Quando non sei qui vicino, sei ancora con me.

Quando non volgio andarci da sola , ci andrò con te.
Quando non posso vederti più, a te penserò e ci riuscirò.
Quando il buio scende, voleremo al sole portati sulle ali dell’amore.
Fuggiremo dal mondo, dalla sua tristezza,
Dall’odio della gente, da tutto che c’è di male.

Love is an impossible thing, impossible to figure out, impossible to be without.

My sister came to visit me today. It left my heart feeling unusually warm. I love that she is my sister, that we are more honest with each other than most people, that she shows me parts of me that others don’t, things that I want and should change that aren’t necessarily up to par.

We ran a lot of errands. That is our thing, hop from store to store buying things that we need that we don’t want to go shopping for by ourselves because it is much more fun going with someone you love. We went to world market and bought two baskets, one for each of our parents, and we filled them up with random things that we thought they would like. From Christmas ornaments to chocolate-y treats and beyond we filled it with things that reminded us of them.

Perhaps we were driven by our morning conversation over coffee. I don’t know how we got on the subject of one day being with out them, or the possibility of one day one of them being without the other and how hard it would be for them. Though sad, you have to think of these things. They spur you forward to a consciousness that everyday is valuable, that nothing should be taken for granted. You never really know how much longer you will have with someone. So if you love them you should tell them. And not just once so that you can check it off of your list of things to do, but everyday, in some way small or big. It doesn’t matter how you say it, but THAT you say it.

I thought I thoroughly customized my request for a new pair of shoes and a level of maturity that I cannot currently attain of my own volition.

Watch them. They are so easily pleased, so horribly content in normalcy, and so often unaware of your watchful gaze. And I am just an aunt. I wonder how my brother feels. His heart must be exploding. I wonder exactly what age is the age of realization, when you can look in your parent’s eyes and tell them thanks for all they did and thanks for all they still do. When you realize even 1/4th of their love for you is really all you need, but still they give you more. They give you all they have. I don’t know if I can be as giving as my parents are. I don’t know if I can overcome me (I’m a little stubborn at times). But I’ll tell you a little secret if you really want to know. One day, I hope to win.

I say that but I don’t know if I really mean it, or if I really even know what I mean, or if I am temporarily blinded by semi-enthusiastic love. I don’t even know if it matters much, if this continual ever-changing pattern of wind will ever find itself forcefully blowing me in a permanent direction. Right now, I guess it doesn’t really matter much, because the ending is the only carrier of prominent weight. Too bad my view is just fuzzy enough to hinder foresight. Poop.

I thought I saw a puppy in the clouds today. He was running, much like me. Fleeing should be the word that I use, only because of its connotation. I feel I am fleeing more than facing this situation, but I don’t know if my own decision will come back to haunt me, to chase me into the older years of my life, to see me standing looking in the mirror with only one reflection. No companion. No other. No nothing.

Still I am utterly content. I am unbelievably happy. I am unwavering in becoming this love. In finding more than the tip of my finger in someone’s face. In finding someone else’s fingertip hovering inches from my nose. I hope she understood exactly what I meant to say when I described this alternate viewpoint. I hope she just accepts it as it is instead of trying to justify it or try to pick it apart. Isn’t that what we so often do with His love when we should just be simply accepting it. Goodness, why do we complicate these simple things?

I am addicted and I am not afraid to admit it. Yes, indeed I am counting down to 9-29-09. I think about it everyday. Yep, I just admitted the depth of this obsession. I love to admit personal lameness. Somehow it is funny to me. I laugh at myself. Sometimes I call myself names. But I know I can take it. It is just my form of personal motivation.

I have always been told, by myself mind you, that I have somewhat of an addictive personality. I also have discovered that I am a habit former. I like routine. It is relaxing. It is organized. It pushes me to become more dedicated. And if anything it makes my spontaneity a little bit more, well spontaneous. And festive. And fun. And crazy. And fill-in-the-blank. Pretty much a lot of different things.

When I break, I break. I think it is true when it comes to trust. Maybe not relationships so much, I am not too well versed in that ball of complicatedness. Honestly, I think people make it more complicated than it really is. Love isn’t complicated, it is easy. Dying to self is what trips people up really. Love isn’t selfish in the least. I guess maybe I should try to apply that line of thought to trust. Wouldn’t I become better from it? I think I would. Damn you fear! You keep me from something beautiful, from something wholly beneficial. Maybe one day when I break, I will break big time, but I am willing to risk it if I could just find someone else who wants to put all their chips in. Cause that’s the only way I am going to play this love game.

Unusual moments. I wish they happened more often.

I sat in the back seat, pillow in hand, buckled up, prepared for the long journey. And as he drove, the ever-moving scenic view that passed along the winding, forest-covered road made the sunlight dance a little. The occasional bright flash forced the sunglasses over my eyes. Silence took precedence. The gentle sound of the wind along the pane of glass that rested just inches from my nose was the loudest noise I heard, other than the beating of my heart in my chest. I liked the quiet. I liked more so when it was broken. His throat cleared and as he glanced in the rear-view mirror he asked me what the best thing that came out of this was. It didn’t take me long to think of it, verbalizing it was the issue. How do I explain this newfound feeling that possesses my heart so wholly and with such force? So I raised my sunglasses, looked in the mirror, and fixed my eyes on his face, just so he knew I was serious…if just this once. And as I began, the words came slow and planned at first, and then my heart took over my thoughts. It attempted to explain with fragile words this overwhelming feeling, this new mentality. Afterwards, he didn’t say anything, so I don’t know what he thought of it. I don’t know if I explained it well enough. It was then that I realized why the heart feels instead of talks. I hope he understood correctly. I wish I could give him my heart for 5 seconds just so he could feel what I feel- these feelings are amazing things. I love when he gets up the courage to ask me questions. Usually they are deeper than the casual inquiry. I like that about him. I enjoy being able to see his heart, to show him mine. I think I found out where I got my “deep thinking” from. He is a pensive, gentle soul, and I love him.

Time and time again I see pieces of me from different angles. It is odd, but I like it. I get to see me how my friends see me, how my parents see me, how my family sees me, how I see me. How I thought my view of me was pretty clear, but really I see only the little bit I want to see. Honest moments bring a truthful reality. They make me see the things that I avoid confronting; that I think I know, but really don’t; that I want to be but can’t quite become, because I am stubbornly refusing to change what I need to.

Final Closure. Great Relief. Immense Growth. Unwavering Belief. Unstoppable Love. Ever-growing Hope. Loving Open-Mindedness. Total Acceptance- just a few things that I gained, in this short time.

Il mio nonno….

And so I sat to write a brief phrase that could contain the feelings that fill my heart. The page remained blank while I pondered this simple, unchanging thing. I looked back on my life to recall the moments effected, developed and infused with joy.

I recall being young. My feet would travel fast, seemingly unable to remain attached to my body. I would become breathless, but I knew every time my little hands reached out, you were there.

I recall you sitting me down and talking with me. I used to love to hear you speak of yourself, your life, your heart; in fact, I still do. Your words would form a cavern, vast and open, always ending with an eager question, awaiting a reply, seeking something inside of me. And as you drew it out, you asked it to form shape- a shape that only my thoughts could form.

You asked it to form me.

I must say, I am who I am, in part, because of you. You may not have thought you influenced me this much, oh! but you did, oh! but you do. I think of you often. I wish I knew you better. I wish I saw you more. I wish you would tell me those things that would be the hardest to say. The life lessons learned only through pain and struggle. Don’t you know I could use that? No one ever wants to admit the hurt, the failure, but this could bring nothing but good. I am sure of it.

I have come to realize we are more similar than I thought we were. I like that. I smiled as I sat next to you, as you told me a "secret." I was one of the only ones you could joke with, because you knew I would return the humor. And still you formed a little bit more of me. You asked me a question I never thought you would ask, a question my father has yet to ask me. I could do nothing but laugh, but I liked that you were bold enough to ask.
So as I sat in an attempt to fit these sentiments into one brief phrase, I decided “I love you” is far too cliché for this. And so the words simply formed themselves, and though basic and unadorned, they expressed my sentiments exactly: “You, as always, dear sir, delight my heart immensely.”

The possibilities are endless. I just dont know which one to take.

I am slowly becoming a little bolder. I am seeking to step out onto something not quite defined. It is unsettling, but I welcome these feelings of doubt. Chissa! Forse trovero’ qualcosa piu bella di quello che ho immaginato.

I had a great conversation with my Italian professor today. I still talk like I am 2 but I succeeded in making a joke, which he laughed at. Almeno sono il tesoro di qualcuno.

I love my classes with him. He has made me want to be better, to learn more. Mi innamoro sempre di piu con questa lingua ogni giorno.

So I fiddled with my guitar today. I am trying to write a new song but am failing miserably at it. Questi pensieri sono persi dentro di me, e non riesco trovarli.

I am very much looking forward to the holidays. It becomes a little strange to see the family unit change. If the family isn’t broken by divorce, it is divided later by life. I remember when my youngest brother got married. Up until that point he was my best friend, we hung out every day. If he wanted to do anything he would ask me to go with him, if I wanted to go anywhere, he was the first one I called. Now I have seen him a total of 5 times this whole year. Change sucks sometimes, life pulls us apart, and we learn to deal with it; but that still doesn’t negate the fact that I miss my family when I am away. Ma allo stesso tempo io volgio spingerla via, perche’ io so che partiro’ e forse sara’ piu facile piu tardi se comincio spingerla via poco a poco adesso. In questo modo, il mio cuore puo imparare come perdere. Io non so quello che fare di piu.