mynamemeanscherry

name is cerissa…like marissa or carissa but deranged.

His Shooting Star

Sometimes I try to wonder what my future love would think of me in my own words.

He loved the way she talked about the things she loved and hated like a song that repeated like a theme to a modern movie. The things she loved reoccurred in every aspect of her appearance and every detail of her movement. She loved poetry and so her language seemed to be more beautiful than average and her mind more magnificent than others. I craved her passion and for her to implement her trust into my bones. 

She adored the stars, more than herself or her favorite memory. Every night, before sleep she cooped herself up beside the nearest window and laid her head against the wall. She cracked open the window so she could feel the night’s chilly winds against her skin. It was March and the air was still tremendously cold but she didn’t mind. Her eyes leaped from star to star, occassionaly searching for a lonely shooting star. And that’s how he saw her. She was a lonely shooting star, although she did not appear to be lonely, rather she found herself alone but detached from the feeling of lonliness.

He would find her in the corners of busy cafes with her nose tucked in between the pages of a slightly tattered book with a half filled cup of tea and her headphones tucked into the hearts of her ears. Her hair was never perfect, she was never perfect. She obtained the idea of perfection but in a different way. A beautiful way. Her hair always seemed to be dancing with the wind and her eyes never ceased to wander. She was a wanderer herself, a detached from lonliness shooting star that soared through life so naturally I wondered if she knew what a marvel she was to watch. I found her to be my entertainment even in her simplest acts. 

A shooting star, who found love in every crevice of time. 

1998-2015, To the Years of Beauty.

Sunday, I lost a dear friend. After death, explaining death seems to be very complicated but there is one thing I have realized. Death is not for the dead, death is for the living. Wakes and funerals are not for the deceased but rather a sense of closure for the ones who mourn. Because that’s what we crave. We crave closure and reasoning.

The deceased lived and died but the living is still left to live while the dead is dead. Although the concept may be beyond me, but I’d prefer to laugh than cry. My friend was 16, he passed by an unexpected heart attack on a Sunday. That night at 11:11PM, I wished. Normally, I don’t wish. I lost hope in wishes one day but on this night, I caught 11:11 and figured it couldn’t hurt.

My first wish was for my grandmother to regain her full health against her  a cancer battle. My second wish was for my family to be safe and happy. My third wish was for my happiness to be strong. My fourth wish was for my love to love me in return. Lastly, my fifth wish was for my friend laying in a coma in the hospital from his collapse on that Friday to recover. I wished that he would be okay. He died at 11:30 PM.

Days later, I realized life is not always the answer and what we think is right, is not always…right. I wished for him to be okay and in my mind, that meant life but in life, that meant death. For a reason I may never know, death was appropriate. Death saved him from whatever pain he was suffering from. I wished for him to be okay and I honestly believe he is.

People may ridicule me for believing death was right. I mean….he was 16. Many may say he barely lived but that isn’t true. He lived. Any sort of life, is living. Every day, every minute, every second is valuable. He possibly had many more years but we all are given a contract. For a reason, his may have been short but it was just as lovely and valuable as any other life.

Life is not based on time but rather our moments. Life is measured by laughter, by love and the moments we stay up late to cherish silently in our beds before sleep. I would say he had a beautiful life. He had a light soul, a very gentle yet gigantic heart. His smile was contagious and his eyes held a magnificent charm that could make your heart melt. Wherever his soul may travel now, I know he is just fine.

Life is so indescribably painful and beautiful. But how could life be both? Although something may be tragic, it can also be beautiful. He was here and then gone, he left a loving scar on all of our hearts. He is gone but always here. In spirit, in love, in memory and in our laughs.

You are so loved.

Remember to remind the people around you of that.

a writer’s frustration in translation

A conversation over text I had today,word for word:

Me: I get jealous but I refuse to give him even the slightest bit of satisfaction in the act of my emotions towards him.

Friend: it’s just happens. I don’t kno why but it does 

Me: Ugh wow this is actually horrid but in a way, I’ve never desired such a feeling, it’s so dramatically beautiful to love someone that projects such a tragic aura…but I also despise him and ughhhhh.

Friend: I think you just like the thought of him but despise what he’s done.

Me:I despise him in general. I despise the way he can enter a room and make me feel as if my heart plunged into the pit of my stomach. I despise the way I absolutely crave his full attention. I despise how idiotic he can behave and how extremely unintelligent fragments of sentences that spew from his mouth can make me laugh. I despise how he welcomes the idea of being unintelligent like he has pride in the idea of being uneducated. I despise how i can catch him staring at me from my peripheral vision from time to time. I absolutely despise how even the smallest gestures can send a thousand scenarios clattering around the interior of my mind. I despise how his touch can be so fair but feel so heavy. I hate it, I despise it, I dislike him. He gets me fuming.

Friend: my heart….. omg.

Me: Carefully observe my frustration and tell me that this is not tragic. Because it most definitely is.

Friend: it is, my hearts like in pieces it’s so beautiful yet so….. different or tragic.

Me: For the first time you are witnessing me in utter anger, so much anger that I need to highly  romanticize the idea in order to calm myself, to make it sound more beautiful rather than frustrating. Omg…I hate myself haha.

Friend: not necessarily, I’ve felt this way before.

Me: It’s a characteristic I adore about being a decently great writer, words don’t come out as harsh and vile unless you intend them to.

Friend: you’re a beautiful human being you know that.

Me: sometimes, less than I should.

Friend: well always remember that.

Summer Afternoon

I have finally found refuge within my solitude. I have come to like my indepence, I’ve grown very fond of my own company. It’s been this way for awhile now.

I told myself that when I reached this point of comfortability with being alone, that I would allow myself to be with someone. I believe you must be able to enjoy your own company before enjoying another’s. You are your best company.

We must learn to be alone before walking with others.

After enjoying my own company for awhile, I miss the feeling of loving someone and being loved. This is okay! I know I do not need someone or this feeling,but it would be very nice. Yes, I’ve been adored by some but none that have met my true desires. 

My fantasy is a lazy summer afternoon,where the temperature is too hot to be outside and the chirping of birds slide through the spaces in the open windows into the stale air of my golden painted living room. And I am just listening. He plays the piano or the guitar, replaying pieces over and over again so casually. I’m not annoyed with the repetition of the sounds but I find such comfort in the tunes. A sweat breaks out over my skin and my perfume dangles in the humid air above me. The bubbly conversations between bikers on the nearby road occasionally spill into the room and from the kitchen I can hear the rise and fall of a half filled glass returning to its place on the table between careful sips.

I’m dozing off to beautifully, pleasant sounds and that’s my loving fantasy. Not sex or promiscuous desires, over anything I crave that one,lazy afternoon. Where words do not have to be exchanged to know that there is nothing but love in our presence.

Today 2/28/15

Today I drank a french vanilla iced coffee with too much sugar,watched three movies in bed,learned how to play lacrosse and taught myself the beginning to A Thousand Years by Christina Perri on the piano. 

I have grown 

I have grown to become very comfortable within my own solitude, my independence and privacy is very much adored. 

#147

I’m gonna be OK…

Starting Fresh

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I’m gonna be OK.

I’m a strong woman, often stronger than I feel. I’ve been through hell and back, and always pull out stronger than before.

It hurts now, I can’t deny that. But, in time, I know I’ll heal. This isn’t an ordinary breakup, this is Scott doing what he feels is right, and I can’t fault him for that. I’m not losing him because we fell out of love. I’m losing him because of his diagnosis. And even then, I’m not losing him, not really. I’ll still have his friendship.

He’s given me the best eight months of my life. It sucks that I only got eight months with him, but I’ll cherish every memory we created.

It’s going to take a long time before I’m ready to date again, but for now, I’m OK. It’s no longer ‘I have to…

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Equivalent 

I kind of miss being in love but I don’t believe I’ve actually ever been in love. Yes I’ve been in serious relationships with painful breakups that I somewhat adored, the breakup part included. But I don’t believe I will ever know what love is until it is the true feeling, the one love that truly lasts,the love im meant to be with. I want to find that person, my equivalent and I’ve never been known to have much patience but I’ve been waiting recently. I don’t want to waste time on someone I know I could not love to the very extent because I didn’t see potential in them. I want a writer, a passionate,loving writer who has the ability to appreciate art beside his own. I think it’s very important that my love has great confidence but can appreciate another human’s work just as much as his. I love music and laughter, adventure and surprises. I love debate but not hateful debate, reasonable,contained arguments. 

I used to be a very different person. Going through a lot of stuff in my life and I’ve changed so much that it makes me happy to know that the people I’ve left behind in my life aren’t around to experience all of the joy in my life right now. They may not deserve it, or maybe they do. Who knows. But I dream of my equivalent, I think almost everyone does. I think it’s lovely to try to imagine who you’ll end up with in the end.

No I am a whole, not a half and that does not mean I need another half to me. I’m independent and I love my independence and I think it’s very important to know who you are before figuring someone else out. It’s important to have a grip on your own life before taking on another’s and I never understood that in my past years. But mistakes don’t exist,only lessons learned and everything happens for a reason so I’m blessed to have gone through so much pain, either caused by myself or others, because that pain transformed me. I’m very grateful. 

I have a lot of time ahead of me and Ofcourse im young and dream of all types of sceneries of falling in love with the right guy but I can wait. I’m in no rush. I love myself and im pleased with my life,who I am and with the people around me. I’m surrounded by love and a great environment. I only wish to give and keep giving.

I’m just a writer, a complicated romantic searching for an equivalent in such a wide world, that’s so beautiful. The future is unpredictable, I’m very excited.

one miscalculation

I met him once, maybe a few times and his name was very common to me,easy to remember. His face was unforgettable and I cannot tell you why. Maybe it was his lips or his chiseled jaw line. 

I didn’t like his aura. He was funny, but there was somewhere  in him a miscalculation that I could not discover but could easily be detected. I felt he was bright but did not allow himself to shine. He was so absorbed somewhere in himself, sometimes he forgot about others and sometimes he forgot to be emotional. He was so out of reach with his emotions. I still could not tell why. 

He told me what he wanted from life, what he needed and what he despised. I think I loved his sentimental side but once hurt, his feelings dissolved into nothing but anger that flew from his heart. I still could not tell why and I could sit here for hours wondering why he could be so cold when I knew him not to be, but I decided I could not. An investment of my own being was not worth saving another to screw myself over. Maybe that sounds selfish, but it’s only selfish because I was once so generous. 

Sometimes we talk. I distanced myself from his touch and from his conversations, I often tried to avoid him. But sometimes, I just let it slip. In class, I’ll take in every physical detail trying to correlate his outside body language to his inside emotion. Wondering how and why, wondering when and where everything went wrong. My attraction fell to my lack of attraction, I wanted to know why.

Maybe it was the fact that he wanted dominance yet I was so controlling. I need my control. I need control of myself, not him and if I gave him myself then I would be know where near independence. I was nothing but independent, no one could strip that from me. From time to time, he’ll assume what I’m thinking. I do not like that. I’m a free thinking and untamed heart, you can never tell what’s on my mind and if you guess,you’re probably wrong and I’m  not sorry for that. 

I knew him, he told me all about him but I still could not place him, could not understand him. I realized, I didn’t have to. That was it.