“4 am” by Kaskade was playing in the radio.
It alluded so many memories from seven years ago.
She remembers how far she’s come.
Past loves, past life, past memories were all behind her.
She’s finally reached the temple.
On top of the mountain, she looks on to the sunrise and sings,
Dreams are shining.
Finally they’re within reach.
The question I’ve been asking myself lately:
Why do I waste my time for people who don’t value my effort to get in touch with them?
Why should I pursue them to fill the ‘void’ of emptiness inside me?
Do I really need friends?”
Indeed, “No man is an island.” However, it is possible that you can be your own man in your own island. Besides, at the end of the day, who can solve all your problems? Sure, you look for guidance in God or for what religion you believe in, but who fixes it all in the end? You, not your parents, not your friends, no one else, but you.
You are your own hero. Do we have to wait for someone to motivate us to change? Do we need to find someone to fill that void we feel inside? Do we have to be around people to make us happy? Of course not! Change should start within us. Hope should blossom in ourselves. We should find happiness in ourselves because it’s permanent and it’s stable.
All of this that I have mentioned, came to me in one, quick blow while I was showering this morning. It felt like it was a revelation initiated by an invisible baseball bat that made me break from what I previously believed in: I need friends because they make me happy. In that moment, in the shower, I felt like I was indeed all on my own:
I am my own best friend,
I am my own hero,
It’s me against the world.
Although, you might think I’m skeptical and distrustful of people, you’re wrong. I know there is good in people, but I can’t rely on anyone to be in their good side all the time. I can’t rely on anyone to be by my side when the tides of darkness suddenly comes hurling in my life. I need to stand – fully armed and head strong – when things get rough. If someone is next to me, then I’ll be happy, but I won’t require an army of ‘nobody’ to stand there with me, because it only takes one person to finish it. It’s my problem, it’s my life and it’s all mine.
Before I end this post, I want to make an oath to myself:
I, Khristine, promises myself that I am perfectly happy with or without any friends. I am fully accepting that I cannot convince everybody to be my friend. I am no longer seeking for people to fill the empty void inside me. I take full responsibility in providing love, security, happiness and hope for myself. Finally, I am going to accept my imperfections for being an insufficient friend to some and start establishing friendship with myself even if it takes a
thousandmillion tries.
This is the beginning of a new friendship with me 😀
I have been depressed for the past few days and I think yesterday’s post revealed that I was in my lowest point. Miraculously, somehow, I woke up today with a bit more optimistic look in my life and it seemed as if I literally woke up from a nightmare.
Last night, my dream revealed my deepest fear -something I have been hiding for quite some time now. I thought I’ve locked it somewhere safe, but apparently, it managed to sneak out. My deepest fear- which I think is utterly ugly- is the thought that Ricky might cheat on me. I dreamt of him as someone who resembled my first ex-boyfriend, Dave. It was as if Ricky and Dave was battling to be someone in my dream: Ricky’s calm persona switching to the douche-know-it-all Dave, all at the same time. Although, I knew that I was talking to Ricky because I remember asking who he was talking to and I immediately speculated that he was lying based on his nervous response “It’s nothing. It’s just… Zach, I…um I gotta take this outside.” Immediately, I saw a copy of his phone (I was dreaming!) blinking next to me because a text message arrived. I saw the contacts in his phone- each with an alias name- something that he has done to all his contacts in real life: He calls me “Crazy Bitch” instead of Khristine and “Big Poppa” instead of Zach. Well, in my dream, I saw different names and pet names of people. I wanted to open all his messages so bad, but his phone immediately locked itself. I began to wonder, “He never locked his phone and now he does.” This thought motivated me to speculate on Ricky. I tried opening his phone with my own code, but it didn’t open. I decided to catch Ricky’s act of cheating by waiting for another text message to arrive, so that the phone will unlock itself again, thereby allowing me to read everything. Unfortunately, in my dismay, I woke up- very nervous.
However, there was a small pause, almost like a porthole to reality that led me to believe that I was dreaming. I felt like I was in heaven, among the clouds and I was about to enter reality when it happened- I was repeating what I said from my previous blog post: ““I feel so ugly” and “I hate myself… why do I have to be like this.” Somehow, in that moment, (which I would coin as lucid dreaming) I wanted to make myself realize how my insecurities are starting to take a toll in my life. My insecurity of feeling worthless has led me to question my trust with Ricky. I recognize the same insecurities I had when I was dating Dave. Dave cheated on me with a girl whom he thinks was better than me, because I was insecure with myself, which he found undesirable. Subconsciously, my mind was trying to open my eyes by leading me into a nightmare- it was making me feel that same heart-wrenching poison of finding out that I’ve been cheated on. Despite the crazy dream, I realized that if I continue being insecure and being depressed, my insecurities might repeat history.
And so… I woke up and I was further slapped by an interview I’ve watched in Access Hollywood with Carol Burnett. She quoted her deceased daughter who died of cancer:
“One day, the nurse asked her [Burnett’s daughter], ‘Why are you so happy all the time despite all that has happened to you?”
“Every time I wake up, I decided to love myself,” responded Burnett’s daughter.
It was right there and then that hit me in the face. That girl died of cancer, yet she loved every bit of herself. She had so much optimism, despite the drugs and all that she has done in the past. I looked at myself and I felt ashamed for letting myself down too much.
She was dying of cancer and I bet the chemo was turning her physically different, but she still loved every bit of herself. That’s true love right there.
I believe that insecurity is the ugliest thing that can make a girl undesirable. Forget not wearing make-up. Real beauty is found in the inside and if a girl does not realize her own worth and her own unique beauty, then a man will never hold on to her. He would rather be with a girl who doesn’t wear make-up but she is content in her own skin and she is happy with her life whether it’s shitty or not. I want to respect myself and forgive myself for all the things I lack. I’m not perfect and I accept that. I want to be contented with what I have and make the most out of it. I believe that my life is beautiful and that I am truly blessed to have a chance to live and try again. I didn’t know how my mind saved me, but it triggered me to do something with my life. I know I’ll be depressed again, but hopefully I can go back to this moment and come out even stronger.
[Image taken from Che Magazine”
I don’t know why I’m publishing this. It’s probably because I have this urge, this desire of wanting to know someone’s opinion other than Ricky’s. I want to know someone’s perspective on this, besides someone I know. I want to know if I’m alright… in the head.
Well, you see, I’m quite a freak in bed. Despite my angelic face and my almost innocent appearance, I am a sex beast inside.I hate to admit it, but I love sex so much. It’s like my addiction. If I don’t get it, I get really, really…. REALLY pissed off.
Anyways, my freakiness doesn’t involve so much about, you know the usual, whips, chains and hand cuffs. Rather, I’m more into role playing. I’ve got a clear and vivid imagination you see… it goes so well with having to hit that climax. The type of role play I love doesn’t involve the cliche doctor- nurse or student-teacher affair. It goes way beyond than that. It goes way freakier and a lot more … stranger.
Okay, so, what I’m about to say is that I’m a freak and I only get to be this freak, sex-craved woman when I’m in bed; but not when I’m not horny. Therefore, don’t judge me! I know you all out there have weird fetishes and weird sex preferences, but for me, it’s kind of way out of this world.
Alright. Let me get straight to the point. Are you ready? Hold your breath.
When I’m about to have sex with Ricky, I usually ask him questions about his ex- girlfriends, the girls he had sex with in the past or the girls he finds cute in his classes. Eventually, when we started taking off our clothes, when he starts stroking my insides and I, starts to play with his manhood, I suddenly ask him about the girl, whoever we talked about earlier, and incorporate her in our love scene.
ME: “So… baby, tell me about Morgan. Did you like it when she was on top of you?”
Ricky: “Why are we talking about her….? Is this a trap?”
ME: “Come on babe… it’s okay. Let’s pretend I’m her? Hmmm?”
Ricky: “What… that’s weird.”
Then I would suddenly push him on my side and jump on top of him. I usually like to whisper in his ears and start asking him questions…
ME: “So… did you ever went down on her?”
Ricky: “I can’t believe you’re asking questions about her.”
ME: “Well, did you? I promise I won’t be mad.”
Ricky: “Fine. Yes, I did go down on her.”
ME: “Did she liked it?”
Ricky: “Yeah… she was moaning.”
ME: “Who would you like to fuck right now?”
Ricky: “Umm…you, Khristine.”
ME: “No… say you want to fuck Morgan.”
Ricky: [sighs] “Okay… I want to fuck Morgan.”
Then I would ride him harder and moan a little louder.
ME: “Say my name…”
Ricky: “Morgan. I want to fuck you, Morgan… I want to pound you so hard.”
It makes me so excited. It makes me want to go on climax when he starts speaking of a girl’s name, other than mine. In that moment of being on top of him, my mind vividly pictures Ricky and Morgan or whoever girl it is… naked in his bed and having sex. It makes me excited and despite how Ricky must have felt, he plays along with me and eventually hits climax early. So I guess he likes it and he won’t ever admit it.
There was another time when I made him watch porn. Well, it all started when he asked me a question that he hoped did not offend me. He puts me in this scenario wherein he is failing this class and he needs to pass it or else he’ll lose his scholarship. He then asks his professor for an extra credit and his professor agreed to give him a letter grade of “B” if he agrees to have sex with her. As a girlfriend, would I approve of that? In my head, it sounds hot, but he is still my boyfriend. I wasn’t horny at that time so I was rational to think that he needs to report that professor because obviously, he could have gotten an extra credit relating to school work.
Anyways, I didn’t let that question go. That night, I made him watch porn about a teacher challenging a student to have sex with her in exchange for an ‘A’. I thought the video was horrible since the teacher sounded like a slutty- bitch- gone- psycho when she kept talking about how she wants to get fucked in the ass so hard. Frankly, it didn’t turn me on until… Ricky decided to take off his pants and started jerking- right next to me.
ME: “You’re horny to this?”
Ricky: “Umm…yeah…”
I was looking at him and he was deeply concentrated on the girl’s triple -sized, enlarged, fake boobs and her vagina getting rammed on while he was occupied stroking his penis.
ME: “So you find her hot?”
Ricky: “Umm… yeah, she’s got nice breasts…”
ME: “Okay… alright, I’ll just sleep then.”
Ricky: “Okay honey bun, you do that.”
I felt a slight pang of jealousy but instead of screaming in the room, my horny button turned itself on in my head. From the way it was going, it looks like he was going to explode any moment, so before I let that happen, I took off my clothes and jumped on him. He was so shocked and I managed to turn the atmosphere as if he was in the room alone with the girl.
ME: “What’s her name?”
Ricky: “Uhh…err… Mrs. Peterson.”
Hmmm… Mrs? He even thought of having an affair with a married woman?
ME: “What are you doing to her?”
Ricky: “Pounding her pussy and sucking her tities.”
ME: “Would you tell me if you ended up fucking her?”
Ricky: “No… I won’t.”
He looked at me and my body and I tell him to look at hers. Then by the time I’m halfway to finally hitting a climax, he was close to finish.
You’re probably wondering… WTF.
I’m messed up for wanting my boyfriend to cheat on me and for even encouraging him to do that. Of course, like I said earlier, that’s all role playing, hopefully! I did mention to him before, that the idea of him cheating on me is hot in bed while we are doing it, but to know that he’s cheating on me with an actual girl is a definite break up.
Ugh, I honestly don’t know where this came from. Probably it’s because I’ve been cheated on with my first boyfriend who took my virginity? I saw him and his mistress getting out of the shower and it was quite traumatic. I don’t know the psychology behind this, but I’m finding it weird and downright outrageous.
Ugh… can someone shed me some light into this? What do you think?
I am missing Ricky so much.
It doesn’t hurt to miss him, in fact, it makes me think of better and bigger things other than butterflies and fairy tale romances with him…
How do I say it without ever jinxing it? Oh… well, I’ve said it so many times. We have said it several times, actually. It wouldn’t hurt to dream. I just hope that our dreams would come true:
I want to marry Ricky someday.
I don’t care about how our wedding is going to be like-
if it’s less perfect or not.
All I want is to wake up right next to Ricky every morning- in our own bed.
I want to have his kids.
I want a boy running around our house and he’s got Ricky’s chocolate eyes-
with his curious look that always wants to know everything.
I want to have a baby girl to be our little star who brightens up our home.
I want to continue a journey with Ricky, longer than the ones I’ve taken before.
I want to go through the pain, happiness and our successes together.
I want to fill our relationship with so much laughter even if life throws us out of balance.
I want to make him happy and be there when he needed me the most.
I want our love to teach our children a lesson: I want them to believe in the joys of cherishing a relationship based on selfless love, an open communication, an unyielding patience, accepting each other wholeheartedly, and in respecting and keeping each other’s own identity.
I want to wake up one morning and see the man I’ve chosen to spend my life with:
Withered in his own skin, yet still handsome as I remember him to be.
I want to be with Ricky beyond the physical attraction,
beyond the short-lived infatuation,
beyond what life throws at us.
I love Ricky so much that it feels like it’s getting harder every day to imagine a life without him or even losing him. As we become more closer and as we grow more fonder of each other intimately, it is becoming difficult to break away. It’s not a bad thing, but I like that it doesn’t scare me, but it makes me want to fall so hard with him, because I know and I trust that he and I have something special, something different and something to look forward to.
Life may not give us what we hope for,
but it’s this moment that made me cherish-
more of what Ricky has made me feel and of what he tried so very hard to share with me:
his selfless love.
The first time I heard of Marilyn Monroe was from fashion class when I was 17 years old. We had to research and get an inspiration from the Golden Ages of Hollywood. Marilyn stood out as a sex symbol, a sensual, “loose” woman who didn’t conform to the dainty women in the 50’s and 60’s. I didn’t include her in my croquis sketch book because of her notorious behavior. I thought she was too much to handle to portray such a glamorous age.
Fast forward 5 years later,
I’m obsessed with Marilyn Monroe. Not because she proudly showed off her cleavage and blew seductive kisses to the camera. Not because she coaxed every men with her daring look. Not because she was the most desirable woman in her time. Not because Lady Gaga, Madonna, Gwen Stefani, Christina Aguilera and many more celebrities admired her. No, not because of that.
But because of the fact that she was beyond the sex-symbol that Hollywood portrayed her to be. Just like any other woman in the world, she wished:
She was beyond the Hollywood show-girl. She was a lonely woman who craved to be loved, to be appreciated and to be cherished. She may have had poor choices in men and had been a home wrecker (ever heard of her involvement with the Kennedy’s?), but just like any human being, she made mistakes.
When I first saw her movie, “The Seven-Year Inch,” I was expecting a husky voice and a sultry performance of Marilyn Monroe since I’ve never seen any of her films. However, when she walked bubbly into the scene with her white dress, her doe innocent eyes glimmered and her soft-spoken voice melted my heart.
The more I researched about her, I was able to filter out the Hollywood glamour and came to a conclusion that she’s a very lonely person who is very beautiful inside and out. I wished so hard that I met her and helped her get through all of it. I wished I was there to tell her,
“Hey Marilyn,
I know it’s hard but I want you to know that I’m here and I see that you’re beautiful inside and out- even when the cameras aren’t rolling. You’re misunderstood, but in my own eyes, you’re just like us, struggling to be loved and to be understood. I want you to know that you are way better than what Hollywood portrays you to be. You’re beyond the blonde bimbo. You are a masterpiece. And I’m sure there are people out there who thinks the same way.”
I want to remember Marilyn not as a seductive show-girl, but a woman who was strong enough to hold all her loneliness in even though she showed no signs of it in her performances.
Here’s the Marilyn I want to remember:
Simply beautiful.
Innocent in her own way.
Misunderstood and taken for granted.
Very strong despite how she’s dying inside.
What would her life be if she has lived this long?
-Quotes taken from my favorite actresses who are the epitome of class and elegance.
(If you’re going to copy one of my screenshots, PLEASE LINK IT BACK HERE. THANKS!).
Chapter 3: “Friends and Enemies”
It’s been so long since I’ve updated my blog. More like a week? Oh yes.
Last week was my birthday… the 16th of May. Not much has happened, but the fact that I’ve had several surprises of which I couldn’t divulge you on it, not just yet! Perhaps, one of these days. Not now. I need a reassurance of some sort. I need my thoughts out of my head since I couldn’t sleep. Heck, it’s 1: 48 am and I need my sleep.
I’m PMSing again and I feel that I am getting a little depressed. My emotions are going wild. My self-esteem came from cloud 9 to cloud 5. I have these insecurities that I thought I’ve tried my hardest to minimize. One thing I’ve learned though, I’m insecure but I’m pretty good at hiding it… well at least to my fellow gals.
Last week, I’ve decided to throw a party to reunite the friends I’ve gotten out of touch with. It was nice to know that nothing changed but I felt that I’ve changed. I’ve changed from a once stronger, free-spirited woman to a much careful, weaker, more sensitive, and very insecure. But why do I feel this way? I know why.
I’m scared that the past is trying to repeat itself.
An, who has been a friend, rather an acquaintance, is known to bring new “friends” that either need to grow up, has drama like no other, and some that hates me for no reason. Her birthday party, which is a celebration of her finally turning 21 is planned to be quite a blast on Saturday. She and, most especially, our friend Rami, has been trying to convince me to come. Ricky is interested to come and I’m drawing to a close decision that I will need to go as well. According to Ricky, An is inviting “cool” people in her 21st party. Perhaps, maybe so… but I have this weird feeling. UGH I HATE IT WHEN I HAVE THAT FEELING:
One or two people from her little groupie will either snap the annoying sh*t out of me or who will find me quite an attention whore when I don’t intend to. I just come out rather friendly to people and some girls take that offensively. I like to be lively, cheerful, free spirited and some take it as an opportunity to judge me. I’m scared. But you know, a part of me keep saying, “There’s nothing to be scared of. Just be yourself,” as Ricky would say.
So what if I like wearing something that makes me feel beautiful? Wearing heels ain’t such a bad thing!
So what if I like stumbling on my feet and making everyone laugh as I slowly sip on my flavored mix drink?
So what if I look quiet at first, but slowly burst into a person whom anyone didn’t expect to have such a canny way of giving empowering drunken speeches?
So what if I wear a bright dress and a cheery smile that never fails to lift anyone’s mood even if only a glimpse of it was seen?
So what if I am loud and that I laugh out loud? I rarely get to do that even if I keep texting “lol” on the not-funniest conversations ever.
So what if girls will roll their eyes on me and look at me from head to feet? They just wish that their eyes were copy-scans that can turn them into me. They’re just jealous.
So what if girls will find Ricky attractive or interesting? They can do all the flirting and all the talking, but I… I AM the woman he loves and the one he goes home with… in HIS BED.
So what if I don’t know most of the people in there? Just keep drinking, because people in that party has one thing in common: Alcohol.
So what if I’m not ugly, I’m not fat, I’m not likeable, I’m not the typical quiet-mouthed Asian- innocent chick? I’m that chick who likes to laugh and not care of anyone’s beliefs or judging opinions because I know who my true friends are. I don’t need to change who I am to fit in. I know who I am. I know where I belong. I know what type of “groupie” I belong in… My own world. hahahaha!
I sense that these waters are tensed and being tested. But you know what? I have this moment…
This moment, somewhere inside me, which honestly believes that I don’t give a rat’s ass about anyone’s opinion.
I’ll make it alive and well-rooted.
I’m a big girl (a rock star and I got my rock movies) with a nice poise 😉
CHEERS!
This song played in the background last night…
I lay flat naked on his cool, soft sheets that swiftly wrapped my body into a cloud of dreamy euphoria, while I looked outside the glass doors into the quiet starry night.
I shifted my gaze to his dark messy hair, his dark eyes that changes into caramel when his desk lamp lights his face. I bit my lips as I irresistibly imagine my soft kisses leave warm and wet touches on his handsome cheeks. I looked at him knowing that his mind is halfway buried into his physics notes and half of it knows that two eyes want to meet his:
La vie ne vaut d’etre vecue sans amour
Mais c’est vous qui l’avez voulu mon amour
Ne vous deplaise
En dansant la Javanaise
Nous nous aimions
Le temps d’une chanson
Me: “Are you scared?”
Ricky: “Of what?”
Me: “Are you in your safe place?”
Ricky: “What do you mean?”
Me: “How would you take a rejection…”
Ricky: “I would be upset…”
Me: “You said I’ve rejected you twice before. I never intended to you know?”
Ricky: “Yeah you did… I’ve asked you that I wanted to take you out for dinner.”
Me: “But I thought we were just hanging out like friends, so I said no because I was busy.”
Ricky: “How about that time when I was sorta tipsy and told you that you should date me.”
Me: “I thought you were joking so I said no! You were a friend and I never thought you’d be that type of guy I’d date.”
Ricky: “I guess that’s true… I was the guy who never said ‘I love you’ or fell in love. I even asked, what the hell is love? I never understood the concept until I was actually in love.”
Me: “That’s funny, because when you said that, I sorta did want to be the girl who you would first say that to, but then I pushed it in the back of my head.”
Ricky: “Did you?”
Me: “Yep.”
Pauses.
Me: “Lie across from me. Let’s pretend we’re in a relationship… like we’re acting.”
Ricky: “Okay…”
Me: “Ricky, you’re my boyfriend.”
Ricky: “Umm…Khristine, you’re my girlfriend.”
Pauses.
Me: “I’m dating you.”
Ricky: “I’m dating you.”
Me: “I’m taken, that’s my boyfriend, Ricky!”
Ricky: “Yeah, that girl, that’s my girlfriend, Khristine.”
Me: “We’re… dating.”
Ricky: “We’re… a couple!”
Pauses.
Me: “Okay… we can stop pretending.”
Ricky: “Okay.”
Pauses.
I leaned forward closer to Ricky. I felt his warm breath surround me as I closed my eyes and as I threw my arms around him. I know I want to do this because it seemed so right. I love Ricky. His room was lit up with three spotlights that focused on us and placed us in the limelight.
Me: “Ricky, can I be your girlfriend?”
Ricky: “Um… are we still pretending?”
Me: “Noo silly!”
Ricky: “Oh no… I was going to ask you. Like I had a plan but I didn’t have the time to run my errands. I had my plan all in my head. I can still do it…But of course, the answer is yes!”
Me: “Ricky, you don’t have to make it all grand in asking me to be your girlfriend. I just want us to put emphasis on our relationship more than how we became official. And I love the fact that I wasn’t pressured.”
Pauses.
Ricky: “Wow… and you were there right in front of my nose.” Ricky held me tighter and looked up in the ceiling.
“It feels like we’re in an Indie movie. We only have three people watching and one person just sat up from his chair. This is like a love story that was like this…” Ricky put his two index fingers up in the air, facing opposite directions from each other, while I lay my head on his chest. “See we’re like these two fingers. All this time, we’ve been looking in different directions. However, here and there, I was looking back at you, just wondering what would it be like to date Khristine, and then I thought it was impossible.”
Me: “Do you think if we never came down to Richmond for that Halloween weekend, we wouldn’t even think of dating each other?”
Ricky: “I don’t think so. I would have tried a third time.”
Me: “Aww… I love you so much Ricky.”
Ricky: “I love you too Khristine.”
I’m in a relationship with my best friend and I can’t wait to see him tonight!
So… do this mean that the iloveME – for single blog ends its story here?
Not necessarily…
Love,
Khristine- the damsel– no longer- in distress.
iloveME. 