Angela's Creative Nonfiction Blog

Furnishing a Heart

I do my best writing at three in the morning when nobody is around me, nothing interests me on television, nobody is awake in my house to bother me and all I hear are the sounds of the wind blowing against the trees outside my window. I am usually alone, sitting at my desk, staring blankly at my walls.

The Walls Were Gray

Like a volcanic eruption, my eyes exploded with hot fiery tears. The boiling magma of my insecurities began to rise across the surface of my smile. How do you prevent inevitable disasters?

You can't. It's fight of flight. In order ride these turbulent flights of slumber, I needed my seat belt. I held on to my bottle of sleeping pills each night and believed that they could rescue me from my pain. Drained with grief, I feared my own sleep because I couldn't even escape him in my dreams.

It was at sixteen that I learned a person can cry so much that they can feel physical pain in their chest. It was then I learned that giving someone the best of you could be the worst thing you could ever do.

These walls use to be gray. When I was seventeen years old, I experienced my first heartbreak. It took me about two years to get over this guy; we’ll call him “Jim”. I spent many days and nights crying in my room. I think I cried myself to sleep for a few months.




Watermelons Taste Better

So this was college? I didn’t have to go to class if I didn’t want to. I chose my schedule, I could come in late during the lecture of about 100 people and nobody would say anything. It was the type of freedom I longed for as a teen.

After graduating high school, I told myself that I needed a fresh new start. I was in a new school and started to experience more and more independence. I thought it would be a great idea to get rid of my old self by changing my wardrobe, dying my hair different colors each month, working out at the gym and meeting new friends.

Bright and bold. There was no doubt about it. I changed so much that first year of college. I went to parties, cut class and stayed out until 3 in the morning. I worried my parents’ sick, but at least I wasn’t depressed in my room crying each night.

My grandmother and grandfather helped me paint my walls pink and green that year. I kept it that way for about two years until I met my next boyfriend “Craig”.

Mellow Yellow

He was so different from my ex. Craig was about 6’3 and over 200lbs. He was a huge guy compared to Jim. Jim was 5’7, maybe 130lbs .Craig lived on his own in Pennsylvania and was a mechanic going to school for automotive technology. Craig was very quiet, soft spoken and slow to anger. He was what many people would call a “gentle giant”. He respected me and cared about me so much that he drove 400 miles every other weekend to see me. I remember one time, he surprised me a few times and told me he was on his way home from work, and instead he was outside my house waiting for me with a life sized teddy bear. Jim on the other hand was this loud, outspoken Biology major who made me feel stupid every time I looked at him. I basically threw myself at Jim all those years in high school, I realize now it wasn’t love that I had with Jim instead it was an obsession.

After I dated Craig for a year, he helped me paint my walls. It took him a while to paint over the pink and green but after a while, they were yellow- illuminating my room with a bright warm glow.

It was with Craig that I began to turn away from the partying scene. With Craig we stayed home, spent time with the family, had long day trips and ate at restaurants. Craig was an introvert. I did most of the talking. He often smiled at me and did the most talking when it came to conversations about cars. After all he was a great mechanic who was able to transform his automatic car into stick shift. He took care of me and I loved him. The only thing missing was a deep connection. He was too quiet, I felt like I was missing something, conversation and laughter. For the last six months of our relationship, I can’t recall a time where he smiled with me. He always felt as if he wasn’t good enough for me, and in a sense I felt he wasn’t because I kept trying to change the person he was. I wanted him to be more outgoing, I wanted him to reach for my hand first, I wanted him to be more affectionate, I wanted him to quit drinking and smoking, I wanted him to talk more. I wanted him to smile, but his dad was dying and our relationship deteriorated, everything remained a routine and after two and a half years, as much as we wanted things to work out, we simply broke up.

A few months later I met “James”, he was a guest member at my church. He performed at a concert and was the drummer. I honestly didn’t notice him on stage , I was awestruck by the lead singer. After the concert, I was able to meet the band members and we didn’t actually talk until meeting each other a month later at another concert. James had this handsome smile. He laughed easily and had a great sense of humor. He was outgoing and playing with the children when I met him for the second time. He was a breath of fresh air, mysterious and so different from Craig because James knew how to start a conversation and James laughed easily. James was shorter, 5”11 and about 175 lbs, he was a Christian man who played with a Christian Band at his church. He brought variety into my life. He was spontaneous, and a hopeless romantic. He took me to a Pier in Queens one night to watch the city lights and eat dessert near the Hudson River as we watched the ducks swim in the water. Then on Valentine’s day, when I was sick with a fever and he brought me sushi and drew me a poster of characters and images of a dream that I once mentioned to him. I couldn’t make it to the reservations he made at a restaurant, and when I finally recovered, he took me to a candle light dinner at the restaurant we were supposed to go to. He made me smile; he gave me those stupid “butterflies in my tummy”. He was the type of man I could see myself with and so I hung up his poster on my yellow walls.

The Walls of My Heart

I never realized just how important my bedroom walls are to me. I still kept them yellow because I was remember the hard work and the great times I had with Craig as we painted the walls together. He holds a special place in my life. Though we stopped talking to each other, I still think about him once in a while and wonder how he’s doing. He played such an important role in my life for two and a half years and although the walls were yellow, I felt that they were missing something. Like my relationship with Craig, something was missing. The mellow yellow walls left me feeling empty. So I decorated the walls with pictures and drawings. I’ve moved on to James and James and I enjoy each other’s company. I actually feel like we complement each other in so many ways. He gives me a reason to stare at my walls; they’re colorful and filled with different images of characters in different places. All I have left are memories of my past relationships and I can honestly say I’ve learned. Life was starting to change and I was fine.

Posted in: on Wednesday, November 19, 2008 at at 2:12 PM