(cont....)(I have missed the edit deadline, have forgotten.. well, maybe one of the mods or the admin will do one of those magics and cut and paste them together for me? *thanks in advance, btw )


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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!

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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....

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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!!!

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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...one never know what awaits them.....