I still remember how good it felt to come home late at night, always sneaking in as quietly as possible in an attempt to not wake my sleeping roommate. Heading straight to my room, I'd peel off each piece of the evening's work clothes and replace them with boy shorts and a tank top, while anxiously awaiting to pour myself a margarita and pop him open a Bud Light.

The patio door would be kept open, and the two cats would stroll outside to sit on the couch overlooking the pool from our balcony. I'd sip my drink and gaze in whatever direction he pointed at, listening and observing the constellations I had never been familiarized with.

With his arm around me and my legs draped across his lap, we drank and talked into the early morning hours as the rest of the world slept.

How easy it is to forget how great these moments are once they're gone.

Whoever said life was fair? A complete idiot.

I'm not one to really want to complain about the current situation I'm in, but then again, why is it that great opportunities refuse to spread themselves out over time when they're in my favor? I don't like being bombarded with too many choices that all seem too good to pass up. So although things seem to be looking UP UP UP for me... here comes the downside of not knowing what the fuck to do with it all.

I finally just figured out the hidden mystery of what to do with myself in a college setting. It feels amazing to not be aimlessly walking around a campus wondering what purpose I have being there (oh yeah... because it's the American Dream to go to college and waste thousands of your money/parents money on partying and switching majors ten million times). So, after months of research and trying to get some kind of degree plan down, I've been shoved in the hussle and bussle of transfering transcripts and talking to advisors to get to my goal of finishing school (in 10 years), when amazing jobs start calling my name.

I love to work. I'd rather work than be a student. Guess what? That's why I don't have a degree. I put school second in everything I do, and I'm still degree-less and working twice as hard for half the money that I could be making.

I know, I know, boo hoo Cecilia.... we're just now getting out of a recession, and I'm complaining that I have too many jobs and too many people who want me to work for them. I don't want to take what I have for granted. But how much of that do I do when I work myself into the ground each week with 75+ hours?

I worked one job of 45 hours the week of Spring Break, and felt like I was on vacation. I think I've made myself get addicted to working so harshly, and I really want to stop.

I feel like the kids I teach make just as much of an impact on my quality of life as I do theirs. I don't want to stop teaching, but it's impossible to try to keep it up and be a student myself. Nonetheless, I still HAVE to work to pay my bills. I will never really know the luxury of what it means to be just a full time student UNLESS I can prove myself to the school with good enough grades to be able to get grants and scholarships to pay for my needs.

I'm going to hate leaving the school to be able to go to college. But I'm going to hate not going to college if all I did was the school.

I can't quit the hospital because of future job opportunities and because of tuition reimbursment. Besides the fact that I have to get a 2.5 to get the reimbursment, I WILL NOT allow myself to get anything below a 3.8. I want to do this, and do it right. I'm pretty sure that goal will not be anywhere near obtainable with working 75 hours.


So.... how the hell do I solve this equation?

The Past returns to me, without the haunting

How did I find myself here?, was all I thought as I sat on a bar stool with a Noble Pilsner and my ex boyfriend next to me. He called and asked to "hang out," which I declined. He persisted, and the tone of his voice reeked of desperation. I finally agreed, and drank my beer and decided to order some sort of food for my slightly upset stomach, and prepared to listen to whatever it was he had to say.

"I'm living with this woman who is amazing. She's everything I ever wanted, she takes great care of me. Our sex is great, and we enjoy just hanging out." I nod, tell him I'm happy for him, and continue eating, waiting for some bomb. Or was this an attempt to find some kind of affirmation for the fact he fucked me over years ago? That doesn't make much sense, but then again, being with him never did. I continued eating and drinking, without feeling the need to really reply but with the occasional nod of my head when necessary.

It is then, (as if it's the most natural thing in the world for people to talk about), that he casually switches from the topic of his amazing sex life to telling me he can't stop thinking about me. He goes to bed wondering what I'm doing, wanting to talk to me. He misses my green eyes. He's crazy over the fact I died my hair black, something he loves to see on a woman. He can't believe I bought a CR-Z. He craves the way I look in my sundresses, and the feel of me sleeping next to him at night.

He makes me turn to him, and holds my hands in his. I know he senses my stiff body language and sees my empty eyes.

"I realize now what I lost. You worked and fought so hard for us, and I was stupid to not see it and to walk away from you. I would do anything to have another chance, I've learned my lesson and I can't stop thinking about what we could be now. We've both changed, we could be great, Cecilia."

There isn't anything that I wouldn't have given to hear those words. I prayed, cried, and pleaded with God to have this man come back to me, to reclaim his love and realize that I was perfect for him, to want me again.

But... there isn't anything that I wouldn't have given to have heard those words years ago. I listen to him telling me these things, and at first I feel nothing. Absolutely, nothing. I am at a loss for words. I don't want to comfort him, and yet I don't want to reject him.

After a minute, it settles in a little more. I now have the urge to hit him. Not the sterotypical across-the-face-woman-slap, but a closed fist punch in the nose. How dare he show up into my life and confess such stupid things to me? I began to realize that what were supposed to be words of love in his confession, were more like words filled with his own selfish desires... words that were mixed with his own self-absorption of wanting to make his own life better, instead of thinking about the lives he has hurt, and the soon to be others.

After a moment of staring at my blank look, he lets my hands go. The only thing I can do is poke at my salad, waiting for a calm breath. What feels like an eternity, I finally find the words to speak, but couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I did work hard for you. You fucking broke my heart and left me, and I still worked hard because I loved you and didn't feel like either one of us deserved to go through the pain that breakup caused. I waited and waited for you to realize this, to say you were sorry. You now need to go back home, and work on what you do have with your amazing girl. Like you said, if you really did learn your lesson... then you wouldn't be here with me right now ruining the good thing you do have."

I finally looked up, and all the brightness that was in his face was gone. "What do you want, Cecilia? In general, with anybody... WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

This threw me for a loop. A real freakin' figure eight of a loop that I didn't know how to answer. I poked my salad again, pushing croutons around and feeling even more uncomfortable. This conversation was torture.

"I want to be with someone, who doesn't have to lose me to see what they had."

Our faces mirrored the same blankness in our expressions. He requested the check and rushed back to his place, the place where his girlfriend was waiting for him, not even knowing where he had been or with whom.

I drove away in my car, and ended the night blasting the song "Notion" by Kings of Leon.