.a week later.

she's a no show. the feeling of "moron" is starting to settle in as i sit here, the same time as last week, waiting for another round with her. i didn't think i was capable of such idiocy. even if she did show up, i have no game plan, nothing to say. i'd hate to conclude this with something like, "at least i made the effort." but hey... at least i made the effort.

why am i here anyways? is this the subtle cry of desperation and attention? maybe it's my subconsciousness seeking redemption after all these years? more than likely it's probably the fault of my penis. yup... blaming the penis.

just a couple of weeks ago, my resolve was rock solid. now it's about as solid as my mid-section. i suppose i really got shaken last week. the thought of a love story like the one i'm trying to fabricate would be the envy of this entire city. but no... she didn't even show up to turn me down.

i'll take in this waste of time and make a proverb:

"Those who chase tail are always behind."

.a full table.

today was joseph's birthday, so i spent the day at his place. he invited me to stay for dinner and i instantly refused. for as long as i can remember, i've always felt uncomfortable at family events, especially when it's not my family. i tried to weasel my way out of this one, but he wasn't taking "no" for an answer. reluctantly, i said "We'll see..."

i ended up passing out on the floor in the afternoon. my sleep pattern is all but extinct, with my body catching rest whenever i have downtime. i just couldn't shake my drowsiness today and the next thing i knew, i knocked out next to his dogs. when i woke up, i realized where i was, the time, and that i was wrinkled to hell and covered in dog hair.

"Great..." i thought, "first i'm uncomfortable and now i look like crap."

... and then i smelled the food. joseph's window had been open and the aroma of yum-yums eased my nervousness. eventually, dinner was ready and i made my way downstairs with his family.

i sat down to a feast. lobster, shimp, crab, steak, and a whole bunch of other good stuff. i ate quietly as his family talked, mostly because i had nothing to say, but mainly because i hadn't had such a well prepared meal in a long time. between my repetative thoughts of "OMFG, THIS LOBSTER IS SOOO GOOD I NEVER WANT TO STOP EATING THIS" were feelings of jealousy. his family bond was so much tighter than mine. whenever i'm over there, they're eating and talking together. i never come out of my room for the sole reason of not being able to face my parents.

is there something wrong with me?

i helped clean up and said my "thank you's". i brought home food for my parents because i know they hadn't eaten well either.

.history.

how did you spend your valentine's day?

last night, i sat at my desk eating rice and fish-flavored pork. this is, more than likely, the most disgusting thing ever, right up there with cilantro and mongo beans. as my stomach shrugged and my tounge suffered, i wondered about what happened earlier that morning.

i woke up and decided not to be beaten down, to stick to my philosophy, and observe the day by giving everyone as many smartass remarks as i could. i decided to treat myself to coffee... and that's where everything went wrong.

i sat outside the store enjoying the morning mix of hot coffee and cool breeze. the weather was clear and cold again. the chill weaving through my jacket reminded me how much i loved winter. unfortunately, the breeze brought with it debris that i would never be ready for.

"Eric?" she asked.

"Vanessa?!"

coming out of the door and pausing before me, standing there with the natural elegance she had always exuberated, was the first girl i ever asked out. suddenly, i was stammering for words. my mind went blank. i probably peed in my pants. i had become 12 years old all over again.

i recollected myself as much as i could in the 5 seconds of uneasiness i was allotted and faced her with my reserved faux confidence. as we chatted, i nit picked at her mannerisms. she was always the cool quiet type: softly spoken, hand gesturing her enthusiasm, a gentle smile that i couldn't help but return. in my eyes, she still displayed all the reasons why i confessed to her in the first place.

as i watched her leave (god damn, i didn't mind watching her leave at all...), a gitty feeling passed over me with a new piercing wind; i started having all these stupid thoughts...

"She scared the shit out of me... I wonder if she's seeing anyone... hmm, she drives a RAV4... man, i can't believe that just happend... she looked sooooo good in that pinstripe..."

as i pondered nonsense for a few minutes, my ending thought was this...

"You know, she was the first person to ever call me 'ugly'..."

and all of a sudden, the events replayed themselves, being resurrected from the back of my brain: the mornings where i hoped to see her, the days i spent sitting by her and getting to know her in class, the afternoon where i gave her my note because the words were too hard to convey while facing her, the words that came afterwards, and finally seeing her kissing and holding a good friend of mine...

i don't blame her for anything. well, except... you know... denying my first feelings of love and obliterating my young self-esteem. other than that though, i'm thankful for the experience. she's had more of an impact on my personality than she probably realizes, and for that, i could never thank her enough.

... the rest of valentine's day i spent with my boys. we laughed it up, talked shit, played video games. it turned out just like i had planned it to be. however i decided to go home early and reflect. "Wonder what they're doing..." i said to myself as i curled up at my desk, thinking about the ones that effected me the most. i thought about the elaborate plans and presents that their boyfriends must have put time into for yesterday. i began my self-defeating mood as i sat alone, over my plate of gross with rice. "They better make them happy..." i detested.

thank god Sex and The City reruns on CW.

.anxiety.

time will stop. i'll feel my body brace for an invisible impact. my face will cringe. my eyes will shut. then, nothing. i open my eyes nervously... there was never anything there.

this is a trauma that no one knows about me. it's similar to my problem with letting someone else drive and not being able to watch. however, as deadlines approach, i franticly wake up... and from time to time i wonder why i'm unscathed again.

tonight was one of those nights, but i'm far from undamaged. i'm whole-heartedly watching carson's late night show. i must be at wit's end.

jokes aside, i know where this built up anxiety is coming from. it's from my uncertainty about life. i've never been so clueless about the nearing future before. i've recieved words of encouragement, but they have no effect on my psyche. when it all boils down, there's only the choices i've made, left mingling with my daily issues. it's like an awful get-together where the person you don't want to show up comes anyhow. i never do well shaking that person off me.

dad and i are wordless again. i don't even look at the man when we pass by. yet, whenever i look into the mirror, more and more i feel as though i'm turning into him... haircut and all. he's never expresses himself and often on these wordless nights, i wonder what he's thinking.

"he's probably fed up with me being here." is my continuing conclusion.

as the strength of family bonds swirls in my head, i feel my heart wince. i wish it was the smoking, but it's loneliness. i haven't opened up to anyone since vy. it's not a confidence/self-esteem thing. it's because i'm ashamed of who i am and what i'm not. i've become this black sheep of my family. lacking the profound "substance" to carry on a full fledge relationship, i shun away thoughts of even attempting. who wants a half-assed partner...?

i went to homie's birthday party last week at sneaker's. michelle came up to me with this radiant smile and asks me how i am. i didn't even recognize her... i'm terrible with faces even while wearing my glasses. refusing eye contact, i give a hasty "hey, how are you?" with my most stockphoto face and kept burying myself in alcohol.

she smiled again and walked off to socialize with someone more alive.

"what the fuck's wrong with you? are you gay?!" homie denounces as i ask him who that was talking to me just a second ago.

michelle is gorgeous, intelligent, and available... and i don't care.

i have no "elation" to give to a relationship.