Words.

There's still oceans worth of you here, in the world you left behind. It's like a haunting. This is why I sometimes still feel stuck. 
I look at myself and I know and accept that I am here, and you are far gone from the one existence I've known my entire life. But sometimes there's a fear that ignites within me. As if you're never going to let me "fully recover". And other times there is comfort instead. Like there's a part of you still in this world. A song, a letter, a story. And it doesn't have to be with me, not anymore anyway, it just is..somewhere out there, and all is well again. It's probably a psychosomatic manifestation; a fear, and guilt on my behalf. And that's even worse. I want to put you in a very special place and remember everything about you, but I don't want this to be the one moment in my life that defines me. That keeps me from moving forward and makes me miss out on the good and the beautiful of this world. Self sabotaging was always something I could do exceptionally well.


You..this, needs to be put in its place. 

I need these words to work. To be what they need to be. To communicate my confusion and lack of direction at times. Because as of lately, it seems that I'm just running my mouth. I might've just run out of new ways to express what's going on inside of me. Maybe I'll come back when that changes.

I used to talk to anyone that would listen and write unedited thoughts out...self disclosure was second nature. As time continues to pass, I'm finding it harder to do this. I wanted to write here because I wanted to help myself and others along the way. This, I know, is a lifelong journey, but maybe I'm reaching a point where it's time to stop talking about all of it and just apply it as I go. Maybe then I will be able to put you where it is that you'll be for the rest of my life. 

You've written my story backwards. You've taken your chapter out of my book. Now you're just a prologue. A dedication.

For you.

Acute vs Chronic.

It's a physiological thing. 

But that's how it is. 

Things eventually get better. And so they have. But I'm entering this new stage where it's this dull and constant ache. Something I'm getting used to, you kind of forget that it's there sometimes. But I can't decide which one is worse. The acute pain, the kind that made each minute drag by. The one that was unbelievably intense I had no idea how I was going to survive it. Or this kind...the one I know I will have to live with for the rest of my life. I would like to think it will subside, that it will be something I will look back on years from now and see how much I learned and healed. That I am thriving...I already am, but that I will be able to shed so much of this skin. Things just seem to be taking longer than I thought

I used to feel every single minute of your absence; now, time is flying by so fast. This is the third time I haven't noticed the 6th of each month and that's kind of bizarre.

But one of the most amazing things I've come to learn about human beings is how resilient we are. As fragile as our bodies are in the grand scheme of things, our minds and cores can survive anything. It just takes a while. I knew this from before, but experiencing it first hand is nothing short of amazing. 

Wooden Heart

We’re all born to broken people on their most honest day of living 
and since that first breath... We’ll need grace that we’ve never given 
I've been haunted by standard red devils and white ghosts 
and it's not only when these eyes are closed 
these lies are ropes that I tie down in my stomach, 
but they hold this ship together tossed like leaves in this weather 
and my dreams are sails that I point towards my true north, 
stretched thin over my rib bones, and pray that it gets better 
but it won’t won’t, at least I don’t believe it will... 
so I've built a wooden heart inside this iron ship, 
to sail these blood red seas and find your coasts. 
don’t let these waves wash away your hopes 
this war-ship is sinking, and I still believe in anchors 
pulling fist fulls of rotten wood from my heart, I still believe in saviors 
but I know that we are all made out of shipwrecks, every single board 
washed and bound like crooked teeth on these rocky shores 
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief 
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach 
come on and sew us together, tattered rags stained forever 
we only have what we remember 

I am the barely living son of a woman and man who barely made it 
but we’re making it taped together on borrowed crutches and new starts 
we all have the same holes in our hearts... 
everything falls apart at the exact same time 
that it all comes together perfectly for the next step 
but my fear is this prison... that I keep locked below the main deck 
I keep a key under my pillow, it’s quiet and it’s hidden and my hopes are weapons that I’m still learning how to use right 
but they’re heavy and I’m awkward...always running out of fight 
so I’ve carved a wooden heart, put it in this sinking ship 
hoping it would help me float for just a few more weeks 
because I am made out of shipwrecks, every twisted beam 
lost and found like you and me scattered out on the sea 
so come on let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief 
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach 
come on and sew us together, just some tattered rags stained forever 
we only have what we remember 

My throat it still tastes like house fire and salt water 
I wear this tide like loose skin, rock me to sea 
if we hold on tight we’ll hold each other together 
and not just be some fools rushing to die in our sleep 
all these machines will rust I promise, but we'll still be electric 
shocking each other back to life 
Your hand in mine, my fingers in your veins connected 
our bones grown together inside 
our hands entwined, your fingers in my veins braided 
our spines grown stronger in time 
because our church is made out of shipwrecks 
from every hull these rocks have claimed 
but we pick ourselves up, and try and grow better through the change 
so come on and let’s wash each other with tears of joy and tears of grief 
and fold our lives like crashing waves and run up on this beach 
come on and sew us together, were just tattered rags stained forever 
we only have what we remember

October 27.

I write, because I can't stay quiet. I share, because it needs to matter. It needs to help and make a difference. Something like this can't just happen and be forgotten. Sometimes it feels like it has...the world keeps turning as it should, but it needs to carry these experiences with it. Do I think that if I help at least one person, the guilt and loss of it all will simmer down in my being? No; there's no substitution for that. But things like these shouldn't happen and they shouldn't continue to happen all around us. We live in a society where this is becoming a trend and there's so much apathy...a mentality that we're better off without people who don't want to be here in the first place...that is mighty ignorant. Death is already inevitable without us having to rush the process.

x

Today, my sister would've been 16 years old. I wonder who she would've been and how we would've spent celebrating this special day. It never goes away, that heartache just transforms into something else, something you can live with. But when days like these arrive, you can't help but go down memory lane, and ask yourself infinite questions, but mostly, you wish for an instant that things weren't the way they are. With all the time that's passed, it's near impossible for me to picture a world with her in it. She's a part of me in the way I see the world, but she's not a part of the world itself. She taught me the most about innocent love, mainly because she never got to be old enough to be corrupted by anything, and every little beautiful lesson she taught me is the only legacy I have left of her. I'd like to say that after all this time days like these aren't painful in the least, but that would be a lie. But I think there's something really beautiful in that; time may take us further and further away from those we lost, but we never forget or stop loving them. With that comes the weight of their absence, and I for one, am perfectly okay with carrying that around. Our love is never free.
Happy Birthday sweet girl, love you to infinity.

On keeping on.

Recently, I lost many of my material possessions due to complicated circumstances. Things that are very dear to me. All my books. Memory boxes. My journals. A chess set I've had since I was 7. My sketchbook and paintings. Things that are only important to me and irreplaceable due to their sentimental value. Things Chantz gave me, stuff I bought in Spain, gifts from my father and mother, and things I've collected since I was a little girl. It was a tough blow, and made me feel like I only seem to keep losing what I care about and that in a way all those experiences were erased from existence. I allowed myself to react to this loss,  feeling like I was doomed to keep losing what I loved for the rest of my life, but a day later I picked myself up and realized there are some things you can't do anything about except keep keeping on. One of the hardest lessons I've learned this year...accepting the unchangeable. I find myself remembering new things that were lost and I'm sure that will keep happening for a while, but it's a little funny to me that I'm not as upset as I feel I should be. I know it's mostly in part because of everything that's happened this year; our memories are not attached to what's tangible. Granted, the material can be a reminder of something wonderful that you otherwise wouldn't remember, because the memories are buried so deep in your mind, but in the end, they are simply things. And in a world that tries to teach us that this is the stuff that makes up a meaningful life, it is important to not buy into that lie. Why do people cherish that more than the people around them? More than love, compassion, happiness, life, and humanity as a whole? The material can improve one's quality of life, but without any of those non-tangible things where is our humanity and meaning?

It's not like I'm starting with a clean slate, but it was a wonderful reminder, although quite harsh, that those things don't define who I was, or who I am now. And that they are definitely not what matters the most in the world. What matters is still with me. And as cliche as that is, it's astoundingly true, and knowing that frees you from the meaningless owning you.

It's been a really rough few weeks, but there have been days that have been exceptionally wonderful. I find myself holding on to those moments more than everything else. They trump those days by a long shot. The more time passes, the more beauty I experience. One can't really stop going when shit hits the fan, and when you stumble upon beautiful and significant people, moments, and things that just enrich your life in extraordinary ways, you are so thankful you kept going.

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside -- remembering all the times you've felt that way.

Abjection

That feeling you get when you realize that the only thing separating you from being dead is almost nothing. Understanding the weight of that sentence is something most don't even come close to...except maybe when they're near the end of their lives. When they have a need to feel like their lives had some purpose in this grand universe of ours. But what if it doesn't? Does it change the fact that you lived? No...living for the sake of living is something I wish I saw more of. Life is intrinsic and there is no need to justify why we are here.

It is also fragile, yet we are so careless with it, and disregard it much too often.We act as if we have some control over our own beating hearts.
I thought realizing this was going to make me feel like a helpless child but instead I've gained a greater appreciation for life...an understanding, and perhaps a fear, that life can disappear in an instant and it is in fact the more precious for it. With a full grasp of that reality, everything else is irrelevant. But you learn to love more. And live more.




I feel like I've come to a standstill in this process though. I keep running myself into a wall. It's a rough transition. It's as if there was a time limit on all of this and I'm now "expected" to be over it. Supposed to move on with this new life. What about the parts I'm not ready for? The things I haven't worked out?...I even pressure myself to be over it, as if it's losing its importance with the passing of time. I find myself apologizing when I fall apart, or when something triggers me; it's almost as if I'm losing the confidence I had in owning this entire process. As if I'm not allowed to feel it anymore. Like continuing to write about it and share is completely unnecessary now.

I just want you to know that I know you from after, after all this is over. And there are some parts of you that cannot be touched, no matter how they touch you.

You're okay when I know you. Everything's okay.

10-05-11

The hardest part? Knowing you will never fulfill your dreams. That you will never play another song or spend hours upon hours researching cool facts about chemistry and biology and impossible songs you are determined to learn perfectly. That you will never laugh that contagious laughter again. That you will not ride that dirt bike of yours or feel the rain again. That you had so much living ahead of you, and it's all gone. That it's all so very permanent day after day. And it will always be this way. You will be a part of the past. Not the present, nor future, in terms of your own existence and growth.
That one day, I will be further away from when you existed than closer. It may become a distant memory that a girl who doesn't exist anymore experienced.
That one day, even if you were to come back, I will choose to have the life I have without you, than the one we would've had.

October 3, 2011

It comes in waves.
Unexpected currents that try to suck me in and take me back to a place long left behind.
I am stronger, I fight it, and I get better at keeping up with it instead of lagging behind.
It wears me out to the core of my bones.
I wonder if it'll ever transform into something that will stop gnawing at my spirit.
The reminders aren't in every little thing I come in contact with anymore, but when I am reminded of you it strikes me like lightning. It roots me to the very spot I may be in. For a moment I am not here; I am fully submerged in a memory that I'm not able to shake off for days at a time.

It comes in waves.

"It turns into something that you can crawl out from under and...carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you...you even forget it, for a while. But then you reach in for whatever reason and - there it is. Oh right, that. Which could be awful - not all the time. It's not that you like it exactly, but it's what you've got instead. So, you carry it around."

Visitors offering their condolences, thinking to comfort me, said "Life goes on." What nonsense I thought, of course it doesn't. It's death that goes on. He's dead now, and will be dead tomorrow and next year and forever. There's no end to that. But perhaps there will be an end to the sorrow of it.

Heavy

Robert Frost was right...it goes on.
happiness.
excitement.
giddiness.
so much laughter, and friendship..and life.
It's different this time, it's all so much...more. As if my capacity for growth and love and an appreciation for life has only increased because of all of this.
But at what cost??
Couldn't there have been a different way to get here?
What else could I have done?
Will I always ask myself these things?

This past weekend was the best of my year thus far. Beautiful moments.
Saw my favorite band for the first time.
All those times I raved about getting to see Iron & Wine and how you said you would come along and join me for that special moment. You weren't there....yet, the moment was still perfect.
It's a truly bittersweet change.

But still, my heart gets torn at the smallest reminders of you. A phrase you used to say, a poem, seeing your name written on a piece of paper I had forgotten about, an identical pair of old shorts that you once got bleach on and continued to wear...they now sit neatly folded in a box with things I have left of you....It makes me catch  my breath. I still remember you so clearly.
You see, I've been working on mending that hole every day, but sometimes the strings are pulled out of my skin when I least expect them to.

I still feel heavy.

"We will never forget" is a phrase I kept hearing or seeing over and over again yesterday. But I don't think that's necessarily true...people have forgotten, except on the anniversary. It's a phrase that's said by those who really don't understand the gravity of having lost loved ones on that day. An attempt to be patriotic...but it runs so much deeper than that. Individuals were lost. And those that lost them don't need a date to remind them of that day, and how their lives were forever changed through no action of their own. I'm pretty sure it's something they live with more than just once a year.

It made me realize that you will be forgotten as well. Thousands of people died that day, and the world has already forgotten. How can you stand a chance?

Our memories are the only thing we can hold on to..and even they are faulty...the memories eventually get so buried deep inside our mind that we forget things we swore we'd never forget. There's no way to even bring them back to the surface because we're not aware that it even happened.  

Will I forget your laughter?

transforming

The passage of time seems to take me further away from you.
I was at a standstill for so long; I was by your side even if I couldn't see or feel you, but I did my best in staying behind with you.

Now I find myself having to stop and think...and remember you...remember us.
The rituals of talking to you daily hoping you were somewhere out in the world listening, of asking you to come back or just give me a sign,  of needing to see all the places we went to or looking through all the pictures and letters....I'm doing those less. Some call it progress...while I am confused as to what's going on. Are other things becoming more significant? Or is it just that other things are becoming important as well? Why do I feel that I have to choose between one or the other? No one's asked me to, except for me it seems.
What's happening? It's like we're heading in different directions...you, somewhere unknown to me. Somewhere that could be what we've learned about since childhood in church, or a place that's inconceivable to the human mind...or perhaps in mere nothingness which my cynical and nihilistic mind believes in the most. The only part of you that could still exist could be what's in all of us...everything you taught and showed us. Or maybe I'm just tucking you in somewhere in the depths of my mind, only to be brought back out once in a while when I am alone and okay with ripping myself apart for the night.
I am moving forward...willingly and unwillingly. There was such a long period of time when I would bask in every excruciating moment of losing you. It was the only way that you could stay here and be real. It made me never want to move forward...now I give myself time to feel those same feelings when they come then I send all my love and heartache to you and move forward in my journey. At one point I was afraid of being where I am right now, refusing to let go and gripping onto whatever I could hang on to as hardest as I could. Now, it's becoming easier to loosen that hold.

I find myself drastically changing; my sole identity has been this...you...for so long. Now it's just becoming a part of me. But I'm still not sure who that is anymore...it's not Veronica from over a year ago...or the Veronica from this past year. So who is it.....? I feel bare. The world couldn't touch me, this was the only thing that could phase me in any way. Now...things are starting to get to me again. I get annoyed at the small things. Or get stressed out over something as arbitrary as a school paper, or money. I find myself being excited and expectant....that hasn't been me for a year. I didn't expect anything of the world, or those in it...and I made it very clear that the world was not to expect anything from me.

As it becomes less a part of my identity, it's being shaped and transformed into something else. Constantly changing, until one day it'll become what it will be for the rest of my life. I'm still not sure what that is though..some days, it is my driving force to live and love as much as I can. It is the filter that I see the world through. It is my reason to expect nothing from the world...but sometimes, expecting everything it has to offer. It is a scalding reminder to not get too close, or try to save anyone ever again. To not care, because obviously I can't keep tragedies from happening or save the world in any way. It is what makes me lie awake at night wondering how I can make this world a better place even if it wont matter a hundred years from now. Or how I can help in not letting this happen to those around me. It is my reminder that nothing is true and that all is irrelevant. It is the light that shines on the things that are true and intrinsically valuable. While other times it still is a nightmare I keep telling myself I have to wake up from.


This past year has been spent on grieving, and while I may not be fully finished with that part of it, I am also coming to a place where I am spending the following weeks, months, year, or more on healing. I've healed some this year, but I've mostly grieved. It's necessary...one can't move onto the next phase of life without mourning what or who was lost. It's a process I've been afraid of...a belief that healing means forgetting, a trick of the mind. And although I still fall into that trap more than I'd like to admit, I am willingly going to spend my year doing things that will heal my soul. I am going to live, unlike I did last year. I don't regret the journey I've gone through but I know it's time to be a part of the living once more and stop holding back for fear that you will think I am okay with living without you or that I don't love you.
The thing is, I have to be okay with living without you, you didn't give me a choice.

California

    There's something very liberating about being in a place where no one knows your story. It's how I felt when I went to New Orleans back in March, but this time, it's more powerful. On a whim, I decided to road trip to California with a close of friend of mine to get away from Texas for a few days. This is the third thing I've followed through with in the past year. And only the second that I've done for myself.

The first was the benefit concert

    The second was actually finishing and doing well in a school term this summer since all of this, only leaving me with two more semesters till I graduate. School has been meaningless for so long, and it still seems that way sometimes but...well, I'm still working on how to finish that sentence.

    And this trip is my third...my way of reminding myself that I need to move forward and be okay with doing things without Chantz, and also to get away from Texas and the weight the memories of last year seem to hold. It's been tough, I catch myself thinking that he should be here, or wondering where I would be instead if he were still alive. I try not to look back, but that's the only place where I still see him. So far, this trip has been what I needed. It's been a mess with so many roadblocks along the way, but it's been a wonderful experience.I find myself just seeing what's going to happen next and  being open to it. I don't need to be in control, I just need to live and enjoy doing so.
    I know I've accomplished more than three things thus far..it's been a million little things in the last year, that really are huge accomplishments, but these three things are short term goals I've made for myself and followed through with. It may not sound like the biggest thing, but to me, it's huge. I'm piecing my life back together with fulfilling experiences, and that's just wonderful to me.


    Traveling is what really helps my soul the most, every time I do it, it feels lighter, as if I'm leaving parts of this load in each place I visit and bring a part of that place with me in return.

xxx

Freedom.
I've been trapped in a situation I had no control over. Yes.
But I've also been liberated from everything else...social norms, expecations as to how I should live my life. From the fear of showing love to those around me. From what we are told is meaningful in this world.
Freedom is choosing to live for the sake of living.


San Diego Beach



Why the Willow Weeps



It weeps for you late at night, when sleep does not come easily.

It weeps for the one you miss.

 It weeps for the dreams on the tips of your fingers.

 It weeps for appointments missed and it weeps for the tears in your pillow.

 It weeps for the silence and it weeps for the noise.

 It weeps for formal letters where once, language was spoken as close to your ear as possible.

 It weeps for betrayal, intended or not.

It weeps for the friends you once were.

 It weeps for the colours faded.
 It weeps for sunrise.

 It weeps for a death in the family and it weeps when a baby is born.

It weeps for the last time you touched.

 It weeps for words that can never be taken back.

It weeps so hard and so much and so often.

 So you don’t have to.

So you can carry on. It weeps for you.

When you have run out of weeping.

one year

A year ago today Chantz committed suicide.

suicide.

What an ugly word.
For a while, I coulnd't even bring myself to say it.

One moment you were there...and the second, you were just..gone.
I still have a hard time wrapping my head around it. I was the last person to see you and hear your voice, and if I had just known that that was the last time I'd ever hear it, I wouldn't have gotten off the phone. I would've told you I loved you so much, more than you knew. That you needed to be here. That I'd never recover or be happy about the fact that you didn't exist anymore. You were my Chantz...

So for whoever reads this, please don't hold back on showing those you love just how much they mean to you. Don't be afraid...fear is meaningless and a deceiver. You never want to look back and regret not having loved as much as you could've.
Looking back, that's the one thing I know I dont have to regret...I told him I loved him all the time and I showed it in the best way I could, failing miserably at times of course. But I never held back, and neither did he. But if I had known, I would've spent all these years loving him and being happy instead of focusing on the most meaningless and arbitrary things at times. I hate that I know this now. I always think that if I had been the way I  am now then he'd probably be here. Again with the 'what if's'

This enitre year I've managed  to survive by living in the past and present. Im sure I've said that a lot already. In the past, I could look back and remember what I was doing a year ago with Chantz. But starting tomorrow, if I look back, I will only see me and my grief......he's really gone.
But it doesn't mean I'm alone.

A year ago today I met with one of my best friends for coffee because he had come to Fort Worth from Austin. We talked about how I was really excited to move in with Chantz the next day. And how we were both happier than ever before. That Chantz's last day at his internship was that day and things were working out just fine. I remember that I was going to buy a dresser and getting Chantz's help to load it later that evening. I remember it was a really pretty day, not as infernally hot as today, and then it started pouring. The apocalypse kind that lasted till around ten at night. I remember stressing out over last minute things. Over money. Over my mother. I remember what I was wearing, what you looked like, the last time we kissed, not knowing it would be the last. It was just a simple kiss, like we had done it a thousand times and were used to it. It was sweet, but if I had known it was the last how I would've made it last longer. I would've looked at every little feature to make sure that the faulty camera in my mind would never forget anything about you. Even though I didn't know that...I still remember every detail. Of the night as well. From the simple and beautiful to the most horrific thing I've ever seen in my life. Things I wish I could erase from my mind will always be there. The good with the bad. It's how it goes.

On August 7th, I was in shock.
I woke up after a few hours of medicated sleep. I remember I had a dream that Chantz and I broke up, and in the dream that was the worst thing that could happen. It was such a heartbreaking dream. When I woke up I was so happy that it had been just a dream and I was back in real life, and for the life of me I couldnt remember the night before...the garage, his body, the police, the hospital..
I grabbed my phone and I had messages from various people giving me their condolences and saying they were there if I needed anything...then I remembered. It didn't feel real, it wasnt real. And how did they already know about this fictional event? How did word get out?
How could people know about something that wasn't even true?

I remember smoking about 6 packs of cigarettes that weekend. and drinking arizona tea. Stephanie brought me a ridiculous amount of homemade Mac & Cheese that I couldn't eat. I remember thinking that if I was hungry then it meant that I didn't care about the situation, so I wouldn't eat. I remember Caroline was still in California, the one person that I wanted to see the most. I remember Iris calling saying she was on her way, the one person I didn't expect that from. I remember looking at a picture of Chantz at all times as if I would forget him if I stopped looking at him for a second. I remember I looked like crap, and didn't shower. I remember an old bible study teacher showing up and wanting to read the bible, and me saying no. I remember the look of hurt surprise on his face when I told him that Chantz didn't even believe in god.
I got a lot of flowers that weekend, it was a really nice gesture, but I still don't get why people get flowers when people die..is it because they just dont know what else to do? Why dont people give flowers for no reason at all except just to brighter their day? That would be nice.
I think I will go buy myself some flowers this week, Chantz got me daisies all the time. He was the only one who got me the burnt orangey red kind and I've refused to get those or any flower for that matter since. 
I stopped doing a lot of things because then it would mean that said things weren't done last with Chantz.
You kind of stop living that way...

This past year people have asked me if I've heard about this or that on the news...about celebrity gossip, politics, new wars, etc....and no..I haven't heard about any of these things.
I don't expect people to remember every second of every day as to what happened in my life, but unfortunately when your world is turned upside down, you don't really hear about anything else that's going on in the world around you. I feel like for a while now I've been having to play catch up about the world and existence around us.

It's been a year filled with:

shock
non-stop sleep
denial
conspiracy theories
rage
panic
tears
drugs
alcohol
friends
hate
guilt
guilt
guilt guilt guilt
fear
nightmares
meds
doubts
therapy
hauntings
carelessness
rebirth
traveling
new----everything
longing
aching
sobbing
writing
music
dejection
insomnia
searching
waiting
talking
and talking some more
a new vision
loneliness
fearlessness
an abundance of love
confusion
repetition
unanswered questions
escaping
exhaustion
rejection
loss


and
acceptance.

It's been the longest and most painful year of my life.
And I share because I would like people to know who he was, what he meant to me, and hopefully to help in any way I can in preventing from this happening to someone else.
I used to hate the fact that it seemed like this was another lesson I had to learn. It's like he was reduced to that. But that's not true either...I can learn from this but it doesn't take away from the fact that he was a person, with passions, a history, life, love, demons, quirks, habits, flaws, dreams, etc. just because he's not anymore. He was flesh and blood. Not a concept to learn from.

If you can inspire, then do it.

A few months after Chantz's death a friend asked me if someone asked me what I had gotten/learned from the entire situation what I would say. I told her "nothing."
It was the truth.

Now a year later I have a different response:

I would say to love. love love love love love. That it's okay that I ache for Chantz and miss him, and that I let myself do it every time it happens. But then I send all that love his way and let it go. You can't spend your life not living just because someone's left this world.
I would say (this I came to last night) to not spend your love and life on the dead, but on the living. I still love you, and always will. But I know that I've spent the majority of this year not loving the people who I can still show love to. I would say that I'm still getting used to seeing with these new eyes, but that I see what's important in this existence and I am so very happy about that. I would say that I didn't think there was much death around me, then I experienced it myself. Now I see death everywhere. It's not that I look for it, but my eyes have been opened to something that's always been there. As morbid as that may sound, it just reminds me that even in that we're not alone. And it's even more of a reminder to LIVE as much as you can. I would say that I've made incredible progress in just the last couple of months and I am amazed and SO happy about that. I would say that happy days are more than possible. And that moving forward is not a betrayal or a dishonor to him. To expect the unexpected and don't be surprised when you find yourself bawling your eyes out in a public setting because you saw something that reminded you of that person. Meaning, that it never goes away. You just learn how to walk with it. I would  say there is not a wrong way to grieve and to own it and go through every process. Don't let others define it for you, because they are more than likely trying to make themselves feel comfortable about the situation instead of trying to help. To not expect to be "over it" or to answer the questions that don't make sense...but that VERY slowly but surely, you accept that those questions wont ever be answered. That eventually you do stop crying every day, even if it's eight months down the road. I would say that the world is still a wonderful place, and that there are many who are willing to carry you and drag you so you don't stay behind. Those people are more than worth investing in.


Just one year. It feels like a lifetime...I'm not who I used to be. The world has changed and it keeps changing every minute. Yet, it's been only a year.
I miss you, and I still Wish You Were Here
One of our favorite songs...I remember the last time you played it for me last July. I remember my host sister playing it when I was in Spain and how much it made me miss you. I remember hearing it on my way to the airport this past December and thinking it was your way of talking to me.
I never thought those words would become an anthem to my soul. That I would sincerely know the depth those four words can mean.
I love you sweet Chantz.

Today,
I am up and downm and missing you so much..but unlike last year, I am in reality. Not in shock.I am reminded that people are beautiful. So many have let me know that they're keeping me in their thoughts and they've been extremely kind to me. My loving grandparents took me and Iris out to lunch and it was really nice to be around people I love and to have that support system. Right now I am in a place that makes my soul feel happy...ie, book shop. I originally planned to stay in bed all day, but I realize that I should always get back up, and do something that would make you happy, and spend this day on loving and remembering you, having some time to myself and end it by sharing it with people I love. Can you see? After so long, I'm trying.
For you. For me. For life.

Someone told me "You have made it through the first year and that is something to be proud of. I could only imagine that Chantz is proud of you."
I hope so.

love
you.

August 1, 2011

This week is my last week of memories of/with Chantz. It's almost unbelievable to me.

This is the last picture I took with Chantz a year ago today. We spent our day at the lake with friends, wakeboarding, drinking, and riding the water tube. We had gone the week before but Chantz hadn't been able to get the board up, and on this day he successfully did it. I remember the second he finally stood up we could all see that his face lit up like one of a kid in a candy store...and a moment later, he made the face of someone who persistently keeps trying to get a result, and when he finally does he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he just let go. It was actually hilarious to see it play out. That last weekend with him was really beautiful. I remember shortly after he died not being able to understand how things could be so wonderful one moment and completely destroyed the next. I kept going over and over in my head how impossible it seemed that a week earlier we had taken his little cousins to Six Flags and spent the whole day taking care of them, even talking about how it would be when we had children one day...and then, he was just gone.
I don't think I'll be able to fully grasp how life can change that drastically in the blink of an eye, but now I am able to look back on that wonderful last week I had with him.

The Wednesday of that week Chantz also washed my car. We were both in the garage as he was cleaning the inside when a song came on the radio, and we started slow dancing. He even twirled me a couple of times, which is saying something, because I am the worst follower. Ever.
He said  that this was one of his happiest moments. That his life was finally coming together, and that I was there to share it with him. It's always been a little funny to me that people think the most romantic moments consist of the grand and planned out gestures. Don't get me wrong..they're wonderful, but give me moments like these for the rest of my life. The simplest moments can be so authentically beautiful. I still hold on to that moment often, it makes me ache, but at the same time be entirely thankful to know that I will always be able to remember it.



the robot

The last week of his life, Chantz was working on his last week of his paid  internship. I remember he was really excited because he was working with nano-technology, one of his most favorite things, and he was getting to build a robot and making connections with the PhD's running that specific course. We were also in the process of getting ready to move in that weekend, something we were also really excited about and even planning on having a housewarming party for shortly after. When he died, my hoped-for future died, too...from the smallest of things, like my plan to surprise him with post-it notes all over the apartment with a reason why I loved him on each one..to the bigger things, a future that I never even had and feel that I lost. It's only begun with this year, and continuing on from here, but living with this loss has meant taking on new roles, new relationships, a new future- without obviously forgetting the past. Something I'm barely embracing, and a hard thing to balance at times
.
I'm somewhat fearful of this coming week; I am afraid that in a way I will be mentally reliving those last days. Asking myself questions I know I wont ever be able to solve...remembering things I buried deep inside....but mostly, I am afraid that it will feel like I am losing him all over again. And after that, that I will be in the same spot I was the day after his death. I keep telling myself that this part must be "normal" as well...whatever the hell that means, but I really have nothing to base it off of. There were many times I told myself that surely I wouldn't survive, and thus far, I am still here. I think the biggest thing that this one year mark will bring is that instead of my grief being tied to a certain day or the approach of certain days, it will just be there. The reality of his absence will just be here all the time...not in a haunting way, but perhaps as a reminder to live beautifully. To love as much as I can. That he existed, and just because he doesn't anymore, it doesn't change what we did have at some point in time. But for now, I just keep reminding myself to take it one step at a time, and keep breathing lest I overwhelm myself with all of this.

If you ever think that your absence won't be felt a year after your death, consider the fact that that's probably the biggest lie you've ever said to yourself.

La tristesse durera toujours

A tattoo of two swallows represents freedom.

Swallows also represent a hardship survived, and the return home after a struggle.

I survived...and I am finally thriving after almost a year. It's still a daily work in progress like I've said before, but these last months have been beautiful.

It was finally time to get the tattoo I drew out back in December...I told myself that once I came back I would get it.

One is in honor of Chantz, and the other is for my precious little sister that I lost many years ago.

"La tristesse durera toujours" -Van Gogh

These were his dying words..translated to "the sadness will last forever." He is my favorite painter of all time and his story has had a huge impact on my life, it was only fitting to add it to my tattoo.

Yes, the sadness will last forever, but so will the memories, and most importantly, the love I have for these two beautiful beings.

If souls exist, I can only hope that the two have met already.

a very happy self

♥

June 21, 2011

The crying spells are back.
It's a near cold comfort; useful for knowing that I'm still on the road to "recovery"...but the longing...there's just so much aching in that sometimes. Something I'd like to put down from time to time, but it seems that a part of me will not...or perhaps, simply cannot.

Just when you think you've got things under control, grief likes to give you a swift kick in the ass and remind you that it's circular and ever changing.
Thanks.

I think it has a lot to do with the nearing of the one year mark. Looking back, I still have solid Chantz memories with me from last year...but in a couple of weeks it will just be me. Not that the memories will be gone, but the closest ones will be about how I dealt with his "departure"...
But this time around logic hasn't left me

I remember when you died, for a time, I was like one bereft of reason.

Escaping is futile now...and why would I want to? I've had enough time to delude myself, and doing that would just be taking a million little steps back.
I can say I've been happy now. That I've been sober. That I've made myself feel the weight of your absence and the pain associated with it. I've had to face what it is to live without you head on. And man...how can I put into words what that is like? It's near impossible..involving the inner most parts of your soul being torn apart and transformed into something new..painful, yet necessary. I think I once told a friend that the best way to describe it so she could understand was as if one side of my body was immobile, dead and rotting, and since I couldn't get rid of it I was constantly aware of it; I just had to drag myself with the side that worked and figure out a way to walk and live with it in the best way possible. Fortunately, the more you learn how to walk with it, the more alive you become. You don't stay in "zombie-like" shape forever, figuratively speaking, and of course it will never be the same, a constant work in progress, but there's so much I can see and do now, compared to even five months ago when I started this blog. I hope I can say the same thing another five months from now.

One must face reality sooner or later..and let me say that the sooner you do it, chances are that you will heal in a significantly better way. The longer you take, the more of 'you' that will be lost in the process.



All that you've loved is all you own

Civil War

Today, I really can't get you off my mind

Whatever type of scab has formed from your absence seems to be ripped off on days like these, but underneath, some parts of me have healed. It means I don't have to start the process all over again. It's just a reminder that scabs can be ripped off when you least expect them to.

I remember exactly what you sounded like when you sang this. I remember all the movements you made while playing it.

 And there's this one memory...you sitting on your amp...in your own world, and me sitting in bed listening..chiming in occassionally. Very simple, yet one of the clearest I have.

Civil War

I really miss you today.

I guess some days are worse than others

Who said "Peace could last forever"

Live Free

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush.

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

xxx

It took me months of denial, longing, and heartwrenching bitterness to come to terms that going to a funeral, a grave, or a room that was once slept in was simply futile. I thought you'd be there, waiting to tell me it was all an elaborate lie, surely they must've been hiding you and that's why I was kept out...I thought I'd find you in some way...but you're not there anymore...you haven't been there in a long time. I'm not going to say that the experience of not getting to be a part of something that's necessary in terms of acceptance, and closure in the bereavement process made me into a better person or that I can see the silver lining in it...no, that's a lot of self delusional bullshit. But I will say that I know what it feels like, and when bitternes or hate try to take over in any given situation, I see the harm it can cause to others, and I don't want to send that type of hurt over to anyone else. There is freedom in letting the bitterness go. 

 You are someone I constantly carry with me...kept alive through everything you taught me, the love we shared, whatever insight, love, lessons you took from me. You are with me through the love you taught me to show and believe in once more...through the fearlessness I've adopted from you, that was the essence of your being.You are alive through the people I've loved because of what I learned from you and all of this; they also carry you with them.

You are here.

Not in the way I would want you to. It's not enough, it was an insult when people said "he will always be with you, in your heart," because it only showed me that they obviously didn't understand what profound loss was. And it will never be enough, nothing can compare...when acceptance seeps into one's bones though, you know the difference between what you can change, and what you can't. And then you go from there in carrying the things that are out of your control in the best way you can. Every day offering you a chance to practice that balance.

I choose to live without fear, restraints, and in utmost love for others...because of you.

Time

A year ago today I was on my way back from Spain. I had a 19 hour flight; it was exhausting, and I was ready to be home. Our last night in Madrid had been ridiculously fun, but also brutal because we obviously had to stay out all night for the last time.
That last weekend was also the most I missed Chantz. It was because I was so close to seeing him, yet there was nothing I could do about it but wait till I was back home. I have never been more excited and antsy to see a person than I was back then.

Despite how tired, sleep deprived, sick, hungry, and cranky I was from the flight and annoyed because Chantz couldn't find my gate at the airport, the second he pulled up and got out of the car, it all vanished. We looked at each other like this was the moment we had been waiting for and walked toward one another and embraced for minutes.  We didn't say a word the whole time and I still remember thinking how it felt like I was finally home. His hugs, his smell, the way his back felt..it was all home. We pulled away and he told me he loved me.

Today, I would've been engaged for a year if he were still here. That night after talking, eating, him taking me to his house because I HAD TO see how he turned his room into guy haven, he finally took me home, and got on one knee  and started with "I think I'm going to take advantage of the fact that you're jetlagged and ask you to be mine right know.."  and proceeded to say the most beautiful things. I was completely astounded, even though I should've known better..that's how he always was. I said yes, I think I was already nodding halfway through his speech and had to keep myself from interrupting him.

Six months ago I was here concerning the engagement. I would like to say that I am still there, that I still wear the ring, but it has been taken off and replaced by a simple band my best friend Iris gave me..it's a different type of ring but I wear it every day.

It's a reminder that life is beautiful, I am loved, and of our friendship. Your ring has been put away with many other things, but I like to take it out sometimes and look at it and wonder what being engaged to your for this long would've been like . Isn't it a little funny and sad that we move forward in grief regardless of how much we try not to? It doesn't matter how much you cling on to it and how much you swear to yourself and the world that you will never come to terms with it...time still does its thing. It's not that it heals all wounds, but it seems that the further away we get from anything, it's relevance seems to diminish.



           The 4th came and with it did festivities...why are holidays so much harder than regular days? Death is death no matter what day...but I think it has to do with time again. Just another reminder that you're gone, and that time continues to move forward without you and there is not a thing that can be done in the matter. It also has to do with the fact that you celebrate special days with special people..and you were missing. Your friends missed you when we celebrated, and I most certainly did.
Life misses you Chantz.
I tried to enjoy myself and be happy that I was celebrating with wonderful people who I've come to really love and appreciate...but the holidays always hit me harder...therefore self destructive things tend to happen. I'm still working on that one. It works about half the time. I still did have a good time, with moments of needing to be on my own and talk to or think about you for a while.
I made it through the 4th, and 5th, and tomorrow marks 11 months. And then the year.I keep telling myself that a year is not a big deal, time is just made up as a way to have a sense of order in existence, but it's just another day. You were gone yesterday, you were gone today, and you will be gone the next day. But the thing is that I'm scared of looking back at what I did a year earlier and not seeing you there. I will just be looking back on how I coped with this. And that is the scariest thing for me. That's how I've survived, by looking back and seeing you there. When the year comes and goes, I will look back and you will be so far away. I'm afraid of that...I hate that every day just takes me further away from you.
Regardless of how "irrelevant" time should be, it isn't for anyone.

I asked a friend of ours to play Hallelujah while we were all sittin' in a circle singing songs.
It was for you.
"Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah"

Passion is imperative to life

I love life more than anything in this world.

really.

The thing is, that I've been fighting that love every step of the way since you've left.
I feel guilty that I love being alive and what it is to be a human being and part of this existence..and you're gone.
I feel like I'm doing something wrong by wanting to experience everything this world has to offer.

I want to read as many books as I can throughout my life, I want to listen to beautiful and inspiring music until I'm old and can't hear anymore, I want to eat as much delicious food as I can. I want to show my friends how much I love them and appreciate their existence. I want to live in Spain for a few years. I want to see beautiful art, and learn all there is about it and its history in grad school..maybe become a museum curator someday. I want to help as many people as I can. I want to do my part in the field of social justice. I want to go to the peace corps. I want to visit Poland and see the places you raved about, especially that castle you wanted to get married in, and eat as much of that delicious chocolate you told me about. I want to have children and aid in helping them become the best human beings they can be. I want to go back to El Escorial in Spain, my most favorite place in the world thus far. I want to be the maid of honor at my best friend's wedding. I want to learn as much as I can about everything in this world. I want to quit smoking one day and run a marathon.I want to learn how to meditate and find zen. I want to get better at poker and play chess with people that love it as much as I do. I want to go sky diving. I want to go back to vegetarianism. I want to visit Russia and learn how to speak Russian. And Italian. I want to see my favorite bands live...many times. I want to go all the music shows I can go to. I want to meet as many wonderful, intelligent, and beautiful people as I can, and develop friendships with them. I want to go museums as see my favorite art pieces. I want to take care of my cats and perhaps get one more later in life. I want to continue growing as a person every day and with every experience. I want to know that I lived as much as I could and did everything within my power to make this life worth it.

So why do I feel like I shouldn't? Like I'm doing something wrong by wanting all of this, let alone pursuing it. Like I'm leaving you behind if I live my life.
I've gotten significantly "better" about living and not just existing, but that guilt is always there.
My life motto is "passion is imperative to life." I've been trying to subdue that passion for way too long now, for fear that you'll think I'm okay without you. I fear that you'll think I don't care that you're gone, that it doesn't matter anymore, and that I don't love you.
It's getting harder to subdue this and I feel like I'm betraying you.
I've met so many equally passionate people these last eleven months who inspire me to live as I know I should, and I'm at odds with myself because of it.
Them, me, life...or you.

If I can tell anyone anything, because I know so little anymore, I would say to make sure that people you love know it. The rest is trivial, biodegradable.

This is the only truth I know.

Happy Birthday

2007 at Beach Camp

Birthday kids. For this birthday I got him a birthday card that sang "Bad To the Bone" because we were "just friends" at the time

2008

 Pool party at his house that his mom and I threw his as a surprise. The day before the party we ran into a friend's mom who gave it away. We decided not to tell his mom though. The day of his birthday I was in charge of distracting him so we went and bought a Cosmopolitan magazine and laughed at the stupid sex tips. One of them said "Say anything in his ear....anything." Then Chantz leaned in very slowly and whispered "Pickles, Pickles, Pickles." From that day on we would do that to each other randomly when we were out. It was one of our jokes..Hence why one of kitten's names is Pickles. That year I gave him a goodie bag with  Slash's autobiography (one of his favorite musicians), his first Bukowski book, his favorite candy, a music journal, some mix CD's, and a frame with my most favorite picture of us.

Double chocolate, with chocolate filling, and chocolate frosting cake. He loved it.

2009

That year I surprised him with dinner and a hotel room..yeah, yeah...we felt grown up hahah. I also got him two concert tickets to Metallica. He was so excited to see them live again. It was the last birthday I got to spend with him and it was really wonderful.

2010

Last year I was in Spain and this picture was taken on the 14th. It was also our friend Cruz's birthday so we took him out to celebrate Spain style. I wasn't able to be with Chantz, but I did what I could and sent him a box with different Spain things so he could have a little bit of Spain with him. I sent him an awesome Metallica lighter, Absinthe, 2 french beers that are very popular in Spain (Desperados), a switch blade from Toledo the City of Swords, and a letter. I know he didn't have the best of days and I felt awful for that;  I told him when I got back I would take him out to celebrate and that it would be wonderful. The thing is that we never got to do that.

Chantz wasn't big on birthdays, he always said that something always happened that ruined them so he just hated that day. I grew up in a home where birthdays were very special..I swear we pretty much got a birthday week from the treatment we got the week of our birthdays. My goal was to do that for him and I know these last couple of birthdays I tried my hardest to make him feel special, and loved.

You were loved. You ARE loved. Even today, something's going on in your honor. I hate the reason why this Benefit Concert's happening, but I love the purpose of it. I hope that this can at least help someone else, and it can help me in the process too.

Today is not just a holiday...it's your day, and you should be here..it's not okay that you're not. I miss you so much, but I'm trying to take that and do something that would make you proud.

I love you sweet boy, Happy Birthday to you, and I hope somewhere out there you know that you are still loved by so many.

I wonder who you'd be today <3

Rage

I keep coming back to this one.

Someone said to me:
"I know it must be hard when the world moves on and you are left in the aftermath of his decision."
They said that perfectly. I am so trapped by his decision. To this day. I am so angry with him for doing that. For promising to never put me through this and doing it two weeks later. For abandoning me, and not giving himself a chance. For robbing me of my youth and ingraining in my memory the horror of seeing him that way. I am angry with myself for not getting there faster. For not saving him, or stopping it. With his parents for the way they treated him and pretending like they didn't do this to him..he always felt helpless and not accepted. And for making me feel even more helpless when it happened. With his brother for his hatefulness those last weeks. With my mother for not understanding and being what she needed to be. With her controlling nature and trying to own my grief, and making me feel the same way Chantz's parents used to make him feel. With family members that tell me I need to move on and are surprised that I still haven't. As if there weren't feelings of betrayal associated with me moving on, or it were that damn easy. With my brother for not being there in any way. With those that moved on so quickly. With a roomate that thought the most insignificant things were worth crying over as if her life were about to end. With those that didn't know him that well and acted like they suffered a profound loss. With those that asked why he didn't go to them, when they were NEVER there for him while he was alive. If you want someone to go to you in their time of need, make sure you're there for them when that isn't the case. With those that judged him, amd judge(d) me as well. With the few that tried to shove the bible down my throat so I could "cope." With those "Christians" that claim their god is everything but their god's love was nowhere to be seen. I found more love, support and acceptance in those that dont believe in God, than in those that claim he is their everything. These thoughts are ugly, I am aware, but they are also real, and a part of this process I have to own and work through, just like everything else.

But mostly I am so angry because I am so helpless sometimes. So powerless to the entire situation, except in my acceptance.
I hate it.
If his decision was the catalyst to everything I've gone through these last ten months, then why is it that I had no influence over it? If something's going to change your life so drastically, shouldn't you at least get a fucking say in the matter?

When I come back to anger I burn all bridges and everything I've built so far. I dont think I've ever been consumed by such rage before..but that's really it though, it consumes me. No one else. My anger is only poisoning me.
Each time I come back to it it's different though, it's working through what I haven't dealt with yet. I'm hoping that the circularity of it will eventually end.
Only when I think I am done with a stage for good, it shows its ugly head again. But for my part, I am working in not destroying everything I've accomplished so far. It would take so little time to do so but far longer to start over again. I'm tired of starting over.
And the thing with acceptance, is that you realize that you can't fix it anymore, so you strive for peace.
I didnt want that for so long, it would mean he was really gone...but he is. And I want to do more than just survive. I want to live. I want to love. I want to be at peace.
I'm happy that I'm back in school, and that I'm looking for a job, and doing certain productive things as well as doing this benefit concert in a couple of days.
I'm cutting back on some of my vices, but that's the hardest part. All those vices only delude me into thinking I'm doing better because they make me feel significantly less. I'm working on that too.

What is there to say about grief?

Grief is a tidal wave that overtakes you, smashes you up into its darkness, where you tumble and crash against unidentifiable surfaces, only to be thrown out on an unknown beach, bruised, reshaped.
Grief means not being able to read more than two sentences at a time. It is walking into rooms with intention that suddenly vanishes.

Grief is three-o'clock-in-the-morning sweats that won't stop. It is dreadful Sundays, and Mondays that are no better. It makes you look for a face in a crowd, knowing full well the face we want cannot be found in that crowd.

Grief is utter aloneness that razes the rational mind and makes room for the phantasmagoric. It makes you suddenly get up and leave in the middle of a meeting, without saying a word.
Grief makes what others think of you moot. It shears away the masks of normal life and forces brutal honesty out of your mouth before propriety can stop you. It shoves away friends, scares away so-called friends, and rewrites your address book for you.

Grief makes you laugh at people who cry over spilled milk, right to their faces. It tells the world that you are untouchable at the very moment when touch is the only contact that might reach you. It makes lepers out of upstanding citizens.

Grief discriminates against no one. It kills. Maims. And cripples. It is the ashes from which the phoenix rises, and the mettle of rebirth. It returns life to the living dead. It teaches that there is nothing absolutely true or untrue. It assures the living that we know nothing for certain. It humbles. It shrouds. It blackens. It enlightens.
Grief will make a new person out of you, if it doesn't kill you in the making

(I've been here..I am still here)

Benefit Concert

For your birthday, I am throwing a benefit concert. The purpose of the night is to celebrate the significance and importance of life and to also raise awareness about the realities of suicide and those left behind in the aftermath. All the proceeds will go to To Write Love On Her Arms, a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide in your memory.
I hate the reasons why I'm doing this. I hate that this big celebration is taking place and you wont even be there for it. I'm also angry with you..and hurt about it. I do things in your honor and you dont even know. But I think you would be proud that I am taking this step. I think this is the best way to honor and represent you and your life, and what you loved most....music. This is not me pretending you were someone else, this is just accepting it and rejoicing in it and hopefully making a tiny difference in helping someone else. No one should have to go through this, and I wish that I could do everything in my power to make that happen.

I'm hoping that this will also be therapeutic and healing for me. I've been dreading your birthday for months now, not knowing what I would do...ever since we started dating I did special things for your birthday and I knew that this year was going to be such a painful blow. There's no use in spending the day drinking it away
when I could use the it to help others, myself, and celebrate who you were, right?

I wasn't allowed at your funeral, and I remember being told that your parents said I should just do something on my own to honor you in my own way. It hurt to hear that..I just wanted to be near you and I couldn't. And at the time I was in no place to even plan something. My friends were wonderful enough to plan a friend visitation, and that was very sweet of them. But this is you in every way I can think of. Now I am in a place where I can do this for you. Funerals are a necessary ritual in the grieving process..I know that by not being able to be a part of that, it took me a lot longer to realize you were really gone and led to a lot of bitterness. Now I can have my own sort of closure after all this time and move a little forward in this process.
♥

You're in my dreams again.
It's been a long time since I've seen you there; and the first that they haven't been nightmares.
All our mannerisms, our way of being, the feelings, the inside moments..they're all there.
It feels like home.
Then I wake up and I can't believe it was only a dream.
You're not here.

Where have you been?
I still need you.

May 28

"You're smart, you're beautiful, you're sweet and you're the love of my life. Don't ever change a bit and do not for one second let anyone even get a second thought about you. "

I just recently found this in one of the many e-mails Chantz sent me while I was away in Spain.
I've read those countless times but I dont remember ever reading this one...almost felt like a message from him.

It was kind of eerie to read those words, they stopped me cold because I'm changed... I am not that person anymore. I've tried to destroy who I used to be entirely so it feels like someone who doesn't exist anymore lost him...not this girl, not me.

You wouldn't recongnize me anymore...I wonder if you would even love me.

I should take it as some sort of message..not from the beyond, but just a reminder from you. I need those sometimes.
As always, I love you.

A year ago today Chantz had finished his first week of his paid internship. He was really excited about the possibilities, getting paid to learn about what he was passionate about, and about the remaining couple of weeks of it. He had to dress up on the last day of week one and this is what he wore. I told him to keep it on until I got to his house because I loved seeing him dressed up and I had to take a picture of course. I was really happy for him because he actually set out to do something great and he was succeeding fast. Last summer was supposed to be the beginning of a lot of things for him, and they were all taking off. I always wonder where'd you be today and why you couldn't stay here to find out. I wanted to see you get there.