Relearn to Love

It is so funny the way drugs play on our emotions. Or maybe it's just for me. But they are like a hand that reaches down into my body, past the tissues, and rips feelings out of me, sometimes violently.

Last night it was my friend Max's birthday and since I wasn't really in the mood for drinking, but still wanted to be on the milky way comfort of being relaxed with the other soon to be inebriated people, I ate some hash. At first it was good. I was dressed up and feeling good. My fav snug jeans. Check. My low lacy blood red top. Check. Dangley earrings. Check.

Heading to the bar I was already feeling the effects. My mind felt slow and dreamy. The city became beautiful. The nightlife energy seductive.

Once I arrived, and my best friend Patty and I caught up, I was immediately next determined to finally make a move on this cute acquaintance that I had been sorta crushing on for awhile. I sat close to his side on the long bar stool at the table, made the usual cute banter, indulged in some playful tickles and slaps. I also unfortunately let me friend Bernardo fill up my cup a couple times with beer so that rule went out the window.

By midnight my friend Patty, her boyfriend, and my crush all were suddenly leaving. Seeing as I only arrived an hour earlier I felt annoyed and scared. I couldn't help but feel disappointment, frustration, and a little crushed. I really had wanted this to be a good night with my buds that I very much needed, and also maybe embarrassingly an ego boost if I could get my crush to show interest. Niether happened.

I didn't really know or hang out with anyone else in the group much, and the ones who I did like Diego  and his brother Bernardo and of course Max where already way passed hammered and not exactly in the mood to socialize unless cursing and shouting profanities to the ceiling counted. But because I felt like I should at least celebrate for bit since I was already dressed up, I went outside with them eagerly when i heard one of the mention they had a blunt. Weaving through the crowd to get through the door, Diego came behind me and slid his hands over my hips in a way that made me both cringe and surprised.
 Diego is really usually this sweet and shy, and very innocent guy. But I guess by the way his eyes looked like melting soft suns, he was definitely drunk. I laughed his move off and pulled out, trying to defuse the situation by just pretending I needed to walk ahead with the other boys.

While we smoked outside I felt at least a little better. A little weirded out since I seemed to be the most sober and I watched while the rest hollered and joked around. But after a few puffs I could join in the jokes, make a few at their expense and generally be one of the boys which felt nice.
Bernardo sat down with me against the concrete circle that surrounded a few randomly placed trees in the city. We talked for a bit, mostly about his family since he had 4 brothers, all spanish, big, and loud, and they were all outside together. I felt a little jealously now. Here were 4 brothers, maybe a bit too loud, and a bit too tipsy, but together and all hanging out like a unit. I couldn't remember the last time my siblings had been together. The last time were had even hung out. It felt terribly wrong and terribly sad.

For awhile it was nice to be outside. With the cool clear sky, a crisp ice wind, and the stars so damn clear you want to grab them. Eventually though it felt a bit like I was juggling. Whether because I was the only girl or at least the only only who seemed friendly to them at the bar, a few of guys were getting too familiar and touchy with me. I also was having a hard time, maybe from loneliness, knowing if or who I wanted to flirt. I decided to leave when Max and Patrick left. Diego and his brothers were heading inside when I announced I was gonna leave too. A few protests, but mostly they just stumbled back inside. While I was saying my goodbyes Diego looked at me like he was considering something.
"What?" I said
"I dunno. You going home. I thought you were more fun than that."
I sort of did wonder when I was on the bus whether I was no fun anymore. But after feeling the crash of my high coming down, the fact I had to piss like crazy and it was hurting, and the fact that yet again "going out" was a lot less glamourous and fun than I think it will be, I decided it was smart to have left.

Another "perk" of going out is that the night bus only runs every 45mins and if you miss it you are screwed, and if you catch it it only goes on main streets so you have to walk the rest of the way. I had to walk 16 blocks before I got home. Thankfully or maybe not so thankfully an old friend from the US called me to keep me busy. We have this kind of messed up background of bad and good times. Sometimes the bad was so bad it still feels painful to even bring it up.
Anyways, we ended up having this gigantic mess of confessions and recriminations and crying (on my part) and apologies about the past. He kept saying he loved me. And the worst part is I wanted to believe him so bad, but after the way things had happened, I don't think I can ever trust him.

I don't know why or what this world is about. But I honestly am constantly battling between two strong urges. To run and run and run until I am as far away from civilization as possible. Find a small piece of land, live alone, and commune only with God and nature. The other is to "make" something of myself in the society sense. Make money, impress my family, do something big and recognizable, and find security.

The thing is I don't really recognize myself much anymore or enough to make that decision. I feel both like I am withering away with each day I don't focus on some direction. That I am so fragile, that just because a crush won't make a move on me, that I am worthless and ugly and boring, and maybe like Diego said, "No fun"anymore. And it's funny how only a few crumbles of hash and a beer will make me go through an entire lifetime of worries and thoughts and beliefs in one night.

I pray each and everyday in my own way that I recover what little self esteem I have left. That I can relearn to love and be the person I was. Even if now I wear glasses, or have few friends, or don't have money, or don't have a focus, I can still be that kooky crazy and entertaining girl who loved to make other laugh and laugh at herself.
Live and laugh. Thats all I should focus on now.