Don't You Dare Let Go.

Listening to American Football always reminds me of summer. Almost every night, I fell asleep to this record. And this song... it is such a gem. All two minutes and forty-four seconds of it. There is something just so beautifully enchanting about it. It rarely fails to make me feel content. I played it tonight, hoping it would work its charm. I kept it on repeat and clutched my pillow close to me. It's helped a little bit, but I'm still hungry. My heart needs to be fed. Summer was so carefree and easy. It's not so easy any more. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to all of this, but I am really feeling the burn. I am hurting you, and I don't want to hurt you anymore. And yet, I have no intention of giving this up. In fact, I won't. I will hold on until you've decided you don't want to see this through. Until you've decided that you're through with me.

mkp.

Absence.

"I don't really feel like talking much now."

"I'm sorry, okay! I really am."

"Well, I feel hurt."

I am so terrible. I wanted to say "I'm sorry" a million times over, but what good would it have done. I'm sorry I'm so selfish. I'm sorry that even with the distance, I still manage to take you for granted. I'm sorry we barely have the time to talk. I'm sorry that I don't put in the same effort as you into making this fucking relationship work. I'm sorry for the way I am. But what are a million little sorry's going to do? They don't leave anything but the short whistling sting in my mouth. I cannot give you anything but these stupid apologies that sound like they've got no real substance to them, when inside of me I am really screaming and crying and begging for you to forgive me. I can't even be there to show you how genuinely sorry I am, and how terrible I feel. I think I was meant to be alone today. When I'm alone, I won't hurt you. When I'm alone, I won't feel hurt.

mkp.

I am Flawed.

I know that I haven't been documenting all the artwork I've done this semester (and there is a lot of it). I promise that once the semester ends, I will make a post with all the completed paintings from this fall. This painting, though, has been on my blog before (seen here). However, it looked a lot different than it does now. This painting has evolved a lot since I started it in June. When school resumed, I had to put it aside. It was only last week when I brought it back so I could work on it for one of my last painting critiques this semester. It began with orange undertones, then green, then purple, then pink, and now it is purple, pink, green, and blue, and a mess. Is it foolish to cry over a painting? I don't think I've struggled any more than I do now, and the time is just flying by me. It's not coming together and I don't have the motivation to see see it through. I think I'm just emotionally over this concept. Or perhaps, I don't relate to it like I once did. Or maybe it's something else entirely. This painting is supposed to illustrate me freeing myself. In that case, I am lying to you all. I haven't freed myself. Not even a bit. I've caged myself in, and I cannot get out.

mkp.

My Hero.

Back in high school, my class was asked who their personal heroes were. Just about every answer was the same. Everyone said "my mother". And while those answers piled up. in my head, I said "never". I have never ever in my entire life aspired to be like my mother. And now at twenty years-old, I still sure as hell don't ever want to be like her. It stuns me sometimes, when I walk past a mirror too quickly. Everyday, I am looking even more like her. Sometimes, I even do things that lie parallel to her own actions. Those are the days when I hate myself most. My biggest fear is to end up like her, and it's a worry that plagues my every day and night. It's because of her that I don't want kids. I don't think I could take the risk and end up being absolutely terrible to them. But if I am ever destined to be a mother, I will try with every fibre of my being to not end up like mine. I will never be embarrassed of my children for their hairstyles or the clothes on their backs. I will never deliberately lie to my children, especially after being confronted again and again. I will not humiliate them out in public, weigh them after the holidays just to taunt them, abuse them physically and/or verbally, or choose their career paths for them. Never will I demean him/her if they come out to me as queer. I will not steal from them, and then tell them to make better decisions about their money and spending habits. Nor will I slap their faces, drag them by the hair, or spit at them. I will not be like Mom. Instead, I will love them. Even when it gets hard, I will try my best to still love them. If I ever have children, I will love them no matter how they look, what they believe in, or what they choose to do with their lives. I will welcome them always with open arms. I will believe in them. And I will believe them if they reveal to me that something traumatic has occurred to them. I won't give it any second thought. I will believe them and go with them to the end of it all.

And still, after all that, I will love them.

mkp.

I'm Dreaming in Your Living Room.

When Jarrett is sad, it is nearly impossible to deal with. He puts up a wall that is too tough to tear down. And because this week doesn't permit us from having and contact with each other, I was excited to get to see him for a few minutes in the morning. But instead of being excited to see me, he was groggy and sad. The entire day, I felt depressed because sometimes, I wonder if this relationship is really worth it. It means everything to me, but I cannot stand to know that it brings him down and it makes him upset. I took a nap when I came home from school, and when I woke up, I received a message from him, telling me how he thinks I deserve better and how he doesn't think he is deserving of me and can make me happy, blah blah, blah.

Annoyed, I log onto my tumblr. Scroll, scroll, scroll. I come across this audio post coupled together with a picture of the cover art for 'North" by Something Corporate. Expecting to hear "Space" or "As You Sleep", I pressed play. What came out instead was a piano tune I was more than familiar with... "Konstantine". I jerked up, eyes wide and my mouth parted slightly. I couldn't even fully explain what this song once meant to me. How it once expressed everything I felt. How after listening to it for so long, I identified with it. I would spell "constant" with a "k", and I would nickname myself her "konstantine". How I could listen to this song, and know that in these moments, I really loved her, and I loved all of her. And how for the first time in my life, I did not have sex, but rather, I made love to her to this song. And afterwards, I would sing her these words and trace them into her skin, and she would call me her "konstant" because I was konstantly there for her. How our relationship–in all of it's beauty and awful , deteriorating splendor–would be THIS song. And how every time I listened to this song, I listened to her. Everytime I heard that piano melody, it would mean something to me. It had been one year and three months since I listened to it.

I slowly laid myself back down and stared up into my ceiling and just listened to every word that used to be me. And listened to every word that used to be her. And when Andrew starts singing, "Did you know I miss you", I started crying. Because I do miss her, I miss her very much. And though I do not have those feelings for her anymore, I will not deny that I did love her. And though that relationship completely destroyed me in the end, I cannot deny that I was the happiest I had ever been. And this song, this beautiful song, will always mean that to me. This song which I deleted off my computer because it would bring me to tears, brought me to tears tonight. But they were not sad tears, no. They were happy.

And after the nine minutes of that song, it's back to reality again. But first before anything, I will reply to Jarrett's email.

mkp.

Disconnect.

[the beginning stages of my newest painting...]

I forget how easy it is to lose yourself during a cry in a hot shower. There's something so inviting about letting your emotions seep through, while your back is being splashed by scalding hot water. I leave the shower with red marks scattered across my body, and blood dripping from my nose. I feel very connected to the girls I'm painting. I've found a new muse: blood. And it seems that while I'm ever-so connected to my artwork, I feel disconnected to everyone else. Right after Halloween, I just kind of locked myself away. I stopped attending class, I distanced myself from friends, I couldn't speak to Jarrett because of his work schedule. The only things keeping me company were the many voices squirming around in the grey spaces of my head.

Today, a friend took one look at me and asked me what was wrong. I threw on a smile and told her I was just lacking sleep. Am I really that see-through? Is my body that transparent, you could easily take one look and see what ailed or repressed me? I used to be so good at covering things up and only showing people what I wanted them to know. When people can read me so easily like that, I want to disappear. But at the same time there's a part of me that wants to tell them everything, and scream in their faces that no, not everything is okay, and yes, there is something very wrong. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Not to my family, not to my boyfriend, not even to my best friend. For someone who is so in touch with her feelings, I can't ever fucking articulate how I feel.

mkp.

This is Halloween.

{Jack Skellington cupcakes for Steph's family/neighborhood gathering}

I'm guilty of having admitted that I felt a little bit out of the Halloween spirit this year. Perhaps it was the insane amount of schoolwork and the pressure of midterm exams. It could also easily have been the result of being sick for a whole month, which stopped me from getting my cupcake costume ready. The fact that my favorite holiday landed on a Monday night was also a little bit upsetting. However, I feel like everything fell into place the day of Halloween. Truth be told, this Halloween was a bit extended. There was Stephanie's parents' party a couple of weeks ago, the yearly KidsArt Halloween art show, the Tim Burton exhibit at LACMA (at 5 a.m., Halloween morning!), and a simple dress-up/photoshoot day at school. And even though I didn't come home with bags full of candy or get drunk at some party, I was happy to just paint my face and have a glass of wine to accompany me with my school assignments, occasionally getting up to greet the dwindling amount of trick-or-treaters with handfuls of candy.

{The KidsArt Halloween show is something I look forward to every year.}

{Katniss, the Mad-hatter, a pretty sailor, Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, and a kitty}

{I can't believe I almost missed this. It seemed fitting that I got to see it on Halloween (and for half off)! The exhibition was truly fantastic. My favorite part was getting to see Tim's early works, and being able to see his growth and progression into the brilliant artist and director we all know so well today.}

{Stephanie and I as, of course, as the two lovely heroines of Adventure Time}

{Princess Bubblegum}

{Marceline the Vampire Queen}

{"I'm just your problem".}

Feliz Dia de los Muertos!

mkp