Diary,
I am sitting on a bench on the Braddock Metro Station. The skies are still gray. It shouldnt surprise me, however, they still do. These gray skies, can there be any beauty in them? I stare at the many faces in the metro and cant help but wonder. what are they thinking of? What do they see in me? It's amazing how writing in a desolate bench can help sort out my feelings. Life here in D.C. has clearly taught me to be more independent. I am alone here, without my family, my friends, my boyfriend...or so it seems soon to be ex boyfriend (yes, I told him about the Kiss). It seems that within these solitary moments, I have gotten a glimpse of what my life would be out here in the open, in the unknown.
I have known myself more than I did before. I responded and did certain things, that I probably would never have done in Puerto Rico. The weird work relationship with Ulysses is probably one of them. Hanging out with him and other friends till the early hours of the morning drinking wine and talking about film making...and all sorts of makings.
If anyone from my home would catch a view of this new me, would they recognize me? In a few days I will return and its strange how home to me is D.C. Home to me is now snow, ice, Cherry Blossoms, Politics, blackmail, media, kissing Ulysses. It makes you wonder where was God in all of this? He was never to far for me to hear, but I do recall closing the door. I guess, too ashamed to hear myself pray.
Which version of myself do I want to keep? Oops...lots of movement from the metro. I hate it how its almost always underground. Brings out the claustrophobic in me... The Metro Diaries... has potential.
What if this was really me all along? What if always innocent "me" was just a cover up? I am coming home diary, but what am I coming home to? I keep remembering Ulysses last night. How he wanted to hold me and touch the curls in my hair. He didnt want to let go, and all along he kept saying how much he will miss me. He said "Dont go, I want to be with you". His eyes, something I will always miss. His eyes are different, they look at me differently. Like an artist he sees me strong, willful, beautiful... not like Jared who thinks I'm a wilted flower.
Even for all his words, I cant seem to see myself with neither of them. No Jared, no Ulysses. I just see myself for this time, and I know it might seem careless, cold and cruel. But it's me for now. I let Ulysses go, without a kiss...he looked with so much longing. But I didnt respond. Tomorow, I am coming home. Diary, tell me, what awaits for me tomorow?
Sincerely,
ArwenLyn
I am sitting on a bench on the Braddock Metro Station. The skies are still gray. It shouldnt surprise me, however, they still do. These gray skies, can there be any beauty in them? I stare at the many faces in the metro and cant help but wonder. what are they thinking of? What do they see in me? It's amazing how writing in a desolate bench can help sort out my feelings. Life here in D.C. has clearly taught me to be more independent. I am alone here, without my family, my friends, my boyfriend...or so it seems soon to be ex boyfriend (yes, I told him about the Kiss). It seems that within these solitary moments, I have gotten a glimpse of what my life would be out here in the open, in the unknown.
I have known myself more than I did before. I responded and did certain things, that I probably would never have done in Puerto Rico. The weird work relationship with Ulysses is probably one of them. Hanging out with him and other friends till the early hours of the morning drinking wine and talking about film making...and all sorts of makings.
If anyone from my home would catch a view of this new me, would they recognize me? In a few days I will return and its strange how home to me is D.C. Home to me is now snow, ice, Cherry Blossoms, Politics, blackmail, media, kissing Ulysses. It makes you wonder where was God in all of this? He was never to far for me to hear, but I do recall closing the door. I guess, too ashamed to hear myself pray.
Which version of myself do I want to keep? Oops...lots of movement from the metro. I hate it how its almost always underground. Brings out the claustrophobic in me... The Metro Diaries... has potential.
What if this was really me all along? What if always innocent "me" was just a cover up? I am coming home diary, but what am I coming home to? I keep remembering Ulysses last night. How he wanted to hold me and touch the curls in my hair. He didnt want to let go, and all along he kept saying how much he will miss me. He said "Dont go, I want to be with you". His eyes, something I will always miss. His eyes are different, they look at me differently. Like an artist he sees me strong, willful, beautiful... not like Jared who thinks I'm a wilted flower.
Even for all his words, I cant seem to see myself with neither of them. No Jared, no Ulysses. I just see myself for this time, and I know it might seem careless, cold and cruel. But it's me for now. I let Ulysses go, without a kiss...he looked with so much longing. But I didnt respond. Tomorow, I am coming home. Diary, tell me, what awaits for me tomorow?
Sincerely,
ArwenLyn
Me gusta! Me hace imaginarme todo y sentir lo que tal vez sentias cuando lo escribiste. :^)
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