.letter.

dearest ____,

i am not what you want. over the past few months, i had come to that conclusion. i confess it here on a public forum, to the world, that i am not "man" enough for you, in hopes that it may ease some of the tension between you and i. everything in your email was true. the things you said about how i didn't do anything for you is true. a relationship is supposed to enhance your life, and in the end, i believe that i did not hold up my half of that responsibility. i've always wanted the best for you... and i am not that.

of course i thought about a life with you again, ____. it was, hands down, the greatest experience of my life, to present date. however, there are aspects of my personality that i am unwilling to change. they are parts of me that we have quarreled over before, and i believe that time is emminant to repeat itself if we continued the way we did. i feel that our seperation is better, definitely for you, in the long run.

i am still a child and you are blooming into the woman that you dreamed of being all your life. i cannot sit idle and pull you down, letting you believe that you are happy with me, when in reality, i know you've always felt the opposite; having to constantly push me onward in life. there were times when you needed saving, when i, quite possibly, am the last person on earth who could.

i counter every possible hope with a cliché: "It's not you, it's me." and that is what i will always believe. i wish you the best and a piece of my heart will always belong to you, cheering you on. i appreciate your efforts to contact me; i do see that you've called... i just feel like the things we're going to say will only complicate our resolves. i'm sorry if it felt like i abandoned you when you needed support, but i upheld my silence for multiple reasons, most of which, have been stated over time. the last thing you need from me are more head games, and i hope this will clarify anything left withstanding, so that you may move on to something better.

sincerely yours,
eric b

.a cold night.

last night was the first cold night i've experienced since march.

the holidays are approaching... fast.

as i stared into the night sky, i thought about a lot things... mainly how i've put everything with vy aside for the sake of moving on. i thought about how my cousin put aside her relationship, for the sake of being free... remembering what it was like to live, not for someone else's happiness, but for her own. just before my birthday, vy and i got into an arguement. it turned into a total mess and i did not need to hear it. instead of understanding, she tried to force a situation... and that was my last straw. over five years, i took many actions that i would not have done alone. i've had enough of my submissive nature.

that was two weeks ago. i haven't talked to her since. i dobbled over another cigarettes, enjoying the freshness of a cool breeze clipping my lack of hair.

even to now, she couldn't accept me... only putting me down in hopes that i can change. she refused to see the bigger picture of why i cannot change things right now. the daily pressure to become something great. being the only bright spot in a broken home. i didn't need an opinion in my life, i needed a friend.

i walked back inside the house, wishing that i could sit on the patio that doesn't exist anymore and enjoy the night.

how could i truly open to someone that would criticize me? does she want me to be happy or mold me into something else? all i have left is to finish school and establish the life i want to live... for me.

i love fall and winter. i wish it would last.

.to be.

i've wanted to be a lot of things in my life: a firefighter, an astronaut, a musician, an engineer, a dinosaur, a ninja turtle, superman. but in the past few years i've turned my imagination to writing. while in grade school, i learned the somewhat useless science of english... nouns, subjects, predicates, verb tense, proper english. however my revelation came to me in the form of mr. white. the lessons i recieved from the aging harvard grad at valencia were monumentous to my outlook on writing.

"language is what you make it"
"if you can't find a word that fits, make it up"
"paint and portray"

the critisism that came after i passed his class, with an "A" no less(the only "A" i've ever recieved in any english class), was to be expected. i can write bland emotionless garbage any day of the week, but what makes an essay is opinion and style. every paper i've written since has had a "B" or less, regardless of the subject matter. though with poor markings, my proses were enjoyed, and that means more to me than any grade i could recieve.

recently, i recieved an "F" on the transmitter i constructed in lab, "F" for faulty, due to a wiring job equivalent to that of a man with no apendages could have achieved. after which, i began reconsidering my current position as an engineering student. i muled over my talents, or lack there of. and the only real praise i've received of late is on my writing(my music, also, but that seems to be more out of pity than appreciation... dammit).

so here i am, vexed and unsupported with whichever choice i make, but free to choose and that's all i could ever ask for. in the mean time, i'm enjoying this.

.i saw you.

i always flip to the back of the folio weekly to the personal ads. it always cracks me up how some people describe themselves, though i admire the fact that they throw themselves to the wolves:

"petite, blond, 250lbs"
"energetic, 60 years young"
"i'll make you forget that i'm balding"

admist the desperate cries for affection, there's a section called "i saw you..."(no, joe, i am not looking at "men looking for men"); this is where people post little descriptions of people they have met briefly and would like to get to know that person, but have no idea how to find them. i, on the other hand, do not have the motivation balls to talk to this girl, so last month i submitted my "i saw you..." to their website.

The Usual

I come visit you at work every other day, the brownish-blond from Washington State behind the counter who wakes me up more frequently than the coffee i buy from you. I'm the asian and/or mexican guy with the ridiculous facial hair... which is probably why i'm putting this in Folio Weekly instead of talking to you. Maybe you'll pick this up in your store one day and read this, then maybe you can serve me more than coffee... like a pastry on the side for free. That would be awesome.

-Eric

they haven't printed me yet. bastards.

another reason, that i failed to mention why i did this, is because there are always hot white guys talking to her. they're like, day-time soaps hot. that's pretty intimidating, man. now, i'm not trying to put myself down... i just don't think i'm THAT cute. i'm like... winning gameshow contestant hot; not exactly eye-bulging, but good enough to be on TV.

.confessions.

for labor day weekend, i took a trip to orlando with my family. despite their best efforts, i insisted on driving; not so i could play loud music, not so i had an opportunity to smoke, not so that i can blame my dad for driving slow, but for a whole other reason that remains secret with the exception of a select few.

it all started in high school when i had my first car accident... and then my second accident... and then my third... and when i went to college and had another accident at a yield sign... and then another during a light, drizzling rain... and then being involved in three more accidents within the cars of my friends. you see, i've experienced the not-so-joyous laws of physics eight times too many and the effects have left me... twitchy.

for example... the other day, i rode with joseph, who is fully aware of my fear of being a passanger, to buy chinese for dinner. it was raining pretty bad, so i paniced and covered my eyes whenever i saw break lights flash from the traffic ahead and not feeling joseph's car slow down. completely annoyed(and for personal enjoyment of watching my squirm), he began speeding, tail-gating, and braking as hard as possible. i am proud to say i didn't scream this time, but my ability to yell streams of profanity was uninhibited.

some have called it a trust issue. this problem has nothing to do with trust, dammit; this is a "i don't want whiplash, see you lose your car, and stand around for hours waiting for the police to show up while others slow down traffic just to take a glance at our discomfort" issue. the only cure i've found so far is driving my own car... or closing my eyes during the scary parts.

trip notes:
- my cousins know how to talk shit
- evidentally, florida is the worst place to live
- even if they are in the same room, my parents will still watch 2 TVs
- i can trash a home in less than 36 hours
- you can push any object with your car as long as you keep it under 3 miles an hour
- now that the blue tape(hot lava) is gone from the stairs, it's now deemed "normal lava"
- i told you we should've gone to bahama breeze...