Regret is overrated. Every bad situation in life is an opportunity to learn. There are things in life we may look back on and wonder what would have happened if things had been done differently, but the worst situations offer the greatest learning curve. However, there is such a thing as a second chance, as evidenced by so many people and instances in the world. With a second chance, we get an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past. There is almost always a catch or a handicap, but it is possible to redeem, renew or rewrite our past. I wonder if I've used all of mine up.

Don't get me wrong, I am a lot more content with the way my life is going than I have been in at least a few years. Sure, I'm flat broke, and there are physical qualities I wouldn't mind altering. But I have removed the main sources of drama from my life, and overall I don't have much to complain about. But there are certain situations in my life where I continue to hold out for an opportunity for what could be considered a "second chance". I put that term into quotations because some of said situations would actually be in the range of 5th-7th chance. But does karma imbue us with a predestined number of second chances that we can deplete once we take advantage of enough of them? This would be an interesting quandary to figure out, because it would prevent me from holding out for a lost cause. Of course, I should be the next St. Jude, patron saint of lost causes, because it feels like I've been holding onto false hopes for the better part of my life. I just don't move on very well when it comes to specific situations. Some because I can't, some because I don't want to, and some because of both. But if Michael Vick can kill dogs for years and get a second chance in the NFL, the largest grossing sport in the country...why shouldn't I hold out for one when my transgressions have been far less grave?

I dreamed a dream the other night. The contents of the dream are inconsequential. What has tugged at me for the past several days is the way the dream made me feel. For what seemed like only an hour or two, I experienced a joy that I hadn't felt in a long time. The only thing wrong with the dream was that I had to wake up from it, and wake up I did. I woke up to a place where silence is encouraged, where emotions are suppressed and where love is ignored. Orwell would be impressed at this web of shadows we've created. And when faced with this alternate universe that I've only experienced once, for a small matter of hours, all I can ask is, "Why?" Why do we live in such denial? I'm not the only one who experiences this on a daily basis, I'm aware. But ever since I woke up to the situation, these questions have been running through my head. Questions like, "Why am I so afraid to tell you how I really feel?" I think there's a song line along the following lines, and if there isn't, there should be: "How can you not see, you're the only one for me?" Maybe I'll compose a song about that sometime, even though my musical talents are far, far beneath my literary skills. I hate that most of my blog posts are about these things, but they present some of the more complicated issues in my life today, and tonight I decided to share them in this way. I dreamed a dream where I was happy with a person who has, in all likelihood, lost faith in that ever being possible. It is not the first, nor shall it be the last, but it is one of the most powerful. I would give it all up for this happiness if I didn't already know there's no way I would be allowed to. But in a situation that has been wrought with pain so many times before, and so long ago, why do I not let go, when everything else in my life has been let go? Why do I not give in? This does not fit the deterioration of my Bohemian ideals in the slightest. Hope is not something I take comfort in these days, nor something I count on. There are no prayers, and very little optimism. But my belief in this one instance holds true with surprising fervor. And I can't bring myself to let go. I keep the pictures when all others have been tossed away. I keep the good memories as well as the bad ones, but shut out others that are much more recent. Call me pathetic, call me wrong, tell me it'll never work, tell me to give up...somehow, I don't know if it'll matter. The love I've been told I shouldn't hold onto will still reign true when all other lights in my mind have gone out. The most difficult thing about it is not being able to say so. To live in this deafening silence. I remember, a long time ago, my mantra was "Break the silence." One of these days, I just might.

Let me get one thing straight. I'm not a good songwriter. I pride myself upon my writing abilities, but composing a song, I just don't count in there. I wrote and sang a song on YouTube with disastrous results. If you care to go and laugh yourself, just search for "Yet Another Mixtape". You'll find it eventually, and God help you. That being said...I wrote another one. This one, I had the good sense not to try and sing acappella, so I decided instead I would just post it on here, and maybe someone with musical talent will see it and write up some music for it. If it doesn't suck too badly. But you be the judge. Here it is:

“The One That Got Away”

 

I try not to stare too hard at her smile

The one that used to set my heart on fire

‘Cuz I know it’ll only last a short while

And I can’t let my hopes get any higher

 

Can’t stay as long as I used to anymore

She opens the door and walks me outside

The pain is too difficult to ignore

But ‘round her it’s something I gotta hide

 

CHORUS:

Now we’re sayin’ goodbye without sayin’ a word

I wish I could tell her just how much it hurts

But anything that I might do or say

Could still not make her heart decide to stay

She’s the one that got away…

 

I think back to times that are long and gone

When she held my open heart in her hands

We would smile and kiss at every love song

I’d hold her close and we’d make future plans

 

How did it ever come to be like this?

Can’t she see that we don’t belong apart?

I’d give it all away for just one kiss

I’d cross the earth to mend this broken heart

 

CHORUS:

Now we’re sayin’ goodbye without sayin’ a word

I wish I could tell her just how much it hurts

But anything that I might do or say

Could still not make her heart decide to stay

She’s the one that got away…

 

How can it be

When you stand here with me

You don’t feel this pain that I feel?

It’s not too late to try

Please don’t tell me goodbye

I swear to God this love is real
 

CHORUS:

But we’re still sayin’ goodbye without sayin’ a word

I wish I could tell her just how much it hurts

But anything that I might do or say

Could still not make her heart decide to stay

She’s the one that got away…

 

But my love won’t go away



So there you have it. Let the hilarity ensue. I don't think I need to tell you the motive or thought process behind this one.

...What a fuckin' waste of time, huh?

I am so sick of being the "hopeful" one. The Bohemian. I used to pride myself on it, you know. I was the guy who would tell you, "Hey, it can only get better." I wonder why people listened to me. What has hope gotten me lately? An apartment by myself, a life in isolation, a vast expanse separating me and the people I care about. Way to go, me. While I'm leading the hopeful life, the realists are forgetting about me. I'm no more than an offhand thought to most of the people I used to call close friends. That's what I get for living in this imaginary world called Bohemia. But too many times have perfectly good days been ruined at the last minute and thrown me into a funk. Too many times have I been optimistic about an outcome, only to be disappointed utterly when my optimism proved to be in vain. All optimism is good for is a bigger letdown and a more crushing defeat. I don't know what the heck I'm thinking, continuing to hold onto these hopes that my realistic brain knows will end up false. I must be a new class of dumbass. Hope hasn't done anything for me but break my heart. Optimism hasn't done anything for me but let me down. Bohemia is in ruins from the endless bombing raids by Realism, and yet here I am, the only person left in the demolished city square, standing my ground. Somebody wake me the fuck up before I get blown to smithereens.

I've always been a bohemian by trade. The world has always been beautiful to me, and I've always held on to the belief that things would turn out well in the end. That good things are bound to happen at some point. That fairy tales do come true. But the world is a hard place to follow bohemian ideals, and I think I'm finally starting to realize that. And I'm losing my faith in hope because of it. The harsh realities of the world today have no place for dreamers. I for one spend less and less time being encouraged by my future and more and more time being haunted by my present. The past is an entirely different monster altogether. The past has always been my greatest source of hope, because I've always looked back on things in my life and thought, "Hey, I can learn from this. These things can change." But some things never change, even though some things do. And some things change for the worse, and the hope that they'll change back to what they once were is frequently slim to none. These things have been weighing down on me lately. And I'm not sure I'll come out of all of it with my bohemian status intact. I'm starting to not have faith in the world. I'm starting to believe that fairy tales are a lie. And I'm starting to believe that happiness may be so high on a pedestal, it's next to impossible to reach, and even less worth trying for. This may be a farewell to hope. The only hoping I can do now is to hope that it isn't.

I hate it so much when people willfully hurt the ones I love and care about, and I have to sit by and do nothing about it. I am a very help-oriented person in that if my friends or loved ones are in need of assistance, I want them to come to me first. I enjoy caring for those close to me. But there are some situations where a third party is involved in my friend or loved one's life that threatens or takes away that happiness I work so hard to help maintain. These people are usually parents, spouses, or figures of the like. I see these people hurting those I care about, making their lives miserable, and I want to put my two cents in and tell off the third party. However, if I do that, it will just make life worse for my friend or loved one involved, so it puts me in a bad position. Do I say something, and risk more punishment or emotional harm coming to the person I'm trying to help? Or do I sit back and offer condolences, since that is the only thing I have a place to offer? It angers me so much, and you know what? I'm starting to get tired of it. If it continues to happen, I am going to snap. And I don't want anyone near me when that happens. Barely anyone has seen me truly angry, and if I snap, I'll be furious. It will not be pretty. 


I want to help so badly... 

It's been a while since I last posted. I was in a bit of turmoil over the course of my last few posts, but I had an epiphany on the way to History 342, and I'm sitting in class sharing it with you now. Here's a message to all the people in my life.

To my educators, mentors, guides and teachers: Without your knowledge, I would not hold the intelligence I am proud to maintain as a person in this world. Your guidance has taught me the path, and as a result I have been able to walk the path with my wits about me and my head held high. I have not always appreciated the value of what you have tried to teach me, but I know it has helped me in ways I could never have dreamed about.

To my friends: You are the guiding light in my life, as I am your champion in your times of peril. Though I model my ways after those of a superhero, so to speak, you are the ones who save me. You save me from isolation, from reality, and from myself. I would be nowhere without your support. Thank you for all that you do, and I will continue to do all I can for you.

To my loved ones: You are the reason for my being. I have struggled much in life, and had to overcome many obstacles down the path life has drawn out for me. Though I have been relatively successful in some of my achievements and goals, none of it would be worth it if I didn't have you. I am able to hold on to you when I fail and rejoice with you when I succeed. And as I grow, you grow with me, and there is nothing I cherish more than your love. I do my best to make you proud, to make you happy, and to offer you the same security and purpose that you offer me. I love you more than you know. 

To those who have shunned me--and you know who you are--: You have no idea the amount of impact you've had in my life. You think by pushing me away, you have ruined me. You have the delusion that I will not be able to survive without you, and you relish in the thought of hurting me by removing me from your life. But despite your best efforts, you have made me stronger in all aspects of life. Your darkness makes my light stronger, as I am motivated to prove everything you thought about me to be wrong. I am made better by your sacrifice, and because of this sacrifice, I pity you. I am a man who wears his heart on his sleeve. I open my arms to all that need me, and I open my heart to all that care. Your misjudgement of my character is of such a tremendous magnitude that I can only hope you do not wander through the rest of your life in the way that you stumbled through mine. It is very easy to see me for who I really am, because I make it so. I am a good person, I do not fit the stereotype, and I am one of the few you will find in this world who genuinely cares one hundred percent of the time. I do not pity you because I hate you, or I hold a grudge against you for pushing me away. I pity you because you are lost. But though I may never see you, speak to you, or be a part of your thoughts ever again, I love you. You made me who I am today. There is no greater gift you could have given me. 

I hope my message does not fall on deaf ears for all parties involved. Thank you all for the roles you have played in my life. I love you all.

I could make a movie of my emotions sometimes. I'm sitting up at 2:36 in the morning, staring at my phone. On it is a text message. I want to send this message, but something holds me back. You hold me back. It's bad enough I...we...have to live in this deafening silence. But to not be able to break it, out of fear that things will only get worse...
How did it come to this?
I can see it now. As some Evanescence or Snow Patrol song plays in the background, the camera starts out on my face, downcast, staring at the phone screen. My voiceover narrates, word for word, what I've written to you. After switching views a couple times, the camera superimposes me and the clock in the same shot. We do a time-lapse shot to show how long I end up sitting there, pondering a simple press of a button. Then, finally, I sigh and close my phone, and the message is lost forever.
How tragically poetic.
I'm not sure you know the effect this has on me. I wish I could make you know. I wish you could see the torment in my heart. But somehow, I don't think it would make a difference. You've fallen so far away from me...
As much as I want to believe this is a bad dream, that this is just a phase, and soon things will be the way they should be between us (whatever that is)...
I don't know if you feel the same. And it scares me. How am I supposed to know? How will I find out if you don't tell me?


Break the silence. Please.

There comes in every person's life a moment that will never be forgotten. A feeling that will never be replicated. A tale, woven so flawlessly, it can never be outdone. These stories sometimes have happy endings. Others end in tragedy. But all are forever etched into our minds and hearts, no matter what the outcome. As I sit here in a far away place, cold and alone with my thoughts, I recount to you, from a different point of view, my greatest story ever told... 

He found himself alone on the dance floor. There were all of his friends, dancing joyfully with their dates. His was nowhere to be seen. So much for a great homecoming, he thought. She had disappeared an hour into the night, and he had not seen her since. And as the clock neared 10:30 pm, and the end of Homecoming 2005, he felt like an utter failure. Yes, he'd had a few laughs with his friends sporadically over the course of the evening, but to be ditched on homecoming night is a feeling like no other. He shook himself from the depths of his thoughts to hear the voice of Bryan Adams fill the gym. Slow song. At this hour, it had to be the last song of the night. Of course they choose a good slow song to end the night, and I can't dance to it, he thinks. "Everything I Do, I Do it For You" was one of his favorites, but he was not in the mood to stay and listen. He picked up his coat from the table he was sitting at and headed for the door. All of a sudden, there she was.

She walked in just as he was about to walk out, and he saw her coming. How could he not? She was beautiful. No...beautiful is a gross underestimate. He'd known her since fifth grade, though she was a year younger than he, and he could not remember her being more beautiful than she was that night. A silver dress shining in the roaming lights. Dark brown hair, straightened to perfection, with a tinge of red lacing the strands. She was immaculate, and she was looking right at him. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't focus on what she was saying until he gathered himself to listen. 

"Where are you going?" she asked. He shrugged in response.

"My date left me, and the night's pretty much over. I don't have anyone to dance with, so I'm going home," he said. As he said this, a faint flicker of hope awoke in the farthest reaches of his mind. With every word she said after his reply, the hope grew and grew until it filled him from his toes to the roots of his hair.

Without hesitating, she gave him a wary smile and spoke, in a voice that echoes in his head with crystalline accuracy to this very day...

"You can dance with me."

Unable to say a word, he took her by the hand, and they made for the dance floor, stopping only to put down his coat. Bryan Adams was still singing, and there were couples swaying in the soft blue lights. They found a spot on the outer ring of dancers. As his arms enfolded her, he felt as though a puzzle piece had been fit into place. Her arms were around his neck, and they began to dance, looking at each other in complete silence. Thoughts raced through the young man's mind. His night had gone from a disaster to this...this definition of serenity in a matter of seconds. He was sure there was no way the night could get any better when, as if on cue, she rested her delicate head on his shoulder. It was at that moment he knew he was going to kiss her. He'd wanted to ever since he'd known her, and he knew right then that the feeling was mutual. It was an unspoken acquiescence, and there was no greater feeling than on that very dance floor, inhaling the scent of her hair, feeling her soft breath on his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a second and pulled apart to look her in the eye. 

"This means nothing," he said. He wasn't sure why he said it. Maybe he was scared she would pull away. Maybe he was subconsciously giving her a chance to leave before he kissed her. But she stood her ground.

"Of course," she replied. And those were the last words either of them spoke.

They kissed. But it was not just a kiss, as they stopped swaying and held each other close. It was a doorway to a place neither of them had ever been before. It was the beginning, the end, the middle, and everything in between. The entire universe exploded and reformed, and all the stars winked out of existence before coming back brighter than ever in their kiss. The song ended, the lights came up, and still they remained, locked in an gentle embrace that shook the heavens, yet calmed the seas. It was as though, as their lips touched, the words of Bryan Adams' song became etched in their minds...Everything I Do, I Do it For You. 

"This means nothing," he said. But it meant everything. And they both knew it. 

They finally broke apart, and stood frozen for what seemed like eternity. Finally, she gave him a smile that would melt the largest glacier in the world as though it were butter, squeezed his hands in hers, and turned to leave. He stood there in stunned silence for a minute, then took off after her...



I've told this story few times in my life, but every time I do, I can feel her arms around my neck, her head on my shoulder. I can smell the scent of her hair, that scent that will stay with me for the rest of my life. All these things come back to me when I tell this story, as they have now. And as I sit here, surrounded by the memory of what I considered perfection, I wonder what became of that feeling. I wonder why such a feeling had to be put aside, not spoken of, hidden from. It may never be perfectly clear what went wrong, but I will always have the memory of that night. That song. That kiss. This, indeed, is my...our...greatest story ever told.

 So I had a dream last night in the midst of my insomnia, during one of the periods between 5 am and 8 am when I was actually asleep. I dreamt that I was attending high school again, but this time my school was built around a Mayan pyramid, which we had to scale to get to class every day. As I'm climbing this thing, I'm flanked by my ex-girlfriend (not my most recent one) on one side and my best friend on the other. Apparently, in the dream, my ex had just turned 18, but I learned that she was pregnant with another man's child. In the dream, his name was Vinny. I never saw his face. Anywho, the dream shifted, and I was on the run from something or someone. All of a sudden, who do I bump into but Carrie Underwood. Now, normally I'd be very excited, as I am completely taken by Ms. Underwood in real life. Her poster is right next to me at the moment. But in my dream, I brought her with me on our flight from...whoever I was running from. We ended up in a universe parallel to our own, on a train in the middle of an endless swirling fog. We were in different cars, so on curves in the track I would be able to look out the window and see her face, sad against a rain-soaked window. Broke my heart. On one of these curves, I saw some dirty-looking hooligans trying to harass her, so I got up and raced to her car. Somehow, I don't quite remember how, I got them to leave. Then as I sat down next to the woman of my dreams (literally, in this case), I woke up. I was almost late for class. Insomnia is really, REALLY annoying, but if it gets me to dream about Carrie Underwood, I suppose I can live with it. The strange part was having conversations in my dream with my ex. She's not exactly speaking to me at the moment...at all. Yet in the dream, we were at least somewhat cordial. Remind me to explain our story to you sometime. For now, this is Kevin Sanchez, signing off.

My first LiveJournal entry. It should come as a momentous, groundbreaking occasion. And who knows, maybe it is. But what if two months down the road, the luster fades? I won't know until I get there, I suppose. For those of you who don't know me, and I'm sure that's a lot of you, I'm Kevin Sanchez of Burbank, California. I just turned 19 on Saturday, and I'm a journalism major at The Ohio State University....for now. I'm waiting on my transfer application to USC, and the school of broadcast journalism there. But at the moment, I'm enjoying life in Ohio, somewhat. There's still the occasional drama back home, as usual. Remind me to write about that sometime. For now, though, I will say it's good to finally have a place to write besides MySpace, and I look forward to whatever you all have to say about what I write!

KTS