For the most part February 14th is just another day for me. Even when I was in a relationship it was just whatever to me. Probably because I never really went on a real date on this day. But regardless, I was thinking about it earlier and I just don’t really care for this day at all. Maybe I’m misunderstanding this, but you should celebrate your relationship every day that you’re in it. Cherish it for what it is. You don’t need a specific day to celebrate it. I’ve concluded that as much as I want to get with Brooke, I don’t really give a shit that I’m single. It is what it is. If something comes of it, then so be it. I guess I just don’t have the patience anymore to deal with bullshit. Not saying that I think that being with her would be more trouble than it’s worth, but I’m literally fine with it if she’s not into me. I honestly have no idea where she stands, and I don’t necessarily care to know. If she comes onto me, then I’ll go with it. But if she doesn’t, I don’t really give a fuck. Life goes on, nothing changes. Maybe I’m just too apathetic, but I’m literally ok with not knowing.

Falling for someone I can’t get. That seems to be the story of my life. It’s tough, but it is what it is. You know what they say, “you can’t fight love.” Sometimes you just love who you love.

I’ve grown accustomed to it. I guess I’m as comfortable with it as I can get. I get hung up on a girl for a little while, but I eventually get over it, and move on. I mean getting with them is most likely a non-zero chance, but at some point you have to decide whether or not it’s worth spending time on. I’ve probably wasted my time on several, but there are several more that I barely even gave a chance. I mean, for one, I thought they were outta my league. But it doesn’t mean that it’ll never happen. You don’t know that until you try.

So that leads me to Brooke. She’s super cute, pretty, and seems like a good girl. The thing is, I work with her, and I barely know her at all. So am I just fantasizing? Is she worth pursuing? I mean, she no longer has a boyfriend. She’s open game, do I just flirt with her a little bit and find out what it is? Or do I just leave it alone entirely? Are we both just waiting on the other to make a move? I don’t want to jeopardize anything at work, so I guess I’ll just leave it alone. Move onto a different girl. I guess I’m still afraid of commitment. I’m not ready to be hurt so deeply again, so I guess I’m no longer willing to take any risks.

The perfect one. The one that you never should’ve let go. The one that got away. Everyone has one. For me, the first one was Katie. One of my sister Victoria’s best friends at the time. She had the illest crush on me for years and I knew it. The summer before I started dating my ex, I had a chance to get with her. She had her own personal nickname for me and she would flirt with me every chance she got. For years, I imagined that there was an alternate reality where we were a thing. But deep down I knew that it could never amount to anything after that point. I already had a girlfriend, and I didn’t want to ruin anything for my sister. Life would definitely have gone a different direction if I had gone with her. Maybe I’d be happier, maybe I would’ve found eternal love, maybe we’d even be married by now. But then again, maybe not. Who knows? This is over and done with. There is absolutely no chance of this ever happening especially considering she and my sister barely even talk anymore.

There have been many girls since. Like I’ve said, I tend to get caught up. In one way or another, these have all been failures that I have dwelled upon. Even the so-called successes have caveats although these are few and far between. Each subsequent crush following my breakup smelled more and more of desperation. Each additional failure caused me to spiral deeper and deeper into a cradle of lameness and awkwardness.

Until there reached a point in time where I finally started being “cool.” After the breakup I was borderline suicidal and as depressed as I’ve ever been. She broke up with me in the middle of June, right before my senior year. She told me that we needed to take a break, and that she’d let me know where we stood after a week. We didn’t even last the week… She said it was a long time coming and that after I physically harmed her twice that the whole year she had been falling out of love with me. She had held on in hopes that we could get past this. But my emotional instability was too taxing on her mental stability. She was trying to fix me because she loved me. But the only way to fix me was to listen and to stay back.

During the last 6 months or so of our relationship I had weekly appointments with one of the university’s mental health counselors. In these sessions I would admit unnecessary guilt and irrational anger. I had lost who I was, and somehow got caught up in the emotions. I no longer felt like I was in control. As tough a time as this was for me, it was likely even tougher for my ex. Nevertheless, the breakup happened, my heart was broken, I was devastated. Whatever. The first month after my heart was crushed was the hardest time of my life. I spent most nights crying myself to sleep. I refused to believe that this was real life. For months afterwards I denied that any of this had actually happened. Once I was finally able to acknowledge that I had indeed been dumped, I was able to really feel how deeply this wound hurt.

This is when I first turned to cigarettes, weed, and alcohol. My method of coping with the pain was to numb it, and it worked. I stopped feeling and eventually fell into a haze. Every week ended with drunken nights Thursday through Sunday. But guess what? Apparently heartbreak and substance abuse combine into a potent birthing ground for confidence. Who knew? Nothing really mattered to me anymore. I no longer had anything to live for. As such, I just didn’t give a fuck about looking like an idiot. Trying to function while high is difficult as fuck. That said, since I no longer really cared about other’s perceptions of me, I started going all out, all the time.

People always tell you that girls can smell desperation, and I don’t dispute this. But likewise, girls can smell confidence, and when you’re overflowing with it everything just falls in place without much effort on your part. Girls start talking to you, they start dancing with you. It’s all well and good, but if you have trouble closing, you have trouble closing, there’s no way around it. Confidence is not going to help you finally get laid, and it’s not going to get you a girlfriend. The first step, is a mixture of luck, fate, and confidence. The second part is all skill. Confidence will get you in the doorway, but it’s up to you to make it through.

This is coming from someone who’s failed so many times I’ve almost lost count. I’ve come across several situations where I’ve had it so well made that I “can’t possibly fuck up.” But guess what? I fucked it up in those situations. I’m not going to go into too much detail. This post is already too long as it is and I’ve been working on it for like a month and a half. It’s been so long that I don’t really even think about the girl that I had originally planned on writing this post about, but now that we’re already this far along, I might as well write about her.

This year at MIA, I met a cute, little, white girl from Temple University. The epitome of a PYT. I maybe danced with her for 45 minutes tops, but being that we were both rolling hard as fuck, I felt like we had a real connection. Apparently she had been looking at me for a while, and asked one of my friends if I was single. All things were a go at that point!

We started dancing with each other and talking, and I really felt wanted and admired for the first time in a while. She kept saying how cute I was and how attracted she was to me. I should’ve/could’ve/would’ve went home with her. If only I wasn’t such a fucking idiot. I had an in with her. All I had to do was say, “my friends and I are going to Coldplay now. Do you wanna come with?”

That’s it.

If I had said that, things would be different. But instead, I got confused when someone told me, “we have to go now. Are you coming alone, or do you want to bring her?” I said, “I’m coming alone.” I swear, you can’t let me make a decision when I’m intoxicated. I don’t know how to do things like a normal person. But alas, I really have no one to blame but myself. I wish things had worked out, but I gotta live with the reality.

I still think about her sometimes (not as often as I did when I first started writing this post). Hoping, wishing, longing that I had gotten her number, gone home with her, taken a picture of her. ANYTHING. But sadly, I’ve lost her to the world. Her name is Victoria, and she was a senior at Temple University. That’s all I know about her. That’s probably all I’ll ever know. Of course, I’ll keep my ear to the ground, but what are the chances of meeting her again? Slim to none. But one can hope right?

Eventually, I’ll meet someone who sweeps me off my feet, who loves me and shows me how to love. I know, trust, and believe that it will happen. When will it happen? Who will it be? Who knows? But one has to keep living, hoping to find the one right? Cause honestly, what’s really the point of living if you’re not seeking out love? You can have money, a great job, a dog, a lot of friends, but it’s all meaningless if you don’t have someone to share it with.

I’ve been told that I need a hobby. I’ve also been told that I’m good at writing, so here I am, back to blogging I guess. To be honest, reading and writing is something that I enjoy, but never get enough time to do. Or rather, I never set aside time to do. I mean there’s Netflix, videogames, getting turnt, hanging out with friends, attempting to talk to girls, plenty of things that just seem much more appealing visually. It’d be fair to say that reading/writing is generally more mentally stimulating, but in a way words are just words. No excuses though! I’m going to try to write at least one post a week. I don’t expect anyone to read it, but I don’t give a fuck, it gives me something to do. Takes my mind off of shit. It’ll be relaxing. This is for me. So here goes. Hello Tumblr WordPress. I’m back!

One of the reasons why I’m so skinny is because sometimes I punish myself by starving myself. I’ve never told this to anyone cause it’s rather depressing. It’s like some days the struggle is so real, and I feel so sorry for myself that I tell myself that I’m so shitty that I don’t deserve to eat. This is a remnant of the depression and emotional insecurity that I’ve been through in my life. Everyone has their own struggles, everyone has their own vices. For the longest time, mine was having confidence in myself. I never truly felt my self worth until just a few years ago. I discovered it, and I’ve never been happier. But life does not and will not ever come without its struggles. Some days are harder than others, and on these tougher days I almost fall back into relapse, however I remember that I CANNOT let myself wallow or fall back into this pit of despair.

I was always a shy kid. Never one to raise my hand in class. I mostly only spoke when spoken to. I was, am, and always will be AWKWARD AS FUCK. That’s just the reality. For the first 20 or so years of my life I didn’t know how the real world worked. I thought you could rush love, rush relationships, blah blah blah, bullshit bullshit. As such, I always came on way too strong. Frankly, in middle school and high school I was a fucking creep. I couldn’t understand why girls didn’t like me, and why I didn’t have more friends. The good honest truth is that I never really put myself out there. I stupidly assumed that if someone was interested in me they would approach me. Every time I think back to my old life I ask myself, “how was I always such a fucking idiot?”

Well anyway, long story short, at some point between 8th grade and 9th grade I fell into major depression. The reason(s) why isn’t important at this moment, I’ll probably expand on that at some point down the road. I guess you could say I lived in a fairy tale. Deep down I believed in love at first sight, soulmates, everlasting unconditional love; basically every single cliche about love in existence. It’s safe to say I don’t believe in any of that shit anymore. I’ve become a cynical bastard.

Love ends. Relationships end. Friendships end. It’s inevitable. Maybe you’ll have two good years together, maybe you’ll have 30, 40, 50+, but it will end. Most likely with death. That’s the grim truth. But that’s just it. You can’t rely on anyone but yourself. You might have the most trustworthy or reliable friends, but at some point everyone is going to let you down in some way, shape, or form.

I wouldn’t necessarily say I learned this the hard way, but I did learn my lessons through experience. I guess the most important lesson I’ve ever learned is that I was trying too hard to find love. Girls can smell desperateness. It’s a huge turnoff. But let’s be clear, being desperate and being thirsty are not the same thing. I mean sure, they’re similar and they can overlap, but they are not synonymous. I should know, I’ve been both. In my desperation I would completely fuck things up by moving way too fast and came across way too strong. I’d try to talk to or IM girls when we barely had any sort of connection. We’d maybe exchange three words, and I’d be like “GODDAMN. IT’S A GO!” and I would try to see where I could go with it (HINT: It never went anywhere). Straight up I was a delusional motherfucker.

When it comes down to it, I just never really put in any of the work tbh. I always ended up skipping too many steps to even qualify this as laying the groundwork. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Many people have said that over the years, but truer words have never been said when describing someone. I don’t like girls, I don’t have crushes. Either I’m not interested, I’m attracted, or I’m in love. Emotions run high with this one. I have high highs, and low lows. When I get to know a girl for a short period of time, I start to think of what life would be like with her. I try not to, but I can’t help it. I get hung up on everybody.  A girl shows me attention, and I think about marrying her. Here are some egregious examples: I once told a girl who I’d been hanging out with for about a week or two weeks that I was “starting to fall in love with her;” I IM’ed a girl to tell her that I loved her (we were barely friends); I looked up a girl’s number in the town directory, called her house, asked to speak to her, then I fucking pussed out, and hung up; I told one of my sister’s friends that I barely knew and barely talked to that, “I like you and want to get to know you better;” the list goes on and on.

I’ve gotten better over the years, but like I said, I’m still awkward as fuck. Looking back I shouldn’t be surprised that I couldn’t get a girl. I was fucking up left and right. I still do. I honestly couldn’t tell you how I managed to get someone to date me for almost two years. It’s still shocking to me even three years after it fizzled out. I’ve changed a lot since then. I have all the confidence in the world, and I’m absolutely shameless now. I no longer give a shit if I make a fool of myself. Weed taught me better. Molly taught me how to dance.

The last two years I’ve come into my own. I’ve actually had girls come my way. But as you all know, I still can’t fucking close. I still manage to fuck it up. It’s hilarious now though. It’s different when you fuck up with someone who’s attracted to you. It all started last year at MIA when a girl asked me for my number. I was so thrown aback that I said, “What? Are you talking to me?” She replied with, “yeah. Can I have your number?” Now here’s the kicker. I followed up, “wait. Why?” Dead ass, I said “wait why.” Apparently she wanted to hang out with me. At that point, even after I fucked it up, I could’ve salvaged it, but guess what? I fucked up again, and input my phone number incorrectly! It’s funny thinking back on this, but sometimes I still think about her. What would’ve happened if we had hung out on Day 2? Would we have hooked up? Would we be friends? Would we be lovers? Who knows? One can speculate, but one will never know. This type of shit has happened multiple times since then, but nothing with any success except for one. You’d have to think that eventually I’d get my shit together and get it right? Well, here’s to hoping.

College changes you. That’s what you’re told in elementary school, middle school, and especially high school. But it isn’t until after you finish college that you realize how much you have changed. It’s hard to pinpoint when exactly you became the person that you are now, because there generally isn’t just one singular event that molds you into the person you become. For me, there were two catalysts for change: one positive and one negative. The first happened in my sophomore year when I took my second women’s studies course. The second, was when I found love and lost it.

To be honest, I was very stubborn and close-minded in high school. Growing up in a Christian family will do that sometimes. I was stuck in my ways, living life solely through the way that I was taught. I did not have the courage to take the initiative to learn my own values through living life. I guess I could say I didn’t know better, but ignorance is not a good excuse for being close-minded and judgmental. College, really is a place where you can learn to be your own person. Learning through self-discovery, as I found out, typically leads to a better quality of life. This is the fundamental value behind who I am now. It’s always best to keep your mind open and not limit your options. As such, I have become somewhat of a free spirit. Always down to hang, always down for whatever.

As a kid, I was always a worrier. I still am sometimes, causing unnecessary stress. But on the other hand, I am also extremely apathetic and lazy. As such, I am constantly fraught with inner struggle. Teenage angst was a defining characteristic for me. Naturally I’m shy, but at the same time I’ve always been an attention seeker. I actively sought out drama, although I never would’ve admitted it at the time. Tightly wound and stuck in my ways.

With age and experience comes maturity, and as I matured, my mind started to open. As my mind opened up, so did my propensity for fun. Looking for the easy way out, I turned to drugs, which never would’ve happened without the second event. Heartbreak, in my opinion is one of the most difficult circumstances to deal with. Each person copes with heartache differently. At some point during the relationship I began to severely question my faith, which led to some difficulties and many arguments. Which was sort of a blessing in disguise. I never would’ve evolved and grown into the man I am today without it. In order to get over the loss, I needed a way to become confident in myself for perhaps the first time in my life. I eventually realized that I had lost all conviction in my faith, and this was no longer an important aspect of my life. I fell victim to my own addictive nature, and got caught up with smoking cigarettes and weed. The only way I knew how to deal with my problems was to run away from them, and this was precisely that. Instead of physically running away, I found a way to run away mentally. This was now my escape.

As bad as it sounds, I am not ashamed of being a druggie. I guess that’s what you call someone who lives for the turn up. Sometimes it’s refreshing to take a step back from reality, and just forget everything. The best way I know how to deal with a long week, is to have an even longer weekend. “Big boy days, big boy nights,” as one of my coworkers would say. It started off innocently, but it eventually became part of my culture.

So yesterday, I tried acid for the first time. It was definitely an interesting experience, albeit intense and exhausting. And not something that I intend to try ever again. Being trapped in my head for that long is rather unnerving. When it first started to kick in it felt like my brain started to float up into the sky, and it felt like I was high. My vision started to blur and I lost the majority of my peripheral vision. While my peripherals dampened, my vision started to heighten, as did my sense of smell. My hearing both heightened and dampened at the same time, while my sense of touch lowered significantly. It became difficult for me to turn my head. It felt heavy, as if I was wearing a tight helmet.

A common belief is that LSD will temporarily deteriorate your brain into that of a baby, and I would have to say that this is a rather accurate description. I started looking at my hands like they were foreign objects and noticed minute details and lines that I hadn’t noticed before. About an hour and a half into the trip the walls started to melt and breathe. It became hard to clearly articulate my thoughts to other people as it was nearly impossible to think when my mind was already racing 100 mph.

I first popped the tab at 3, and for about 4 hours I was tripping the fuck out. It’s rather difficult to fully explain what it feels like to be tripping on acid so please note that the next paragraph will be rather disjointed.

I found myself squatting down to pour water into a glass (twice). I was randomly rolling on the floor for half an hour. I would walk back and forth in circles or just stop in random places. People would tell me things and I wouldn’t be able to tell if it actually happened or not. When I tried to read, the words would start swimming and it would be hard for me to concentrate. I was worried that my heart would burst at times, because I could feel the vibration of the music deep in my chest. But the coolest part was that I felt like I could see sound waves emitting from the speakers. At one point I started looking at the room from the eyes of a newborn, everything looked new to me. At one point I was brought outside and I saw a dog, and I asked, “what is that creature?” as if it was a new thing that I’ve never seen before. Throughout the day I would see different colors and patterns. When I took a shit, it felt like I had relieved myself of a demon. I thought I saw different spots and blemishes in walls and such turn into insects and come alive. Sometimes when someone called my name from another room and I moved towards them through the doorway it felt like I was traversing through a membrane.

The main thing with LSD is that it comes in waves, each subsequent one is weaker than the previous one. There will be a moment where you’re tripping balls, then the next you feel like you’re normal, but it’ll rinse and repeat until it’s out of your system. Time will feel like it slow downs and speeds up. Acid is a window into the brain in a way, as it reveals the darker, more complex aspects of the brain. Three thoughts kept reoccurring: did I actually take the acid, “why am I so fucked up? I shouldn’t be this fucked up. I feel guilty,” and I can do whatever I want and there will be no consequence.

We ended the night by going to Fort Totten to take a look at the scenery surrounding the Throg’s Neck Bridge. I was extremely tripped out by the vegetation in this area, and when we crossed the landbridge I was able to make out the texture of each rock. We also ended up crossing the footbridge above the Cross Island Parkway. It was surreal watching speeding cars passing by right under us looking like a photo taken using high shutter speed. Just think of the scene in GTA V where Michael’s son slips him a tab.

All in all, it was a fun experience and definitely interesting and different. But, it is not something I would like to explore more than once in a lifetime. My conscious brain is crazy and weird enough as it is, where I do not feel the need to explore the more primal side of it. There were three negative side effects that I observed that have convinced me not to try this again. First, as this is a rather long lasting drug, it becomes an all day event, and since your brain is constantly running for 6-12 hours straight without rest, it becomes incredibly difficult to sleep. I tried to go to sleep at 11:15, but I fell into a semi-conscious trance where I would keep seeing lights and patterns. At some point between then and 4:30 I fell into real REM sleep, however, the time and quality of it was not good. The second thing I noticed was that I felt like I wasn’t in control, especially since it kept coming in waves. Unlike weed, alcohol, and molly, LSD is not a drug that you can try to sleep off. Sleep is literally the only thing that you can’t do. Your only option is to wait it out. But perhaps the most annoying thing was an antsiness that I felt in my arms, especially in my left shoulder. It was almost as if I had a phantom arm that I couldn’t move. It was strange, and as a result it was difficult for me to get comfortable.

I personally am extremely sensitive to drugs of any sort including caffeine, alcohol, and nicotine, but I’m not going to tell anyone not to try LSD or to take my word for it. It’s up to the individual to make that choice. Drugs will affect each person in a different way. You’ll never know for sure what it’ll be like unless you try it, however, I can say that there are certain movies that depict the effects very accurately.  Just think of A$AP Mob’s Yamborghini High. That shit is trippy as fuck and basically exactly what I saw yesterday.