My Way

Chapter 1

I'm like a collection of paradoxes ... I almost never know how to be, nor how to feel.

I do know that everything makes more sense when the moon is out. I'm more aligned.. more aware. Not saying that I'm an emotional wreck in the morning and afternoon.. it's just when the moon is out.. my battles are being fought.. nevertheless, I've fallen for night time because during several episodes of my life.. I had to feel the most while the moon shined on me in order to survive the sun light.. only to do it all over again.

The moon...
Luna..
And me..
Lunatic.

I remember those moments when I use to dread the day that I'm over it. I'd dread that day because being over it is a bit tricky. On some occasions I thought I was completely over the past.. whether it was a friendship, or a situationship.. then it'll hit me like a fatal crash.. and my emotions go from being tamed to me trying to swim through a tsunami.
I nearly drowned in one once.. but the monster in me killed its power from breaking my bridge...

London.

I felt every bit of it, but it was okay because I got up everyday and I smiled so beautifully. I shined, and I was so hurt and did my absolute best to hide it. It never happened. I never knew him. He's dead to me.

Life was trying to resuscitate me, but I was too focused on killing a part of me. I wanted my heart to hollow. I wanted it to be made of rusted metal...you know the one when you're cut by it.. your bloodstream will be infected.. so that my chances of feeling would be comical because purity will never reach my heart.

And then...
I prayed... to freeze over. I was desperate. I needed a higher power to strengthen me. I needed to be the person I was before I met Joey... and it happened...

It happened after I went through the motions.
I completely shut down.

For weeks.. I wouldn't bulge. I wouldn't pick up my phone for anyone. I was strangely waiting for answers, but I was never going to get them... and once that registered..

I finally broke down and cried myself sick.
I remember floating in my own tears...
Every time I was fucked over came back to me and my cuts and bruises were once again revealed. It's like growing a scab to protect your flesh.. but like children.. we keep picking it and it becomes harder to heal. 

It stung to remember everything we had.. or what I thought we had. There were paper cuts pain along with thorns pushed halfway into my feet, and glass cuts all over me from where I was touched.

This is the part where I experienced grieving for someone that was alive and well.
And then I stood up.. and I walked away.

I could've ran through the trap with my woes.
I could've called my brothers to beat his ass.
I could've told the real gangsters to rob him for the couple of dollars he was trying to grow.

I took a different route and just dealt with it quietly.

Never-a-fucking-again!
And never will I ever look back.

Day by day I got better, and felt better. Once I started to feel like my normal self ... I had to constantly remind myself that I wasn't completely back for the simple reason that I was almost afraid to converse with guys I didn't know.
I'm completely traumatized, and it seems like it's going to take a lifetime for me to overcome certain things.

Nevertheless... everything was gonna be alright.