The End?

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“You tempt me and I don’t know how to retaliate. It’s like a drug. I’m addicted but don’t want help.”

– an excerpt from this tulmutous chapter of my life

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Levis Cordis

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To you I say,

You are my equal parts in the form of never ending sunshine. You provide me with a warm glow that I can’t quite pin down and yet it seems it’s never the right time for us. It’s like everyone knows we should end up together—hell even we know—but some force keeps us from admitting anything directly. So we speak in code, a code I can barely decipher and sometimes feel like I’m making up half the time. But you are everything I’m supposed to have; not perfect, but completely the fixation of my adoration. Is third time the charm? Or is it just simply three strikes and you’re out?

To him I say,

I want you so much right now. Asking you for help that night didn’t feel like a mistake but now I know I’ve done some damage to all the work I put forth before; the addictive symptoms have returned and all I want is to hear you say my name. Just once, to hear your voice might stop the incessant pang I feel meeting your gaze across the hall. I ache for you, I find myself wondering what would happen if I proposed something casual—just something to cease this longing and gnawing within my mind.

I am too beautiful of a soul to focus on such trivial nonsense but here I am finding myself backed into a corner. You are what is right for me I believe, to see where we could go gives me anticipation beyond my wildest dreams.

But he, he leaves me with burning desire. I need him to extinguish the spark somehow; staying away from me doesn’t help, it only makes me wish for him more. He can’t hurt me anymore. I know this, he’s done all he can do to break me but I am still breathing; but for him to disregard the fact that I am strong—that I am alive—may send me 6 feet under once again.

Oh my fickle heart, I despise you.

 

change in habits

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I am a person who always initiates things, something I’ve been more aware of this past month as I’ve grown. I think this is what has been my downfall and part of the reason things went so terribly for me earlier in the year; I put effort into things/people that don’t really meet me halfway.

I always make excuses for them, mainly because I know people have reasons to be a bit more forgetful or unable to hold meaningful conversations/provide mutual care. But also because I know I too used to struggle with keeping my head above the water to do even the simplest of tasks. And yet, I know know where to draw my line of tolerance.

Another factor I’ve noticed is how no matter how hard I try I am always made to feel less than–or like I’m not doing enough–and I would accept this. I would let people tell me how I was acting, who I was, the way they perceived my character and how it negatively affected them wasn’t to benefit me. All it did was make me loathe myself even more, question everything I said or did and ultimately view myself as a villain.

I am not a villain, and I do not deserve the treatment I have been given. I am proud of my growth, my ability to spread beyond my comfortable little box and engage with new and exciting people. Yes my tongue is now sharper, but I am simply done with making efforts that are seemingly void; efforts that just seem to fuel others egos.

I am showing those around me that I am not always going to be around, and I am irreplaceable–I hope they feel my absence and know that they caused it. And let it be clear that I am not asking for them to come back and prove to me that they value me more than they have shown–I don’t need that confidence boost when I already have it within myself.

This is what I want to be made clear:

I am an amazing friend, significant other, and most importantly a remarkable human being.

I will demand to be treated as such and nothing less.

remember the girl with fire on her fingertips?

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Originally I was going to make my last post one gigantic thing but I realize I have much to say about this particular topic swirling around my head so…double post.

Being single is really fun in the summer, but also really frigging complicated and let me explain why for you all; I love a good hookup. Sorry for the bluntness, sorry for maybe shocking you a little considering how heartfelt my last post was but I have to be candid in order to properly voice my problem.

I don’t like sex–ok that’s a lie, I do enjoy sex BUT for right now the idea of it is not appealing because of the whole previous relationship thing. What I mean is, my hookup definition is vastly different than most boys, which is what is complicating things. I like a good old fashioned heated make out in the back of a car or your friends bedroom (ahem…not that I’ve done any of those things whaaatttt) but the problem is once you’ve started that guys tend to expect more; and the whole “I had a whole pregnancy scare that traumatized me and my mom and I really don’t want to relive that situation so I’m trying to stay abstinent until I’m ready to be in a committed relationship” speech is kind of a boner killer.

Now here is what complicates my life even more. I hooked up (NO SEX REMEMBER HOOK UP IN THIS SENSE AS IN SEXY KISSING MOMENTS) with a boy that I come into close contact because of my friend circles, and he was a senior. After our fun times he proceeded to go on with a speech about how he wasn’t ready for anything serious (which I wasn’t…I wasn’t expecting anything serious I had just always found him attractive and a little scary but in a hot way) which made me feel really weird. I am the type of girl that understands these things, I’m a big kid; I don’t need a whole speech about how you’re living the casual life because guess what? Me too buddy. I did appreciate the sensitivity though, it was sweet that he cared for my feelings afterwards…which had the opposite affect he wanted. I was then over analyzing everything I was doing a) because of my lovely brain sabotaging me (we were in downward spiral at this point) and b) because I didn’t want to freak him out with my innate instinct to care for people I kiss. I mean it worked for the most part, but then something awful was occurring–I wanted to do it more.

So here I was, weeks of no one kissing me or cuddling, hoping that maybe this boy would wanna do it again. To my surprise (and utter relief) he did. BUT ME BEING THE DUMB ASS I AM COULDN’T CONTROL MY FUCKING HORMONES AND I MADE OUT WITH ANOTHER BOY.

A boy. Who is also in his friend group. BUT IN MY DEFENSE I had had people instigating this so it’s not my fault entirely. So yeah, I kissed another guy and it was…alright. The hot now graduated senior boy was kind of…better. I hate to say it but it’s true. And I had to see him knowing full well that he probably knows what occurred so now I look like a thirsty hoe.

So my problem here is, I am unintentionally spiraling down a path I do not plan on going on; and it’s like no one cares. No one is stopping me from pushing past the point of no return and my brain is kind of like “Hello? Is no one going to tell me this is wrong? You’re all just going to let me ruin my reputation? Alright, bet. And we’re all aware that I am incapable of knowing when enough is truly enough given my mental state right? Okay so if we’re all on the same page I’ll just keep messing up thanks.”

It’s like I’m watching myself from the outside doing these reckless things, knowing that it’ll have consequences, and not caring enough to stop myself. I’m kind of scared in a way, I want someone to save me from myself–I want someone to care about me enough to stop me from becoming something they know I’m not. But I’m not strong enough to ask for it.

This is a cry for help I guess, someone stop me from becoming the body that every guy thinks he can rent for the night.

“I’m a Life Lesson in Human Form”

 

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You would think that all the BS that’s involved him would be over now but here we are.

I can only imagine what I would have done if the results were different; I don’t think anyone really understands the severity of a situation like that until you’re in it. You think to yourself, ‘that would never be me, I’m smart’ or ‘the chances are way too low’. But it can happen, it does happen–and it’s absolutely terrifying.

You subconsciously cover your stomach while you talk, absentmindedly tracing your fingers and praying that you won’t feel a nudge. It doesn’t really hit you until you hear something, or see something and suddenly the whole word falls on top of your chest. Your vision is blurred because tears are clouding your now fragmented clarity, the tremor of you hands seem to rattle the entirety of your body.

You realize you have to tell him. You have to make it known that something could be very wrong–that you need to see a doctor. But it’s scary, it’s the one of the scariest feelings in the world. You can’t even take care of yourself so how the hell could you even begin to care for another.

But thankfully you don’t have to, because it’s a false alarm. Now you can finally rid yourself of any contact with that boy after he’s put you through hell and back.

And honestly, I hope he finds happiness.

I hope that one day he meets a girl that fills him with so much joy that words fail anytime he’s in her presence; but subconsciously he finds bits of me within her.

Maybe it’ll be in the way she sticks her tongue out playfully, or the sway of her hips to a song on the radio. He’ll hear her laugh pierce through the air or watch as she rolls her much too familiar brown eyes at one of his stupid jokes; and right then and there he’ll think of me.

He’ll think of me and maybe he’ll remember how happy I was, how pure. He might remember watching my favorite movie with me and singing that final iconic song quietly in my ear. He’ll think of how nice it was to feel my soft kisses grace his face and the shrill giggle that would escape my lips whenever he pulled me in close.

And then he’ll remember what he did to me–how he dimmed the light in my eyes for a moment. The fear that coursed through my veins as an uncertain future loomed over the horizon. How broken I felt when he held me close outside my house, the rain and wind whipping past our faces but not holding a candle to numbness inside our bodies. In that small instance, maybe just for a second, he’ll remember.

And I hope it will be a lesson well learned.

 

Confessions of my tired mind

Quick disclaimer: if  you know me and you have explicit instructions to never get on my page again (you know who the fuck you are, so why the fuck are you here?) Don’t you even dare read this post and once again might I ask, why the fuck are you here?

To the rest of you, happy reading 🙂


 

confessions of a tired mind

Bad habits are hard to shake man, and mine are making an infamous comeback.

It’s all so dense, so compacted into these last couple of months. One scandal after the other all involving me in some headache inducing way. And I haven’t properly said my feelings on the matter, which is leading me to fall back into these habits. These modes of self destruction.

So I will be honest here, in my little safe haven with all of you. I have to remind myself that my feelings are valid.

  1. Ever since I found out about the infamous sex scandal that occurred behind my back, I cannot stop comparing myself to the other girl. Big spoiler, lost my virginity to my now ex significant other so you know, doesn’t really help the self esteem. We agreed to not have sex again for awhile so instead he got it from some other chick. And not to be a total bitch or put down a fellow girl, but oh my gosh I have never disliked a girl in my entire life. I have never wanted to call another girl a whore but here we are. I see her all the time too, she gets a pass for this kind of shit. She gave me a weak ass apology and I wanted to slap her clear across the face because in that moment I realized she wasn’t actually sorry, she just wanted to clear her guilty mind. So here I am still wondering why I wasn’t good enough, why he had to go off with someone else–why he wasn’t thinking of me and my feelings that night.
  2. What’s crazy is that I forgave him, because I’m an idiot. OK, not an idiot per say, but just way too forgiving. I thought about the many stories you hear of resilient women that take back unfaithful men, how strong they are to stand by those that wrong them. Not because they are pushovers, but because they are proving a point; women are ethereal beings that deserve all the respect and honor you can give–be grateful for the mercy they give to some of you punks. And it wasn’t like he didn’t care afterwards, he still can’t look me in the eyes when we talk. In a way it proves to me that he’s regretful, so I forgave but best believe I will never forget.
  3. But now he’s my ex, and that wasn’t entirely my choice. Things got very bad very quickly and he was barely taking care of himself so I needed to step back and encourage him to do so. I miss him. Hasn’t even been a week and I miss being with him, like a lot. Seeing him everyday doesn’t help all that much, makes me even more regretful. He’s stopped by to check on me, which is actually very sweet; he knows that I miss him. Teases me about it actually, playful banter ensues and those are the moments that I’d wish he’d just shut up and kiss me. Because why the fuck are we pushing aside our wants just because of other people’s opinions? Wait, pause. This is when I get mad at myself, I can’t assume that he wants me too. I know that he cares about me still, but I can’t assume that he wants to give it another go–that’s selfish. I think this is the closest thing to love I’ve felt, or it might actually be it. But, I feel like I sound obsessive and whiny and it grosses me out. So I’ll end this tangent on that note.
  4. This one…this one is really hard to type out. I know she’s trying to help, be a good friend and all that and I appreciate it immensely. But there is this feeling of dread that is just mounting within me. Because I know how easily it is to fall back into attraction with that boy, heck I’m still in that boat. It would absolutely crush me if something happened. I know I’m not one to talk but like, wouldn’t you feel the same? Picture this, you and your friend both confessed that you like this boy and the boy flirts with her but in the end chooses to be with you. A very crappy situation but you two go through several rough patches before coming out with an OK friendship once gain; but then you find out that the boy slept with someone else, and for days he only talks to her and others you know. Imagine that? You have to ask ANOTHER girl for updates on your supposed boyfriend, a girl that once showed attraction towards him and vice versa. So now you’re broken up and guess fucking what? He is still corresponding with her, they have late night chats where he’s confessing and confiding. You see them in class and she’s stroking his arm comforting him. He’s giving her small smiles and laughs that you miss so damn much, but can barely meet your eyes when you offer him kindness. And you feel so stupid for being jealous or resentful, but how can you not? It’s not jealousy really because your mother always told you that jealousy is ugly–it’s fear of betrayal. It’s because both of these people have broken your trust to a certain degree once in the past so putting the two together doesn’t exactly make you feel warm and fuzzy. Oh god, if something did happen I just…I don’t know how I would put myself back together afterwards.

 

I needed to let that out before it started to manifest into something worst. I want to be happy, consistently and without barriers walling me in. I think letting all of those thoughts out is the first step to achieving said happiness. So if you took the time to read, thank you very much.

you are my happiness

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I need to write because my mind is restless and going a million miles an hour and yet nowhere at once.

A detour. That’s what he said I’m taking; he’s taking one road and I’m taking a detour but someday we might be on the same road again.

Oh Heavenly Father above, I might love him. And this hurts so damn much.

But he’s going to get better, and I’m going to be right here–being whatever he needs me to be while he puts himself first for the first time in his life. In a way I am incredibly proud of myself for acknowledging this, for knowing that I can’t be selfish and stay with him. I can’t ask him to try and put effort into this when he can barely put effort into himself.

He thinks he’s failed me, he couldn’t be more wrong. I wasn’t lying when I said he made me happy–hell he still makes me happy. I don’t think that feeling will ever go away. I’m going to try and be his friend, I have to try or else I might drown in this feeling of regret.

God dammit I regret this so freaking much. I didn’t want to do it, I still don’t know why I did it when I obviously want to be with him.

No, no it was for the best. I have to believe that or I just might break. I have to hope/pray/wish whatever the fuck I can do to believe that he’s going to be OK. That someday we will try this again and it will be even more beautiful and profound than it had been in the past.

What is it that they say? If you love something set it free, if it comes back it was meant to be? Well yeah that, I need to hold on to that.


 

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I like the way he would never use my actual name and I always knew he was referring to me; but I also like the few moments my name would slip out of his mouth and how strange the consonants and vowel sounded to me.

I smile at the little things he does and it was in those moments that I liked who I was when I was around him–I loved who I was.

And yeah he’s not perfect, I never expected him to be. I never wanted him to be; I just wanted him to try and he did. And from this I gained a feeling I still don’t understand myself.

But holy shit he’s beautiful. So goddamn beautiful that you can’t help but cuss. I found myself actually speechless at times hearing the most provoking thoughts escape his mind–he’s the kind of boy they write screenplays about. He’s everybody’s muse and doesn’t believe it even for a second.

He just wants to make me happy and I couldn’t put into the right words that it was him. He’s my happiness, through all the fucked up mess we went through I could still feel the thrum of butterfly wings whenever I looked at him.

He’s the moonlight to my blinding sun.