Dear Mama,

gusto kitang kausapin
pero wala ka
nandito nandoon
nawawala
parang nahulog na bituin
lumalapit --- ang ganda nang
iyong kislap.

ang sakit nang iyong yakap.

I've found that I can write poetry...but only if it's in another language. You told me that I write best when I'm depressed, well guess what, I'm churning out the pages like there's no tomorrow. They all seem to be about love, which is funny because I'm not in love. I'd like to be. It's been too long since I've called you up, giggling and blabbing on and on about what he wore, what he smelled like, what we did. And then you'd tease me and ask me when we were getting married... at least I think you were kidding. I'm telling myself that these things don't work out for a reason, but sometimes it's hard to swallow my own bullshit. It's true, I've accepted it: I'm the unluckiest person in love. Remember in eighth-grade, my first boyfriend Peter Lavis was in a band, and he told me to go to their show because he had a song for me (my thing for drummers stemmed from him). And at the very last minute, I couldn't go because you and dad went somewhere without telling me, and I had to stay with the kids? Yeah, I was pissed. But I'm over it now. Anyway, he walked up to me the next day and broke up with me while I was pulling out books from my locker. He didn't think I really cared about him, which is the funniest thing because he was all I could think about.

I get so consumed by people, both in the negative and positive sense. Sometimes I think about other people more than I should. I should start being selfish. I hate to quote Mademoiselle, but this is the "me years." Maybe this is why I'm doing so badly right now (among other reasons): I'm not really taking care of myself. The little things would make a big difference: getting a manicure, buying CDs, walking to a park and sitting in the sun for hours. I did that today while talking to David on the phone. As much as I hope he gets the internship, I really hope he can make it down here this weekend. Because nothing would make me happier. Except finally getting my hands on Y Tu Mama Tambien (ohmygod, the guy working at the store was so cute!). I think you'd like the movie even though at times it borders on soft-core porn. But need I remind you of what you said, I don't remember to what, but you said, "They don't show any sex? Then what good is that?". You were kidding though. I think.

Anyway, yeah, I'm doing what you told me; I'm trying to relax (I watched Wayne's World last night and this morning I put Al Green on repeat). It's not the end of the world, I know, but it sure feels like that, doesn't it? I miss you. I'm geting my hair cut tomorrow (if I wake up, heh heh). I need a change of .... something. Something needs to change. Don't call me drastic. I really want to intern at Insound over the summer. This is something that I just thought of and haven't told anyone, but how fucking awesome would that be? Fucking NYC... I'd be surrounded by sexiness. I'm sorry, but corn fields and Bob Evans just don't do it for me. But we'll see. I'm just trying to think of the future instead of now, because "now" is pretty much toilet bowl material. I miss you,

Love,
Patricia