Imprisoned Mind

Do I still think about him? Oh, every day.
Every single day his memory attacks my brain, and if I don’t snap out of it, it’s like I’m falling in an endless pit swalloing me whole.
Sometimes when I’m driving, it just hits me and I start screaming from the top of my lungs to get it all out, if I don’t do so I just start sobbing uncontrollably.
I just keep remembering the good times, because that’s what we mostly had together, a good damn time.
Every heart break makes me lose a little faith for what could possibly be out there for me. I close the door on people, but most of all, I close the door on myself.
When will this be over? I don’t know…I don’t even know if I want it to be over.
I dream of him about every three weeks, dreams where I go looking after him wanting to stay with me. But he doesn’t, not even in my dreams he chooses me. He rejects me and it kills me.
The thing is that we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. The last time I saw him, he was flipping me off with both hands walking the opposite way on puddle filled alley. The last words that I heard from him were “I can’t talk, they’ll throw me in jail” through the phone. We just stayed there for a minute listening to each others breaths.
But until this day, I wonder; Does he think of me the way I think of him? Does he remember me the way I remember him? Does he cherish the good times just like I do? Does he feel some kind of guilt? Some kind of remorse?
These are the questions that come to mind when I end up in that self-destructing turbine.
Then, forcefully, I think about the things that he did to me, the other girl, that last day, all of that just to make it go away.

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The One That Got Locked Away Pt. 1

This is a story of a girl named Lucky…jk, his name’s Derek. So before being on Tinder, I was on Plenty Of Fish…yes, I know, POF. So if you’ve never heard about this dating app, it’s more about trying to get into a serious relationship, I didn’t know about the difference back then. We started chatting, after that we started calling each other on the phone, and then we decided to meet up.

The first time we decided to meet up turned out a complete fiasco, he couldn’t understand my directions to where to go once he crossed. Derek didn’t see me so he crossed back to the States, gave it some time, gave it a second try by crossing back again to Tijuana, but we didn’t find each other so he ended up going home.

For the second time he went down to Tijuana, I was running late, power walking down to the crossing point, when all of a sudden I see on the corner of my eye someone trying to catch up to me, it was him! We hugged and laughed and headed back to my car. I asked him how his crossing experience was and how was his day prior to coming down. We headed to downtown to have a couple of drinks, and when I was looking for a parking space he told me that there was something I needed to know about him and current situation. He said that he was on probation…wtf, right? I don’t know, but I think that these kind of things should be told before hand. I just acted cool, found an empty space, and parked.

I took him to Tropics, a bard in downtown; I liked taking my “gringo” dates there because it’s kinda dark, there are table booths and an old school  jukebox. Which, if you really think about it, there are mood setters and, also, good distraction strategies if things get awkward/boring. Anyway, if you ever find yourself down in Tijuana, this is definitely a dive bar to stop by and have a cold  caguama (big ass beer) while listening to Selena.
Our date went very well, both of us had a great time getting to know each other and we even started planning the next date.
Afterwards, I took him back to border, and said “bye” to that full set of beach washed, sexy, hair.

Of course it didn’t take more than a couple of minutes for me to sit my ass down on the desk chair, get on detective mood and start searching for his charges online. Well, it turns out that about a couple of years back he robbed a jewelry store on gun point…great. I just kept thinking and thinking; he looked like a good guy, worked every day at a surf shop making and designing surf boards and, besides, it was only his first offence and was almost out of probation. People change and are given second chances, he was at a weird point in his life when he committed that crime and seemed to have his shit back together. At the end of the day, I just saw beyond all of that and kept replaying my evening with him in my head.

Derek started visiting me every other two weeks, he would always surprise with flowers, ALWAYS! Actually, I think he’s the only man that has ever bought me flowers without being a holiday or something like that. I remember one time we were at the beach and he wrote on the sand with a stick our initials inside a crappy heart. It was so revolting to my stomach, you know? So cheesy! But I can’t deny it, I loved it at the same time.

But ya’ll know that happiness isn’t forever right?

To be continued…

 

Second Strike Pt.2

It was past midnight and he wasn’t up yet, my tablet was his alarm clock, but it was already packed. He overslept and was running late for work. Then, at 1 a.m., I heard him get up so I turned myself facing the wall with my pepper spray in hand without the safety lock on under my pillow. He quietly entered the room, got his clothes from the closet and ran to work. I felt in peace and was able to relax for a little. He would get off from work at 8:30 a.m., but this time  he got back at 6:00 a.m., came in and went straight to the restroom to take a shower. I got up half an hour later, dressed up and walked into the kitchen. There he was, sitting on the living room floor with his memorabilia box beside him looking at old family pictures. Then I saw his face red with puffy, glossy eyes. I gave him space and finished packing some other stuff, returned to the kitchen, and told him..

Me: “If you have something to say, this is the time to do so”

Him: “I don’t know what to say”

Me: “Look…one of the worst things that someone can do is to not to say what they’re feeling, because the regret afterwards of not doing so is  an awful one. But I do have something to tell you, I want you to be happy, and it’s clearly not going to be with me, and that’s fine. I don’t want you to live with someone that keeps you unhappy. Besides of all the shit that you did to me, I’m only going to take the happy memories. You, well, it’ll be on you on how  you want to remember me by. I love you so much, tried my best, but wasn’t enough. I don’t want to leave this way…pissed. Can I give you a goodbye hug?”

He wasn’t able to look at me in the eye when I was telling him these words. He then just threw himself into my arms and started crying hard on my shoulder. I just hold him tight, inhaled slowly so that I could remember his smell and ran my fingers from my right hand through his hair.

I walked into the room and continued packing, he walked in and said that he was going to fight for me, to fight what he destroyed, to fight for our love. That he was going to fly over there and bring me back to our home. That he wasn’t going to let something that has changed his life in many positive ways to slip away. I told him that we needed time apart, that he needed time alone. That maybe, some day we would work, but not now.

 

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And as you can see, because of this picture, I decided to stay, to give him a chance…to give us a chance, another chance.