Budapest Alley

Walking Your Own Road

Soundtrack: “You’re so very far away” – Clem Leek

I’ve been on a roller coaster. Up through the most incredible clouds and rising in front of the most beautiful and brightest sun on a limitless horizon; just to free fall down, fearing life itself towards dark black coal and mines of despair. There are twists and turns on the way down, some nice, some almost ignorant of what’s below or above me, some teetering on the edge of cliffs and some bordering fields of my most precious dreams, taking me on a tour of my deepest wishes.

Life is improbable and sometimes scary. I’ve been feeling so angry and hopeless. Why is it that things happened this way? Why am I always here? Why does this happen? Why? Why? Why?

We can’t all just be plainly living life. I can’t sit in my office every day and wait for the day to end. I am wishing my life away. I am playing always the same certain tune. I know how it starts, I know how it changes and I know how it ends. And all the meanwhile I wish it were different.

There is something to be said about loyalty, about responsibility and duties. I wear my “badges” proudly. I know I can be counted on. I know I can help and be available. I can help everyone around me succeed. I love that. I love it but I want it for myself as well.

The pendulum is swinging, the clocks are ticking and my hand is itching again to slam on this improbability drive…and soon I’ll have to pick where I want to be next. Will I live back in California? maybe New York? Maybe throw it all to hell and go to Paris and get to know my other family. Maybe run away to somewhere to the edge of the earth, maybe not. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Moving forward and changing is scary sometimes. Most of the times for me lately. I think I engaged so much into such an improbable life that I scared myself completely still. If 16 year old me would see me now she would be awed but very confused. She would reject this future but understand why I did it. I worked so hard not to be so impetuous, so improbable, to fit in, to “not be a problem” for my family, that I encased myself in a life I really was never bred for. Some people are born to be lovers. Some people are born to be parents, or artists or teachers or dentists, doctors and even marine biologists.

I was born to be this. An improbable, highly unlikely and ever moving infinite “drive” for lack of a better word. To be anything and everything in whatever quadrant of whichever galaxy I happen to pop-up in. Worrying about who I am and what I am supposed to be isn’t so farfetched now is it?

I think I’m coming to terms with it. I, like every lover, parent, artist, teacher, dentist, doctor and marine biologist; am different. The masses mix us up and blur the lines to make us all look the same. One big conglomeration of negatives. But the positives, the uniqueness of every being in this life and universe is, and always will be, different and truly good.

It takes courage to be yourself. To stand up and walk your own way. Make your own path, untraveled by anyone else prior. To not falter when even your closest loved ones deem you wrong, crazy or simply ignore you. But I’ve always said and truly believe that it takes real responsibility to admit and be yourself. No matter who follows and loves you because of it, no matter who you lose as you start down your own road. That courage is not lack of fear but the ability to go through something no matter how scared you are because you know it’s for the greater good.

The trick is really, truly finding out that being yourself is something towards the greater good, and that you just have to take that first step, and make sure, that the next foot follows. 

NYC Take Off - Night

Take Offs & Life Plans

I feel like I should always know where I am flying to. I guess lately I have been planning and taking so many trips I don’t even know where I am at this very moment. Sigh that’s my problem. I can’t live in the moment. I can’t savor and anchor myself on one emotion. I’m always late for something. Late to know what I’m going to be doing next, late in achieving my goals, late in making progress in life. Why can’t I just be happy with what I have? I mean, there are 7 billion something people. Not everyone is happy. Not everyone knows what to do. But still; here I am, 20,000 ft in the air and climbing and I feel like – I keep taking the wrong flight.

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Dealing With Stress – Or Really; The Ability to Stress About Anything

I swear if there is a day that goes by that I do not feel some anxiety for something I feel like a fucking queen who just saved an entire galaxy while delivering a million babies and then saved a kitten stuck up a tree.

I just have an extremely active mind. So active in fact that I make myself sick with worry, or even too much happiness. Like I can make myself feel faint just by getting too excited (it’s not funny). It’s annoying. The more I grow and become more and more myself the more energy I have and the less venues I have to let it out because I am busy being an adult working a job I don’t like and not creating anything I do like. Writing is one of the few things that help. Hence why I stopped what I was doing now and sat down to write.

I have been cleaning for 2 days and 1 night; and when I say cleaning I mean like “deep cleaning, throwing things out, rearranging furniture, scrubbing the floors on my knees, washing the walls” cleaning. I am leaving for about 24 or 25 days to Europe on Tuesday. This should be so fucking intense but it’s me…so automatically it becomes the equivalent of taking The Ring halfway up to Mordor.

I just want to make something extremely clear:

I know that the life I created for myself is something some people want; that I have almost nothing to complain about, that I have a lot of reasons to be happy and truthfully, there are a lot of things I am seriously happy about.

However, with my overactive mind, this type of lifestyle is killing me. I am able to keep up with all this mess I create for myself and not actually go insane but it isn’t completely “fixed” yet. I’ve been working a lot on myself these past 2 years. This last horrible break up has been a set back it’s true. I’d like to think that some of that humiliation did some good for me, kept me humble or something, but that isn’t the case. No one deserves that. No one at all actually.

Now I am just unhappy that I am even able to overwork myself to the point of collapse. To the point of freaking out so much my own body thinks there is something actually happening to feel sick about. I trick my self accidentally, physic myself out. This just adds to the stress and believe me, these past 2 years I have made leaps and bounds towards a much calmer me and it has gotten so much better overall. For example I am not really freaking out about the long plane rides I have to take. It’s annoying but I am not terrified. Yay!

Now this “Stress” or whatever is just an annoyance, whereas before I literally could not function. So; I am grateful for the work I put in and for the achievements I have made. It takes a lot to battle things that are your own. Everyone has their own faults, their own fears, their own self-made prisons. Some people never feel the effects, some people never have to face these things and some people succumb completely.

I truly commend everyone who is able to see that there is something not optimum within themselves and who make the enormous effort to begin a journey towards betterment. If everyone was able to find their answers and to become a greater, better version of themselves – this world would be utterly amazing. Even more than it is now.

So; I wrote this to calm my nerves a bit. It’s working slowly but surely. Not by best piece ever but it was really a means to an end. I have been in such a whirlwind my whole life it seems. Never really having a place to call mine. Not in CA, not in NYC, not anywhere. Even here in FL where I have most of my life set up it’s always unstable and “in the interim” and therefore, even though very nice and somewhat comfortable, never really completely satisfying, never a place where I can build something permanent. It’s just a “jumping off point”…and yet I never jump.

I have a full time day at work tomorrow handling all possible things that can go wrong before I leave (of course) and then somehow finish all the personal things I have to get done (like the packing I haven’t done for example) so that I can leave in one piece and arrive back to my county.

I just keep telling myself that. In less than 50 something hours I will in my own land. In my own city, in my very own street, in my own yard, my staircase. I will be where I used to call home.

And for me; that’s as close as I can get to “being home” right now.

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How You Could Do Such Things

My very last words to you were via text. You couldn’t even have the decency to speak face to face.

It was dark and I was walking back to the East side form god knows where.

Just do what you want all the time and don’t email or call me or text me that you had a revelation about us, about me or about what happened or that you’ll change

Not my finest writing but it was direct. It was what you deserved. You humiliated so many times. This time was the last.

Walking angrily through New York City streets with a torrent of tears gushing all over my face. The only city where you are surrounded and yet have almost complete privacy.

25 minutes later, I was still crying. I stayed at a friends. Long gone were the days of living together. My stuff was annoyingly confined to my carry on and the bottom corner of my friends tightly fitting bed in a small, shared apartment.

I no longer felt comfortable or longing in this city. I no longer cared that I would not be back home as much. I was angry. I am angry. NYC isn’t yours. I was there long before you were mine. Now I see you everywhere on every street and hide with my heart in my throat, terrified I will have to face you. Not knowing what I’ll do or how I’ll feel.

Every time my phone vibrates, stops for a couple of seconds loading a song, lags stuck on a screen, I think; “it’s him, he’s calling.” But it’s not you. It’s never you. You are following my command perfectly. And so you should.

Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I really wish I was blind, deaf and dumb and could just give in and crawl back to you and pretend I can be happy while you surely find other ways to mistreat our relationship and myself.

I know I can’t. I know I am going to destroy both of us if I come back. I know you are no different than before. You are no longer the epitomy of love, trust and care. You are – a liar.

I want to scream it over the rooftops and rip the blindfold from our “friends” eyes. No longer would you be able to walk around these streets acting as if I merely left you because we “fought too much”, no longer would people just casually shrug it off and move on as you publicly engage on someone else, repeatedly.

You came crawling back after you cheated and I stayed.

You came crawling back after, instead of trying to fix us and begin again, you slept casually with someone else.

You came back every so and so to check if I had changed my mind, but yet never did anything to change yourself or make up any of the damage caused that spurred this horrible breakup in the first place.

You came crawling back after the girl you were drooling all over for everyone to see rejected you after she made you think you almost had her. You deserved that, to be played like a fool as you do with me.

You came back when you achieved some great personal accomplishment you longed me to acknowledge and congratulate.

You always come back. But you come back selfishly. Never to help me. Never to love me. You just come back and with yourself, you bring more and more hell for me to stand through and run after.

I miss you. I miss you so much and then my mind pulls up all the stupid things you did, the stupid things you said, the overly incredibly selfish actions you shoved in my face. I don’t miss you then. I drown in a sense of guilt, for not being able to save you, to save us. I suppress the nausea I get from thinking of all the moments where you were or were trying to be with someone else. And I hate myself for caring. For acting like this is more important. Like there aren’t so many worse things in the world.

To think that we were brighter than the brightest sun. A perfect example. Now you’ve left me burnt out and dead, floating around in cold dark space, waiting to be eaten up by a merciful black hole. How dramatic and hopeless my life has been made for this. I daydream about the day when it stops. When it all just seems like a silly distant memory of a stupid man who was really just a boy and who broke me long ago; “I almost forget” I will say, almost fondly for what was good once and can only be vaguely recalled.

But an injustice IS an injustice.

And I will not be able to forget how you could do such things.

Trapped and Angry

It’s blazing hot outside. It’s been that way for 3 or 4 days now. No matter how hot it is I have this constant bone chill inside me. I wear sweaters, crack the windows in my office to let the hot air in, leave my AC off at home. I can’t seem to warm up. Even when I’m running I barely feel my blood pumping around gaining momentum and warmth. Nope; I’m cold. I feel numb. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to keep thinking about my decisions based on others. Based on friends whose job isn’t to support me, based on family that doesn’t get me, based on suitors who can’t convince me and a life I can’t cope with.

I feel disappointment. For someone who screamed and fought since the day I became coherent, about my independence, about my right to be alone and survive myself and not be dependent on anything or anyone…I am so heavily influenced by others. I can’t make a life decision for my own.

If I move back to NYC it’s hard and scary and my ex is there and I am tired and I feel like I’m moving there almost to prove him and everyone else involved wrong. Possibly to my detriment, financially and even spiritually.

If I move to the UK it’s on the agreement and shoulders of a new relationship I don’t feel I can have and would only make it even more evident that I can’t be independent and that my choices are defined and influenced by someone else. And if I go there because of a relationship it needs to be a relationship that leaves me free to do whatever I want and not worry about my survival…and that’s a hugely tall order to fill and almost impossible I am sure.

I hate it. I wish I didn’t care. That I was open to have other people to depend on. But, besides stubborn, I’m also selfish. If someone is going to help me then it can’t be 25%. If you’re going to “support me” then 100% do it. Make me not have to think or provide for anything.

And I know this is where I am wrong. But I haven’t been able to fix that in myself yet…just adding it to the list.

All these hits just make me more and more tired. I feel bruised and then get angry at myself for acting like a victim and complaining about a life that some people would literally cut their own arm off for. But I am unhappy. I am angry. I’m not going to suppress that. I’m tired and tired and tired. Of myself and everyone else and everything else. I’m not ready to give in. I know what I am doing to myself but I can’t just stop it cold. It makes it almost worse to just cut it. I hold on more ardently to this idea that I must do this alone and I must have everyone else stop.
I don’t even know what. I’m just angry and want everything to just fucking stop.

I want this job to stop making me angry at myself for not being happy, I want this life to stop being so double-edged, I want this stupid feeling of guilt for being unhappy to stop, I want these people I thought were my friends to stop being a sore subject for me, I want these life “options” and decisions to stop being so fucking upsetting, I want this rut to stop, I want my ex to stop pouring salt in my wounds, confusing me, not understanding I don’t trust him but wish I could so badly, I want my mind to stop remembering all the fucked up things that happened and that I have no idea how to even forgive, I want this life to stop and be different; to have some meaning again, to not feel guilty about complaining, to not feel sad I’m not where I thought I’d be, to not be angry at everyone like it’s their fault, to not think so badly of myself for “not dealing with the bad cards I’ve been handed”, to not be so angry that my life was rigged to become possibly shit and that I don’t get an award just for being where I am now. Yes I want an fucking award. Sorry.

I read a quote yesterday, “happiness is not the absence of problems. It is the ability to deal with them.

Well a lot of people have problems. Some a lot worse than others. I have problems, sure. Some people think some of mine are impossible to handle and yet they can handle the ones that destroy me. Everyone is different and has different points of view and values and degrees of importance on the same subject…but still, I am unhappy. I feel I am no longer able to deal with problems that have to do with me. I feel so angry I can’t even see clearly.

I have basically been building my own cell block.

But…I was just thinking; what if it’s always been there and I’m just simply seeing it happen now. What if I’ve been in this cell so long I forgot it was that?

Is that what it is? Am I simply seeing it now and gearing up for a jail break?

Because I realize that’s all I want.

I want to escape.