Letter to my German Lover

Dear N,
Do you know how it felt that first time we kissed?

I wasn’t dressed to impress that day. I was just trying to have a good time with my friends. I had given up looking for romance on that very day. And there you were all of a sudden. Next to me, flirting with me. And there I was flirting with you. One thing led to another and we stood outside of my friend’s house.

I walked backwards on the lawn away from you as you slowly followed, only a foot’s distance between us. I smiled at you and you grabbed me and kissed me… And there we were, kissing in the October moonlight, oblivious to the hooting and hollering of my friends as they caught up to us and suddenly realized what we were doing.

We kissed, I bit your lip, and you were a bit surprised. You then grabbed me harder. You loved it. I loved it. It was a beautiful moment. A wonderful memory. The memories we made after this day are glorious too. But, the first day we met is my most cherished memory.

I woke up the next day, next to you and we talked for what seemed like hours. Your accent a delicious sound. Your jokes and sense of humor, a sexy surprise.

We had many more mornings, many more talks. But, you are back in Germany now, and I am here in the same place, but without you. What we had only lasted three months. But, I would not change a thing.

Thank you, the little time we had was as precious as gold. You changed my perspective on so many levels. I may not love-love you, that is something I can’t do so easily. But, I love you in a sense. I love your personality, your accent, the way you treated me, the way you touched me, the way you made my deepest desires come true without me even asking. What we shared was beautiful. I hope one day I feel and experience what we had again. But if I don’t, I am content with with the memories of the moments we shared.

Auf Wiedersehen meinen deutschen Liebhaber.


Update: Before Cancun

A week before my trip to Cancun i had some affairs to attend to. I had to find a place to live in for the upcoming school year near my university. I had to sign up for classes and I had to figure out some not so great things that pertained to my education.

First of all. My grades the year before… Terrible. To the point where I was on academic suspension. So picking out classes was a no go. I didn’t know how to tell my parents. So I decided to just wing it and pretend as if I was still enrolled. I found a place to live in. I got a year long lease. I felt horrible, I wanted to throw up every time I thought about it. I am a horrible person. I am a coward. That’s all I could think.

At one point my mother sat me down at our dining table. My sisters sat next to her. This was serious. She stunned me with the news that she knew about my life at college. She knew about me losing my virginity. She knew about me drinking. She knew about me smoking. How did she know? My sisters had managed to find themselves a way into my Facebook, Twitter, and private messages. When was this? Six months before the day she admitted she knew. She, and my whole family knew about this for a half year and never said a word about it. I was not scolded or shouted at or even grounded. All she said was that I was an adult I could do whatever I wanted. She had done her job up until the moment I left for college.

I was so shocked about the whole conversation. I was in denial that it had even happened. I thought I had dreamt it…

Pardon my French…

I just fucking finished reading The Fault in Our Stars. I feel like I can do so many things with my life.

As cheesy as it sounds. It is a fucking inspirational book. John Green managed to not only write a popular book about teens with cancer, but was also able to integrate love, laughter, and joy into every paragraph and character. Even the dreadful character Van Houton. I could not bring myself to hate him, because he was not a bad guy. And he was definitely not written as a bad guy, because even Hazel did not hate him. She appreciated him and his blunt honesty. For seeing her for what she was. A sick and dying kid, who deserved no special privilege from himself, or as they call it, cancer perks.

Oh boy. How can a human being write such beautiful words? How can John Green, this mere human create such an inspiring piece? Now I am sure I can find, and will, and even have read better books. But for now I revel in bliss. Because today I finished reading the most magnificent book. I have not read a book like this in a while. A book full of sadness, that laughed at sadness, that laughed with sadness.
Every character had a life. John green doesn’t seem to use filler characters. He is a genius! Motherfucking genius!

Now please excuse my filthy mouth. For you see I’m an impolite 22 year old female still in college. I’ll hopefully be more well behaved in the future… Or not. We’ll see. Today I revel in John Green’s written words with my own choice words!.

Update: What Does Summer Feel Like With a Broken Heart? Pt. 2

Hermit Comes Out of the Shell
Reading heartbreak/relationship books helped me enough to start eating again. Enough to believe I was important to someone. I was important to me. My depression was based off of insecurities. I started to read blogs, articles, and books that helped me slowly unknot each of those insecurities.

The Internet saved me.

I began spending time outside in the sun. Trying to build a tan on my pale pale skin (I’m Mexican…). I also had a family trip to Cancun I was looking forward to! I was slowly becoming a person again.

My broken pieces became/are becoming a slow yet seemingly solvable puzzle.

Update: What Does Summer Feel Like With a Broken Heart? Pt. 1

Soooo I left off around early summer in my last post. What did I do after that post?

The Summer Hermit
I stayed in my room mostly. I was depressed. Lonely, yet surrounded by family. I figured out how to open those wine bottles and I got tipsy all by my lonesome in my room. I began reading things like “Why Men Love Bitches” “He’s Just Not That Into You” and other breakup/relationship books it, helped. I had gotten into a really messy “relationship” with this guy from October until May. I was a wreck. It got to the point where I had suicidal thoughts and I was afraid I would do something stupid.

Christmas Eve Blues

Hello! Here I am sitting in my room. I’m supposed to be getting ready. But instead I decided to write. I am in a certain mood. Everything seems so cheerful. My whole house is decorated in cheery Christmas decorations. It’s beautiful.
The Problem:
I miss my friends from college. I just want to spend the day with them. My family is great. But I can’t be myself around them. But I love them.
Cue sad song… This is my dilemma…
So here I am sitting in my room. Thinking about wanting to be sad. Does that make sense? I am thinking about wanting to be sad. I am trying to figure out which spotify playlist has the saddest songs. Which sad stories I can read. I am in the mood to feel sad. Oh, lord, something is wrong with me.

Instead I decided to write some updates on my blog. Trying to fill the gaps of time from my last post until now. I’ll release those starting the 26th.

I guess I should get ready. This has been very therapeutic. Thanks Internet for all you do for me. Have a great Christmas Eve everyone!

Hipster Finds Lifestyle Too Expensive, Reverts to Mainstream


Lettuce Fold

HipsterASHEVILLE, NC — Derek Loy has been living the hipster lifestyle for the past two years, but after his bank account began to dwindle, he reverted to mainstream customs.

“I tried my best,” said Loy, “I really did. I was juicing regularly, eating local and organic, and was doing my best to only drink craft beer. Unfortunately, my bank account just couldn’t handle hipster living.”

Loy said the added stress on his bank account caused him to revert to a more conventional lifestyle, that he enjoyed in his pre-hipster years.

“All the stuff I was doing was great. Kale salads and IPA’s are delicious, but you know what’s also fantastic: cheap stuff. Bud light, frozen chicken and pizza, Coke. Was I saving a lot of money on clothes? Absolutely. I mean, I was buying stuff from thrift stores that homeless people probably wouldn’t wear. And, because I rarely showered, my water…

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