Disapointed.

If I could turn back time, I would do things differently. I would probably make better choices. The ones you make with your head rather than with your heart.

Because the heart, that muscle that lies between your chest and your head its capable to control your whole body. And I don't mean literary. Even when without your heart your head dosen't function, if theres no brain functioning, the heart is useless.

So, you see, there has to be a conection between these two in order for everything to work. And when the heart is hurting the brain starts to work, giving you the the obvious way out. But as stubborn as we are, we chose the other way, the hard way, the masochistic way; the way that would only hurt you even more, because you're blinded by the truth you want to believe.

But you know what hurts worse than anything?

Accepting reality just so you can start moving forward.

A new begining.

My belongings are boxed.

Half of my rooms, emptied.

A  big house, almost deserted.

The date to move is getting closer and I'm taking a moment, as I watch a movie, about how everything was, long ago.

Every wall holds a memory.
Some, good. Some, were not.
Some made me laugh...a lot.
Some, made me cried.

Still, I wouldnt change a thing.
Every memory molded me into the person I am today. And it change the person that I will be in the future.

I wish I had done a few things diferent, but life knows better.
God knows better.

Tonight, the house is almost empty, but soon enough another one will be fill.

And I can't hardly wait.

I can't wait for the new memories that awaits for me.
For that new chapter waiting to be written.

I can't wait for the begining of my forever.

Fear. The worst of the enemies.

Words are meant to be united to express what one feels.

But what if what you feel has no words to describe it?

What if that pain in the center of your chest pounding against your skin is something indescribable??

What happen when you can't find words to unspill your pain??

Tears may relief the pain, but the agony remains.

I'm laying in my bed, wondering. Wondering about this pain, about all the things I long, about all the things I've kept to myself.

The room is warm, the heater says is 67°, but I'm trembling, ice cold, completly scare.

Scare of everything
Scare of this feeling.
Terrified of losing it all.

I'm afraid of the unknown.

Shameyn.

Never Again!!

Things has change in the past year. Some people has left my life, and others have come to surprise me. I wish I could verbalize all my feelings, and for people to understand them.

There's an emptiness in a corner of my heart. Its hard to realize how a good friendship can be ruined by sudden events that are out of my hands. Its even harder to see the reality you want so much to hide. Opening my eyes to whats in front of me had shook me in many ways I never thought possible. Caring for someone who dosen't care anymore about you can make you realize how blind one person can be, or want to be. Theres nothing worst than a blind man who dosen't want to see. And the worst.part is that you know, but you dont want to admit it, because you actually and truly care. The thought of it makes your whole body to tremble with the reality of the situation. And our human condition is always afraid of acceptance. That might be the reason which makes us vulnerable to this type of bullshit. Because thats what it is.

And no, you didn't read wrong.
I did said bullshit!!!!

The good part about all this is what comes after that slapping. Yeah, just after having that wall of reality crashing on top of you, you realize how dumb you were. Unless you're masochistic, and then theres no more hope for you.

You realize you can never force yourself for people to like you, or for them to care. This has to come naturally. If they don't care, then is not worth it. Period!!

Recent events had opened my eyes. And after dusting myself off, I told myself never again!!

The sad part: its going to be hard to break the habit. I may not be as strong as I want to, right now, but, eventually,  I'll be.

Shameyn <3.

Missing D'Jarum

Forgive my absence. I've been away from my laptop for one reason; laziness.

For reasons I cannot comprehend, I've been avoiding doing what I love the most; writing. Today is one of those days I'd usually be in front of my PC, coffee in hand, and tons of ideas pouring out of me. 

Not today.

Today the sky is gray, the wind is blowing slowly but steady, it seems that it's going to rain, and my heart is aching. I miss having a cigarette between my lips. I quit smoking almost a month and a half ago, and I did it because I couldn't live like that anymore; smoking my way out of trouble, trying to solve things with the smokey flavor of cloves between a black wrap. The brand D'Jarum had become my best friend in time of need when I didn't want to pick the phone up to call someone. The old man at the smoke shop knew me, and always had a pack ready for me to buy. But it wasn't the smoke that I wanted, it was a solution that I desperately needed. I was trying to fix something that didn't wanted to be fixed. It was like trying to fight, swimming in the ocean, knowing any moment now I'll drown, but after a long battle, the ocean won and I drowned. Funny thing was, drowning was not the end of it. My body would float eventually, I will be discovered, and the world will know the truth.

But was it really the ocean that drowned me, or that did I just gave up too soon?

 

Wanting a new kind of life

When I was a child I used to think of being someone else just for fun. I pretended to be a princess trying to escape the inferno I was living in, and that someday I was going to be free. Other days I pretended to be in another part of the world, living in the one in my head and that no one could hurt me. Funny thing was that every time I pretended to be someone else, I kind of believe that someday it might come true, cause I never liked myself. Even growing up I wish to be somewhere else, living a different life than the one I was in. Probably a phase every teenager goes through, I thought. Turning 18 and moving away from home to college was the best thing that what was going to happen to me, I told myself. But no. It didn't. I did turn 18 and I did moved away from home to share a room with two sisters who were as different as oil and vinegar. College was so liberal and even when I knew I had the greatest opportunity to get an education in the most prestigious college in the island, my heart was not in to it. I didn't want to study something that wasn't making me happy.

Hell, I didn't knew what I wanted to study. I took advice from everyone I knew and made a few more mistakes, just because of it. I took classes on nursing, business administration, natural sciences, and a few others. I even graduated from basic cosmetology and made a good amount of money in one year, in a small room my husband and my mother helped me built. I had fun and I was my own boss. But not even then I wasn't completely satisfied with the life I had. There was something in me that wanted to get out and I had no idea how to communicate it with the friends I had. Even my family had no idea what I really wanted to do with my life. I wanted to write, and I wanted to expose my feelings,
and all my dreams into the world, in my own words.

Now that I have the opportunity to write what I want, I do it. I have finish the first book I ever wanted to publish and as of now I'm waiting to get an agent to make it a reality. In the mean time I continue to write and develop all the ideas that are stuck in my head, waiting to be read.

I still want a new kind of life. A life where I can be an Author instead of a new writer, and to be recognize not on how many books I have sell, but on how my stories have grown on the readers and how much they love them. Even blogging has become a new way for me to express what I have inside. And I kind of like it.

Wanting another kind of life is not that bad. If it is to make things better, than it would be worth it.

Returning from Hell

It's been more than a month since my last post. I must say I'm not proud, since writing is part of my life, but circumstances in my life had make it difficult for me to write.

As off Today, I'm back home and no longer working in the real world. I'm back from hell, and I literary mean hell. It only lasted merely a month, but that is exactly the time I could endure it. Been extra patience allowed me to get through the shifts but at the end my body was responding against it. I needed to resign. Simple as that.

Do I regret the decision to take the job? Absolutely. I had another interview the same day, but the opportunity to be a manager blinded me, and I took it without knowing the consequences that I had to endure with the other employees who didn't wanted me there, period.  As a new employee is hard to get along with the rest of the crew, but been introduced as the new manager to employees who were starving for a position was like a shower of bullets for them.

I needed the job but I need my sanity more, and that place was taking my very last ounce of it. Now I feel somehow like a failure for not been able to prove the kind of lider I know I am, but at the same time I wasn't happy. Getting out of bed to go to work was taking the best of me, and I knew the feeling too well. I don't regret the decision to resign, but more the decision of taking something I wasn't prepare for.

I know better things would come. In the mean time I will continue with my writing. Perhaps I will be able to start the second book on the series of The Last One. 'Doubt' is still waiting to be pick by a agent, and I'm still sending out queries. I know I will land an agent, even if it takes a whole year to achieve. 

Love rocks !!!
Shameyn...