Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Midnight Musings of a Delirious Girl

Ciao dears,
        Don’t you hate those nights when you can’t sleep and should be doing homework but somehow you end up writing, not the paper that’s due in a few days, but something else…random little stream of consciousness type stories or musings or whatever you want to call this…. Anyone? No? Just me? Ha, oh well.  For those of you who could care less, and just enjoy my fashion and pretty face (ha! kidding…a little), I’ve included one outfit at the bottom of the post too.
“Ghosts”
        There are two who haunt me sometimes in the middle of the night when I’m tired and can’t help where my mind wanders…or sometimes when I’m lonely or depressed. The first is faint and dim, only a tiny feathery nuisance, a passing wandering “what if” and “what would it have been like.” His baby face and half smile linger once in a while in the depths of my mind where they wander now and then. The time he followed me that day and made my heart flutter is still a sweet memory of things wishful girls imagine in their silly heads filled with knowing but hopeful delusion. It’s interesting to remember how much wishing leads to hoping, to imagining, to dreaming, even sometimes to almost believing it could be true. Of course, until reality rears its fowl head and “what ifs” and “if only's” are scattered away. Most of what he is or was, was imagined, the dreams of a delusional, desperate to be in love girl, all piled on an n unsuspecting acquaintance.
        The second is much weightier and brighter like a shooting star, that reappears more often than I’d like to admit, although has been slowly diminishing over time, showing up much less often. I know this one will never entirely lose its force, although I may say it will. His dark secretive eyes that always seemed to hold a secret she would die to know, his smile, his touch, the way he looked at her and made her blush and lose all sense of how to speak, his accent and the way his beautifully formed sentences danced around her mind for days on end; all these things run along the corridors of my mind every so often. They make me wonder where he is and how he is…if he still exists in the real word…or only lives in the fragments of my imagination. Maybe he does reside there…at least the man I loved. He too was probably a victim of happenstance, the first man I ever truly loved, whom I still dare not say didn’t love me back, for such a thing is too unbearable to be true… Even if all logical signs point in that direction, what does logic know? Logic knows nothing of love…its passionate desire and illogical needs and wants.  Logic has no place in matters of the heart…or at least that's what girls who never give up on the idea of it believe. Alongside that ghost is another one of me…the person I was in his presence, the reason I just referred to her as “she,” not I, not truly a depiction of whom I am or was…too awestruck and nervous to be. I’d love to see how he’d react to the woman I really am, uninhibited by the fears and anxieties of loving him as much as I did then, now with only a flicker of that remaining in my heart, where it will always remain, a reminder of the past, and a warning for the future.       
        Still, my mind will always wonder how it would have sounded to hear him say those three magic words aloud as he did in text… Maybe that would have given a clue as to if they were true….or just been another sweet memory to keep tucked away with the others. Those memories that actually were will always be sweet and joyous no matter who likes them, for they are forever mine to keep, sitting on a beautiful shelf in my mind, like favorite books, I take out and re-read when I need to be cheered up: the time he first held my hand, and I swore sparks flew from my hand to every inch of my body and soul, and he wanted to kiss me, his lips close to my neck whispering in my ear, although I was too scared to follow through that time, that feeling I don’t think I’ll ever feel again. It is impossible to recreate the first time a man makes you feel wanted and loved, like he never wanted before and never would again want another woman, as he told me how sweet I smelled and I swore I must have been dreaming, but thankfully I wasn’t. Another favorite memory on that shelf is the first time we kissed and the silly story rivaling a romantic comedy that goes along with it. The silly argument that happened that day, when he came to my house at night because I asked him, and the moment our lips first touched. I worried my first kiss would be scary or awful, but it was one of the most magical and perfect moments of my life. I’ll never forget that night, how nervous I was, how excited, how unexplainably thrilled and blissful I was, how we kissed again and then again, how he held me and we swayed and sort of danced as I giggled.
       Amongst these sweet memories, however, this second ghost, unlike the first, has sad and devastating memories he carries with him as well. The kind you almost wish you could forget but not really because they taught you something. These are the ones that make you question if his love was true...but the good still crush the bad, even if that’s not the best thing, for the sake of making sense of it all. These ghosts follow me on nights like this and remind me of the past…but also make me wonder about the future. The second ghost has doors still not closed is his corridor of my mind, books without endings, questions without answers. That is why he haunts me far more often and of course because he was far more important in comparison to the first. He makes me wish things would be resolved, explained, and understood, so I could close those doors, finish those books, and still sometimes re-read the sweet memories. I wish I had stayed friends with that man, so the ghost would leave me be. I guess you can’t always have what you want, so the haunting continues…for how long I’ll never know. I’m sure one day he’ll further dwindle, but never truly be erased.
 
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I chose this outfit from the ones I have left to post because of the dark colors and hair, kind of goes along with the ghostly theme, right?…ha.  I must have just dyed my hair black when these were taken (October) because i t looks super dark.  Now my hair’s a dark brownish color but not as dark as its been before and definitely not black…  I’m thinking of dying it a dark espresso brown (natural color, a bit darker than now) or black again… Thoughts?
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Hi Dominick…I love you! <3 Ignore my insanity and just look at the pictures…lol.
Dress, Lacey Socks, & Giant Platform Heels: Forever 21, Belt: ?? came with another dress
                                                                                                        ♥  Xoxo Gabriella







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