If anyone has come in contact with me, they know I don’t really hug people. I am not a hugger. I don’t really decide, “I will hug random people today.” Although this may sound sad, I just don’t see a need to. Or at the very least wasn’t really raised for it.

At this point in my life at the age of 22, it seems very strange that after many tribulations I should reminisce, but really I think it’s a form of healing. As time passes, I truly realize all of the fucked up shit that has gone down; and, it’s a trip.

It’s not like I have never been hugged people before or don’t like hugging people. It’s just I only like to hug people I know, trust, and care for. Hugging strangers has always seemed very strange. Growing up in New York, we kissed friends on the cheek. As a Hispanic male in church, I would always get kissed on the cheek by everyone (it’s not really weird for men-men or women-women to kiss each other on the cheek in my culture). A kiss on the cheek always felt happy go lucky, but a hug I actually reserve for lots of reasons. And some of the reasons I don’t hug at all are a bit over-the-top or dramatic (I think).

My father who abandoned us just almost two years now wasn’t a really nice guy. Stern, uncontrollable, unpredictable, soft, crazy, abusive. These were his traits and beside him being a part of me biologically, I never really felt a connection ever. He was an alcoholic. He didn’t really want kids, they just happened (year after year —- give me a break). 

He was a hugger when he was drunk. He wasn’t a hugger when he was sober, conscious, or fully aware of his surroundings. So if he’d promise something, lie, drink, and then have the courage to ask for forgiveness, I would hug him so he could leave me alone. This went on for years, especially during the holidays, which was a great time to drink to get sick, drunk, blackout, and go back to work after time off. I think this is a major reason why I don’t really hug people.

The second is quite contradictory and hypocritical: I only hug people I love. 

You can see a dichotomy. Someone I thought loved me and I attempted to love back was someone I actually cared for, but didn’t care enough.

Strangers have treated me better then he has, yet I hugged him and only felt comfortable hugging him, my siblings, and my very very close friends. I only reserve hugs for people I trust. That even meant my father, but now I realized my instincts were right and that I only hugged him to go away.

Permanent or not, my inability/ability to hug has surfaced as I go on through life. I was lucky enough to be invited into a random persons house, for a dinner event, and I was attempted to be welcomed with a hug, but gave them with a handshake. 

It ended with a hug. It felt comfortable. But I was still uneasy.

I don’t know if I will ever get over this barrier of personal space ever. But I felt I should share to the world, because I don’t know why/how/when this will be fixed.

I know who I can trust whole-heartedly in this world. If you know you are, you’ve probably been hugged.

Blondie’s “Dreaming” has always been a favorite. Every time Debbie Harry sings about a girl day dreaming and wanting things to come to fruition with the line “Dreaming is Free”, I basically start to day dream.

I day dream a lot. It’s been to the point that I have gotten a flat tire because “Dreaming is Free”.

No one told me that this is actually one of the worst traits to have. It’s not bad in the sense that you dream of amazing, spectacular, fantastic things you want to occur in life (maybe even that instant). It’s bad in the flat tire sense. Sometimes you day dream so much, dream so big, that you forget what actually designates reality.

Today I am not a reporter, but an employee at a start-up company.

Today I know what I want so bad. Now more than ever, I have a drive to get what I want.

But I have had to stop (or at least slow down) day dreaming to realize and not forget that hard work is needed. I must put sweat equity outward and it needs to bring me to my day dreams. 

I met with some cool folks I used to unofficially work for… It was fun.

Unfortunately and fortunately fun.

I remember when it was my second day at my current job. I was tearing up while I waited for the operator to come through the call. I was sad, but currently not unemployed or uncomfortable. So, I pushed through, realized the price tags of life and growing up. I love my job because I am afforded the opportunity to spread my wings (sorry, best idiom to use ever!)

I don’t love my job because I actually have to yield when it comes to daydreaming.

But not Daydreaming so much means I am growing up —- I guess. I have some money to pay some bills, I still don’t have my own car but I can have a chance to save up and buy one, I don’t owe college loans yet, so far so good.

But my day dreaming has slowed dramatically. My sleep is dwindling. I have acne, which I never really had much of in my entire life.

I am complacently complacent. It scares me. 

I watch/listen to my favorite TV Shows, Movies, and Music and can’t bear to watch it. I still love art and entertainment, but seeing an alternative reality didn’t help me in the past and probably wouldn’t help me now. Seeing a Hollywood story and not the truth can’t quell my desire to dream, even though it’s dying a bit.

The magic, twinkle, whatever I used to call it seems diminished. I still daydream once and a while; but when I absolutely can conjure up something, I feel the need hold back a tear and pull myself away. That tag of growing up.

Something that has contributed to this is that two insanely close friends have been diagnosed with Cancer and Pre-cancerous tumors. Two people who have helped me, inspired me, and built me up to the man I am today.

The saddest part is that I wish them the best, but can’t daydream a possible happy ending. And I don’t know why…

I would rather pay all the money in the world to daydream right now.

As I lay to bed and wait for this trait to have a balance like everything else in my life, I will wake the next morning