Bucket list.

I’m really big on the idea of having a bucket list. Having a list of things you want to have done before you die. It’s not like I have a concrete one, but I often ind myself doing something and then thinking: “Wow, to think that I actually got to experience this. To be able to say that I’ve done this.” Some are big and some are small, but all of them are equally important. So I thought that I could have a separate category for it, so I can look back and remember all the things that I never thought that I’d actually get to do, but somehow did. A really nice category, don’t you think?



These past couple of weeks have been fantastic. I’ve had this amazing job, spending some quality time with one of the few non-living things I love – books. I had fun every day, and learned a few things from my supervisor. I saw the last HP film, which was the epitome of bittersweetness. Mostly sweet though. I’ve been to a festival, which was one of the craziest experiences I’ve ever had. It included seeing some awesome bands, crying at a few concerts, dancing with strangers, moshing, and laughing at silly things…like seeing someone you used to consider to be pretty bland fucked up. And I mean really fucked up. Just generally living in the moment. Oh, and what might be the biggest thing – I’m getting a tattoo. Well, I’ll have to wait six months, but it’s happening. Which is bigger than getting a tattoo would normally be. Because I never do these kind of things. Things that aren’t neutral, things that can’t be taken back. I feel like I’m improving. At least I’m trying to. And trying is the first step, right?

But there’s still something missing. There’s a void, and I keep telling myself that I should be focusing on me, and let the other stuff come later, but it’s easier said than done. I thought that the summer would make me forget him. That the infatuation would fade when the “object” was taken away. I think that it had the opposite effect. Which is bad. And good. Or I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to see when ordinary life kicks in again. Maybe this is a good thing. In any case, I’m going to focus on the here and now, and try to really enjoy my life. Because I know that I’m really lucky to have it.


Letter to Heath.

Dear Heath,

is it okay if I call you Heath? Or do you prefer mr. Ledger? I guess it doesn’t matter now. It’s all semantics. And I really love your name, I always have. Well, at least ever since I read Wuthering Heights for the first time. So, Heath…this is extremely difficult. And obviously very odd, but for some reason, I felt like I have to do this. I have to write you, a complete stranger that I’ve never even been close to knowing, a stranger that isn’t even in this world anymore, a letter. I’m not going to pretend that I’ve seen all of your movies. I’m not going to act like your performances on the silver screen saved my life. No, it’s not like that. To you, I’m just another insignificant, little human on this planet with billions of people. One tiny human who happens to know who you are. I don’t matter at all, do I? Well, you do. For some reason, you have changed me. And I ask myself, why you? Why not one of the millions of other known people who exist? Granted, the change occurred after your…death. But still. You’re not the first person to die under similar circumstances, so why are you the one that stuck? I don’t know. There’s just something about you, a certain something that can’t be put into words. When you died, everything shifted. No no, don’t fret, this isn’t some lovesick fangirl letter. I’m not stupid enough to think that it all revolves around me. But there was a change in me. In fact, there was a change in everyone. The whole world altered. And now there’s a glitch, things are slightly off. I can feel it in the air. Like something’s missing, you know? The souls of the people who live here on the planet all flow together and form a unity, but when you died, a hole was formed. A Heath-shaped hole that left the unity a little empty, and even though the remaining souls bled out to fill that hole, there is still one soul missing, and the unity is a little less harmonious. Why did you have to go and leave us Heath? Why? I don’t know exactly how or why you died. Or, at least I didn’t. Now, after searching on Wikipedia, I see that you died of an overdose of prescription meds. That it was an accident, caused by your heavy addiction. By the way, it must be strange to still have your whole life written out on one page. Or at least your public life. I guess that your movies aren’t the only thing that helps you live on, huh? Anyways, back to the topic. Your addiction. Why the fuck didn’t you get help? I’m actually a little mad at you right now, Heath. For being so careless. But of course, that anger is mixed with guilt, because I know that addiction causes weakness. And I can’t really go around saying what you should and should not have done, because I really don’t have any idea how it is to be you. How it was to be you. So I’ll just ask why. A question that isn’t directed at you, me, or anyone else in particular. It’s a question I ask the universe. A pathetic whimper to the eerie quiet of the infinite darkness. An echo that is met with complete silence. And I know that it’s useless to ask, that there are times when we all just need to move along. But I’ve never been quite fond of that idea. To move along. I like to linger. To twist and turn the thoughts in my head until there is nothing left but dust. I’m still waiting for that to happen to the thoughts I have about you. Maybe this letter will help. Maybe not. Maybe I don’t want it to help. Maybe you’ll read this. But probably not. You never know though, right? You never know. So exactly why am I writing this? Even though your films will live on forever, you’ve clearly left us. And I can tell. I think about it all the time. I’m writing this so that you know that the planet misses you. I’m writing this to say that nothing will ever be the same without you. Ever. And most of all, I write this to tell you, Heath, named after one of my dearest Byronic heroes, that I truly do hope that you’ve found some peace over there. I write this to say farewell. Farewell, Heath.



Heath Andrew Ledger

★ 4 April 1979          ✝ 22 January 2008


Yesterday, I saw this documentary about the elderly at an old folks home, more specifically, the dementia division at an old folks home. It was pretty devastating. Seeing these men and women be so helpless, and frankly lost, kind of broke my heart. And it made me think. These people have lived almost entire lives. They’ve seen, done, and been through things that I can’t even imagine, and yet, what have they to show for it now? Practically nothing. Every relationship they’ve ever had – gone. Some of these people didn’t even remember their children. Think of all the wisdom they’ve gained over the years, only to have their minds be reduced to a childlike state. We live life, and make mistakes, thinking that it will make us stronger and smarter, but if there’s a chance that it all turns to dust in the end, what’s the point? Who’s to say that I will carry on what I’ve learned today, and all the days I’ve lived before that, tomorrow? To think that everything can disappear is very frightening. But I guess that it’s another thing that proves that you have to live for today. Enjoy the crazy rollercoaster that is life. Take every lesson to heart. Appreciate every moment. Because you, mind or body, might not be here tomorrow.


Disappointment. It stings.

I saw you today, for the first time in over two years. I’d gotten glimpses of you a handful of times, but this was the first time we really met. During these two years, I had done everything that I could to get over you. To forget you. I tried my damnest to convince myself that nothing would happen. That I was too good for you. That there wasn’t anything I could do to change your mind. To change your feelings.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

And I managed pretty well. With time, the memory of you, of our times together, became less vivid. They faded, like most do, and I started to think that it was just a crush. That I was young and naive. That I had matured. Gotten over it. Whatever that means. And then things changed.

I started thinking about you again. Wondered how you were, how life was going, and what you were doing. I found it a little strange that I was suddenly so concerned for your well-being, but wrote it off as just caring about a childhood friend. How stupid I was.

I looked forward to seeing you today. I thought that maybe we could start over as friends. Because you really are a great person, and a wonderful friend to have. I was sure I’d grown enough in the past couple of years to be able to handle it. But then I got there and that familiar feeling came back. That special kind of anticipation that only you could excite.

When you entered that room, every ounce of strength and resolve I’d gathered during those two years crumbled. Your mere presence turned me back into the pathetic mess I once was. When you nonchalantly addressed me, pointing out how long it’s been, the butterflies spread a jolt of electricity through my body. And when you hugged me, I clenched my eyes shut and took a deep breath, savoring the short moment of warmth. Even though you’d changed, your voice now a deep baritone and your stature towering over me, you were exactly the same.

It was all exactly the same.

The night was spent in the utmost disappointing way. Like it’s always been. We played the same cat and mouse game where the winner was whoever cared less. And I felt like a fool, because I was the one pretending while you genuinely didn’t care. I think that’s what hurt the most. The fact that I was such a wreck, and you wasn’t. Like it’s always been. You stayed a couple of hours and snuck out without saying goodbye. Leaving me shocked and shaken. The same old routine. 

And what sucks the most is that I’ll do it again the next time we see each other. I’ll be so stupidly happy to see you, disappointed to see you leaving so soon, and hate myself for letting you get to me. Again. You were my first. And I’ll never have another you. So I hope you’re happy with yourself. Because I’ll always be here, whether I want to or not. Waiting.


It all came tumbling down. Everything that I had managed to surpress. Everything that I had finally smashed into that little, dark chamber in the back of my mind. Everything came crashing.

All because of one, stupid thing.

Not the entire world on my shoulders, but one thin, sharp needle pressing down on my heart. A pathetically weak hand that turned the knob and opened the door with hardly any effort at all. And that was it. Everything came flooding back to me and nearly knocked me off my feet. Every ounce of insecurity I’d had came back. The feeling of inadequacy made a bitter homecoming, ten times as strong as it has ever been. And anxiety, my old friend.

Oh, how I haven’t missed you.

I can’t afford to fuck this up. So why did I fuck it up? Why did I do so horribly one time? And most importantly, why should it matter? I try, with all my might, to close that chamber door. But it’s impossible. The thoughts are already too far away. Front and center. Why can’t I do anything right?

Will I never get to rest?

Will I never taste the fruit of my labor? I’m not sure I can take any more of this. I’m so tired. So incredibly tired. Of the pressure, the demands, the responsibility. I’m so tired of the expectations. I’m tired of feeling like nothing I do is enough.

Inadequate. My middle name.

I agree, emails are underrated.

Email from Succumb to Blasphemy, sent 2011-02-23, 7.45 pm.

When I picture the Future Phemy, I see a very educated woman someone who’s very involved in cultural and artsy stuff. You’re a writer, but at the same time, I picture you with this own… not clinic, because that’s sounds very, like, I dunno. Just not a clinic. I see you as this woman who has sort of like a home for kids who are in a bad shape. Like, it’s some sort of sanctuary for them where you help them and talk to them. Sort of like a psychologist, I guess. Haha, is it funny that I picture you as a blogger too? Like, you write books and you write a blog. you’re probably in America. Though I’m not sure if you’re in Seattle or the state of Washington… Actually, I’m not sure you’re in a rainy place at all because I can imagine you falling in love with a guy who is very artistic (he’s probably one of the reasons why your interest in cultural stuff has evolved into an obsession) and he takes you to live in a sunny ass place, hahaha. Kids? In my imagination you have one at the moment but going on two, hahahaha. xD

Also, you’ve probably been to Mexico a gazillion times and helped kids who are really messed up and your Spanish skills have blossomed and now you’re fluent in the language!! Oooh, and then you help several families move to America and you help even more families who live in the southern part of America to learn how to speak English and you help to integrate them in society.
And when you’re old, you look back on your life with happiness and weightlessness. With the love of your life by your side!
Haha, oh I’m so cliché.
Hugs, chicalitamita!
This put a huge smile on my face and I’m sure you can see why. The life of my dreams. It’s nice to know that you have a friend who knows what you’re about. Oh, and also, a home for troubled teens would be heavenly. I’d feel like my life has a meaning. Maybe one day…

Experiment: Mindfuckery to control life. Part uno.


(for you who didn’t catch my, very clear, intents of the last post, I’m doing a little experiment to see how much (or just if) my thoughts and mindset can actually affect the coming day.

part one of the experiment completed. I tried going into the day with a positive attitude, but I don’t really know if it affected my day. It was…meh. Some good things, some bad.

The good things were that I had two small, but nice, conversations with two girls that I don’t really talk to much. Hmm, what else…oh! We played a, really stupid but useful, game in spanish and my team won, me having scored us one point (out of four). So that was a positive. Also, my friend told me this really good joke, or actually, she did this spot-on impersonation of a certain social-climber in our class, and I was so caught off guard that I cracked up…really loudly. Anyways, the joke stuck with me so every now and then, I could remember it and just start chuckling to my self. Also, I borrowed An Abundance of Katherine’s, so I have another John Greene book to read…that’s a major positive. Oh, and I also realized something that made me a lot happier than it should have; I will probably hear Phreckles speak english again! We chose the courses we want to take next year, and I chose English C. He probably did to. It’s going to be wizard. Sooo wizard.

Alright, now the negatives, let’s see. I woke up feeling like shit, my throat was as dry as a bone. But that got better as the day went on. Another negative was that I was late for spanish class, but I don’t really care about that to be honest. Actually, now that I think about it, I’m glad that I missed the train. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have spoken to those two girls. A huge negative was  that I had biology, chemistry and physics. Having those three bombs of subjects = no fun. Lunch sucked, as per usual, so I ended up chewing on some lettuce like a freaking rabbit. And last but not least, no Phreckles. He spent the day taking his Physics nationals, so I only saw him about ten seconds at the end of the day. He rushed in to tell the teacher that he was leaving, and his cheeks were all speckled with red. Poor thing. I know how excruciating that test is. He left for the States before finishing the course, so he had to complete it this semester, while taking the B course with the rest of us. Tough shit.

Alright, now that I assess my observations, I see that nothing of substance happened today, positive or negative. Now that I think about, hardly any one of these things were made possible due to my efforts in staying positive. At least, I don’t think so. Well, the two convos could have been affected, maybe my high spirits made them more enjoyable. All right, all of the positive things could be linked to me being generally “yay life!”. I can’t say the same to the negative ones. So maybe having a positive attitude does brighten your day? I definitely need to count in the fact that I could be searching for the right answer, seeing what I want to see etc. It’s a tricky one. Hmm, we’ll see. I’ll try different things and see what happens.

Love & Post-its

I wish that you were here with me to pass the dull weekend.

Hello everyone,

let’s try a little experiment. I have a feeling that tomorrow’s going to be a good day. I got bangs now, and a new sweater that I’m going to wear and feel awesome in. I’m going to wake up with a smile on my face and with a positive attitude. Who knows, maybe the day will be a bright one? And if it still ends up crappy, I can try the “my life is shit” way the next day and see what happens. I’ll document the results. Little experiments. Shall be interesting. And hopefully a good way to keep my mind occupied when it starts to wander towards a darker path.

Tune of the day, because it’s one of those songs I never tire of. It never fails at making me smile. Oh, and also, God willing, I might actually get to see them this spring. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Love & burgundy