The Little Things: Finding Happiness

A organized collection of my favorite songs, stories, and random findings. Made solely for myself, this blog is to help me find what is worth living for.

[francescaamy1]

What good is the idea of the phrase “I’m not going anywhere,” if the end goal is to stay indefinitely in the same place? Alternatively, what purpose does that phrase serve if its preacher is unsure of the intention his speech is rooted in anyway? To make a long story short, I made a decision that will ultimately affect the rest of my life. Dramatic? Yes. True? Also yes. But at this point in time, let me be the first to say that I deserve a little drama in my life. Drama that is free of your drama, of the drama you brought into our world for much longer than I deserved, and the type of drama you never had the right to subject me to in the first place. 

So, similarly to how I have felt years ago, the new year brought an abundance of opportunity my way. A new job, new respect for myself, new appreciation for taking risks, and a new chance to find that love I have spent my life looking for. So, also yes, I am on the hot pursuit for love again. It is a pursuit, it is ambitious, and it is heated in a way that continues to make me wonder if I am actually meant to find someone that can withstand not only my intense level of love for life, but do it withstanding the test of time, and its influence on *presumably* both of our lives. 

I have not moved on. I have tried to replace the holes you have left in me with wine, and new lipstick, nights out with friends, and nights in alone when I need to be with myself. I have replaced you with new flavors, and colors of nail polish, and perfumes and emails. I have replaced you with stronger strides on the sidewalk and less patience for the bullshit you dragged me through for months on end. Months that fueled my willingness to make this work, months that fueled my ability to give you the benefit of the doubt, months that fueled my defending you, defending myself, fighting endlessly for what I knew I deserved from you but felt like it was more of a chore to fight for something that you were too entitled to give me. Too entitled to give to anyone but yourself. 

So I gave you all I had left. All that I had left to say, all that I had left to mentally and emotionally throw at you and strip you to the core of what made you fall for me in the first place. I gave you everything you took from me and the little you left me with. I gave it all to you, and then I took it all back. Or, if we are being chronologically accurate here, I took it all back, and then I gave it all to you. 

I don’t know where you are going to be, which in part, seems like the million dollar question I seemed to ask myself when analyzing the story of us. Where that took us, where that took you (even though we both already knew) and where and how you saw me fitting into that picture. Two fucking years to figure it out, and you took the easy way out. You gave me abstract answers in frustrating conversations taken between sips of expensive bottles of wine and dresses you didn’t deserve to see me in. In makeup and Campari stained bed sheets, and on city sidewalks that offered free entertainment for everyone who walked by us fighting and yelling over who was right and who didn’t deserve to even open up their mouth to voice their opinion. Most of the time it was me, and you took that power away until the final time I called you back. 

You are a child. You are immature. You are frightened of your own strength and frightened of being around those who have found strength in places other than on the pages of a textbook. Google earth can’t show you the nooks and crannies of what makes my heart beat or what makes my mind tick. But you had all of the answers in front of you. You always did. And I found myself asking you questions with the hope of you reciprocating them in return. Most of the time you never did. But I said them anyway. And you barely listened. 

So have fun with your maps, your mind, your goals and what you think is the right thing for you because it seems like the right time to do it. If I have learned anything from being with you, there are things money can’t buy. Like the bliss that comes sitting on a park bench or walking past the restaurants we loved to go to, or sitting at a bar sipping a cocktail that I know you would have ordered if you were there. But the reality is, is that I am going places with a purpose. You are going places because you feel like you have to. And along the way, you didn’t have to go anywhere, because staying where you were drove you farther and farther away from me. 

[francescaamy1]

Love Letter No. I

My dearest love,

Writing letters is one of my favorite things to do for you. Writing about you and us is one of the easiest and most difficult things to do, as my hands do not possess the ability to keep up with the conversation between my head and my heart in their attempts to dictate how I feel in a thoughtful way. When I think about you, my heart rambles, and my head wants nothing more than to turn its beats, jolts, and sparks into poetry. You constantly make me want to sing, smile randomly, and daydream about the beautiful complexity of how we became who we are and where we got to where we are today. 

You are my everything. You are my world. If I can be completely honest, I feel slightly guilty when I call you my best friend. I have best friends, but you are not one of them. Alternatively, my best friends are not you because they could never be you. No one could be you. You are my everything and my favorite. You are absolute, and you are mine. 

Being yours has shown me how to seize life’s most unexpected, ordinary, and presumable moments and turn them into something extraordinary because of your insatiable appetite to pay tribute to the little moments, honoring what it means to find happiness and share it with those that are most important to you.

I love you, J. I love you so much, it’s scary, breathtaking, paralyzing, overwhelming, invigorating, inspiring, captivating, distracting, all-encompassing. You make me want to sing and dance and never let you go, never let any of this go. 

And that’s the difference between you and everyone else. You are not just my best friend, you are a part of me, an extension of my heart in another body that shares my joys, subdues my fears, and supports my dreams. You are my everything, and I find pure and total joy in loving that you are. 

Yours, F.

[francescaamy1]

I will never stop being amazed by you, by everything you do, and by everything about you. For repetition’s sake, everything about you captivates me in a way that nobody or nothing else can. I love the way my hair smells like you when I wake up with you, I love the way I love to wear your clothes when your not around, and I love how missing you makes me fall into an even deeper and more inescapable form of love. 

That being said, I often reflect on the first time I felt I couldn’t imagine a day where you were never going to be a part of my life, or better yet, a day where I wouldn’t want you to be a part of my life. Tonight carries a similar trend, slightly deviant from the first time I referenced a few lines former. A little while ago, I told you how scared I was that I didn’t know where our relationship was going to take us when life took us in directions that we never saw coming. You stood by my side through moments just like those not long after that, proving and demonstrating a sense of unwavering strength that spoke above and beyond any words ever could. Now we are faced with another situation, and though the details escape me at the moment, I can’t help but feel more connected to you and your disconnected heart. I feel pain, I feel fearful, I feel confused, and above everything else, I wish to do nothing more than to find the right way to be here for you to let you know that I want to do nothing more than be your rock, your shoulder, your vessel to escape in any way/shape/or form you want most.

This is the first time I have felt a love for you so deeply as I did ten months ago. You are my world, my everything and more, and my most favorite person to share everything with. I want every morning to start with coffee, whether it’s in mismatched mugs at your kitchen table or espresso cups at a sidewalk table for two, I want to send you messages throughout your day and get ones from you when I least expect them, and I want to fall asleep next to you knowing I get to do it again the next day, and the day after that, the only times prohibiting us from doing so is when we are chasing our dreams on journeys and adventures that we can’t wait to share with each other. 

Life has shown me what it means to simultaneously live selfishly and selflessly because you have given me infinite reasons to confidently chase after what makes me happiest in life. And I will, and I will continue to do so, all the while being your number one fan, your teacher, your sounding board, your partner and best friend in the process. 

I guess that’s what it means to have someone be your everything. There are no limitations as to what that person can and can’t do because they are going to be there regardless. And you can try and keep things from them, but in the end, it’s just a matter of finding the right time to let them be your everything. 

I love you, and I love how you make me feel. Being yours is one of the best things in my life, and I want nothing less than to continue to do so for as long as you’ll let me. 

[francescaamy1]

There is nothing worse than feeling completely deconstructed by an emotion whose sole responsibility to enlighten you brighter, stronger, and higher than any other in this world. When it happens, it’s empowering and perfect, on the cusp of being magical, its reawakening back to reality the only thing preventing it from being so. 

But when that same emotion is the reason for uncontrollable tears and headaches that make your whole body tremble with fear, trepidation, and doubt, you can’t help but wonder why you let yourself fall that hard in the first place.

In hindsight, I have made a decision in which my future is now dependent on the co-existence of another person whose dwelling place is aligned with every step I take despite any effort to maintain their steadiness on their own. That presence is a lot to take in sometimes. Where all of the little things that I love so much become a lot of little things that carry an amount of weight on my head and my heart much greater than the sum of each one. 

And yet, it is so easy to let them find their way back into the nooks and crannies of the deepest parts of my soul that yearn for company and warmth. When they are plucked in the right combination, they resonate the sweetest and most joyful songs that sing a frequency only I can hear and harmonize with on my own. That is the beauty of love. It is invisible and inaudible and I never know when or how another symphony is going to swarm my thoughts in the most overwhelming way possible. But the uncontrollability and unpredictability of love is what paralyzes me just as coldly as it does scaldingly. And it hurts so much. 

Yet again, I don’t necessarily have an intention for writing about this other than the hope that it helps me make sense of it when I look back and reread what I wrote, sometimes while sharing the same headspace, other times feeling the complete opposite in which I feel so lucky to do the way I do in the moment. So if there was a moral to this post, as there have been less and less of, I would say keep faith. Stay strong. Find the beauty in what makes you happiest, and realize that love is not just an emotion, but a way to live your live, guide your actions, and seek out the best version of yourself. Keep your head up and walk forward, in the most fabulous of ways possible. Because you’re worth it, and the love that is causing you stress is so small in comparison to the other forms of love that is surrounding you from all other angles of your beautiful life. 

[francescaamy1]

The beauty in being beautiful

I wish I had the ability to love every part of myself.

I wish I found the strength in worshiping and celebrating my favorite parts of myself more than the self-criticizing mentality that has been swarming my head and he heart and thoughts every time I look in a mirror.

The physical pain endured today gave my heart a road to escape and relieve itself of the pent of pain it has been feeling for quite some time. It found a way to release itself, its fears, doubts, anger, and frustrations so that its inconspicuousness was preserved. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by love, and what I thought love was in that moment comforted, saved, and surprised me. 

For this very reason and for the reasons I have written about for so long here, I am here to tell you never underestimate or tire of any form of love you have in your life. Love never expires, tires, dies, or relieves you of its grasp. It is always there, ever-present, unrelenting regardless of your desire to distance yourself from it. And, ironically enough, the feeling of love itself is the very reason you can never sever those ties. 

So we’re here, we’re living in love, and we are all consumed by it.

Love is beautiful, and the beauty of love, is that it always is. Every form of it, no matter when it was created or developed, love is infinite. Love was the first emotion that ever existed.

Because of love, we are all here. Our bodies, our minds, and souls have found a vessel to dwell in, all in the stature of who we each are, and that love drives us to continue creating forms and expressions of love, in any any every way we love to. 

And sometimes, that love, drowns us so deeply, we forget how good it feels to live in its other forms. For that reason, we have to try as hard as we can to share ourselves with each of the different forms of love, being impartial but overprotective, being selective but open-minded, and being unapologetically ready to embrace it whenever it is present. 

So today, the pain I felt, partially due to an uncontrollable sequence of events and partially due to the exhaustion that accompanied it, I fell in and out of love again, and I realized so quickly, that love is one emotion to never be prorated based on a certain point in time. Its multi-faced presence is exactly what love is, how love should be felt, and why love is so dynamic and captivating to everyone who feels it. 

Love should never be adjusted like a thermostat, raised or lowered based on a given environment. It should be constant, overwhelming, and empowering. And when it clicks, it’s magic.

[francescaamy1]

Finding love lost

Over the past nine months, love has been present in so many different forms in my life, and many of my states of mind can be attributed to its presence. One month ago I left my home, my family, and my love, to a place that is rooted in love and shares love with all who choose to partake in the beauty of the country. Before I left, I was faced with a mental dilemma, one that more specifically countered a “once in a lifetime opportunity” with my own fears of being apart from a support unit I care so deeply about. To clarify, I am in love with so many things and people and ideas and feelings, it is paralyzing, and sometimes I just don’t know what to do with it all. 

I’m currently facing two very different states of mind. When I wake up in the morning I have the ability to take advantage of every moment in the best way possible, pick myself (and dress myself) up to the nines, and share moments with myself that make me feel inconceivably desirable. On other days, that love is a constant, overarching grey emotion that blankets itself in every message and train of thought that passes through this head of mine. 

So, as the moment presents itself, and how they have been, I feel sad tonight. I don’t necessarily know why, but I just feel the need to realize a void and a separation from a life that I have known for so long. And maybe that’s what stepping outside of a comfort zone means, but it’s the lack of support that I have around me, uncomfortably farther than my extended arm’s reach, that gets to me. Because what I have realized, is that I am very much a product of my environment. I feed off the energy around me, whether it is constituted by a book in hand with the perfect cappuccino resting on the table next to it, a pair of black heels elegantly slipped on to the end of slender, hard-working legs, a big hat and a pair of sunglasses exposing just enough curiosity for the world to engage with, or headphones in my ears sitting on the train, there is something romantic in each of those moments, and the millions more that make me feel on top of the world. As a result of that, I am my own worst enemy when it comes to figuring out how to overcome the antitheses of those moments.

So as expected, this post was well-conceived but poor in execution of purpose. At the end of the day, when everything within me has been felt so fiercely, maybe all I need to do is vent. So here it goes:

I wish I was with my sister today. I wish I got to see her move in, see her room, and go back to a place that holds so many memories so fresh, the reality of not having it be an active part of my life ever again still seems unreal. 

I really need to stop crying for every little thing. But I feel weak here, I feel levels of instability slightly higher than those able to be subdued.

I don’t want to forget about everything that has happened in my life.

I love my life. I love everyone in it. And that love scares the living daylights out of me sometimes. 

I want the rest of my life to be as fulfilling as possible, and the fact that the only vision of what home looks or feels like is the one I’ve only known is terrifying. Especially when the only idea that is beginning to form isn’t even a place. 

Maybe the reason I am so determined, so driven, like the way I have always been is because coming up with an optimal answer or response to conflict quickly and efficiently is the easiest way to avoid trepidation, temptation, and weakness of the mind, body, and soul. 

I want to be healthy, I want to be able to make physical changes and decisions, and I don’t want to have to answer any questions to do so. 

So, with that I am back to my dwelling place, one that lets me sit, resonant, in a quiet moment feeling all that there is to feel: love, fear, longing, solidarity, lust, anxiety, uncertainty, each emotion with its own set of immeasurable dimensions in an innumerable amount of contexts. I need help, guidance, love, one greater than a form of love I’ve steadily received for a while now. Which, means feeling ashamed could be added to the list. I’m human, I’m fallible and flawed, but impressionable in the most voluntary ways possible. And in those dark moments, whether they are fleeting, last for minutes, hours, or longer, invite the intervention of a greater force, one that is unnerving, and overbearing in a way that challenges any heavy strife present in your life. I’m just ashamed it took me so long to realize it. 

With that, finding love is an ever-present challenge. Just because it surrounds you, it doesn’t mean you should stop looking for it. The second you begin to take it for granted, you slowly begin to lose touch of its spontaneity, which in turn creates expectations and fears that they will never be met. True love is not one to be feared. It should be joyful, and you should rejoice in it every day.

[francescaamy1]

There is a reason no one has ever written a manual guiding one how to love. The reason being it will actually kill you to try, and no matter how much time and effort you could put into perfecting it, the truth is that it is inevitably destined to be flawed, imperfect, and misleading. 

That’s not to say love is flawed, bogus, or not worth anyone’s time. All I’m saying is that love is impossible to grasp. It is something that contemporaneously exists in the present, the past, and the unforeseeable future, and because of this, drives us crazy to think about. Or me at least. 

I gruel over the thought of the type of love I think I deserve, what that form of love should look like-whether it’s amorphous or static, dynamic or predictable-and how often I should be reminded of how I am quite literally surrounded by it every second of every day. But for some reason, I’ve been very skeptical of it lately, feeling the adverse effects of finally having found a source of it to call my very own. And now, I’m starting to drive myself crazy analyzing and over analyzing it, in its every form. 

So here I am, one week shy of marking the seventh month of a relationship that is rooted in love, starting with myself and the wonderful person I can call my own and working to form a unique sense of interconnectedness between the two of us that only we know. Through these past seven months, I fell in love. I went through a very long process of learning what it meant to be called “someone’s,” and though I still haven’t fully conceived the idea of it, I am quickly learning love is more than coffee in the morning and a kiss goodnight. Love is trusting in the silence when you wish your phone would ring, accepting repeated one-word responses in the middle of a conversation, and recognizing that change, sometimes for the worse, won’t actually change how you feel about each other even though it may seem all but very few odds are against you. So even though it is just as important to find love in the little things, I’m gradually beginning to learn that love is also found in the contrasting situations. That any time you come across an instance in which love seems nonexistent, the fact that love is still is present goes to show it is not unnerving. It does not become dismissed or diminished when things aren’t easy, and love is defined in the way two people overcome adversity and challenges, whether they be experienced independently or coexistentially. 

This is not to say that it doesn’t hurt when these types of things happen. I’m living proof when I say that it sucks. That laying on a bed typing that things are going to be okay, in a less than believable persuasive manner, is not as fulfilling as talking on the phone or having a conversation where smiles are exchanged between every other word--because it isn’t. But when love is the leading force in a relationship, you do what you can to overcome it. You do what you can to silence any sort of hesitation and uneasiness when it comes to thinking about the next time you are going to talk to him, what it is going to be like, and you better hope to God it is satisfying enough to reverse all of the overwhelmingly uncomfortable emotions infiltrating your body when it happens. But the truth is, you get through it. Somehow you keep breathing, and the idea of inhaling and exhaling is sometimes the only thing getting you through the passing minutes before that next phone call or text message. 

Sometimes I don’t know where the strength comes from, or if I would even call it strength for that matter. But we keep moving forward and we keep moving on. Never let yourself become the victim of your own thoughts. You have the power to do whatever you wish to do, and if that means sitting down introspectively for a while, then I am here to tell you there is nothing wrong with that. 

[francescaamy1]

Every time you tell me you love me, it sends me into a whirlwind that forces me to lose every ounce of control that keeps my head in check. In that moment, I am the truest form of myself: the kind that releases only the deepest passion for you. Those three little words relieve me from all uncertainty and revive me the same way your lips on the top of my head or back of my neck do. 

[francescaamy1]

I am so infatuated with everything that you do. You never cease to amaze me, fill me with wonder, and most importantly, make me want to propel myself into the future to see all of the incredible things we are going to do and people we are going to become, all the while wanting to remain with my feet planted firmly in front of you so I can feel every breath you take, each one giving me the world in a fleeting second.

[francescaamy1]

Love: Redefined.

If someone had ever asked me what love was supposed to look like five months ago, I would have said it should be grandiose, extravagant, all-consuming, and somewhat selfish in the very best of ways. I thought I knew what love felt like, because I had experienced different forms of it, and I thought I knew what it would look like when I finally stumbled upon it, or it, me. 

In reality, love didn’t come charging into my life acting like the breathtaking and captivating force it is. Instead, it is quite the opposite. It lingers above and below everything else, creating this parallel between something that I can never get enough of, while underlying every step, supporting every breath, and cushioning every set back that weakens my stride when I lose my footing on my own. I wouldn’t say that love came rushing into my life in a fervent realization of a part of my life that had been missing for so long. Rather, it steadily crescendoed into a love that filled every part of me, nourishing, supplementing, and complementing who I have become over the past twenty-one years. It slowly fused the gap between my head and my heart, and it continues to evolve as I experience it more. 

In my case, love is everywhere and everything. It is the little things, it is the things that I didn’t even dream of because I never fathomed they would actually happen to me, and most importantly, it is the things that happen to me, consistently and expectedly, every single day. This version of love is neither rose-colored nor boastful, but it’s proud and accomplished, and self-sustaining and boundless. It constantly surprises me, bewildering any sense of expectancy that may arise with my attempts to try and predict what will happen at any given point in time. It happens sometimes, actually more often than not, but always in a way that diverges from my original thoughts of what it is going to look like this time. 

Love is french press coffee with the perfect ratio of milk and sugar. It is Sunday morning pancakes or breakfast in the afternoon. French rolled omelettes and fish spatulas. Stealing kisses in public. Cooking in your apartment for ourselves and our best friends. Cappuccinos and cold brew. It is handwritten letters and cookbooks. Love is threaded through the perfect playlist in your car, the one that flows through the speaker in your room while you sit at your desk working and me draped over your shoulders or sleeping with my head at the foot of your bed. Love is cookie dough ice cream with two spoons, Star Wars, and shot glasses filled with amaro. It is trips to the butcher, the grocery store, liquor store, and coffee shop. Love is your kitchen table filled with ingredients, home to bottles of wine while we cook, and dishes, plated effortlessly, then rearranged to accommodate our readjusted positions, usually ones of extended legs and crossed arms. Love is conversations about Michigan. Love is a white button down dress shirt and slow dancing in a tuxedo. Love is you kissing me and me kissing you so hard right back. Love is tables for two and cooking for 20. Love is you and I, in everywhere we find ourselves. It is the way that hearing Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin can make me smile, sing, dance, cry, and dream. Love is your pencil behind your ear, the way you wink at me, and the way you call me. Love is your head on my shoulder and my hand on the back of your neck. Love is the way I love to think about you all the time. It isn’t burdensome but rather an amplified way of life, one that I have actually known, lived, and perfected on my own for quite some time.

For some reason, I still don’t say “I love you” that much. And when I do, sometimes I feel like it requires more self-convincing than it should stand for, because in fact, I believe that saying I love you is quite the opposite of what love actually is. Our love is simple and complex, subtle, passionate, and celebrated in the quietest yet most observant of ways. We do us better than nobody else can, and we can take on the world by fire just by being together.

So, I can say I love you, because I do, but what I really mean is that I love doing all these things with you. And I never want to stop doing these things with you, even more so be able to do exactly what we imagine ourselves doing on this journey together. I love that. 

[francescaamy1]

I’d like you to know that I listen to the music you play for me when I’m by myself. I look through the photos of us, and the photos of you, and think of you every time even the faintest and most fleeting moment strikes me with a memory of you. What you do to me is magic. There isn’t quite any other way to describe it.

[francescaamy1]

Tonight is one of those nights where I have found the greatest challenge in hoping you chase the night with me while allowing yourself to dream and drift away into the splendor of your sweet serenity and blazing intensity.

[francescaamy1]

Words are tricky things to come by for many reasons. For one, there is the imminent fear of not finding the right ones to describe an emotion, a state of being, or a circumstance, while the other complication lies in the inability to actually formulate a compilation of them to create a fit description of how you feel--that there are too many floating around in a whirlwind that it's like trying to catch them with a butterfly net in a desperate attempt to try and put something down on paper or in a dialogue. It's not too often that I am faced with this problem. In fact, my dilemma typically arises in the ability to find time or the state of mind to actually sit down and write and express myself in an honest and open way. However, every so often I get in a mood that lends itself to writing (or typing) aimlessly, just like I am now, and just like I have been able to for the past however-many posts.

So here I am with a head infiltrated more with emotion than with words. It's weird because I should be writing aimlessly in order to get all my thoughts down straight before I forget them, but instead, I am oddly calm. Oddly content, and oh so in love with a lot of things going on in this moment. I feel warm, taken care of, and cared for. I feel found, a true and unadulterated sense of belonging all because of you. Again, I can't really say when or how this came to be, but it did, and I've fallen so hard. I could say that I can easily imagine what it would be like without you or your presence around me, but then I think of how you make me feel when I'm with you--like how hard I felt myself smiling just looking at you today. I love having you around me, I love how you fit into every part of me, and I love the way my body makes its way around yours in any and every position we find ourselves in, whether we plan for it or not.  I love what you say to me and how you say it as well as how to choose to talk to me. Because sometimes, all I need is a random text in the middle of my day and other times, a phone call, always unexpected but at the right moment, to whose spontaneity I have grown infatuatedly accustomed.

I don't quite know how you managed to do it. I sound like a broken record, but you have made me the happiest, and I love being yours, being called yours, and having you, more than anything. I don't count a lot of things in fear of their fleeting permanence, but with you I've cried twice. Two times for two reasons that I know you can comprehend on a very deep level. I've said before that I could have never guessed this would have culminated the way that it did, from the person I sat next to that one time at Stella's, me being more doubtful than nervous and more hesitant than prudent. But somewhere down the line I fell hard and fast, and now I wouldn't want anyone else holding the small of back when they dance with me, (if they ever even would), or kissing me so deeply that you not only take my breath away but feed your own right into me giving me the deepest and truest form of love and life every time it happens. It's deep, uncharacteristically so. You're incredible and so mine. Any tinge of doubt is peeled away when I am with you, and I could not be more excited to see where this goes. I miss you when we're not together, but I love how our distance pushes me to grow, and to achieve, and to accel. I love that you'll be cheering me on, and I love how dedicated you are to your craft. You are truly wonderful, and you are truly mine. 

So many words. So many emotions. So much happiness.  

[francescaamy1]

You

I don't quite know how you have managed to consume and captivate me. I would like to say it happened quickly, but it really didn't, and I'd like to clearly label how and where you managed to do so, but, again, I am unable to. I've never felt so enthralled, yet so self-aware. You have that effect on me. You make me a better person by realizing that I am intelligent, beautiful, and unique, in the sense that I possess some sort of spirit nobody else can present in the way I do. But being with you makes me want to be everything you want me to be, in no other way than to continue to be that girl that acknowledged your suggestions in class and sheepishly smiled at your personal introduction with the hopes of you noticing how I tried to match my level of confidence to yours. And for a long time, I observed, I watched, maybe too intently--but I did. Because I wanted to know, I wanted to learn and hear and understand who you were and where you came from. 

You didn't tell me at first. You left me guessing and wishing that I did because I wasn't going to ask you about what I wanted to know (1: because I didn't really know what I wanted to hear anyway,and 2: because I wanted you to read me in such a way that you happen to do flawlessly now, and give me exactly what I needed without having to say so). And you didn't. Not the first time, and half-so the second. But you were honest, and I was hesitant and avoiding any sense of pessimism I could. 

You know what drives me. You know how to evoke every ounce of motivation out of me that allows me to continue to push forward, while challenging boundaries and forcing me outside of my comfort zone, in a way that would never sacrifice the person I have tried so hard to perfect over the past 21 years. I am me, and I know you respect that. And I know that you know I respect myself. Not to say I am necessarily happy with it, but I will never take for granted who I am and what I know I am capable of achieving. That I know I need someone who will complement not only my state of mind, but how I process things, how I approach challenges, and how I achieve happiness. And you do that. I don't know how, but you do. And I have no idea how you have managed to relate to things in my life that took place at all different points in time. But you have, and you do, and I can't shake that because you are too special, and I want to continue figuring out how you manage to do so. 

It's funny because the reality of the matter fades in and out for no other reason that I still can't believe this is me. That I waited so long for a figure like you to be here, and now the silhouette is filled, and the shadow has been removed, but I still need to realize that you are here to stay, and how I'm feeling is not only because this void has been filled, but you were the one to do so.

So I held back tears when the reality hit. And I smiled outrightly when I remember certain things about you, or me, or us together. And I muted the emotions that may have seemed inappropriate for the setting they arose in all because you seem to have this effect on me that makes me feel that complete adjacency isn't close enough to you. That being with you is the only way to validate how I feel because I want to give you the world, be your world, and have you be mine. You have fervor, you have passion, you are eloquent and well-spoken. But you have so much to learn, so much to figure out, so much to acquire out of this. It's a relationship, and I know it's not one sided. But I'm yours, and I am slowly starting to figure out what it means to have you be mine in the process.  

[francescaamy1]

New Beginnings, Old News, or Just Plain Confusion

Finally. Some time to myself, time for myself, and time to finally begin to reflect on what's happened over these past two to three months. It may seem like a simple task, but when each day carries its own story, memory, and painful reminiscence of something that once made me so incredibly happy, this task becomes exponentially harder and significantly more frightening to address head on.  But here I am, months later than I should be, which is no other fault than my own, but for some reason I don't care. And quite frankly, that has been my problem lately. Not not caring, but not finding the time to sit, breathe, and think of myself and for myself. But here I am, and I have to remember to slow down, take a breath of fresh still air whose purpose is no other than that to sustain me and support me--that's a pretty promising thought when you think about it. 

So now I'm listening to a new playlist tonight, yes a new playlist. It's sporadic and random but exactly what I need. So who knows, here it goes:

I don't really know what to do or make of all of this. I could be overreacting or I could be exactly right, which I like to think I have been for most of the time when I find myself here, but there is a little part of me that would like to be stood corrected and outsmarted just once. But I'm here, writing aimlessly trying to make sense of this all because I'm lost. Not in the way that will let me trace my steps backwards to where I came from, but in the sense that every step and move I make is in a forward motion that is trying to cling on to anything familiar for the sake of sanity, for my own sake of sanity, really. So I'm here, finally finding comfort in the static state of my bed, this room, this computer, and these melodies. I'm looking for happiness, and for the most part I'm finding it. But now I'm exhausted and attempting to find something that could bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined, the kind of happiness I have been searching for endlessly since I started this thing and started facing my darkest doubts and challenges. That being said, even if the opportunity presented itself in a way that could spell it out right in front of my face, which it essentially is, I don't even know if I would recognize it on the account of my physical and mental torment since I found out how hard it is to actually find love. 

So now there is someone. Some who happens to be very nice, conversational, and somewhat clear of what he hopes to find in me, but for some reason I still find slightly hard to believe as true. Because now, I don't know what to do. And I can't tell if it is because there is a very strong chance he could provide me with what I'm looking for, or if I just haven't faced my own fears of sitting down, addressing the matter head on, and taking it for what it is rather than trying to shape it into a context that would make me feel comfortable from it. Since we started talking I am remembering all of the things I used to do and say in this situation, and I don't even know if any of them can really be applied in this situation. He is so different, so intimidating, yet so open and forward it scares me. He's sarcastic but caring, knowledgeable yet welcoming, and odd with a charming sense of attractiveness. He says all the right things, makes me laugh, and satisfies all my slightly amorphous criteria of physical attributes I look for in a guy. So what's the matter with me? Do I go for it? Do I follow suit like I have done in the past or continue to hold back like I have been? Do I move forward just as quickly he is pulling things, or do I act the same way I have been hoping that I can form an opinion on him by the time I need to figure out what all of this is? I don't know. And I wouldn't say it scares me, I just need a little bit of guidance. I want to say yes, but something in me is telling me no, and I can't tell if it's fear or doubt or something else that I can't define due to my preoccupied thoughts. But at the same time, I secretly wish we talked when we aren't talking, that he wasn't drunk last night so I could meet up with the same person that I spoke to just a few hours earlier. But he wasn't, and we aren't, and the problem arises when I can't figure out if that's the ultimate problem or not. He's here, I'm me, and he likes me...sort of. Kind of. I pretty much think so. And I can't tell if I like him yet. But I like things about him. I liked the way I fit in his shoulder, I liked being able to reach out and touch his arm when he said something funny, I like that he texts me when I do expect it, and he knows how to hold a conversation. But is that enough to keep this going? ...and not knowing scares me. Not knowing how I feel about him as a person also scares me. Because I like the thought of the things he does, I like what he does and things about him, but I don't know if I like him yet. Which I think is normal, that's what this whole dating thing is about...to try and see if those actions match up with the person that is sitting across from me or standing next to me. I don't know, but I like the thought of it and him and trying to figure out if I do or not. So I guess we'll see, and even though I don't know what to make of it, it's a start. It's new and not necessarily scary, but I have time to figure that out. For now and for the first time in a very long time I'm okay with not moving. My feet feel firmly planted on the ground, and it's a comforting thought. I don't have to go anywhere if I don't want to because now I'm the one calling the shots. It may not be as dominant as people think, but I have some traction, and I plan on using it to begin figuring out what all of this is because of it. 

[francescaamy1]

6 String

It's a beautiful thing when things fall into place. Whether it is nailing an interview for a job you really wanted, acing a test, passing a class, or finally scoring that date with that guy that every girl glares at when you hold his hand. I've recently felt glimpses of this emotion; I have moments of pure bliss and euphoria and others of pure fear that my hopes and dreams will only remain hopes and dreams. 

A few weeks ago, I had an experience with a certain someone, a certain someone that really isn't that hard to figure out who if you've learned anything from my previous posts. I sound like a broken record for the amount of times I say our past together lead me through all 5 stages of grief. Now I am living in "acceptance-land," and I couldn't be happier. Let me give you a few examples why:

I've accepted that fact that I love to think about him again.

I've accepted that it's okay to think about our past without fear or sadness.

I've accepted the fact that we may never be more than friends again.

I've accepted the fact that our friendship may always just be a friendship.

I've accepted him for the type of person he was, he is, and who he has yet to become, even if he doesn't know who that is yet. 

I've accepted the fact that he was the first person I loved, the first love I lost, and the first love I never committed myself to in the way he thought I should have. 

And most of all, I have accepted the fact that I have come to accept all of these things about him, about myself, about who we were three years ago, and how are futures are meant to unfold. 

Either way, I'm pretty sure we are both going to being building our futures in the same city, the same way we began to establish our own identities in the same city what will be three years ago. When I think about it, I was a 17-going on 18-year old girl and he was a 19-year-old boy with a guitar and more hopes and dreams than the plot of a Disney movie when we first met. I had no idea what I was doing but knew exactly what I wanted. And on the contrary, he knew precisely what he was doing but had no idea what he wanted. This was a tragic love story destined from the start. However, just because we don't talk every day and refer to each other as a significant other, doesn't mean we still don't acknowledge each other as significant parts of each other's lives. 

I would like to think he still cares about me. And what I sometimes, not always, wish I knew was the extent to which he still does. Either way he is a great person who will always be a part of my life. 

Every so often, I get into this mindsets in which I find myself overly enthralled with the thought of him, and it is always a different mix of excitement, longing, nostalgia, naivety, and bitterness. The ratios of these are generally accompanied by a soundtrack I like to pride myself as one of the inspirations for. Every way I look/think/reminisce about us, I try and put things into perspective, about where we would both be if things ended up differently or if what happened was actually meant to happen for a reason. 

Regardless, he will always be a part of me and me of him. When it comes to love, emotions are tricky business to handle on their own. Throw another person into the mix, and by default, the odds are already against you despite your best efforts to think otherwise. Either way, I find temporary relief in knowing that there are melodies I can go to escape my own thoughts. I find myself immersed in the melodies sung about me, to me, and for me, and at the end of the day, I'm okay with that. These songs are stories and poems in which only us and the universe can understand. And that's a pretty damn cool thought to think about. 

[francescaamy1]

I find it equally amusing and infuriating when people cannot compose themselves in a stable fashion around me. I often think that I am the problem when initiating a new relationship--that I am the one that reads too deeply into a situation while steering my actions towards a path opposite of that my mind wants me to follow. But I can't be that crazy to think that my infallibility is a consequence of my premeditated self, right? There has ought to be a reason that I give so much of myself only to rescind those very actions a few weeks later, and I would like to believe that my inability to find a compatible match is the reason for my doing so. In fact, I'm starting to think quite the opposite; that males find themselves in an even weaker state than I am. They fall victim to their desire much more gravely and deeply than I ever could within those first 2 minutes of meeting someone. And as a result, leads me to believe that their duplicity is in fact authenticity. The reality is that I know exactly who I am and who I have been this whole time. My heart has been as passionate now as it has been from the first time I told my best friend I loved him, when I fell head over heals for my own personal John Mayer, and even when I lost my footing during the years that followed. But here I am, on the brink of what I know will be the most exciting year of my life by far, and while so much of my life has changed around me, I have managed (quite honorably I must add) to stay true to my heart, honest in my pursuits, and faithful in my God. 

Yet, how I have managed to consistently get myself into the same problem time and time again completely baffles me. Why on earth is it necessary to test the strength of a relationship if it destined to fail anyway? I would much rather be confident, independent, and secure in my life, the foundation rooted in the expectancy of finding a spirit that will intermingle with mine on a level deeper than I could have ever imagined. Instead, I am falling victim to the opposite of the current state I should be in, only hurting myself, and others along the way. However, I can't help it. Especially now. I am straddling the borderline between my future and my past, and I can't seem to break the shackle that's holding me back from this advancement. Either way, I can finally start to see the light at the end of the tunnel, which is shining extremely bright. I understand that who I am does not only encompass my past and current endeavors but also the happiness I deserve in the days ahead that will accompany the success I have single handedly worked for. My reward is the part that I still cannot foresee but am confident will make me happier and feel more complete than I ever have before. If that't not an exciting thought, I don't know what is. Either way, I'm getting there. It's a process. It's not quite cyclic or linear, but it is guided by divinity, protected by absolution, and promised by love. What more could a girl ask for?