Writing my heart out...because therapy is too expensive at this point in my life...

Blogging...and why I seem to suck at it

2013-07-16T12:51:00.002-04:00

I think we may have all noticed by now that I am not a good blogger. I may be a decent writer when I’m writing in a notebook and I know no one else will read it, but the Publish button seems to render me useless. The fear comes from knowing that the writing I like is the “bloody gross soul bearing” kind, but what if everyone I know reads those things about me.

I started this blog almost a year ago and I’ve barely posted enough to make for a post a week, but I don’t give up on it. I think I may be hoping that something will make me snap and lose my fear of other people’s judgments.

On to my next point;

The reason why I began to write here was because I was working on a book. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve completed it. You’ll be a lot less pleased to know I have no plans of trying to get it published. I realized, the more I worked on it, how much it was just my way of reconciling with my past and moving on to the next phase of my life. I also realized it’s not exactly something I want to send out to have it be rejected. It is my baby. It is the first thing I have ever completed in spite of myself. So on that note, I will not leave it up to the literary gods to choose whether or not my story gets out there. I’m going to post the letters in a series of entries and accept whatever may come of it.

Stay tuned…

If any of you are still tuned in that is….

For my dad...

2013-07-16T00:43:00.001-04:00

I have nothing left of you. My entire memory of you is comprised of scattered moments throughout my early childhood, 2 summers and 2 Christmas vacations spread out over the last (almost) 23 years. I realize now how little I know about you. I don't know your favorite color, what kind of music you like, or even what cologne you wore. I don't remember the details of you. And now they're gone. Just like you. All I have left are my memories. All I can ever find out about you now are other people's perceptions of you and their memories of you. It seems like you've vanished into thin air. How is it possible for a person to simply cease to exist? I feel helpless. I feel abandoned. I feel angry. I feel betrayed. But worst of all, most of the time, I feel nothing at all. You have disappeared. It's so strange to me that even though I grew up mostly without you, I've always felt connected to you and now it seems like I'm left standing with the cable and nowhere to plug in to. Where are you? Can you even see me? Can you see that I am drowning? Not the kind of drowning that kills you and makes you instinctively fight to live. Instead I drown slowly. I let the soothing waves of nothingness extinguish me. Maybe then I'll find you. Maybe you've drowned in the nothingness too.

To be continued....once I'm feeling less morose...

The Hunter

2013-04-10T21:15:00.000-04:00

The past is a dark and scary place. This I have know for as long as I can remember. I have spent the majority my adult life running from it. I have compartmentalized my memories so efficiently that I am seldom bothered by the thoughts I've put away in the forbidden section of my mind. This allows me to live my life with a sense of normalcy. I go to work, I see friends, I go on dates, I live a normal life. While I'm awake anyway. My dreams are a different story. I've given up them nightmares. They come so often that we've become old friends. It's always the same scenario; I'm being hunted. It's not always in the same place or in the same way, but it is always the same person. He has been hunting me since I was about 6 or 7. I still remember the first time so vividly that it sends chills down my spine. I wish I knew who he was. I wish I could face him head on and tell him to just fucking quite already. But as luck would have it, my subconscious is just not that kind. Apparently allowing me to defend myself is not nearly as fun as tormenting me for 16 years. My hunter must live such a happy life. Getting his fill of chasing me through the ever-changing mazes of my own design. How is it possible for me to be so pathetically helpless in my own mind? How is it possible to be haunted by the same figment of my imagination for more than a decade? These are the questions that invade my thoughts in the aftermath of each dream. On these days, I do not live a normal life. I put myself of auto-pilot and try to decipher the inexplicable.

Review, rewind, and play...

2013-01-16T09:59:00.000-05:00

I figured the best way to sumarize everything is to just break it into categories;

Romance:

* Still single with little to no mingling. I can't make myself really like anyone or get impressed by anyone or whatever. Yes I am well aware that it is all in my head and I have to be more receptive to new possibilities and bla bla bla...whatever, fuck that.

Finance:

*Still broke as a fucking joke. But things are looking up because my mom is helping me manage my salary so I can get out of debt in a timely fashion.

Career/Plans for the future:

*I'm actually getting a lot closer to figuring out what it is that I want to do long term. The main thing that I'm struggling with is what if I pick something that is a cop out. What if I have the potential to great things and I let myself settle for mediocre?

Family:

*The don't talk to me and I don't talk to them. Things are vastly improving with my mom though.

Friends:

*Rossy is back from NY and that has been amazing. Now all I need is Luisa and my life will be perfect.

So there you have it, some things have improved and some haven't. That's life I guess, or at least that's what your 20s are like...

Well this is awkward...

2013-01-16T09:41:00.002-05:00

I haven't really written anything in a while, but it's mostly because I can't even begin to make sense of all the shit going on in my head. Also because I haven't really written anything worth sharing. However, I did promise myself that I would share everything. So here we go again, I'm gonna make one post that pretty much sums up the past couple of months...

You’re My Knight in Shining Tin Foil

2012-10-22T00:47:00.001-04:00

Whenever the shit hits the fan, my first instinct is to turn to one person. I feel a sense of comfort and safety from him even though he does nothing to make me feel safe. More and more it is becoming clear the he genuinely doesn't give a shit about me or the things that trouble me. He shows a complete disregard for my feelings and often goes out of his way to mean and hurtful to me. In spite of all of this, I still run to him. I dive head first into the heart ache and late night sobs. I’m not waiting for him to magically change because I know that won’t happen. This is the way things are now. The person who was once my biggest ally is now my worst torment. Why do I continue to seek him out? Why can’t I just release him and find comfort within myself?

I can’t understand why I do this to myself. I feel weak, cheap, and foolish whenever I’m around him. I desperately cling to this idea that somewhere underneath all of his hate is the boy I met long ago. I want so badly for him to say the right things. I want him to take all the pain away and just make me feel safe again. In a way I’m thankful he behaves this way. I hope and pray that every mean word chips away the love I have for him. Maybe one day I’ll feel nothing at all. One day he’ll say or do something so awful that I’ll be free of him. I’m not exactly known for doing things easily so maybe this is just the only way I’ll ever be truly rid of him.

Should’ve, Could’ve, Would’ve…Didn’t

2012-10-21T02:20:00.002-04:00

I wish I could meet my 10 year old self, my 13 year old self, my 16 year old self, and last but not least my 18 year old self. I’m sure I’m not the only one with that wish. I know that most people want to meet their former selves to right some wrong or to try to alter the life that are now living. I don’t. I only wish to visit the past to tell myself one thing, be strong. I've faced my fair share of critics along the way. I can say with all honesty that after age 8 I lost my zest. I used to be a feisty little kid who didn't take shit from anyone. But the sad truth is that as puberty wreaked its havoc on my emotions, it also made me incredibly sensitive.

I wish that at the aforementioned ages I would've had the courage to stand up for myself. I wish I would've felt about myself then, the way that I do now. I don’t know if it would make any significant change in my current life but I do know that it make me a lot prouder of my past. Alas, time travel is not possible yet (well, that we know at least) so I cannot go back to give myself pep talks. The only thing I can do now is remind myself to be courageous and to be myself now, at 22 years old and on.

I think this is a good way to start…

How to treat a Virgo…or at least this Virgo

2012-10-21T01:50:00.001-04:00

Recently, I've noticed that my 2 closest friends are surrounded by Virgos. I've also noticed, through listening to them, that we are not easy to handle. We found something on WikiHow, but it had 27 rules and seriously who is really gonna remember all of that...

My point is that, inspired by them and WikiHow I've decided to make a much more simplified version...enjoy.

Rule #1 Don’t bullshit

We can usually spot it from a mile away and honestly it won’t win you many points. We may play along for a while or even learn to grin and bear it, but trust me, it’s not our favorite.

Rule #2 Express your thoughts

We are not good at hard to get. We HATE games. Be honest and upfront with us. We can sense when someone is hiding something so please just be yourself.

Rule #3 Make us laugh

I don’t think I’ve ever met a Virgo that didn’t love people with a great sense of humor. We are pretty easy going once you get us laughing.

Rule #4 Be affectionate

We like to express our feelings physically (insert dirty joke here). Got it out of your system? Good, let’s continue…Oh yea, we love hugs, cuddles, high fives…everything.

Rule #5 Be kind

Whether its towards us or those around you, we love people who are good at heart. Show kindness towards an animal, child, or pretty much anyone and you will win us over for sure.

I hope this is helpful to my friends, those who deal with me, and those dealing with their own Virgos...

Procrastinating...please hold while I get my shit together

2012-10-16T13:29:00.001-04:00

I have not written a damn thing worth reading in over a month. This a brand new level of writer's block. I honestly don't know what it is. Maybe I just wrote all that I needed to write and now I'm just empty...FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK...I don't know what to do anymore. I don't know how to make the flow come back. I need a miracle at this point...

An Ode to the Motherland

2012-09-17T20:28:00.000-04:00

I grew up in Cuba. Well in reality, my childhood was split between Cuba and the US, but I've always considered the 9 years I spent in my home country to be the most formative part of my upbringing. My days were spent in school and playing with my friends until my mom would call out for me to come home. I have some of my best memories in that amazing place that I will always call home. I also have the worst memories there but I've made the choice to ignore those.

My favorite one is my mom reading to me. We used to lay in my big bed and she would read me poems written long ago by a man named Jose Marti. I remember the one about the little girl who went to the beach with her pail and shovel. I remember that my mom's voice was the most soothing sound I'd ever heard.

Back then my life was perfect. I had the best friends ever. We were like a gang of tiny hoodlums. We played in nearby parks and went on endless adventures together. I still have scars on my knees from those very same outings. Okay, so my scars are mostly from my debilitating lack of coordination, but that's not the point. We used to literally climb the walls that separated our houses. We were innocent. We were happy. We grew up in a place where the bad things where simply not up for discussion. Sometimes I think that was the right call. Talking about the bad things is really fucking painful.

What I miss the most is my time with my dad. I guess all split custody kids miss the parent they saw the least. For me, it's a different kind of longing. My dad was truly the greatest influence in those 9 years. We used to travel a lot together. Because of his job he had to visit farms in neighboring towns and he usually took me with him. I remember once we went to a farm that was near a beach. I remember playing in its strange dark sand. Every time I smell the ocean I think of that day. My dad is the most intriguing person I have ever met. He can talk for hours about almost any subject. He had this huge bookcase filled with countless tales from all over the world. Both of my parents inspired the thirst for knowledge in me. Cuba inspired almost everything else.

I owe as much of my personality to the land which birthed me as I do to the people. It feels like its been centuries since I've walked its streets. It's the only place where I feel as though I am home. It's the only place where I feel like I belong.

To the greatest fuck I will ever have...

2012-09-17T19:54:00.000-04:00

WARNING: If you are in any way related to me please stop reading NOW. I warned you.

There is one aspect of our fucked up interactions that is still perfect. There are still some things you do better than anyone else. Most of those things involve a certain level of nudity, but I digress. It's wrong and I know it. I shouldn't give in to you easily. I should play hard to get. I should make you want me more and drive you insane with lust. I try, honestly I do, but I just can't. You trace invisible lines alone the inside of my thighs and my willpower crumbles.

I crave you. Every minute of every day. Long ago, when I was the only one worthy of your attentions, our bodies learned to speak a secret language. We've forgotten the words our lips used to whisper in the dark, but like some prehistoric cave drawings, those same words are etched into the deepest layers of our skin. While we can't seem to remember to say kind words to each other, we are more than kind between the sheets. Actually, its very rare that sheets are involved.

If there is one thing I love about you its that you're just as kinky as I am. Every time we devour each other with all the anger and passion we normally hold back, I end up covered in bruises and bite-marks. "Branding me", as you call it. I'll confess that I love how they look on the most delicate parts of my skin almost as must as I love you leaving them there. Somehow you always know the perfect moment. Just as my body quite literally begs for it, you yank my hair back and sink your teeth into the most strategic pieces of flesh. In those moments, I see stars. I leave my body and enter some ethereal zone of complete pleasure. My soul feeds itself on the pure ecstasy of it all. Of course my weak mortal being is not up to the task. More often than not, you leave me a panting, trembling, a sweaty naked mess that has still not regained consciousness.

I love feeling you watch me as if you were admiring your conquest. Some where deep inside you there's a part that truly revels in seeing me like that. It confirms what my lips refuse to admit. No matter how much shit I talk, you're still the best. Number one with a fucking bullet darling. However, I ask that you please ignore this and continue to fuck me like you got something to prove. It's just so much better that way.

Love,

Nat

The City of Eternal Summers

2012-09-17T19:33:00.002-04:00

I love Miami. Like, 305 til I die kind of love. To most people (non-Miami residents), Miami is solely comprised of South Beach. That is so not the case. Miami is a way of life. It is a tribe, and its natives are happy-go-lucky, Corona in our veins, party til we can't stand kind of folk.

Maybe its all the sun and humidity. Maybe its the saltwater, or Cuban coffee, or the palm trees, or the nightlife, or the mojitos...what was my point again? Oh yea, we are one of a kind. Ask any true Miamian and they will tell you the same. I mean, what could be better than driving around on a gorgeous day with the music blaring? It is damn near impossible not to be happy here, despite the God awful traffic.

I honestly can't pin down one main reason why I love it here. Sure it has its problems, but so does every other city in the world. Every outsider views us as a vacation spot but that's the beauty of it. While most of the country dreams of migrating to NY or LA, our city stays ours (except in the winter). In my eyes we have our own little paradise. We have everything you could ever want. Okay so we don't have cold winters, but who likes to shovel snow anyway? Living here makes you warm (actually blazing hot) right down to your soul. We carry sunshine on our skin. Being tan is not a fashion statement, it's an inevitable fact of life.

One day, far far away, I will grow up. I will want to get married and have a family. I will want to live somewhere with cul-de-sacs and ALL of the four seasons. One day I will see Miami as a vacation spot. I will call another city home and begrudgingly accept the cold. Until that day I plan to enjoy my perfect little home to the fullest. Some people may call that settling or never thinking of my future, but the way I see it, I will only be a Miami girl once. I will only be young once. Unless reincarnation is real, but I already planned that with Rossy and David so I'm covered.

I guess what I'm trying to day is that if Drake is right and we really only live once, there is no where else I'd rather be

.

An Open Letter to Frank Ocean...

2012-09-11T14:34:00.004-04:00

I wasn't planning to write you a letter but your actions have inspired me. The first thing I'd like to say is how much I applaud your boldness. Even in our ultra modern times, we (as a society) struggle to accept those who we consider to be "not normal". Now, anyone that has taken an Intro to Psychology class can tell you that there is no such thing as normal and yet we continually fail to accept the concept. I am not exempt from this character flaw.
I have always been very outspoken about my support for the LGBT community, but I am intolerant of those who are not. I realize now that intolerance is the same, regardless of who it is directed towards.
I don't know if you realize the magnitude of the statement you made. I know for a fact that many of your fans will be moved to take the same step. I hope other artists, actors, and celebrities who are struggling with their identities can find the courage as well. In my few years of life I have learned that life is simply not worth living if you are not living it as yourself. I commend you for your strength and courage of conviction. I hope anyone and everyone that reads this finds the same bravery in their heart.
Live the life you want. Be the person you are inside.
That, in my modest opinion, is the key to true happiness. I hope that life, God, Karma, the Universe, or whatever else you may believe in bring you the very best. I hope you feel the love and thanks many of us are sending you.

Truly your fan,

Nat

Bloggin' in the rain...

2012-09-11T14:17:00.000-04:00

So I've been a teensy bit missing from the blogsphere but I've been rehabbing my cat Sophie who is finally home!
Okay, I lied, the rehabbing is really more of we've been sleeping a lot y'all...but I mean, she's all warm and fuzzy and its raining and it just, yea I'm sorry. I am weak.
I have written a few things but on my notebook and haven't really gotten around to posting them. Lucky for you I am currently avoiding cooking so I shall post away!

Hope you guys missed me, I missed you!

The Princess and the Hood Rat...

2012-09-05T21:39:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time...okay, ours isn't exactly a once upon a time love story, but it's a fairy tale none the less.
I'm fuzzy on some of the details, I actually don't even remember how we met. I wish I did because meeting him changed me. I won't bore you with the details of our courtship. Leave it at the fact that he was wrong for me in every way and also right for me in every way. My family strictly forebode it (I'm not kidding, the word forbid was used more than once), but we didn't care. For 10 excruciating months I tried to deny what my heart wanted from day one. God bless that boy's heart he kept on trying, no matter how many times I shot him down.
It all lands on one fateful night in a magic kingdom. We had been fighting for about a week and weren't even speaking to each other. From the bus ride over all I wanted was to see him. I finally worked up the nerve and called him while I was walking through the park with my friends. I told him I wanted to see him and he asked me to go find him. Naturally I was insulted, I mean had the boy never seen a romantic comedy? He was supposed to find me! He convinced me that since he'd never been to the kingdom before and since I had, that it was the smarter choice for me to find him. Whatever, screw him and his logic...that resolve lasted me all of ten seconds.
After a few missed tries, mainly his fault I might add, he was finally able to guide me to him. I stood on one end of the bridge and my heart stopped. I saw him just a few seconds before he saw me but those seconds were enough. I fell for him, with the fireworks as a soundtrack. We started walking towards each other and then I'm almost positive one of us started running. Before I knew it, he had me in his arms. I know guys, it sounds like a bunch of crock but it's all true.
We walked around and held hands and there was a lot of hugging but neither of us took the big plunge. We were walking out of some dance tent thing and I made a comment about being hungry, he faced me square on and opened his arms inviting me to take a bite. Little did he know that I would. I don't know how it happened. I have no clue who the hell in my head authorized the move but I grabbed his shirt, pulled him in, and the rest is history...
Shitty, messy, painful history. But before all that there was love. Real fairy tale kind of love. We were consumed with each other every minute of the day. We were either always with each other or talking to each other. Maybe that was our mistake, but we just couldn't get enough. We were happy.
Regardless of how it ended, I'm glad we had it. Love like that only happens once. Innocent and perfect. I'll never forget the boy that brought me red roses for no reason. I'll never forget the way he used to look at me. I'll never forget the countless hours we spent in his bed completely oblivious to the outside world. I may never get the chance to have him again, but I'll never forget him.

How to Lock the Monsters in their Cages...

2012-09-02T21:28:00.000-04:00

It seems to me that after being alive for a certain amount of time, life decides that the fun days are over and shit gets real. It is at this point that you start experiencing what therapists call "traumatic events" and "defining moments". While I am clearly not an expert at over coming life's hurdles, I do have some experience in maintaining a sense of normalcy when it feels like the world has spun out of it axis and we are all hurdling towards our imminent death.
So what I'd like to do is share with you some of my steps to help guide you through recovery;

1. Get the fuck out of bed. No matter how hard the pain you are feeling may be, the world is still spinning and your life is still going. Laying in bed wallowing in your own misery will not solve anything.

2. Continue your routine as normally as possible. I understand fully that when you are dealing with some especially emotionally taxing stuff it may make you want to punch everyone in the face. That's okay, just don't actually punch people in the face, cops seem to take that pretty seriously. I guarantee that even the mild distraction of your mind-numbing job will help.

3. Do as many "happy" things as you can. We all have some activities or guilty pleasures that just seem to make it all better. Cling to that with all you got. (Disclaimer: Results may very if those "happy" things involve drugs or alcohol, trust me I've looked into this).

4. Put yourself on a sad time allowance. I know it sounds crazy but it has worked for me in the past. It's understandable that you're sad or just plain broken. You need to give yourself time to heal, but you're not doing yourself any favors if that time is 24/7. Try to limit how much time you spend pondering over the "what ifs" and other depressing crap. Gradually reduce the time you spend until you have no need for it.

5. Constantly remind yourself that there are still things to look forward to. I know it seems far fetched right now but you've gotten over pain before and you'll get over this too. The sun will shine, birds will sing, babies will giggle, and all will be right in the world again. Chin up buttercup, you'll be okay.

I hope you take my advice to heart and that things get better sooner rather than later. Remember the ones you love and that they love you. Everything will be okay, I promise.

I didn't write it for you...

2012-09-02T16:31:00.000-04:00

The more I write the more I am starting to take into account how the things I say will affect the people I say them to. That wouldn't be a problem for most people because they can put their emotions on the back burner in order to satisfy their own needs, I can't. My hope is that the people whom my letters are addressed to will understand that I didn't write them for them. I write for me. I have no intentions of stirring up the past or going back to the way things were. My only intention is to release the things that I feel. I am well aware that some of the things I write will hurt people and poke at a lot of old wounds, but that's not what I want. Nothing that I write is meant to fix any of my mistakes. The letters I've written to my exes and ex friends are not meant to change the current state of our relationships. I guess what I'm trying to say is that all I want is to speak my peace while I still can...nothing more and nothing less.

To "Emilio II", because it hasn't even been 24 hours and I already miss him...(I didn't pick his code name)

2012-09-02T16:12:00.004-04:00

It has been 11 years since you and I met. I still remember seeing you in the hallways of our middle school. You walked around like you were above it all and just too cool for school. It intrigued me. It was more than just curiosity that led me to you. I’ve always felt a weird magnetic pull towards you. We’ve gone through break ups, drama, fights, career changes, puberty, etc. and yet we manage to always find our way back to each other. Granted, a lot of that had to do with the fact that for the first 6 or 7 years you really wanted to get in my pants, but that’s not the point. During the past year our friendship has evolved more than it did during the first 10 combined. Chalk it up to us living together for about 6 months, or sharing highly confidential information with each other, or just plain dumb luck. Regardless of the reason, I am so glad we did. I’ve told you many times that it’s hard for me to know where I stand with you because you’re not exactly the most expressive of people, but I’ve learned to pick up on your cues. For example, when you give me speeches about how my life is a mess, I know it’s because you honestly care for my well being. Along with bonding with each other, this past year we also bonded with each other’s families and that is something I treasure. It’s not easy for me to allow people into my inner circle. For as loud and out there as I am, I rarely trust anyone enough to really let them in. However, you’ve been the exception to that rule since day 1. You make me feel safe, and it’s not just the soldier thing, it’s a you thing. I slept soundly (most nights), knowing that if by some chance my nightmares became a reality; you were there to protect me. You have taught me so much, including how to parallel park, and for that I am thankful. I’m even willing to share partial custody of Sophie, who has since then become your foster-kitty. I still have all of the pictures of you playing with her and the underwear I bought you, which even I’ll admit is a little weird but whatever (they’re awesome). It brings a smile to my face whenever I look at them because they remind me of all the fun we had together. They also make me incredibly sad because we won’t have fun like that again. You’ve moved on with your life and I’m incredibly proud of the choices you’ve made. I’ll admit, you moving to Colorado left me feeling a bit abandoned and I don’t think any amount of daily phone calls will change that. I don’t seem to handle being left behind too well. I know you did it for you. I know you did it for your career. I know it was the best choice. That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck either way. We often joke about how I will handle your deployment but the truth is I have no clue how I’m going to get through it. You have become a very vital part of my life and for better or worse, you leaving just plain hurts. I know one thing for sure, from the moment your plane ascends to when the wheels finally touch ground again, I’ll be praying for your safe return.We are not the same kids we were when we met. You have matured into a strong man whom I am proud to call my friend. We still have a long way to go but there’s no one else I’d rather fight my battles with. By the way, I did not curse once in your letter so I get extra points for that.

Love you (even when I hate you),

Natalia (I still hate that you call me that)

I am no longer afraid to fly...

2012-09-01T19:14:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I was having a nice little text session with "Neil". I was telling him about my blog and the book project. I shared some of my writing with him and his feedback really gave me a push to continue. He's always been a really dedicated person, especially when it came to his music. Obviously, I've lacked that same of that dedication. Lately' I've felt like something has shifted in me. I've started to believe a little more in myself.
I used to always wonder whether or not I had any sort of talent (I still kind of do). The thing is, the more I share my writing with people, the more responsive they are to it. I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, my dreams aren't so far fetched.
I've always felt like I was meant to be a writer. Like my thoughts were worth sharing. It just comes naturally to me. Every feeling I have and everything I've experienced manifests itself so much easier in text than it does in my memories. The problem with insecurities is that the grab on to whatever they can, and mine have seemed to take everything from me. But maybe I am smart and talented. Maybe I can do this. All I know for now, is that I can't scare myself out of trying. For once, I'm going to just be myself. I'm going to put my thoughts out into the world and hope for the best.

To my fan...or stalker...

2012-08-31T16:15:00.000-04:00

So I've noticed a pattern y'all...
Every time I post something within a minute or two someone has gone to read it. I don't know if it's the same person but if it is OMG hiiiiii :)
You are my first ever fan/stalker and I so love you either way. It would be amazing if I could see who you were but I also kind of don't want to; 1. because I like the mystery and 2. because there's a very high chance that my mom is the only one that reads this.
Regardless of what the case is, I will try to stay interesting and at least remotely funny for you. Thanks for paying attention to my rants.

Love ya <3

To the Neil Armstrong of my Vagina...

2012-08-31T10:03:00.001-04:00

I still remember how we met. You were the first person I talked to freshman year. You spent our entire high school career staring down my shirt. I remember whenever I’d catch you doing it, you’d just flash me a smile and say it’s “the perks of being tall”. You were always so blatantly honest and shamelessly deceitful all in one that I didn’t know if we were even friends half the time. Regardless of all the stupid arguments and drama, I always knew you were going to be someone special in my life. Of course at the time I thought that meant that you were going to be just another guy I crushed on and got crushed by. Instead I had the revelation to make you more than that. I wanted you to be a memory I’d smile about for the rest of my life.

Unbeknownst to you, I decided to give you the most important possession I had. Once again, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was a virgin and if it’s any consolation, you were perfect. This is not something a lot of girls get to say. Most, I’ve found, look back on their first time with regret because it’s tainted with the heart break that followed. We weren’t in love, hell we weren’t even together, but I knew it was right. I’d had boyfriends who tried to be the first man on that particular moon but none ever made it past the launch pad. With you I was completely relaxed. There was never a doubt in my mind whether or not it should be with you.

It’s been almost 5 years since that fateful afternoon, and I still have no regrets. You were exactly what I needed at the time. You’re still exactly what I need actually. I miss you like crazy sometimes. It’s not just the sex, which is great by the way, it’s just you. Being around you makes the day better. You always have something interesting or funny to say. You’re smart and driven and just intoxicating fun. I wish I could say that we’ll see each other soon. I wish I could say that we’ll have another chance to make all those late night sexting sessions a reality. I wish I knew how your part in my story will unfold. Unfortunately, the sobering truth is that we may never see each other again. You live 1,000 miles away and neither one of us is going to make that pilgrimage just for sex. We say we will, but we both know we won’t. Knowing you and fucking you has been a thrill ride.

Forever yours,

Nat (and more importantly, the first few voyages into my deep space)

The one that got away or whatever...

2012-08-31T08:39:00.002-04:00

I'm starting to think that maybe I'm the only one with complicated exes. Allow me to paint you a word picture;
Last night, while I was rocking an awesome wine buzz, I started going through pictures on my phone. Have you ever had someone in your life that you know you guys would be perfect together? Me too. Except, we don't see each other that way at all. Still I can't help but ask myself if I'm choosing the wrong people in general. Here is someone who; has the same sense of humor as me, can hold a conversation, has insatiable wanderlust (as do I), and is just plain great. He's what you'd call a "perfect on paper guy". I just can't, for some reason, make myself want him.
I say that I want certain qualities in a guy and he has all of them, in spades, but nothing. Instead I fall for the "where the hell did you find him" guys. Thug is usually my preference, but you can't date a thug and expect a gentleman. It's basically like saying you want Prince William but you end up dating Eminem. How do you change your taste? Actually not my taste, how do you change your attractions? Because I seriously need to stop going for the homeboys and start going for the good boys.

A fan letter to Taylor Swift...

2012-08-30T13:33:00.000-04:00

Can I just tell you how great you are? I’ve never really considered myself a fan of any artist. I enjoy many different kinds of music but do not pledge my allegiance to anyone in particular. That being said, I fan girl the fuck out for you. I don’t know if you curse but I have a mouth like a sailor and I apologize for that. Your music inspires me. Before I ever heard any of your songs, I thought I was the only one who hurt so deeply when they had their heart broken. When I first heard one your songs I was going through a horrible break up. Your words resonated with me so deeply and I was instantly hooked. The main reason for my writing this letter is to thank you. You have given us hopelessly romantic saps a voice, and a beautiful one at that.

My dream is to one day be front row at one of your concerts. Actually, my dream is to move to Nashville and we can become friends and write songs together, but that sounds a little stalker-ish so I’ll go with the concert thing. I’ve watched so many of your interviews and I know all the words to your songs because I believe they are genuine. I may not know you in person but because your music is so open and honest I feel a connection with you nonetheless. I hope you continue to make amazing music and that you find great happiness in your life.

With love and admiration,

Nat

P.S. Meredith is adorable.

A year ago today...

2012-08-30T08:36:00.001-04:00

As you may or may not know, today I turn 22 years old. Call it nostalgia, remorse, or guilt, but this birthday has left me feeling everything but happy. You see, for my 21st birthday I gave myself an apartment. I was working a pretty solid job and the night before my birthday my ex (bribed with beer), helped me move my stuff out of my mom's house and into my new place.
I'll admit, my apartment was a hole in the wall. It was cramped, ill-conceived, and apparently a half-way house for every frog and lizard in the area (note: I am deathly terrified of both). Despite it's obvious character flaws, I loved it. I felt like for once I had something that was mine and no one could take away. I had spent a long time being continually kicked out of my mom's house because of my behavior/her being fed up with me. Having a place of my own to me signified the stability of knowing where I was going to sleep every night.
You'd think that because of all of this I would've busted my ass to keep it right? Well, you'd be wrong. Through my own irresponsibility I lost both my job and my apartment. This was subsequently followed by the worst year of my life. I won't bore you with the details but it involved; lost jobs, having no money, doing highly questionable things to earn money, theft, endless fighting, and bouncing from house to house because no one wants to support a dead beat.
This past year has left me exhausted. I have managed (mostly due to my mom's influence) to put back together some semblance of a decent life. I am now working full time and living with my mom again. I wish I could say with certainty that it can only get better from here but I've never really been good at keeping promises. For now, I'm taking it day by day and hoping for the best.

My love letter to vodka...

2012-08-29T10:00:00.000-04:00

I love you, honestly I do. I owe so many fun filled nights to you that I thought why not pay a little tribute to the magical elixir that is you. I wish I was a poet so I could write you a wonderful sonnet filled with all the beautiful things I think of you, but alas, I am not. I hope you are content with this simple letter. My favorite way to drink you is with Sprite and a lime wedge, although after a couple of those I honestly don’t care what I’m drinking as long as I’m drinking. I’ve always said that drinking vodka is a dangerous thing, and it is. See, with other forms of alcohol you have a phase where you are tipsy and feeling nice before you get shit faced drunk. With you baby, there is no foreplay. You go from 0 to 60 before I can even notice (especially in shots). I remember very clearly going to a club and drinking only two vodka Sprites and before I knew it I was “allegedly” on my 7^th cup and giving my friend Jeymi a standing up lap dance (don’t ask). Its nights like these that make me love and hate you.
While I had a blast that night, and so did Jeymi, it wasn’t exactly a shining beacon of good girl behavior on my part. If we were to compare alcohol to people, you’d be the bad boy boyfriend that you know you should leave but it’s just too damn good. But fuck it, I’m not exactly known for making good decisions when it comes to love. Sure, I’ve gone through phases where I was loyal to other liquors. A very compelling argument can be made to the fact that I’m still not over tequila, but tequila makes me slutty and so our affair has since come to an end. For now, I am a one drink woman, and baby that drink is you. I’m sure we will have many more nights of romance, where you will undoubtedly convince me to do dirty shameful things that I will regret in the morning. I look forward to them, and so does Jeymi.

With love,

Nat (or whatever fake name I gave the creepy guy watching me give the lap dance)