now that my blogger page looks like it somewhat reflects my personality and lifestyle (or at least the lifestyle i'd like to portray anyway), all i can do is stare at its background.

so many lines erased thereafter. every emotion to feel and no words to be formulated for them.

i used to be good at this... language as an art form - emotions as the many colors that can be possibly be mixed on a palate, keyboard as my brush, and the canvas? myspace, of course!

then i grew up. and then i met him. i started to live my life in ways i was only able to sit and dream of. it is only during times like these that i find therapeutic isolation in writing.

isolation. isolated with the minds of readers who felt i spoke for them.  isolated with those who isolated themselves.  myspace was not a world of slutty 16-year-olds for me. the space i had on myspace was occupied by... the hurt. i happened to fit in with those "hurts". i'm not talking about the "emo culture" or the "i don't give a shit" rock-and-rollers. no, i'm not talking about those who put themselves out with a deliberate label of nonconformity. i'm talking about those who have been through life bearing secrets hidden under attitudes of "what didn't kill me made me stronger," "nobody can bring me down," and (like me), "i'm a very optimistic person," only to lay with eyes wide open in the dark and feel the pain alone.

i left that world. i left it because i felt i no longer fit in it.  i have found happiness in a man who has accepted me along with my transient pseudo-happiness (i don't know what's worse - a constant pseudo-happiness, or one that comes and goes as it pleases).  his acceptance and love have provided me a soft soothing light in the dark blank. i left my readers, not in abandonment, but in fear that i was no longer qualified to be their advocate.

there are times, though, and there will always be times when happiness (the pseudo ones and the not-so-pseudo ones) disappears.  with him, they seem to disappear only momentarily.  but they do disappear. with a big poof, sometimes my happiness can dissipate into my insecurities, into my failures, my lost hopes and broken dreams.

some may feel that they understand this feeling. i say only a few understand it to my extent. for those of you who know me in the "real" world, it may come as a surprise that i could ever be a "hurt". it's like i've recently told a friend: it is those who are the life of the party, who have more than enough friends to go around - those are the loneliest. those who are good at smiling almost all the time are the ones who have had to practice. under these large gleaming smiles are worlds of whats-its, worlds of tangled knots - there are those tight and neat knots (everyone has them even if they are sometimes hard to find in the mess), then there are knots that doesn't look like sense, there are knots that are uncomfortable and painful and only makes a mess of things, and then there are those empty spaces between them all.  to some, those empty spaces are far worse than the occupying mess.

huh. after a few years of trial and error, i've finally once again have described thoughts and feelings. once a hurt, always a hurt, i suppose.