I can’t even feel anger when it’s obviously boiling through me. I just want to be able to smile all the time and truthfully tell people that I’m happy, even for a moment. I just want you to understand that I cannot feel anything but pain and numbness and you are making it worse. Please please let me be alone. I don’t know what to do with my life, I really don’t want to be here.

i have to always remember

i don’t need anyone but me

because when i can’t count on you, i’ll be fine

all i need is my own hand

i’ll always hold my own hand

Tonight as I walked myself over, I realized my worth. To this group of friends I am so easily replaceable, so easily left behind. Why am I wasting my time trying to open up and let you into my heart. 

I am a warrior.

I live through each day alone. I live through each day strong.

I may be hurting inside but I stand alone and strong.

We discussed our analysis on each other the other day, and I was glad to hear it but at the same time it felt very uncomfortable. Yes I am insecure, yes I am “secretly” needy, and yes I am difficult to get along with. The way you told me however that I am so ‘hard’ to deal with, it was upsetting. I guess you don’t understand how hard you are to deal with sometimes as well.

There’s a level of superficiality I’m discovering and it’s killing me. You may choose who you may over me, but please don’t pretend I’m anything but where I am in your life.

Please tell me what I am to you. I do not need to be coddled.

I am alone, but I am strong.

I am a warrior.

I had a dream that the whole World was staring at me
I woke up and wasn’t no one there, yeah eh eaah
Same song to a different beat
Cause sometimes I feels like I’m the only one there
I guess nobody cares, hey
But everythings good until it goes bad
And your gonna tell all the people about the fun you used to have
It hurts when it don’t last
No easy way saying bye
So I’m a spread my wings and head for the sky
And I fly solo
I fly solo
And I fly solo
And I fly solo
And I…

[Verse 1: Wiz Khalifa]
I’m tired of being tired
And dealing with your BS,
All the while supplying
The money for your request
Without me you’re a dime
But with me you’re a buck fifty, haha
I can get another one quickly
But I’d rather wade it out
Take the broken pieces try and fix it
Or you could let your pride over weigh the right decision
And I’ll be in the sky you can pay your boy a visit
Ha

[Chorus: Wiz Khalifa]

[Verse 2: Wiz Khalifa]
Remember what you said
But what you say to me ain’t guaranteed to always be the Gospel
I was doing good way before I met you
Now you’re off the set
And I’m a let you see the show go on without you
Take a bow… think about it
And hopefully we could be friends but I really doubt it
See you be catching feeling’s now and I be catching planes
The story of my life, you’re just another page,

[Chorus 2:]
But everythings good until it goes bad
And your gonna tell all the people about the fun you used to have
It hurts when it don’t last
No easy way saying bye
So I’m a spread my wings and head for the sky
And I fly solo
I fly solo
And I fly solo
And I fly solo
And I…

[Outro:]
I had a dream that the whole World was staring at me (staring at me)
I woke up and wasn’t no one there (no one there)
Yeah eh eaah

Had a beautiful lunch with H at Cafe Gitane. Located in the Soho, Cafe Gitane is a French and Moroccan eatery that caters to a 20-40s crowd, very “trendy”, affordable price range for very well-done food. We had a little wait, crowded as usual, but we got a nice little niche and enjoyed things from Avacado on toast, yellowfin tuna ceviche, to foccacia tomato bruschetta. Great food, portions are a little too big in my opinion for the price range and audience they try to reach. Overall a great experience with the food and overall ambience (a bit crowded but that only attests to how great the place is).

HOWEVER, half way through my bruschetta I begin to get really uncomfortable. They have an open kind of service bar which serves as the kitchen. At the counter is a cashier who resembles the waitresses, pretty women in their mid 20s, all with dirty blond hair, kind of like none were blond or brunette, and all with a certain european air to them (all white), same body shapes and height. Now behind the counter, the people who prepare the food were two hispanic men and an asian man. Hmm.

The other diners, and there were plenty, were all pretty much a much older crowd than H and I, they were also all white. There were a few exceptions, and they were asian. I spotted about 3/4 asians, mostly eastern, and one south asian. All of them resembled the neatly put together of a current or past nyu student, an almost colonized air about them. They seemed all too comfortable blending in with this crowd. As I sat there I couldn’t help but feel extremely patronized. To make this experience even more interesting, H and I first ordered only les petites plates, just to get us started. The waitress took our menus away after that and kind of ignored us for a while, seemed upset that we wasted her time, even though we had every intention to order a second course -.- and she proceeded to forget my drink as well. I might be reading into it to much, but there were plenty of other diners who ordered in courses and only we were treated this way. Of course once we ordered our entrees she got all smiley and made sure she didn’t forget anything else.

I just can’t help to feel the irony of how well the place chooses it’s waiters to fit the image of this kind of trendy european feel yet we see and choose to NOT see the minorities producing the food behind the counter. I felt out of place and ashamed by my privilege to be sitting at my table and not behind that counter. It felt shameful for me to be there and enjoy my meal. I felt appropriated.

Maybe I just haven’t noticed it until now, but how many institutions can we create to constantly set an ambiance for the privileged with a veil to hide the efforts behind them?

It’s rare that my parental figures reach out to me in any manner other than an insulting one. However, today they approached me in concern of my health and wellbeing and made a conscience effort to state their opinions without undermining me. For some reason, maybe it’s because I’m so used to being trodden upon, or maybe my anger management is actually a problem, I lashed back with my opinion. I didn’t think of them or anyone but myself. It felt as though dear had consumed me, the thought I perhaps living at home again reminded me of what a facade this discussion truly was. However inappropriate it may have been, I said no and I walked out of the conversation and I didn’t think o anyone but me. It saddens me to myself become someone I cannot respect. Although I am deeply hurt by the trials my parents previously put be through, I wish I had taken the chance to converse in a calm manner and explain myself. But that perhaps is where the problem lies. I cannot acknowledge the problem. No matter how I blame my parents the problem remains within myself. I could withstand twit bickering and expectations, but it is I who never feels good enough, it is I who have set myself too high, it is I who is filled with anger every moment of the day, and it is I who feels an emptiness within myself that remains to be filled. I wig I could be a normal girl, call up my friends, whine, say sorry, or even continue to rebel, but I can’t. To speak words such as I have written hurts too much. I don’t open myself to anyone to tell this story to, except to an empty website of anonymous readers. I’m tempted to write an email to my father in the other room, but my pride will not allow me to admit my mistakes, and his pride will not allow him to try again. So I’ll lay here in my bedroom, cowering in my covers, whimpering to myself when no one can hear. I’ll hold my own hand because there is no one to hold mine. It’s a beautiful thing to be detached, one step closure to the realization of truth, but it’s one step further from the world. I feel cold and alone, but that’s how it’s been my whole life.