Look out the window sometimes...

It's funny, for as long as I lived, and for as many people that I have had deep conversations with...no one that I'd ever talked to, and I mean, NO ONE... has ever escaped the issue of "low self-esteem"

Even those that seem narcissistic and would think that they are better than anyone else (they are actually givens, to me....I don't even need to know them to know that they suffer from some form of low self-esteem)

It's not just weights, or that perpetual pimple on the (_!_)....

nor is it just feeling lonely and that nobody wants you...

It's many things or it could be just one thing...

but no one, at one time or another or at the present can seem or have seem to be able to be invulnerable to it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her name was Nicohl and she was in three of my classes: Social Studies, English, and Geometry.

To me, she was poetry in motion and she ALWAYS smiled at me (the friendly type, she had a big ole boyfriend, CHUCK[seriously, that's his real name]).

Needless to say, I had a big crush on her. I can almost honestly say that she might have been the first girl that I ever "loved" because it was different from a crush.

Because between ages 13-14, she was on my mind for that duration...it was that long (and maybe even longer, because I did think of her often well into my 20's)...

I sat infront of her in Social Study's class and behind her in English and Geometry. (I always tried to sit behind her)

There weren't assigned seats in one of those classes so I often would always cuss silently to myself if someone would've taken "my" seat that was close to hers.

I was quite shy, especially around girls. I could barely utter a word to them without blushing and wanting to hide like an ostrich.

But finally, I had the courage to at least say hi to her whenever I would see her and she always would smile at me.

Those white bright teeth always did one of those commercial "ZINGS" to my ears whenever I'd see her smile...

And that, would make my tiny heart beat erratically...sometimes so fast that I couldn't breathe...

An opportunity came during the second half/semester of the Geometry class. We were assigned 4 projects throughout the year and on my second project, I selected "Origami" as my project and I folded over 40 objects of various shapes and sizes. It got the highest score possible(according to my teacher, only the 3rd she'd ever awarded).

Nicohl asked me if I could help her with her third project, which happened to be origami.

HOW COULD I REFUSE!! I was beside myself that she asked me!

I gave her the book that I had bought on origami and spent the free times in class (if we finished our work in time, we had some free time during class to work on our projects) sitting next to her and helped her with her project. Those times, til this day, remain some of the happiest time for me during what I'd call the "darkest ages of moi"....

While I don't think she ever looked down at me...I always felt ashamed and embarassed sitting right NEXT to her...and I never said much.

My English wasn't that good back then so whenever she'd looked like she was baffled due to my explanations, I'd dig an even bigger hole and would just "mime" it to her (now you know why I love mimes...LOL)

Those days didn't last very long and were only a few minutes each time, really...

But I treasured every minute of it even though I felt like the world's ugliest person next to the world's prettiest girl.

somewhere inside...the feeling was good over the bad...

definitely...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's funny with low self-esteems...as I learned from various people, including myself.

The trigger can be something as simple as watching somebody deemed "Beautiful" on TV...

For me, it didn't helped that I ticced like crazy also...

my eyes blinked constantly; my head constantly twitched to my right side; my shoulders shrugged and ,by then; I was beginning to develop this funny "noise" that sounded like a LOUD dog's bark.

It started more like a dry cough...then a cough that never seemed clear up...

Then, it became a noise...one that even I, myself, dreaded to hear...

It didn't help that I was Asian living in the deep south also...

Quotidiantly, I was teased about my eyes...people pulling on their eyes asking me if I was Chinese, Japanese, Korean as they slant their eyes upwards, straightout, and/or downwards.

It didn't help that I had big lips also. I was told by someone that I looked like a hog that needed to be hooked.

It didn't help that my nose was not very straight neither. Some of my own cousins had often teased me about my "pigish" nose...

It didn't help that I was really addicted to fried foods and that my face looked like a big pizza pie dotted with tiny pepperoni either (sorry, Dean, even though I love your song, that was NOT "amore" to me...)

So, some where around age 13, I made a decision.

I decided that my goal in life--- was to become "handsome".

Now, I wasn't too dumb of a kid...I showed some promise as a possible pianist at a very young age. I also showed a lot of interest in science and had thought I wanted to become some sort of scientist.

But somewhere, it all got lost in translation and by 13, becoming good looking was my ultimate goal...

I searched magazine articles over and over (especially the women magazines)

I secretly bought products through mail using fake names and using money orders because one had to be 16-18 or older.

I used duck tape and stuck them to my eyelids and then pulling it upwards to help my eyes become bigger and less slanted.

I pulled at my nose 200 times a day in hopes that it'd get straighter and thinner.

I squeezed my lips any time I could've in hopes that it'd get thinner and prettier..

I rubbed whatever I read that I thought would work and bought all over me...

I tried all sorts of ointments that thankfully, didn't kill me...

I meditated and injured myself in hopes that I'd reduced my tics...

of course...as you SANE people know, none of those works (worked)...

one day, my mom found me duck taping my eyes and they were up to my eyebrows...

she angrily came over, without saying a word, and ripped them right off...that was the last of it...I knew she knew what I was doing...she's mom, after all...

til this day, I don't have "bushy" eyebrows because of that, I think....LOL

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

after the Geometry project was over, I even more aware of the differences between me and Nicohl...I started to hide from her and avoided her...and sat further and further...

but somewhere, deep inside of me...I wanted to hear her ask me, "Ed, why don't you sit next/close to me anymore?"

Of course, that's just wishful thinking...and whenever I'd see her...I'd suck in my lips and peeled my eyes open as big as they would go...

in retrospect, I must've looked like a zombie...LOLOLOL

there was always some kind of hurt whenever I'd see Chuck and her in the hallways...when they would kiss or just hold hands...

the loneliness that I felt consumed me even more as I fell off the ladder even further...

each day, it was not an upclimb to the ladder...but a step down...

so, further and further into the abyss of self-pity I went...and in the meantime, I built a huge brick wall around it...not wanting to be touched...(I didn't know that at the time)

but one day, during Social Study's class...the teacher announced that he was going to give us a project. We're to be divided into groups of threes...

and with luck...I got into Nicohl's group...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

around age 14, I finally was dx with Tourette's Syndrome....I gotten to the point that I couldn't walk anymore....the leg jerks had gotten so bad that whenever I'd stood, I'd fall due to the sonic tics...

I wanted to die...but it was more about being embarassed than anything...I was still attending school and they were all staring...

I wanted to die...why was I there? Why were they staring....God, please just let me die, let me fall off the stairs or something...

but dammit, there IS always someone NICE enough to help me out, to pull me through...but I didn't wanted to be HELPED...I wanted to DIE...let me die...dammit....

my parents worked 13 hour plus days...they owned a mom and pop's restaurant. Their limited ability with the English language as well as us being isolated in the deep south didn't help me at all.

They were worried, but they didn't know what was going on...even after my dx, they didn't know what to do...

but there were always nice people, strangers or "friends"(Customers that became friends) that reached out...

and we were reached...finally....

her name is Nancy (Gosh, I hope in all my heart that she is still around so I can thank her one day...) and she happened to work for the schools....her mom had been helping immigrants to get them established...she "found" us and she reached us...

I was placed in the hospital and was taken out of school...finally....

the next year....would determine whether I would've made it or not...it began my life's battle with suicides....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My leg tics hadn't start to set in yet...just those stupid vocal tics...the stupid dog barks...but most of the time, I still had them under control...

it's just that I needed to find a place where I could let it all out after holding it and the only time to do it, was to do it during class...

back then, most of my teachers let us write our own notes to go to the bathrooms...I got quite creative:

"Ed's bladder is full and the path to the boy's room is in his near future, Confucious"

"Ed's on his way to the restroom. Please allow him before he pee's in his pants"

some of the teachers would often shake their heads at my weird notes...but I was proud of them...

one day, I wrote one such note and went to the bathroom to have my "fit"

while I was having my fit in the stalls...I heard someone shouting, "are you alright???"

I was shocked and embarassed and I opened the door to let them know that I was OK...

it was none other than Chuck...

he was at first, concerned but that look of concern became the belittling look that deprecated me to my core...

I ran out of that bathroom and I played sick the next day....I didn't wanted to go back to school...I kept on telling myself..."he told her...I know he told her..."

even though I knew that she knew there was something WRONG with me...even though I never saw her TEASED me...

I was afraid to go back....

but go back I had to...

and nothing happened...she never said anything to me...she still just smiled...but...I could see pity in her eyes...

and then, our Social Study's project began...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

my dad, I learned to love him posthumously...

he was also one of those that lacked self-esteem...but I didn't cared about that until much later

around that time, I was too self-absorbed with self-pity to notice anyone else in my family....

and my dad was cheap...

we didn't have a lot of money and I didn't appreciate the fact that we were poor when I should be thankful that we even had a place to live. We started living in a 1 bedroom apt in Queens, NY...all five of us, in one tiny one bedroom apt to that we were now living in a house where I got to share a bedroom with my brother, F.

I didn't cared about that...

I cared what all teenagers cared about.

I cared that I didn't wanted my parents to be my parents and that I wished someone else were my parents

I cared that I didn't wanted to be seen with them.

I cared that I didn't care for that old Ford Station Wagon that carried us all the way from NY to NC and that I didn't
wanted to be seen picking up or dropping off in it.

All I cared about, was my image...what my ultimate goal was to be...to be handsome...even though I knew it was impossible....

somewhere, I let it all got to my head...

I loathed myself so much that I lost touch with reality...

I hated myself so much that I didn't bother to look around me to see and know that people cared...

all around me, were bricks and darkness...and above me....there was no sun, no light...

I could see...but it was more like a bat using a radar...there was no color, no emotions, nothing...just wire-frames of objects, including people that I seem to be walking through....

I breathed, but it felt like I had to try very hard to inhale and exhale...

I felt like spinning and, I did...

I span and I spun until the world crashed and I no longer was here...I was somewhere else in an astral plane...and nobody could touch me, my soul, and I...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the Social Study's project, going to the library was a must....for that, I demanded that my parents to buy me a bike.

I calculated it all very well. I lived exactly 32 blocks from the library. I knew all the short cuts. I knew Nicohl's parents would
drive her to the library. I knew they drove a fancy car.

I knew that I had to ride my bike to school and I knew that I then had to ride it to the library, which was thankfully, only 17 blocks away.

for three weeks, I would be working on this project with Nicohl and another girl...who was actually very nice, but Powers that be forgive me, I can't remember her name...

Of course, my father wouldn't buy me one of those nice looking bikes...we went to the flea market and while my mom argued with him that I should get a better bike, he got me a rusted one anyways.

"As long as it runs," he said, "when I was a kid, I had all hand me downs...I got my oldest brother's bike and I had to fix it up..."

I remember I "hated" him for that and I didn't wanted to talk to him...but he did fixed it up, some what; and he painted it ,some what...

but he wasn't a fixer nor a painter and the bike looked even worse after the "fixed up job"...

but I had no choice, it was either the bike and my calculations, or I had to have him take me in that old ugly rusted chipping blue old Ford Station Wagon.

at least, with the bike, I could try to get there earlier and hide it.

I rode that bike and I could hear that rusty chain...the gears didn't work too well and I always seem to get stuck on the highest hardest gear.

There were some hilly blocks and I hated them. It took a lot of effort especially with my twitchy leg....but rode to the library I did...

And I'd get there early. I didn't park my bike at the bike racks. I took it to the park across the street and chained it to a tree.

Then I'd walked in through the front door and looked out the back, because that's where her parents' car would drive up to...

at times, if the other girl showed up early, I'd get irritated because she'd wanted to get to work right away....but all I wanted....was to wait and watch for Nicohl...and to be ready when she'd get there...

ready for what? I had no idea...just to be ready...

I always would write notes of what I wanted to say to her, rehearse it a thousand times in my mind but never would I say it...

During the times that we'd spent working on the project. It was the two girls that would talk and chat more and that I would just listen and do the work.

But I liked it like that, in a way. The library was never crowed. Sometimes, it would just be the three of us; Even better when the other girl had to go to the bathroom (I always wished she'd fall in or something) then it'd just be the two of us...

one day, the other girl didn't show up...it was just me and Nicohl...

We were there for close to two hours...

that two hours was the longest and the shortest time in my life at that time...

it was the longest because it was amazing...it rained that day, the library was unusually quiet..it was just the two of us...

and the librarian actually asked us if we would mind if she could turn on some music. And she didn't play some old when the moon whacked your eyes like a big pizza pie...she played top 40 hits on the radio...

It felt like a dream, as if there mists around me and a unicorn would be appear at any minute now..."The them song from 'The Greatest American Hero'" came on the radio and we both were humming it and then we looked at each other and smiled.

it was magical...I think at one point I just stared at her like the RCA dog...(yes, with my head tilted).

In that two hours, many a times I wanted to tell her how I felt about her....

I wanted to tell her how I loved to see her smile. How seeing her smile made me feel...I wanted to tell her that she is and would be the only girl that I would ever love...I wanted to tell her that if the earth shook and the mountains came crashing down, I would hover over her and stand over her and be her cover and protect her til eternity...

you know, young teenage boy stuff who's read too many romantic novels...but I was sure I was sincere about it...she was all I thought about (aside from wanting to be handsome, mind you)

the two hours was too short because all of a sudden, it just ended...just like that...no warning or nothing...her mom came in to pick her up...

it was pouring out there...

she asked me if I wanted a ride home. Both of them did...

A million yes's poured out of my heart and stopped right at my throat....

I could only shake my head and thank them gratefully and told them that my father would be picking me up...

they offered once again, sincerely, and I almost accepted...but I was ashamed...not only about myself but where I lived. I lived right on the poverty line...

Also, I knew that I couldn't let that bike get wet and left overnight out there by that tree. There were still another week left on the project...I needed that bike...

That ride home was wet....very wet....but it was a joy ride for me...I had spent almost two hours with someone that I "loved" alone and nothing that day was going to stop me...

It was also a Friday and that weekend, I replayed that two hours over and over in my head...I relived every moment of it that I could think of...and my only wish was that I would've had enough courage to tell her how I felt...

somehow, with all my low-self esteem....she never really made me felt, little...only I was doing that to myself...I knew I had nothing over Chuck, who was strong, good looking and muscular and on the swimming team...the best I could do was chess club where all the geeks discuss Queen to C-7...

That following Monday, I came down with the fever...

It's funny how I would've find any excuse to not to go to school usually, but I got dressed and got on my bike and I rode it to school.

I didn't tell my parents about my fever. They were too busy...it was another hard night and hard day for them...

I got to school, Nicohl wasn't there...I went to the library after school, she wasn't there...just the OTHER girl...

I went home, too...left the "OTHER" girl to work on the project all by herself. I am sure I didn't contribute well to her self-esteem...she probably thought I hated her or something...but back then, I was too insensitive to care and let it mattered...

that ride home was hell....I was so sick....as soon as I made it home. I got sicker...my parents finally found out and I was "grounded"
the next few days...

the two girls finished up the project but graciously enough put my name along with theirs as well and we presented the project. I really didn't do much except flipped the papers and did some mime stuff for comic relief...but we got away with an "A"

and then, just like that...things went back to normal...except that my fuel and desire to tell Nicohl how I felt became even stronger...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

it's funny how when one has NO/Low self-esteem...they are more proned to believe in anything...especially the charlatans...the quacks that are actually quite smart and can puppeteer with your heart and soul...

Around that time, I strongly believed in fate and destiny. I even went to have my palm read...Because I read so much up on it. I was looking for every sign...

and all the "signs" and books I read including the "madam" soothsayer pointed to me that it was destiny that Nicohl and I were in that library alone that day and that we were both humming "The Greatest American Hero theme" as well as "The One that You love(Air Supply)" and that she offered to take me home.

What rich girl would do that for a po' boy like me??

it was destined to be...the madam tells me as she flipped over one of them Terror(yes, I know it's tarot, LOL) Cards...and I handed her my 3 weeks worth of work money. $50.00

I wanted to believe that it was so destined that I ended up worshipping the idea...

The stupid self-esteem problem popped up again and again...

what about my eyes? Well, back to the duck tapes

what about my nose? By then, I had came up with a unique way to straighten them out. I used two popsicle sticks and would have my nose fitted between them. Then I'd duck tape it together while I would hold the popsicle sticks and squeezed my nose between it...it hurted like Charle's Dicken's but I was quite proud of myself and almost believed that it was working?

What about my acnes? I popped them and put witch hazel (my remedies at the time) over them that made them burned

the only thing I didn't have an answer for were my tics...which were getting worse each day...but destiny was calling me...

so, one day, on over 10 pieces of 8X11" papers...I poured my guts out..folded it into some kind of origami flower, put her name on it...

I found her last name in the phone book. There were two names in the phone book. Both were on the same street but one further down.

I seemed to recall that she mentioned her father's name once and I took a gamble that the one that sounded familiar was her house.

Gosh, it was 50 some blocks from mine...

something inside me also told me that my time was running out. For some reason, I knew that something was seriously wrong with me and that something seriously wrong was going to happen soon...and that I needed to get this note out to her. It could be my last chance to let her know how I'd felt...

That night, after everyone fell asleep...and for the first time in my life...I snuck out on my bike with the note tucked inside my shirt rested against my chest...

it was kind of cold that night but my blood was pumping hot...and I set out on my bike...and I rode....over 50 blocks...

to drop off my destiny....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow, I made it through the awkward teenage years and into adulthood.

Around 20yo, I became a personal trainer. I had gotten addicted to lifting weights during my rehab around 14-15 and had also learned(got smarter?) that I couldn't change the way that my face looked...

So, I decided that I wanted to change my body now...it became my new road to becoming "attractive"...

Gym was full of people of various shapes and sizes but I knew back then (not saying I was right) that all of them, had some sort of low self-esteem some-what...(either prior or present)

what was very interesting was that what I thought were "perfect" people at the gym, the ones with the "perfect bods" and "perfect faces" were always the ones that seemed unsatisfied with themselves..

the guys were always wanting bigger chest or biceps even if it is just a 1/4 of an inch...

the "perfect girls" were always wanting to lose 2 more lbs somewhere...where there isn't anywhere else to lose anymore...and of course, there's always the breast issues...almost always, the sizes were inadequate and as soon as one would get augmented, later on, somebody would come in either matching or bigger...

I was really shocked to see the behaviors...because I would flat out tell them if they were to talk to me about their "problems"

I would tell them to look around at those that are overweight just trying to lose that 1 lbs of the extra 50 lbs that they need to lose...

then here are these "perfect people" that don't need to lose anything else that's wanting to gain another 1/4 inch or lose another 2 lbs when they are down to 3% body fat???

Nobody ever seemed to be "satisfied" where they were at...

myself included...I would always fight for that extra 5lbs on my bench press or wanting to gain that extra 1/2 inch on anywhere that I could gain...

(I never used steroids, in case you were wondering, but I came really close...)

It wasn't til years later during my self-growth that I realized that I needed that...I needed to be in the gym to see that it isn't just those of us that feel that we're "ugly" that are unhappy with ourselves...

it is even those that we(I) see that are deemed "beautiful" that are unhappy with themselves...

I was very glad to have had that experience because while I didn't learned it at the time, it hit me one day years later when I was having my low self-esteem issues that I thought back to those years and realized that low self-esteem is NOT isolated to me and moi only (sorry, there's only one of us if you were wondering. LOL) but to a mass amout of people...

people of all shapes and sizes...

around that time in my life, my brick walls have become transparent and it made it even harder for me, more than ever, to deal with loneliness...

because now, I could see people reaching to me...but I couldn't reach back..

it was like Marcel Marceau's "the cage" where one is entrapped in this invisible wall...you can see the outside, but you can't touch it, and it just kept on shrinking and shrinking...

at least with the brick wall, I was oblivious to the "hands" that were out there...

but when it became transparent, I was dying to touch the hands that were reaching out but the "wall" kept me away from the hands...

not only that, but it was shrinking and shrinking...

and as we all know, when we incubate self-hatred and there's no where to go...the hatred will grow bigger while the space that contains it will grew smaller...

this extreme polarity would at some point, brought me to one of those lowest points in my life that would almost take me away from the world that I hated and despised...but most of all, from it's most hated denizens...

ME....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

when one is young and crass and not too bright, 50 some blocks worked out by dissecting and finding the hypotneuse of a triangle on paper didn't seem such long a ride on a bike because it was just some numbers....

I snucked out of my bedroom around 1am. I was excited and pumped up and I had to really try to keep my tics under control.

I made sure that my brother was sleeping by throwing some spitballs at him...he didn't wake up and I snickered because I was mad at him about something earlier that day so I made sure there were extra spits on the balls....(I still haven't told him til this day and he's never asked. LOL)

I made sure I was 10 blocks down before I let out my first vocal tic...

in the cold air and the silent night it sounded so loud that the dogs closest to my tic barked so loud that it started a chain reaction all the way down both directions...

On the one hand, I was in fear that I would get caught any moment now...by whom or what, I had no idea but just that fear of getting caught....

but on the other hand, I was pumped up with adrenaline and I had bet all my dice on this 10+ page letter getting warmer against my chest that I would win the heart of somebody that I "loved"

maybe I had read a bit too much faerie tales and am a bit too much of a romantic to the point of quixotic

I pictured myself a valiant knight on his way to win his princess's heart and my rusty ole bike was my gallant horse that would take me there....

some parts of the streets had some street lights but some parts didn't....

the parts where it was dark really scared me but I kept on riding as I kept on going...

some 40 blocks later I started to run out of gas a bit and anxiety and apprehension kicked in...

I started having second thoughts about dropping the letter off...

What if she doesn't speak to me anymore? what if she hates me after this?
what if she tells everybody? (I would be so embarassed that I would neve show my face at school ever again! I would have to change school or convince my parents that we'd have to move or I'd just have to play sick or even dead!!)

It was getting very cold and I started slowing down...

As I got to THE block where I thought her house was...I stopped at the stop sign at the cross-road...

it was the cross-road in my heart/life as well...

"well Ed, you can keep on riding and find her mail box and drop this letter in and place it all in God's hand or you can turn around and ride 50 long blocks home and get back to bed..."

It was a question that I replayed and regurgitated over and over...and it seemed an eternity....

the letter was getting warmer and warmer on my chest...but my body was getting colder and colder and reality was really beginning to set in...

what do I do....

I looked up and was looking for a sign....

NOPE, no shooting stars or nothing...dangit...all the constellations were in the right place and not even an airplane was flying by to blink at me....

I looked down at my bike...

I gritted my teeth...

I took a deep breath...

and I started to peddle....slowly....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When my friend took me to take my stitches and staples out the other day from my surgery...

he looked at me and said sadly but not in a discouraging way(just being honest), "well Ed, it looks like you are going to have scars both on the front and the back of your neck..."

he said it compunctiously...

I was surprised at a few things...

first of all, I had NOT even given my scars ANY thoughts...not prior to surgery, not after surgery, not up til the point that he mentioned it...

second of all, I was surprised at HOW MUCH that I DIDN'T cared!!!!

I DIDN'T!!!

I looked at him and I smiled and I said, "oh, it's OK...it's not like I looked good or anything in the first place and maybe the scars would be an improvement to my looks!"

Then I imitated Frankstein getting jolted by the lightning...

He looked at me, amused or amazed or maybe both but with a grin...he didn't say anything else but smiled unto himself and we walked to the car...

That night, after I showered, I took at look at myself really GOOD for the first time since my surgery. I mean, detailed look....

I could see that I would have a big scar....but I still DIDN'T cared...it wasn't some bravado that I was showing off to my friend earlier...I truly meant it when I said it didn't bothered me...

WOW!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I peddled....

FORWARD.....

I had come too far to go back now and I must move on...

my mom has always said that I inherited her stubborness and now it was at its full potency.

I rode up to the house and checked the number on the mail box. A number that I have memorized by heart branded so deep that I would know it for the rest of my life...

the street was dark on this block but I knew in my heart that it was the right house...

I reached out my hand to the mail box but I stopped short at the latch...

I took off again, further down the street....

dammit, I just couldn't do it...I sat at the other end of the street, frustrated at myself and calling myself all sort of names associated with chicken and coward, maybe even worse that involved my own parents....

I rode back again but this time, I passed the mailbox and ended up at the stop sign where I looked for signs...

so, for the next 20 minutes, I rode back and forth, back and forth....

talking to myself, calling myself names, trying to talk myself into it while talking myself out of it...

and my legs were getting tired and I was in even more fear of getting caught...

the noisy tics were no longer containable...and I had let a really loud one rip and that woke up more dogs, cats, racoons, bears, lions, tigers, oh my....

I swore I could see lights lighting up from inside the houses including hers...

I had to make a decision quickly....

that letter was about to get caught on fire on my chest and the friction was about to cut me up...

I think I said something similar to "F-15 it" and I opened that latch and I put that letter in and then I peddled the fastest that I ever could on outta there and ticced and brought a trail of barking dogs 50 blocks back with me...

I snuck back into my room and my brother was still sound asleep with my spit all over him...

I got under the sheets and my heart was still beating and pounding hard...

all sorts of possibilities raced through my head....

the what ifs....

the good, the bad, and the ugly...but each conclusion always left me feeling that I need to convince my parents to move.....

we just have to move to another town and change our names...

and I had to work on how I could convince them that...

the few good thoughts that I had...where I actually thought that she'd tell me how touched she was with my letter and that she had fallen in love with me also crossed my mind...

I have to be absolutely honest...my utmost desire with her, was not even a kiss....


I simply wanted to hold her hand and just look at her...underneath the moon and the stars and just listen to her talk or just watch her smile...

I simply wanted to feel the warmth of her hand, touching mine and that I would be so satisfied....just to be touched and had my hand held....by hers

that was what I really wanted...more than anything...

(and that's how I ended the letter to her with, in case anyone was wondering, and I wrote it as sincerely as I could wrote it)

there were only about an hour left before I had to get up for school...it would be a Friday...I thumped my head wondered why I didn't wait to do this on a Saturday???

That hour was agonizingly long....

at the one hand, I couldn't wait to see her and her reaction...

on the other hand, I was so scared that I would be laughed out of school and that my parents would hate me because we'd have to change our names and move....

I prayed that morning won't ever come yet I prayed that it'd come sooner...

The battles inside drove me crazy and dried up all my spits inside...

then I looked at my brother...envious of him, snoring, sound asleep without a care in the world, and full of the spits that I desparately needed because now I have cotton mouth....

I placed the cover over me and made one final prayer...

I prayed that dawn would never come or that if it did, I would get so sick or get a heart attack and die...

and I closed my eyes....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had to grin big to myself....

If I had any doubt about where I am at NOW in my life, I really no longer have...

I didn't have it prior to my surgery. Right up to the point of my surgery. I was joking with everyone around me.

I didn't have any regrets if I would've died on that operating table. Because I knew that while I don't have everything in the world, I couldn't ask for anything more...that while life isn't perfect, it is as perfect as I needed and wanted...

As painful as I felt and was in...I had a contentment that I never had before...

So now, there are these scars...SO WHAT????

But years ago, it would've mattered...it would've been one of those evil schemes that someone was plotting against me to prevent me from getting handsome (sorry, I have to laugh at myself for that ridiculous thought)

11 years ago, it would've mattered and I would've cursed at my bad fortune that I had to have surgery and would end up with big huge scars that someone was plotting against me to make me look like Frankenstein's brother...

probably 6 years ago, it would've mattered only somewhat and I would've cursed at my bad fortune but then accepting it somewhat...

but now...NOW...

it didn't matter....

I took a detailed look on my outside that night but even more...I took a even more detailed look inside of me that night...

I examined my wall again...

yes, it's still there...but now, I have built windows around it...

windows that I could open anytime that I wanted...so I could TOUCH those "HANDS" that have reached out to me...

yes, the walls are still there, but they are no longer shrinking...they are just there, and I know they always will be there...

but now, I can see through them and I have windows that I can open or close whenever I choose...but I now, HAVE A CHOICE...

I know that for the rest of my life, I will battle demons and they'll come and try to get me...that's when I will close the windows and stay safe...

but I also know that for a big part of my life, I will open the window and reach out my hand to touch the hands that have reached for me...

and it makes it all good....

it's all good...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost as soon as I'd just fallen asleep, the alarm sounded...

I literally jumped out of my bed still dressed in my covert mission clothes...

I changed quickly and brushed my teeth quickly and left quickly. I didn't say a word to anyone...

I got to school really early...I stood at the corner that I already picked out knowing that she'll be coming in from those doors...and I know she'll come in either with Chuck or by herself (GOD, let it be by herself, PLEASE!!!)

cold sweats dripped all over me as people started to cruise in...

I wanted to run away but I couldn't move...

I wanted to die but I had no strength to choke myself...

I couldn't breathe and every breath was just that much than the one before it...

Oh God, I am having an asthma attack!!

I took out my puffer and made my noises and somebody came and asked me if I was OK and I nodded my head...

Oh God, they are all looking at me funny! They already know! They are laughing at me!!

What was I thinking? Why did I do it?? We have to move to another COUNTRY, not town!!!

I wanna die, I wanna die, I wanna die...

but I also want to hold her hand so badly....

I must have missed her...because I never saw her until English class and that's the one where we can pick our own seats...

I didn't get there early enough because my stupid homeroom teacher held us back a little longer...

by the time I got to the English class, she was already there as well as all the seats around her were filled...

there was only a seat at the very back of the class and I walked in through the backdoor of the class...she didn't see me...

At some point, I had to make one of my noises...by now, nobody really looks at me anymore...

but I hoped she would've...but she didn't...

half of my heart died right there...

"she must have hated my letter" I had convinced myself...

the forever class finally ended and I took off and went to the bathroom to throw up and tic...

at lunch time, I avoided her...

but then, the dreaded Geometry class was about to begin...

and finally, I think she saw me for the first time....

she...

SMILED...

those bright white "zingy" teeth...

I smiled back...nervous and sweaty...

but I didn't get any clues from her...did she read the letter yet? What did she think of it? Why isn't she telling me she hates my guts??

(but somewhere inside, wanting to hear her say, "I want to hold your hand too!")

nada...she said hi and asked me how I was doing and then the class started...

by Social Study's class...I had thought that maybe they hadn't checked the mails yet .....after all, it was just last night that I dropped the letter off and surely, they wouldn't checked the letter yet...

I sighed a big sigh and felt a bit of relief...but then I got anxious about the weekend...

crikes...the LONG weekend where I won't be able to find out anything until Monday!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH HHHHHHH!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's a funny thing with life....

While I had all the doubts in myself, I also had enough sense and attitude to be a bit cocky....

At the age where I thought I knew a lot when I really didn't know anything...

I really should learn to pay more attention than not....

But each mishaps humbles me and make me a better person, at least, that's my hope...

sometime during my college year. I ran into one of Nicohl's friends...

I was a bit different by then but still quite shy...

as soon as I saw her, I thought she'd knew something...and she did...

she shared it with me...

The mailbox that ate my letter, belonged to the OTHER person with the same last name...

and Nicohl never got to read my letter. Her relative received the letter and thought it rather strange and had actually thought that I was dangerous (a stalker) and destroyed the letter.

she mentioned it to Nicohl only a few years later asking if Nicohl knew me.

I am not sure if the relative told Nicohl what I wrote in that letter...

I didn't ask...

the friend of Nicohl's was friendly and not hostile, so it was a good sign...

I was glad to know that because it explained to me why I never got a nod or shook of the head from Nicohl...or why I never had to move and change my name...

but it didn't matter at that time although I was sure my face did turned a bit red infront of her friend...

in retrospect...I have no regrets in the things that I had done, good or bad...

because today, at this very moment...I have learned that I am NOT the bad person that I thought that I was...but I needed all those lessons, good and bad...to shape and whip me into the person that I am today...

I DO only wish, that maybe she would've opened her window that night, and maybe saw a boy riding back and forth infront of her house and wondered...

and for me, I am glad I have built the windows around my own walls...

because sometimes, it's good to look outside the window...for one never knows what awaits them.....