Downwards...

Things feel different now. I know the love is there, undeniable. In my minds eye, I see a future with a house, children, a loving wife and a warmth only our family can produce. I have this feeling of hope that that dream will come true and we both want it, regardless of what anyone says... Right?


... Right???

That's the thing that feels different. I mere month ago, these feelings were mutual, now I'm the only one with this hope, alone. The faces are the same but the heart and touch that are usually felt have been modified to something more unfamiliar and cold. Moments of silence, once welcomed with great comfort, now are dreaded and feared. A month ago we were laughing and playing around, now we've become those couples I have never wanted to become. Where did things go wrong?

I understood there were things I needed to work on and to the best of my knowledge... I did. My mindset has been... set. Goals installed and were ready to be accomplished. Baby steps to being a productive, successful adult were happening... Yet here we are. Quiet, distant, sad. I tried and I tried but it feel like I'm throwing water against a brick wall with a raging fire on the other side. I miss her so much.

The smiles she made when she tricked me in her cute way. The way she curled her fingers when she ate pizza on movie night. The look she gave me when she knew I was staring at her beautiful face. They're still there, I'm still here. Please, let's do something about this.

Interesting...

The phone call settles my thoughts and after I tap the "end call" button, my heart slowly reverts back to it's original pace. The fog is gone now. Like a curtain revealing the next act in a play, the lifted fog shows quite clearly my destination. Apartment complex #4. I call it #4 because it is the forth one I've lived in since I moved down here to southern California about ten years ago from up north. It almost feels like the higher number of apartment complex numbers I live in, the lower my living standard get.

Some people discribe the area #4 i'm in as the "anus" of Long Beach (Honest, someone told me that!) and that nickname gets more apparent everyday when I aproach it after work, after a date, or after a couple of drinks with friends. I let a sigh out everytime I walk my girlfriend the two blocks (or more some nights) since parking is horrendous after 8pm. The sigh gets even louder once we enter the tiny space to see dirty clothes on the floor and bare feet greet us after opening the door. My roommate has converted nearly 75% of the apartment into his own personal space and after two years, I developed a problem about it. His office space/ entertainment area/ dining room and laundry basket is something a grown man of 32 doesn't want to see when he would like to bring company or family over.

So off to the bedroom, my own personal fortress of solitude. Sometimes it's not bad but eating on my bed and waking up with crumbs everywhere you don't want them to be, after awhile gets annoying.

At the front gate, I am confronted with the same issue I get myself into every time I come "home". All the stuff I carry from my car to "home" are always held in the hand on the side where the coresponding pocket contains the keys. Never fails. I angrly manuever bag handels or books or grocery bags to eitherthe floor or the other hand to get my keys while reminding myself that the next time I have thingsto bring "home" to figure out the key situation first. Yet I always forget once I open that gate and start up those stairs. I need post-it's.


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Uneasy...

I have this uneasy feeling that just won't go away. I've been feeling this way for a while and have been ignoring it in hopes it would disappear on it's own. Nope, still here. I know what it is, the feeling. Fear. I haven't felt this way in a long time and now the fear is setting in. The red flags that usually pop up and I look past, I'm now noticing them and now I'm concerned. I hate to say this, but sometimes I wish I could just be reassured everything is ok. That makes me sound insecure but lately I have been feeling that way. I want to understand but asking is not an option. I have to settle with assuming and we all know what happened when you assume: you look/sound/are stupid when you do. I hate being stupid and clueless.

Dear Dad...

Hi! It's me, your son. It's been like 15 years since you died so it's understandable that you wouldn't recognize me. I'm a bit taller (wider, but I'm working on that... Kinda), I can complete sentences without drooling or needing a change of diapers, and I've been married (and divorced). So yeah, I'm older bit not grown up. I know better than to say that. I feel that if I was to be "grown-up" then I should have responsiblities, important ones but I don't. Atleast I don't think I do. Maybe if I had gotten someone prego when I was in high school or lost a limb then I wouldn't feel like I'm floating in limbo waiting for something to guide me in the right direction. Reality is still strange to me.

Sometimes I feel I would of had a better understanding of this world if you were alive but I think mom did a great job raising Nessa and I. I have so many questions I wish you could answer. That's why I made this blog, so in a way my questions and thoughts are going out to some sort of space and possibly can be heard by you or something like that.

I would say I miss you but I can barely remember you. So instead I'll say wished I knew you.

Carlos


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