Personal.

So, as I've mentioned before, I have another blog. It's over on Tumblr and it's pretty freakin' cool. But whenever I deviate from my norm of posting song lyrics and reblogging pictures and write something personal, I feel like I've been violated. My mom follows my other blog and whenever I write something personal on there rather than here, she makes sure to mention she read it. Those are my personal thoughts and feelings. She may not always like what I have to say.

Exhibit A: Last night, I posted about how I missed being at school. I missed being independent and able to do whatever I wanted. I wrote that there are too many rules at home and I really can't wait to go back.

She clearly took offense to this. I was just being honest. Now, I'm forced to write my personal thoughts and feelings somewhere else. This was the reason why I got the other blog in the first place. I escaped to Tumblr from Facebook. I needed somewhere I could dump everything. It's been my rock whenever I needed one. And now, I barely have that... I have this... This is usually for the bigger things; the more hurtful, painful things, and I feel the title suits it perfectly: "I'm not together, but I'm getting there." If she finds this blog, the last place I can safely dump my feelings, opinions, and thoughts, I'm going to go crazy.

Made these gifs to post on the other blog...don't mind them...

Lonely.

I try to make it seem like I'm okay with being alone, but right now I don't think I am. I've technically been single for the vast majority of the last four years, with a week-long long-distance relationship in the middle. I've got something casual, but nothing serious. It's not a relationship, it's not a friendship, it's physical. I want something more than that. I just want someone to sleep with me. No, not sex. Sleep with me. Hold me in their arms and just cuddle and caress me until I fall deeply into sleep. I want someone to kiss me sweetly in the rain. I want chivalry to come back from the dead: opening doors, pulling out chairs, being courteous. I want to feel special. I want to feel loved. I don't want to leave your room feeling like a cheap piece of trash anymore.

Most people would ask me: "Jess, if you hate yourself after being with Mr. Physical, why do you keep going back to him? Why don't you just end it?"

I don't end it because I like the way I feel when he finally calls. I like the way he makes me feel like I matter before I go over there. I like the way I feel while we're together. I like the way he kisses me..passionately, without regret. I like the way we always end up laughing, even at the smallest of things.

But then, by the time I'm leaving, it changes. We're quiet. By the time I've left, I'm left wondering if it was just a facade; wondering if it was actually real.

I'm lonely. I want someone to love me the way I want to be loved...the way I need to be loved.

Love and Passion.

I don’t really believe in love anymore. I’ve been pushed down, shoved around, and broken enough to realize that perhaps that “happily ever after” we’re all fighting for isn’t really out there. I mean, how many “Prince Charmings” can there really be? Is there one for each of us? There can’t be, then there wouldn’t be anything special about them. They’d just be another Average Joe…and who wants a “happily ever after” with one of those? Exactly. Nobody. I mean, perhaps there will be someone you care enough about to spend the rest of your life with, but is that really love? At the end of the day, twenty years from now when perhaps they’re not as attractive as you first met them and you’ve fought about everything from what television channel you’re watching to what dress to wear to the party, will you still feel that passion that you had when you first met? Will that still exist? The answer is probably not. 

Let’s face it, the divorce rate in the good ol’ United States of America is over 50%, that’s right, over half of the couples getting married in the U.S. ends up getting divorced, and the divorce rate increases the more times it happens, as well as among young people. 

So, you’d probably ask me, “What do you believe in if you don’t believe in love, Jess?” 

I believe in passion. I believe in moments of passion, of lust, of affection. I believe in lasting friendships, but not in “happily ever after”. I believe in wanting. I believe in longing. I believe in broken dreams and heartache. I don’t believe in lasting love, that picture perfect painting drawn for us by fairy tales and Disney movies.

That’s what I believe in.

This doesn't really go with the entire theme of my blog, but...I love it.

Wrapped Around.

Honestly, I'd give anything to have one night wrapped up in your arms. I'd give a kidney, my liver, my heart, just to spend one night with your arms wrapped around me, with your warm breath on my skin. We wouldn't even have to have sex, we could just lie together, entangled in the sheets, sleeping comfortably. When I look at you, I see the arms that always seem so inviting. The kind of arms that I've always longed to have holding me tighter than anything. I just wish you could see me for more than what I look like. I'm so much more than the girl in the library you feel obligated to say hello to. I have feelings, I have a heart, I am capable of love and affection. I'm also capable of longing and lusting, which is just what I've done. I've longed for you. I've lusted after you. You never even realized. You just see me as the girl in the library. You just see me as the newly-elected College Democrats secretary. Nothing more than that. It's almost like I'm robotic to you.


I am a little bit more than that girl in the library. Someday you'll notice.

Boyfriend Envy.

I now, officially, have boyfriend envy. I see, perusing my other blog, a post by my best friend, describing a video his boyfriend left for him. I want someone to do that for me. I want someone to take the time, record me a song (MY FAVORITE DAVE MATTHEWS BAND SONG?! UGH, YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING ME.), and leave it in a public place where everyone can see just how much you care about me. I want someone who isn't ashamed of me; someone who is proud to say, "yeah, she's my girlfriend and she's amazing" and would talk to me somewhere outside of his bedroom.

But I can't have that. God knows I'll never have that, especially with the guy I'm "with" (I'M NOT EVEN WITH HIM. GODDAMNIT) currently.

My heart is warm, but sad. I literally watched a minute of that song and cried because of a) how good it was, and b) how utterly sad it made me feel, knowing that I'll probably never have something like that. My current "beau" played his guitar for me once, the very first night...and it just so happened that he played that very same song for me: "Crash Into Me." I wish it was a more conventional relationship. Maybe we'd be friends, maybe we'd be more than that, but I wish we'd find somewhere to lay in the friendship spectrum, instead of balancing on the line between friends and lovers. After all, it's "friends, lovers, or nothing."

Gosh, I wish I'd seen that post last night; it would've cleared my mind a lot easier...and now I've decided what I want.

Wanting Kisses.

I just want your kiss, boy.

Of course. That's all I want tonight. I want your lips against mine, your tongue gently caressing mine. I want your extraordinarily soft hands grabbing mine. I'd give anything to jump in your bed right now; the bed that's even more comfortable than my own here at home. I'd love to be laughing with you as I nearly knock you out of bed when I take up more than half of it. I'd love to have you leaning against my chest as we nearly fall asleep.

I've never craved something like this. I've never had something like this to crave. Maybe that's supposed to mean something; like I want more than just a casual fling with you. Like I want something lasting, something meaningful... But I don't know what you want. And the idea of something serious scares me, as I'm relatively certain it does for you.

So many thoughts. For now, I'll just be wishing that you and I could be spending at least part of tonight together.

As Time Goes By.

I just realized what time of year it is. It's Christmas time again. I remember last year, right about this time, I was frantically filling out college applications and fighting with my mother about how long I had put them off. I was finishing up a few last minute projects, and getting prepared for the inevitable-over-Winter-Break homework that was always assigned.

Just one year later, I'm preparing myself for finals week. I got accepted to colleges, I ended up making a bad college decision, choosing to come to the University at Albany, and have changed so much as a person since then.

Since coming to college, I've become that girl I never thought I'd be. Never. People in my life have come and gone, and I barely recognize the girl I've become.

My roommate said something to me the other day that really knocked this change home. I was talking to a friend about something I did last week and she says to me "What happened to my innocent roommate?"

And I couldn't answer. I don't know where she's gone. I don't know what happened to me. I've changed, and honestly, I don't know if I like the person I've become. I used to be so wholesome and "straight-edge" I guess you could call it. I never drank, I barely knew what "hooking up" was, let alone understood the concept of a "friend with benefits" or a "booty call." And yet, here I am, doing all of those things. I had never seen the inside of a night club, had no idea that I was able to illegally purchase alcohol (depending on what night it is).The idea of sex scared me. Literally, frightened me.

I've become more politically active and more comfortable in my own skin, thanks to Model UN and countless other interviews I've given since the October 1st decision to "deactivate" the five academic programs here at the University (French, Italian, Russian, Classics, and Theatre). I have the confidence I never even dreamed of. I've gotten myself a spot on the Executive Board of my favorite on-campus group, the College Democrats, by sheer determination.

I just wish that I could've kept the positive and stayed away from the negative... There are some things I've become that I really wish I didn't...

Sometimes.

We're having a judgment day about everyone.

That does not make it acceptable. I'm sorry. There is only so much shit I can take. Especially from people who I've never actually met in real life. Seriously. I'm just so pissed off right now that I can't even function properly.

Something Simple.

You know that silly little numbers game everyone's playing on facebook these days? Well, I decided to grow a pair of balls and send a message to the guy I'm madly in love with, giving him a number for him to say something cute about me.


So, after me nervously, nervously waiting for hours and hours, this cute little post shows up in my news feed:


"I'm always impressed with you. I hope you're on my team any time I have a project." 


I'm always impressed with you. I don't know how the fuck I "impress" him, but whatever it is, it makes me fucking happy to hear him say that.


Maybe after his semester in DC, I'll have a chance... LOLJK. It's never going to happen. I'm sure I've already been friend zoned. Oh well, I'll just admire him from afar.

Guilt Tripping.

What is this sudden feeling of guilt sweeping over me? What the fuck is up with this? I do not belong to him. I am not his. He is not mine. He and I? We aren't anything. We aren't even really friends. I don't know what we are, but we're not much of anything.

So why the hell do I feel guilty about what happened Saturday night? Saturday night was Saturday night. I did what I did and I'm not taking it back. (Although Thursday morning should be, erm, interesting.) I didn't feel guilty the last time it happened. I didn't feel guilty at all.

I don't want to see him. I don't know why I don't. Yet, I know I'm going over there tonight, he and I have already discussed it and arrangements have already been made. Even though it's about twenty-five degrees outside. I feel bad about Saturday. Should I feel bad about Saturday? No, I don't think so. I mean, he and I aren't even together. We aren't a couple. We aren't exclusive. He can do what he wants and I can do what I want and it's an open arrangement. It's not much of anything. It's casual. So why am I feeling this weird guilt that just won't go away?!

Maybe my conscience is finally catching up to me. I mean, it's only been missing in action all semester. Of COURSE it'll show up right before finals week.

This man, David Karp, (HOLY SHIT THERE IS A PICTURE OF BOB DYLAN BEHIND HIM I'M EVEN MORE IN LOVE THAN I ALREADY WAS) is the love of my life. He is the man behind Tumblr.

Tumblr, in a few short months, has taken over my life. Completely. So much tumbling all of the time.

Now that the Tumblr-apocalypse has occured, I have had to find other things to do. Like actually watch films for classes. Go figure.

I still miss my blog.

Purity.

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With Bleu Cheese, Below High School Musical?

You've told me before that you care about me as much as you love bleu cheese dressing. That hurt me, more than I care to explain in this post that is hastily being written on a BlackBerry. But now I think you've gone too far here.

Today is Wednesday. Wednesdays, to me, are held very sacred being as they are traditionally "Family Dinner" nights. Tonight, however, I didn't feel a very, erm, "familiar" bond from you. You decided that instead of waiting for me to get out of rehearsal, you went to dinner earlier and left very soon after I had gotten there. Not because you had a meeting, not because you had homework (reasons that I understand completely). No. You left so you could watch High School Musical. Fucking. High. School. Musical. You value a fucking Disney movie more than having dinner with me?

Not two hours before you commented that you "loved me and I make you laugh." I wish you showed that you loved me just a little more often.

Promises, Promises.

You promise me "tomorrow." Honey, "tomorrow" was fucking yesterday. I see you today, you completely disregard my existance. Not even a "hi" or a "how are you?"...nothing. Silence. And you leave. Without saying a word. I know that's the way we normally are, but after completely standing me up the other night? You should at least be somewhat cordial. What would you do if I had done that to you? You would've been pissed. I know it. I've tried it before. And it never works because I have no self-discipline and I believe you've finally realized that. I think you know that no matter how hard I try, I just won't be able to say "no." (Except when it comes to certain things.) I'm just tired of always being an object. I am a person, I have feelings, and you should probably acknowledge that sometimes. I'd like to feel like I'm human.

I'm saddened by all of this too. How could I have let this happen to myself? Why did I let myself get wrapped up in this? I can say wholeheartedly that I am not dependent on him for anything at all. I couldn't give two shits about this guy. I think most of this is sheer and utter disappointment in myself. I used to be stronger than this and now I've given it all up. I've let down my guard and let someone in who I really shouldn't even be giving the time of day! There are so many better guys out there for me and I'm just letting this one string me along for the ride just because I'm a slut that wants "instant gratification." And I KNEW that gratification wouldn't come without a cost. I KNEW it. But I said "fuck it" and did it anyway, because I'm a dumb ass.

Promises, promises...no matter what, they're always broken. Whether they're between two people or you and yourself, they're always broken.