The topics of my entries had dwindled down to just one, him, us. Well at least I used the word "us". I've devoted so much of my time obsessing and upset over the same damn thing, asking questions that had no answers, constant why why why; contemplating in my head back and forth what was and what wasn't, arguing that it was and then it wasn't and then how maybe it could be; torned between what I wanted and what I deserved.

And all of this over something that was never even given validation, never truly existed. In a way I'm angry, angry that when all the evidence are laid out on the table, I have to submit to acknowledge that it was never real. Angry that I had been the lone giver in this so called relationship for so long, and knew it, yet somehow dismissed it. Angry that everything I did and said was taken so much for granted, that I had actually been such a fool. Angry that even as I say this now I'm allowing for that shiny sliver of doubt. And angry that I can't be angry with him because I know it was never his intention.

But angry, angry nonetheless.


It's really okay in the end. I don't blame anyone.
I'll just pick up the pieces like I always do.

The happiness was all shared.
But the sadness, the sadness you bear alone.
It's alright.
Because after all, if it isn't so sad,
then how good could it have been?

I do. I really do.

And really, what is the point of it all?
What is the point when this road here seems to close in on itself,
leaving me to run in circles, stumbling over the same bumps in the road
over and over again?

I never asked for perfection.
I only wanted what everyone else wants.
I thought maybe you wanted it too.

And after all's been said and done.
Compromises promised and promises made.
Why does it all feel so out of place,
as if I've claimed something not rightfully mine?

And this simmering heat that threatens to burn,
flames that cackle as they bring me to boil.
Your compliance was without cooling effect.
No, not when it was once again my doing.