Maya

      For as long as I could remember, "Maya" has always been that girl. You know, the person who you couldn't really place a finger on or pinpoint. The one that you sometimes secretly thought about and, at other times, just stayed content with her presence in your life. The name "Maya" is a pseudonym, I can't disclose her actual name. If she, somehow, catches a whiff of the existence of this blog entry and reads it, then everything will be prematurely blown to shit. At least this way, I have a pathetic little excuse to hold on tightly to when she does confront me. It doesn't really matter though because any hope of this even working is null and void. After four broken relationships, not counting the two that didn't really end up anywhere, I should know better. 

      She's beautiful, oh my sweet Lord is she beautiful. If I wouldn't be assumed to be some kind of creep-ish visual stalker, I would just enjoy the sight of her all day. Being innocently gorgeous is just the icing on the mouth-watering, delicious, hazelnut-almond cake that is Maya. Did I just compare her to a cake? Chyeas! Hahaha, let the idiotic analogies continue! She's lovable. With her distinct smile and easy to please nature, it makes me somewhat jealous that another is enjoying the pleasure of her company. 

      Sometimes before class lecture starts, I would quickly peek behind me to see if she is sitting somewhere close. No one would think twice about it because Maya is a friend of mine and not another acquaintance. We've known each other ever since the instigation of this program in our lives. The five star problem lies in the fact that she has a boyfriend and that for quite some time now. In actuality, this turns out to be a good thing. I don't really need another relationship. Honestly, at times, I do secretly wish that she was one of my failed attempts. At least then, I would have shared nice intimate memories with her. 

      Maybe, I will tell her. Certainly not today, but when right opportunity presents itself. Nothing will become of it but it's about the time that I made the choice and owned up to what's unfairly rousing inside me.

      

Crutch Thoughts

      During my hour ride to "the basement", I was pondering about what it was that I'm going to be writing about today. (Just for future reference, "the basement" will refer to where I live while I'm at college.) So the brainstorming began. Am I going to write about a possible string of all-nighters before the exam? Do I want to even bring up the topic of school? Should I have taken a nap before I started driving? Why is that fool honking at me? Does it look like another rant? Five minutes of this and I had enough. I decided that there will be no more rants about how hard college is or how unmerciful professors can be, simply, because the more I talk about it, the more I will believe it. 

      The more I thought about the coming exam, the more nervous and doubtful I became. So I tried something different. I started digging through my available consciousness to find memories that pushed me to feel peace and hopeful. I started recollecting times I spent with my parents but the only ones I can firmly hold on to, for longer than thirty seconds, are those of verbal fights and empty conversations. Next on the list were the memories of close friends, but even they don't know me for who I am, so their memories are half-hearted. Memories of a past life in high school only brings to mind incomplete actions and fake personalities. So which ones do I turn to? 

      Incidentally, those memories the I find refuge in, are part of events that hurt me the most. Some of you may understand the following sentences but some of you may not. I look to memories of past loves and relationships. Don't worry, I'm at a point where I could look back at these memories and feel nothing for these women. At times, the images of them laughing, smiling, and enjoying themselves makes me feel as if I was doing something right. I believed for those brief months that there was something in me that no one else can provide. Snapshots of held hands, walked paths, and bent grass flood into my mind when I allow them. Yet, replaying times such as these hold a price. I am allowed one steady minute of satisfying images at the fee of  remembering disappointing climaxes. Unfortunately, none of these relationships ended the way I wanted them to, for reasons understandable and some just plain inadequate.

      These are my crutch thoughts. Although they come with restrictions and boundaries, I believe them to be necessary when my mind is in distress. Try isolating yours. They will prove to be an convenient tool of support, just in case you're stuck by your lonesome, with a heavy mind, and in an area where technological devices fail your cause. My advice to you is to try recalling something other than failed relationships. Things will be easier that way.