Panic attacks and excitement.

I had another dream about being back at home. I like to think that's a good sign. It means I've accepted it. At least the back of my mind has accepted it.
A part of me still panics from time to time. The other night I wanted to cry as I thought about leaving everything behind.
This is the right thing to do, though. I know it. Even if *I* don't know it my mind knows it.

Feeling springy.

YAAAAA LLEGO LA PRIMAVERAAAAAAAAAAA!

Oh. Wait. It's fall. My, my, aren't we getting ahead of ourselves? Maybe it's because my mind is all twisted. A part of my feels like I'm already living on Argentina time already. Then again... I also really, really love fall. This morning was chilly and it. was. awesome. Maybe that's why I'm in such a good mood.
Even though I have 5 huge pimples on my face. Even though the scale said I gained 2 pounds this morning. Even though I just had to pony up $100 for the electric bill (Wtf, I'm supposed to be saving money!) I'm feeling fantastic! I can do anything.
4 months. 4 months. 4 months. Yaaaayyyy!

The sounds of childhood/life.

Maria Elena Walsh.
Dad laughing like Gargamel while he put us to sleep with the same old stories about the Smurfs "Oooodio esos pituuuufos"
Fireworks at Christmas time.
Laughter at the dinner table. Every night.
The train or subte on the days I got to go to work with dad.
Mom talking to Little Bro in English.
The ring of the timbre in between class and recess, recess and class.
The songs from Chiquititas "Chufa chufa CHA!"
The crackle of the fire during winter.

That's what my childhood sounded like. They were beautiful sounds. It's hard to distinguish between the sounds of living in Buenos Aires, and the sounds of my infancy. Maybe they are the same. How much living did I do, though, in 12 years of childhood? Have I ever lived in Buenos Aires? I haven't, have I?
In 6 months time I intend to hear new sounds. The sounds of childhood will be sounds of living. Some may be the same sounds... but they won't be quite the same.

Listen to your heart.

I am a painfully logical person. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I make the right choices all the time. To be frank, I make mistakes more often than anyone I know. I over think things and overwhelm myself. I don't go with what feels right but with what makes sense in a completely impartial way. I don't worry about how things make me feel. I strictly base my actions on what looks good on paper. Don't you know it... that way of living has caused me more grief than happiness.
Now, I'm letting my heart make the decision. November makes my head happy. It feels more real. It's soon, therefore it's less overwhelming (because I don't have to wait, which my brain hates.) February is far away, and it feels like a fantasy. I lose another summer. I don't get a firework-laden Christmas. I have to work my crappy job for another 6 months. For some reason, though, my heart doesn't seem to know this. In my heart, the later date feels good. It gives me the comfort of time and order. I can do things more slowly. I can plan things better. I get to make a list and check things off.
November was all wrong. I didn't plan for it. It wasn't a "me" sort of decision.
My head thinks November is better, and it keeps trying to argue, but the warmth in my heart talks louder, and makes my mind's arguments more feeble by the second.
It still sucks. Both options have their cons. It seems like the cons of waiting are far too superficial to really matter, though.
6 months and counting. Things will be ok.

Speaking of tears...

I got stung by a bee this morning for the first time ever. It wasn't like one those "OMG POPPED MY BEE STING CHERRY <3" Nah, man, nah... It was more of "OHMYFREAKINGGOSHWHAT THEFRICKWASTHAT" and then I removed the stinger and death stomped that bee in the face!
Anyway... it's funny because just 3 months ago I woke up one morning, got ready for work and stepped outside to take Spazzpup to the bathroom. As I stood there groggily basking in the morning sun I heard a soft buzz. I looked up at the tree/bush/plant with flowers in front of me and saw it moving, even though there was no breeze. Looking closely I realized that at 7:30AM there they were: bees, dutifully working away with a sense of purpose. At that moment, I felt envious. I thought: I wish my life had purpose. That was the week of the decision.
Last night there were tears. The stress hit me. The realization that this move is going to cost a lot of money: Money I don't have. I freaked. I cried. I thought, "How am I going to do this?" Should I wait? Is November not plausible? Cue massive panic attack and a string of incoherent curse words.
Then this morning as I walked Spazzpup I let the fear wash over me as my mind reeled. I made a mental list of everything I need. I made a mental list of all I want. I thought of how I could make it happen by November. Then I got stung.
I stopped. I got the stinger out. I called my mom to see what I should do. Once I got that taken care of, I wondered: Is this a sign? Is this the universe telling me something?
That bee had a purpose but in a moment of irrational thought it stung me and died. If I leave in November, am I losing my stinger? Am I getting ahead of myself?
Then there's the other side: Am I making excuses? Am I letting fear lead my life again?
There's such a long list of pro's and con's on both sides. I need to make a decision.
What the hell are you saying, Universe???

Happiness is just a teardrop away.

Oh but if I had a fairy godmother, life would be oh so simple...
As usual, though, life is far from simple. It's the opposite of simple, really. So many tough choices, so many life changing decisions, so many chances for failure. Figuring things out took me a multitude of tears. It seems silly to measure my life by the number of tears I've cried but it's a great method of measurement when you're me.
I cry so, so, much. Butthole says when I feel an emotion I really get my moneys worth. I've cried so many times in working out my life. I can think of so many defining moments in my life in the past 10 years that ended up in tears. I have cried tears of sadness, fear, frustration, anger, shock, disillusion, despair, happiness and who knows how many more emotions... probably all of them.
This time, though, I think the tears will lead me somewhere. This choice I've made, this change I've decided upon, it has already made me cry. It took me many puffy-eyed mornings to get here, but here I am (and crying, of course.) There will be more crying before this is all over. I will be crying at the very end, I'm sure. But then... a wide-open door awaits, and through it: Happiness.
And as I measure my life in salty water spilling from my eyes I know with certainty that I will kiss good bye this life with tears of sadness and I will begin my new one with more tears. I will cross my fingers that they're tears of joy.
Still... I wouldn't turn down a fairy godmother.

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.

Normally, when Jewfriend posts "inspirational" quotes on Stalkbook I laugh in my head, roll my eyes, and scroll down. Today... today her quote makes me smile. It does take courage to become who I want to be. It may not be an exact reflection of what's going on my life, but it talks about courage. Courage is something I have finally found. Oh it feels good to have finally found (maybe grown!) the pair that I needed. It feels good to feel in control and in charge. Even if right now everything is more out of control than ever- I feel GOOD! The madness is my doing! What's going on in my life is finally a direct effect of my own decisions and it's great!
I'm coming home, everybody, so be ready.

So angry.

My family. They make me want to scream. I'm leaving in 6 months, though, and it's almost not worth the hassle... almost...
Phatty: SERIOUSLY?????? You took the night off to spend with ME? For MY birthday? And boo wah I didn't come out with YOU? Weird. Because I recall saying that I wasn't feeling well and that's why I wasn't going out. Not that I'm an asshole who doesn't care that you took the night off. I invited you to come spend time with me. You and me. ALONE. Chit-chat, treats, a movie, sister time. And what was your asnwer? "Oh, I want to go out with my friend" FUCK YOU. Fuck you so many times over.
You're the asshole. Shove your guilt trip up your ass. You're a bitch.

Will the grass be greener?

I need to make a decision for my life. I miss home but I'm scared that it's my dissatisfaction here making me crave something more.
I keep hoping someone else will make the decision for me. Someone being Butthole, as usual. The thing is: he chooses his life over me. That's fine. It hurts but I understand. Frankly, I wouldn't choose me either. I can't even figure out what to do with my life, who would want to take that on? What does that mean for me? Or for us?
Am I not ready to make a commitment? I love Butthole so much. So much. But I can't do that to him. I can't ask him to make the sacrifice to direct the course of MY life. I can't ask him to take a risk for me. I am the one who needs to man up and take charge. I am the one who controls my destiny. I need to go home. I need to live my life. Maybe in 10 years... Maybe he'll miss me. Maybe he'll want me... Maybe I'll be worth being wanted. Right now... I gotta do something, don't I?

A Wall.

I can see the space. I can feel the distance. I can touch the gap. Things will never be what they were. I want to believe he wants to forgive me but isn't ready. I'm not sure he wants to. I'm not sure he can at all. I think I broke us beyond repair. He can't say the words. I don't know if he feels them... probably not. The words feel dirty in my mouth. I can feel them in my heart, but when I want to say them it doesn't feel right. It feels like I don't deserve to say them. I don't know if he wants to hear them. He doesn't trust me. I can't forgive myself. I probably never will. I ruined the one shot at happiness. Sometime this summer... there's an expiration date. Everything that once was will be a memory. Everything that could have been will be a dream. Everything I did wrong will haunt me forever.

Ruin is the road to transformation.

It shouldn't be but in my case it is. I shouldn't have to destroy everything in my path order to learn the right way but such is life. I'm not going to trek across the rubble forever, though. I will build a new house. I am smart enough and strong enough to accept my flaws. I can love myself. I can be proud of who I am.

Words to accept and live by...

"Sometimes losing balance for love is necessary for a balanced life."

Love is a scary, scary thing. When you love someone entirely you risk getting hurt. Giving your heart away is like jumping into the ocean without a life vest. You have to trust someone to save you.
On that note: I am afraid.
I am scared to be happy too soon. I am scared to ask him to comfort me. I am scared to tell him I'm scared. I'm scared to find out maybe he's not right for me. I am scared to find out he doesn't love me. I am scared to trust him fully. I am scared to show him me. I am scared to ask him for help.
I want him to be the right guy. I feel like he is but I fear that the circumstances in my life will be too much of a burden to bear.
I have to not be afraid. But I am. I really don't want to get hurt. I am petrified I am not worth taking a risk.
I already broke everything, though. I should have been honest from the beginning. I wasn't. I was too scared and it ruined everything. Ruining it was not the way to go. I have to transform and I have to lose balance. I will have to think thoroughly before I speak and before I act. I have to ignore the fear. I have to take a leap of faith.
I really hope I don't hit the ground.

Living in a fantasy.

I let myself be disappointed. Let's face the truth.

Butthole is not sure I'm The One. He never has been. I want him to be sure. I am sure. Being the only person sure is lonely. I didn't want to be lonely so I've convinced myself that he is sure and doesn't know it yet. Butthole loves me now but he doesn't want to lose me so he won't admit he doesn't see me as "The One." I am scared to lose him so I don't accept that it's the case.

What do I do?

I want him to want to marry me. I want him to picture two rocking chairs by the fire. I want him to be sure.

He's none of those things.

What now?

Do I wait for him to change his mind? Do I believe his mind can change?

I'm scared. I want him to change his mind. I can't change it for him. He either loves me or he doesn't. He's either sure or he isn't.

Is "now" still enough for me? Is it just a delusion? Is fear still running my life?

There are always more questions than there are answers.

I can't worry about what he wants. I can't worry about how he feels. If he's sure or not, he's not confident enough to tell me either way. I can only worry about how I feel.

Do I really want to wait? Am I wasting my time?

Why do I feel like waiting? Why do I love him so much when he doesn't love me in the same way? Why can't I be OK with this? Why do I have to demand so much more?

Why can't I make up my mind on my own!?

Maybe I'm too consumed by The Thoughts That Give Me the Creeps.

I'm insecure. It makes me weak. It leaves me wondering: Do I love too much, or not enough? I want an answer.

The Fantasy: