There are so many things I wish I could say right now.

I clearly can't, so I'm just going to say that I'm clearly annoyed that you keep guilt tripping me about what happened.

It's obviously not enough that I feel completely and utterly terrible about it. Whatever.

I have far too many thoughts in my head for it to be a conducive enviornment for sleep.

It's a good thing my coffee maker is sitting next to me ready and waiting to go.

Death and Dying Relationships.

I haven't posted to this blog in a long time, but right now I have a pair of damn good reasons to.

My mother's friend committed suicide between yesterday and today and it's just put everything in perspective for me. I saw the reaction on my mother's face. I saw the tears. I flashed back to when I had wanted to take my own life and realized just how awful it would've been for her had I committed suicide myself. It would've been so much worse for her and the amount of pain I feel in my heart for her right now is unfathomable. My heart breaks for her, her friend, and her friend's family. As if my heart wasn't broken already. I hurt right now just knowing that my mother is hurting and all I want to do is make it better for her, but there is no way for me to. I hugged her for a long time, but even then it didn't help. I can't take away her pain and that's what is killing me.

--

Relationships. Not even that, friendships require maintenance. They require relatively frequent interactions and efforts by both parties to maintain them. Neither of us have made a concerted effort to maintain this friendship. For nearly the last week, you and I have not spoken, and at some point during this week, you and I have both managed to conceal our facebook walls from one another. That is not friend behaviour if I've ever seen it. It bothers the shit out of me because that is what has caused a seriously long estrangement between my mother and her sister.

Can we both stop being stubborn and carry out a serious conversation about what the fuck has happened? (Or can I just offer to have sex with you as soon as I'm back on campus, because seriously, you need to fuck me already because I'm horny out of my fucking mind.) What even has happened to us? Everything was fine Friday afternoon. You hugged me and everything was fine. I smelled like you for hours after that (you had a fucking shitton of cologne on on Friday and I loved it) and still everything seemed fine when you left.


Now it's been nearly a week. Seriously. And we haven't spoken or anything. I don't want to be the first to break the silence, but I may have to be. I just want to talk to you again...

I think my favorite part of having a boyfriend is the Monday night sex.

Kidding.

My favorite part of having a boyfriend is having someone I can share everything with. I can share my body, my life stories, my triumphs, my struggles, everything.

The L-o-v-e word...

I accidentally (almost) said the l-word today. And I feel like a complete and total idiot because this always fucking happens to me. Always. Fucking. Happens to me. I can't even believe I've let it happen like this though. This was honestly the most ridiculous thing I've ever had happen.

I don't even remember what we were talking about but I know it wasn't even anything of sheer importance, but I said "I love youakjsdvlaisgdflasdgfa when you do really awesome things for me." It wasn't a very good save and I know he heard it, but I haven't mentioned it and neither has he and I don't want to because his roommates are here and things could get weird and I'm just not prepared.

Especially after the conversation we had the day before yesterday. He asked me if I thought I was in love with him. I told him I wasn't. I kind of lied, but I couldn't be honest. Not at that moment. Not yet. I feel bad for lying, but at this point, I do not want to ruin what we've got. I can't. I feel too strongly about this. I feel so happy about this. I'm too satisfied with my life at this point. I cannot afford to ruin this over one simple little four letter word.

And now I just can't deal.

Oh, goodness.

My new boyfriend is meeting my friends today. He's met a couple of them, not very many, and only for short periods of time. I'm very nervous about this. It's not that I'm afraid of them not liking him. He's perfect for me. I can say that. He. Is. Perfect. For. Me. I couldn't be any happier with him. I slept over at his room last night for the second time this week and I just couldn't stop smiling the entire time I was with him. He's cute and funny and nice and sexy and just everything I could've ever wanted him to be and more.

What I'm worried about is whether or not he will like my friends. They're a very, erm, interesting bunch and I don't know if they're really the kinds of people he likes to be around. They're not very much like him. He's different, but in a good way. I'm worried he won't like how crazy they are and I'm worried that they won't be on their best behaviour because, let's face it, family dinners normally tend to get crazy and out of hand very quickly. I know there is really no easy way for him to meet all of them unless we were to all go to family dinner together and family dinner really is the family at its finest. If he met them any other way I don't think he'd have a good understanding of the dynamic of the family.

I hope this all goes better than I'm envisioning it will.

The things I do...

I got a text today asking me "what's up and how was your break?" from, you probably guessed it, Mr. Physical. I answered it, like any other text I get, and said that I was currently in a lecture and that I had a good break. He asked me if I'd be free later and I was wondering what time he means for "later." You never know. He said 9:30, I said I'd be at dinner, but I'd go right from dinner to his room, which I did.

The entire way from dinner in the campus center with two of my friends to his room I was kicking myself. I was wondering why I was even going, why I wanted to go, and then justified it by saying that he doesn't call me every day and that I am feeling particularly lonely right now. Silly me, I always find some way to justify whatever it is that I do that is remotely not a good idea...like eat that entire pint of Ben and Jerry's Mud Pie ice cream (which was quite delicious). I get there, stand outside his door and text him saying that I'm not going to knock, but that I am in fact outside. He calls me, I hit the wrong button and ignore the call as my phone is appropriately singing "I Just Had Sex" which never fails to make me laugh. He sits in his room for another like, three minutes before finally reading my text and coming to the door. I get in there and we do what we do like normal human beings. (Well, normal for us.)

But this time was different. This time, he actually bothered to give me something that he'd never given me before. (I don't need to be specific here, do I?) It wasn't super great, but it was nice, and I was honestly surprised. After all, I'd given him that more times than I really care to think about. We finished doing what was actually normal and he let me sit with him for a while and watch "Don't Forget the Lyrics" with him and then we proceeded to have a discussion about Billy Joel and Bob Dylan and Bruce Springsteen -- three of the musicians that I happen to hold very near and dear to my heart. He even sang "We Didn't Start the Fire" with me, which was a really interesting experience. I didn't ask about Friday, but he did ask me what I'd planned for Thursday with my friend, but I said I didn't know.

I kind of wish he were my IRL boyfriend, but I like the way we are now. I like that we're friendsish. No, we still don't talk outside of our respective bedrooms, but we are talking more and more. It doesn't feel as strange as it first did. It feels much more natural, and I'm glad--especially after six months of this. I don't think I love him, I think I'm comfortable with him, and besides, I'll find a different guy I'll actually be able to date and talk to in public and everything will be fine. This is just a stepping stone.

I can't even.

So, it's Monday at 3:45 in the afternoon. Normally, I'd be napping right around this time because I've had a hard day of classes and minimal sleep. That, right now, is half true. It was a difficult day of classes. I got more sleep than normal last night. I don't know how, but I managed it.

But, that's not the point of this post. This Monday, I'm freaking out. This Monday, I can't sleep in the middle of the afternoon. I have too much to do this Monday. I have a paper due next Monday at 11:30. I have a class before it, so it's not like I can stay up all night and do it. No, it has to get done.

Normally that wouldn't be an issue. I can get it done, even if I have to be awake until 7am the day of. I can do it and do it well, because I am a fucking beast.

The problem comes when I plan on going out Thursday night to a movie, then Friday night to a party with Mr. Physical (if he doesn't decide to do something else that night, which very well may happen), and leaving Saturday night open for possibly another party with another boy. That leaves not a whole hell of a lot of time to do this damn 6-10 page paper critiquing International Relations theories, most likely either liberalism or neorealism, depending on my mood. I think I'm going to do liberalism merely because it's my favorite theory and I have a bunch of resources at my disposal for it. It's not like I don't for neorealism, but I just don't like that one as much. Friday night, I want to look cute. Not because it's a "date" with this boy. It's not a date. I don't consider going to a party with someone, as friends, a "date." I consider going to a party with someone as friends as going to a party. Just because he's male doesn't mean that I can't go to a party with him like I go to parties with my female friends. I should go with Cute Trumpet Player, but I'll settle for going with Mr. Physical. He offered first. If he ends up not going with me, I'll talk to Cute Trumpet Player and see what he's up for doing.

No matter what way this ends up going, I need to find something to wear. That is essential. I want to look fucking hot. Not just cute as normal. No. I want to look hot. I am capable of it, I know it. Not usually, because usually I just don't give a fuck. No. Now I'm giving a fuck. Now I need to. This is the moment of truth. Just because he doesn't want to "date" creepy stalker girl, doesn't mean he doesn't want to date me, right? Exactly. I don't know if I still want to date him, I think I want to find someone a little more decent than him, but I could make it work, I suppose. Maybe he'll just be the starting off point. I don't know.

I do know I need to find an outfit. And I have no idea what to do.

Fuck.

Resisting Temptation...or not!

I finally heard from Mr. Physical today. Did not expect that at all. My heart skipped a full beat and a half when I saw that pop up on my computer screen. It all started with just a simple "hey" as it always does. And from there it just proceeded to get messy.

Apparently, he was turned on by my slut-tastic antics on Quail Street about a month ago now. He saw me with not one, but two different guys within a span of an hour. Awful job by me.

We talked about Kegs & Eggs, the annual big, drunken mess that St. Patrick's Day Weekend always becomes in Albany. He mentioned that it's a sloppy, slutty weekend. I told him I could use one of those, he offered to take me out with him next Friday night (after seeing the skank fest on Quail Street that night, how could he not?!) and I, stupidly, decided to take him up on that offer.

What the fuck am I even gonna wear?! I'll find something. I always do.

But the bigger issue becomes why? Why can't I just stop with him? Why can't I say no? I don't even know anymore. I know I've written before about how he has some kind of hold over me, but now, it's just even more evident.

Now I know we won't ever actually date though. This is a positive fact. Apparently, he's got this stalker (which made me laugh quite a bit, to be honest) and I asked him why she's stalking him. He says that "she's just that type of girl who doesn't get what hooking up is...like traditional relationships. This is fucking college."

Mhmm. I see how it is. Obviously you just want to fuck me. Obviously right now, I'm perfectly okay with that. Maybe this conversation will get Hockey Boy out of my head. At this point, I'd settle for anyone other than him. I'll even keep the sex dreams if they don't contain him.

I don't know why this is happening though. I need it to stop.

This isn't cute anymore.

Last night, I had the fourth straight night of dreams about this one particular boy. The hockey boy. The one that couldn't ever possibly be interested in dating me. That one. Anyway, it was a strange dream:

It started out me going to a party and getting really drunk with one of the guys from Pep Band, as discussed late last night via facebook chat. It was a good time, me dancing, drinking, doing what I normal college kids do at parties. I started out dancing with Pep Band guy, then he went to go get another beer and met up with Hockey Boy. For some reason, while being across the room, I was still privy to their conversation. "Dude, she's wasted." "I'll take her." And they switched. Hockey Boy ended up with me, and obviously with me having a crush on him, I was simply pleased. Hockey Boy and I were dancing and making out. 

Then, I got a phone call. It was from Mr. Physical. He, for some reason, decided to call me because he thought he saw me out downtown with some guy that wasn't him. I told him that I'd gone out. No big deal. Then he asked me if I was still out. I obviously was. Then he realized that I was extremely drunk and tried to persuade me to come back to campus and be with him. I told him "I wanna sober up a little bit first...OOH I WANT ONE OF THOSE!" as a random waiter walks by with a platter full of Jell-O shots. He laughed, then asked me how having another Jell-O shot would get me to sober up. I just laughed, said I didn't know, and downed it. I told him that I'd have to go and I'd talk to him either when I got back on campus or the next day. 

Hockey Boy finally took the phone from me, hung it up, and put it in my pocket. He and I returned to what we were doing pre-phone call, and then he persuaded me to go up to a room upstairs where we proceeded to have sex.

There was another dream...that I just remembered. I don't understand why I've been dreaming so lucidly lately.

For some reason, my entire group of friends (about all 20 of us) were in a room together. Steinmetz 207 of course! However, it's really rare that we're all together at the same time. Anyway, we decided for some strange reason to play Seven Minutes in Heaven. There's a very disproportionate ratio of males-to-females in my group of friends, and there is a very small number of straight males. Regardless, we decided to play. I started, and I ended up with, you guessed it, Hockey Boy. There was an issue about where we'd end up having our seven minutes. We ended up in the bathroom. (Joke made by me: "It wouldn't be the first time." I know I'd make that joke in real life.) We're standing very close together and he asked me what I wanted to do. I told him I would be ready for anything and everything. He was like, "Shit, I don't have a condom." I was like, "They've got a whole bunch out there...remember sexuality week where they handed out free condoms? The common room has them floating around everywhere. Just yell out there and they'll toss you one." So that's what he did. And that's what happened. We ended up having sex against the bathroom door. Then, he dragged me out of there and to another room, laughing all the way, so we could have sex again. 

And then I woke up and tried to go back to sleep because it was about 4am at this time.

Last night was probably the worst night of sleep I've gotten since coming home. And now I'm awake about six hours after going to bed. Ugh.

Always one foot on the ground?

As soon as my brother and parents are all asleep and I'm certain of it, I'm going into the kitchen and fixing myself a drink so I can finish this damn paper. I'm stressed out and I know drinking'll take a little of the edge off. I need to relax and that's the best way I can think of right now. I don't know why I'm so keyed up tonight. I can't seem to relax at all. Not one bit. Nothing is helping.

I'm still thinking about him and I can't stop and it's making me angry. I haven't spoken to him in over a week now, going on two, but even then it's not right. I'm still thinking about him. I read somewhere about the attachment women get to the men they have sex with because sex releases some strange, special chemical into their brains. I laughed at the time because I idnd't quite believe in it. I thought I could get out of this without being hurt. And now, look at me. Blogging away about him again because I have nothing better to do. Lie, I should be writing this paper. I just can't seem to focus on it. But there you go. I've got it bad for him and I can't fucking help it. Quitting you is like quitting smoking. It's hard for the first week and then it gets easier from there. (I still struggle with that sometimes and right now, I really could use a smoke. Fortunately, I don't have any.)

I'm a hot mess and a half tonight.

Taking the good with the bad, and a spoonful of sugar helps this medicine go down.

Good: I haven't made an effort to talk to you yet. Nor will I. That's a good thing. It shows I'm making an effort to get away from you and get over this and move on with my life. I'm going to find something better than you, I know it.

I can't stop thinking about you though. I don't know why, you've been the only thing on my mind since late last night. I've been extraordinarily sexually frustrated since last night and I think that's a big reason why I've been thinking about you. We didn't get together this week and so I've been feeling it a little longer than normal, and especially now that we're on break it'll suck a lot more. I know I want to give you up, but honestly, I just miss the way you touch me and make me feel. I don't know.

It'll be difficult. I'm going to try at least.

The last week.

The last week, in all honesty, has been absolutely horrendous. My dog was just put down, so I'm still reeling from that, and going home to a nearly empty house will be so horribly painful.

I have decided to end things with Mr. Physical after a pair of prank calls on Saturday led me to realize just how much of an asshole he really is. I've discovered that I really do deserve better than him. I mean, really. A guy that tries to persuade a girl he doesn't even know, hasn't even seen before in real life, to come to his room? Come on, that's just plain disgusting. (Of course, that's how I ended up starting things with him in the first place; darn me!) He's not even that charming, he's not romantic in any sense, and he's not even that good at kissing. Nor is he even that decent looking. If I'm ever going to find myself a decent boyfriend, I have to give him up and raise my standards a little bit. Not to mention put myself out there and try. I have to actually go on dates and figure out how to talk to guys that aren't gay or boyfriends of friends. Because, without that essential communication, it's not going anywhere ever.

This is a daunting task ahead of me. Not all of me is prepared to give him up, but I know that I will move on to bigger and better things.

"Pull the plug. Ain't he the one who pulled the rug? He's lower than an alley cat, dirty rat, and I flatter! Forget about the boy." --Thoroughly Modern Millie ("Forget About the Boy")

I need to just...I don't even know. I need to do something to get my mind off of everything. There's just too much going on in my head right now. Far too much. Between the thinking I'm in l-o-v-e with a boy that can't even acknowledge my existence outside of our respective bedrooms, to being told I'm a lesbian even though I'm oh-so-clearly not (although, this is not the first time this has happened and I don't even understand why exactly it keeps happening), to being texted by this creeper who obviously wants me for no reason at all and I can't seem to state that I'm not interested because I am a decent human being; or I'm just ridiculous.

My thoughts at the moment on the boy issue: If I were really in l-o-v-e with him, I could've said hello to him when I saw him today. I could've had the cahones to walk up to him and start a conversation. I could've just asked him how his day was going and gone on my merry little way. But no. I couldn't do it. I was afraid. And something keeps telling me that I'm going to make a mistake soon. Something tells me that I'm going to accidentally tell him the way that I may or may not feel. And that is something I am not mentally prepared to deal with. I discussed this at length with a friend today and I know I'm not ready to tell him. I know within my heart that he doesn't feel the same way about me, although that might be changing seeing as yesterday he asked about where I would be living and told me where he was thinking about living next year; almost as if he expects "us" to continue. Which I wouldn't complain about. I mean, we are what we are. And something is better than nothing is what I have to say about it. I won't complain, at least every Monday or Tuesday night I get a little bit of pleasure. Sometimes not enough, but at least it's some. And it makes me smile. And that's really all I can ask for at this point. Maybe I'll find someone I'd actually be willing to date properly. For now, I've got what I've got (it doesn't really have a label anymore) and I'm happy.

My thoughts on the lesbian issue: Honestly, I don't understand it and it bothers me. I swear, this is not the first time someone has told me they thought I was a lesbian. If I were, I'd be proud of it, but being a straight woman it's a little insulting. ("Insulting" is not the word I want to be using due to its extremely negative connotation, but I honestly cannot think of a better word.)

My thoughts on the creeper: I just can't deal with it. I have nothing more to say on this matter.

And now I'm just going to listen to Dave Matthews on repeat.

Attention.

Before I get all serious and stuff, I just need to say that I laughed inside when I saw this would be my 69th post on this blog.

Now, on to the feature presentation.

... I wish I could stop thinking about you. For some reason, today, you're all that I'm able to think about for a prolonged period of time. I don't even know why. I haven't seen you in nearly a week and I can't even fathom why I actually even give a shit about you. There's no reason for me to. You've done nothing but cause me unnecessary stress and heartbreak, something that we all know that I could use just a little bit less of.

And then I remember. I remember why I actually care. I care because I love the way you make me feel inside. I love the attention, I love the actual feelings, I love everything. I love how now you can hear my big feet (it helps when I wear a pair of boots that are a complete half-size too big) outside your door and open it immediately upon my arrival. It makes me feel so happy. Sometimes I seem annoyed when you call me while I'm still on my way there, but inside, I'm glad you do. Inside, I'm glad you call me at the most inopportune times. Inside, I'm glad that we never spend too much time together. Why? Because I know that if we spent more time together, I'd be more attached. And right now, I can't afford to be any further attached to you.

I am in trouble. I can already see it. Just be Monday already so I can figure out why this is happening.

Would you be my Valentine?

I already know the answer to this question. I know you won't call me, and I know it'll upset me and I'm just mentally preparing myself for the epic disappointment. I know you don't feel that way about me and I'm going to slowly and surely get over you and it. I think the fact that we've been seeing each other less and less is helping, honestly. It makes me sad because I like the way we were by the end of last semester, but right now I know we can't really do that. Our schedules just don't quite mesh right now. And it's even more difficult now that I live much farther away than I did last semester. It's not a two minute walk, it's more like a ten minute walk, and getting into the building, for me, is also sometimes difficult. You know, since I don't live on that quad with you anymore. Sometimes just thinking about it makes me wish that I hadn't moved. Sometimes I wish you'd come here and just lie in bed with me. Nothing special, nothing fancy, just you and me in bed together, like we were something more than we are...like we did the other night, just me scantily clad, you running your hands up and down my torso..lighting every nerve ending on fire with the gentleness of your touch and the softness of your skin. I'm always surprised by just how soft your hands are. Always. That's what I want. I don't even care if we have sex. I don't care anymore. I just want you and me together. I don't care about emotional attachment, even though right now it seems like I care. I care about being together.

Tuesday, when I went over there, you smelled different. Maybe you changed colognes or something. All I know is that you smelled absolutely amazing. I love the way you smell. I don't know why I'm so fixated on that, but I love it. I love coming home and smelling you on my skin. It's so comforting to me. I love climbing into your bed and remembering just how comfortable it is. It's even more comfortable than my own. And when a boy's bed is more comfortable than my own..it's an issue.

Some night, you're spending the night here with me. I want that. You talked about it and never went through with it. My roommate's boyfriend spends the night all the time. I don't see why you couldn't either. Maybe I'll mention that to you at some point. I don't know. But right now I just miss what we were and I can't stop thinking about what we could possibly be.

I hope you call me on Valentine's Day. I won't call you. I never do. I don't want to seem clingy. The only reason I called you Saturday was because I was in trouble and I was hoping you could help me get out of a jam. But you didn't answer. And I found my own way out. I don't need you. I just want you. I want you to want me the way that I want you. I want you to know that feeling of longing to be together. I want you to know the feeling of sheer ecstasy whenever we're on the phone. I want you to have to try and cover up the fact that you're in love with me. I just want you to feel the way that I feel for once.

Look at how far you've come...

Let me tell you a story, random blog.

When I was in seventh grade (I was about twelve at the time, believe it or not) I was emotionally broken and disturbed. I was upset, depressed, and detached from the happy person I used to be. I had contemplated and considered taking my own life.

One night, one of my teachers called my mother in concern while I was in the shower. I remember coming out of the shower and seeing my mother on the phone. I was worried, I could slightly hear what was being said while I was washing my hair, but I hadn't known. I've believed ever since that day, about this time of year, that that teacher saved my life. I don't know what would've happened had she not called.

Fast forward about six years. I'm a freshman in college now, feeling a hell of a lot better about myself. Today, I was in a car accident. The girl driving hadn't seen the stop sign and was broadsided by a truck on the passenger's side. I was sitting in the passenger's seat. I wasn't injured, thankfully, but it put it all back into perspective: life is too short for me to be wasting.

And then, I kept thinking about that. About how life is too short to be wasting. The very thing I was willing to throw away six years ago (and at other points since then, but none extremely recently) has become the most precious thing for me to hold on to. I've come so very far and I'm proud to say it. I'm not afraid to be honest about my struggles from the past. Nor am I afraid of saying that sometimes it's still difficult for me. But I will hopefully remember the great things in my life and I will never have to go all the way back to the edge. I will hopefully always remember what I learned today; that my life is the most valuable thing I own.

You've got some kind of hold on me. I couldn't even stay away. Not even this awful illness could keep me from going over there to see you tonight. Something is wrong here.

I think I have to finally say that I've fallen for you, as painful as it is for me. I mean, why else would I have gone all the way to your room in the snow with a massively horrible cold? While doped up on NyQuil? That's more than just casual sex now. It's serious. I can't even say no to you anymore?

I think part of it was just feeling lonely. I was strangely upset when he didn't call me last night as is our tradition...of Monday nights, that is. I mean, if I didn't care, I wouldn't have been upset. I wouldn't have cared. It would've just been another Monday night. When he called me tonight, I was strangely happy. I felt myself smiling even though I knew I should stay huddled up in my blankets with my bear and a good hockey game. Instead, I put on my coat and trudged out.

My roommate asked me: "Where are you going?" I responded that I was going to see a friend. She said that it was cold and late. I told her that I'd be back in about an hour. Which I was. That's the only thing I can ever judge the duration of; the time I spend with him. He and I even laid together tonight, and being there like that with him made me ecstatic. It made me so happy that I realized all of this. If just lying there in bed with him could make me that happy, then there's something wrong here. There's something showing that we're more than just friends.

I always seem to be the one that falls first in any type of relationship and I'd hoped that this one would be different. Obviously it wasn't. Now it'll just be a matter of staying quiet; not telling him how I feel and screwing this up. Why not tell him? Because I like what we've got. What we've got is better than nothing, right? If I lost this with him, I'd go back to being forever alone, or, I'd have to go out much more often to get my fix. And that's not okay.

I'm in a lot of trouble now. I kind of wish I could go back and rewind and never started this.

Ridiculous.

So many ridiculous things:

1. You're texting me to come over and it's Tuesday night, not Monday.
2. It's cold and snowing and I really don't care that you say it's not that far, because to sick little me it is. 
3. You don't realize that I'm deathly sick.
4. I've already taken NyQuil. 
5. I have slippers on and I'm watching the Rangers game. You will NOT separate me from my hockey.
6. You didn't tell me about the party Saturday night; my friends and I stumbled upon it and you just happened to be there, seeing me making out with two guys that weren't you.
7. I'm not really prepared to see you tonight.
8. Hahaha. "Still not coming tonight I guess :(" "Not cool" See, normally what happens is that I come over all the time. Geeeeeze. And besides, I thought you were mad at me.
9. "I'll turn it on here." BAHAHAHAHA. I'm not telling you I'm sick just yet. NyQuil is making me feel better, albeit slightly drowsy.
10. You're the stupidest boy I've ever known. Ever. I'm not even kidding. Plus, I'm pretty sure I have strange roast beef sandwich breath. Not attractive at all. And my lips are all chapped. Not attractive. Not at all.

Life.

I hate that my mother is trying desperately to continue to have a hold over my life even while I'm in college. She follows my other blog, which is why right now I'm running away to here. She's trying to convince me that I shouldn't get my ears pierced again, even though I want to and it's my choice and I know for a fact she wouldn't have said no when I was home over break. I know she would've been alright with it. Now she's trying to dissuade me with every fiber of her being. "It's too expensive up there." Not if I do it at the same place I did every other piercing on my ears. (I also thought for a minute about getting my nose pierced, but she would've killed me over that and I don't want that.) "It's just another distraction." No it's not. It's just another thing to add to my morning and bedtime routine that isn't long at all. "You can't donate blood for another six months." Honestly, I might not be able to find the time to donate blood for the next six months. That takes more time than sitting down and getting my ears pierced. Ultimately she said it was my decision (which it IS) and I still think I'm going to go through with it. If it turns out I don't like them, I can take them out and let them close up. It's not a big deal to me. I mean, I wanted to donate blood at some point this week, but it's already shaping up to be a cluster-fuck (my mom and dad are coming to drop off a bunch of my stuff on Monday afternoon) so we'll see how that goes. Honestly, I think I'll either go after debate prep this afternoon or I'll wait until tomorrow and do it then. But either way, I think they're getting done. I'm independent and I can do what I want to my body now. Ugh, wait 'til she hears when I get my tattoo.

I got my first anon hater on Tumblr today. That was a not-so-great experience. I feel like it was someone I knew before. And I don't know why that person would be anywhere near my blog at this point. I mean, really. I apologized to them for what I did. This person has no reason to be hating on me.

If I find out at some point tomorrow my aunt died, I don't know what I'll do. Honestly. I hope it wasn't her, but I don't know at this point. (It's my aunt on my dad's side, and my father's side of the family isn't the most...communicative, I suppose I could say.) Right now, I'm less than amused by everything.

I need to eat something. I haven't eaten a proper meal since Wednesday. I know I need to eat something, but I have no desire to. The entire idea of food right now is just disgusting to me. I can't even think about food. I think this is what shitty-ass food has done to me. Fucking Chartwells. I mean, really. Food on campus isn't that bad, but I just don't want something that's sub-par. I want a decent meal. Something I can actually enjoy eating rather than something that just settles at the bottom of my stomach like a weight. That's what Chartwells food does to me sometimes.

This isn't healthy, I know it's not. But I'm just...not hungry.

That Awkward Moment... from my first ever Thirsty Thursday excursion!

• ...when the boy you've been "seeing" is spying on you and your friends from a balcony. SKETCHBALL. Seriously. He really is a skeeze.
• ...when one of your friends (a gay boy, by the way) shoves a dollar bill in your bra and everyone sees.
• ...when you spot the guy you made out with at the party (the one that tried and failed to teach you how to dougie and to jerk) on the bus.
• ...when you make friends with random drunk guys on the bus (and will be going out with them on Friday night).
• ...when you come home and all you can taste is shitty beer, even though you've already brushed your teeth twice.
• ...when you smell like beer and stale cigarettes.
• ...when you're drunk after one and a third beers. (I didn't eat anything alllllll day, okay!) 

I say, Thirsty Thursday was pretty much a success.

I should've known that you were a skeeze this entire time. Like, really. I should've known you were a stupid, douchebag frat boy that doesn't even deserve my time. Why did I let you come into my life and possibly fuck it up?

Good God, I'm so stupid sometimes.

I only want to be with you.

I love coming home still smelling you on my skin. It just makes me so happy. I wish I could see you more often so I could keep smelling of you. I wish we were more than we are so I could keep  smelling like you.

I wanted to say something tonight, but it wasn't the time. You were kind of rushing me out so your roommate could come back, but it didn't quite matter. I mean, I know we're not the dating type. That's just not what we do. You're ashamed of me, really. I know you are. You wouldn't want to be seen with me because I'm not the kind of girl--pretty, size two really--that you'd like to be seen around. I'm not the girl floating around the frat parties with a red Solo cup full of beer in my hand. That's not how I roll. I'm more of the I watch movies on the weekends and enjoy an occasional vodka/Red Bull or Captain and Coke. I'm a little classier than just a keg of beer.

But, if there's one thing I wish, I wish we could go back to the days of the two-three times a week. I miss that. Once a week just doesn't do it for me anymore. I want to see you more. I really do. This could be ugly if I'm not careful. I need to stop wishing we were together, it's going to get ugly.

I offered him Thursday night, but of course, I was dumb, and didn't realized that it was "Thirsty Thursday" until after I'd already asked what he was doing. We'll have to see where this goes, I suppose...

Just a random note.

Sometimes I think you're such a skeeze and that I shouldn't even be giving you the time of day. And then you send me cute text messages that make me smile and I remember why we do what we do. "I love your hair down it looks so good." Why, thank you. I didn't realized you liked it that way. I thought you preferred it tied back. (Just in case I'm bringing a hairtie or two.) I'mma be prepared this trip.

He is the heartbreak.

"You gotta promise me hearts won't break and end up like before." You said yesterday you wanted to see me either today or tomorrow. I haven't heard from you today. You know, the basorexia hasn't gone away. I still long to have your lips pressed softly next to mine and your hands around my waist. I miss the days where we could lie in bed together, even if it was just for a little while, your head placed on my chest.

What happened to you possibly spending a night here with me? What happened to that? You know I wanted it. I would've enjoyed it. It would've been like something more conventional, which is what I've wanted for us since the start. I mean, I'm not saying we have to ~date~ or anything, but it'd be nice to have something a little more normal. I just don't know if I could handle a relationship with you. I told the other boy I couldn't do it with him. Could it be easier if I tried with you? I mean, you live about a ten minute walk from me, it's not far. It's not like it's four hours by train like the last one. But I'm afraid of ruining our thing if I mention this too soon. Especially because that always happens to me. I always mention things too soon, even though they could be what I've always wanted. Last semester, I ruined a really solid friendship with a boy over the fact that he was everything I could've ever wanted. Sometimes I think about him and realize that, yeah, he really is everything. He's charming and funny and smart and everything. He's really everything. I haven't spoken to him (like I said, I completely ruined our friendship) but I remember the days when I still did and frankly, it makes me sad.

I know you won't call me for Valentine's Day. As much as I might want you to. Maybe you'll surprise me, but I doubt it. I mean, we're not the romantic type. I'd love for you to prove me wrong though. Could you, for once, just be a normal boyfriend kind and do something nice for me? After all, I've been awfully good to you...

There's just too much.

I wish sometimes my friends understood just where the boundaries were. I mean, there is just so much that I can take. I know they don't mean anything bad by it (except for my best friend's boyfriend), but I have feelings and a sould and a heart and right now it's kind of hurting. I mean, I get it, you like to amuse yourselves with making fun of me. It's really cool. Whatever. I just wish sometimes you weren't doing it to me. I feel like it's me more than anyone else that gets made fun of and right now it's not acceptable.

The Question.

"Would you date him if he asked you?" 


I don't know. I honestly don't know if I would. I mean, we've never really been the relationship type. Part of me wants to at least give it a try. He doesn't see me like others do. I called myself a slut in front of him the other night, and he told me I wasn't. He told me that he didn't want to "carry that." Why? It's the truth. Not every girl goes around giving head like it's not a big deal. Normally it's something that's shared between people that actually care for one another. Not something that's hastily done while I'm kneeling on top of my pillow on the floor, done before I end up locking myself out of my building and my suite. I'm too comfortable with what we are now to try and ask if we could be something more than this. Part of me just wants to keep the status quo and just keep doing what we're doing, regardless of how awful I feel afterward. I miss the days when it was more than just the oral. When we'd take the time and lay together in bed laughing at something one of us did or said. It was calmer, more relaxing then. It made me feel better, almost as if you actually did care, at least a little bit.

Basorexia: the overwhelming desire to kiss. If there's anything I have right now, it's that. I counted the kisses between us Monday night. There was one, then the cute one you placed on top of my head. I swear, my lips are tingling because they long to be with yours for longer than five minutes.

This is ridiculous: A live-blogged conversation with Mr. Physical

The only thing I miss right now is the smell of you on my skin that's left after you leave. There's something about you that smells so good that I don't mind when it's leftover on my skin. I miss that. I don't know why, but that smell is in my nose right now. That's what I want to be smelling. It's in my head, it's infiltrated my mind.

And of course, as you do, you happen to talk to me when you're on my mind:

"You down for whatever?" "Well, what do you have in mind?" "It's up to you."

I can't make decisions! I'm the most indecisive person ever. And you expect me to make this right. Hmm. What I like is that I don't have a suitemate/roommate...not until Saturday. So I have a suite for me.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" "What are you thinking?" "We've never had a sleepover before." No, no we haven't. Normally it's just a quick little thing. A half-hour or so and then we part ways. Now he's talking about spending the night. This, to me, is a big thing.

"Are you excited to go back to school?" "I'm more excited to get back to you." Oh, dear me.

"I missed what we do." "You know, they made a movie about it." "The Natalie Portman one! I want to see that so badly." It's almost like he knows that I think about us every time I see that movie trailer.

"So, I'll bring some stuff and we'll see where it goes."

...I need to stop liveblogging this conversation.

Welcome back to Albany. Welcome home.

I think Mr. Physical and I should go see No Strings Attached together.

LOLJK, that'd be a DATE. Totally against what we do.

Reflection.

That awkward moment when a picture of your ex boyfriend shows up on your Tumblr dashboard...is one of the worst moments. It makes you wonder if you really made the right choice calling things off with him. You remember the day he came to visit you like it was yesterday. You remember the day he left even more vividly. You remember trying to hide the marks he left on you. And worst of all, you remember the way you broke things off with him.

You did it in such a sleazy way. You told him you wouldn't be able to do it. You wouldn't be able to change. Well, could you have changed? Really? Did you really think you couldn't commit to one guy? Now look what you've done. You hurt the boy, you really did, and yet you still thought you made the right call. "Have fun boning whoever." Those were the last words you ever let him say to you. Since then, really, you've only been with one guy. Look at you now. Look. At. Yourself. Now.

You're practically committed. Remember when you went to that club and you made out with that guy? And then on the way home Mr. Physical called you? You felt guilty. You didn't go see Mr. Physical for a couple of days. You felt guilty for making out with Fail-Date-Club-Guy. When you saw Mr. Physical, you didn't tell him what happened at the club that night. And you know what? You drop other plans to be with Mr. Physical. How many times have you left the company of good friends to spend a half-hour or so in a bed with a boy? How many times? I can't quantify it, but I can tell you, it's been quite a few since last September 13th. September 13th. It's now, what? January 15th. September-January. Why, that's nearly four months. Normally "cupcake-no-filling" relationships don't last four months. Yours seems to have a very, extended shelflife. 

Now, I'm not saying don't keep doing it. I know how you feel about it. You love it. In a sickening way, you love the way that relationship works. And a tiny little portion of you wants it to become something a little more conventional, but you'll take it as it is, I know it. But just think about the other boy for a minute, you know, the one you hurt. You know he has a new girlfriend. You know he's happy. You could've been that girl; the one who makes him happy. You could've been that.

But you threw him away, like yesterday's mail, like a piece of trash. You didn't care about his feelings, you cared about your own. You didn't think you could handle being in a relationship that involved more than just a two minute walk, a quick kiss, and nothing more. Being with him involved work, something you just weren't equipped to handle. And now you have to deal with the regret consequences of your actions.

Just a cute little aside...

If I'm angry at you, please do NOT attempt to start conversation with me. I will shut you down.

Hopes and Dreams and the Water Crisis.

Just when I thought I was going to miss being here, everything falls apart. Everything collapses and caves in on itself. I become miserable and end up crying myself back to sleep in the morning. I'd forgotten what this place does to people. I'd forgotten how it had broken me down, making me feel useless, worthless, like I was nothing. It's done this time and time again to me, killing me slowly. If it were up to me, I'd never come back here again. It's so toxic to me. It kills me, it breaks me down. It's almost as if there were dementors here, slowly sucking the life out of everyone that that tries to live and love and hope and dream for things that are better than this. I do hope and dream. I hope and dream of something better, some life that's bigger and greater. I have the biggest dreams, and I want to make them happen. I want to bring some of my hope elsewhere in the world, places that don't really have a lot of hope. I want to bring hope to some of the other toxic places of the world, ravaged by despair and distrust and violence.

The world's water crisis has been brought to my front door. We ran out of water yesterday evening. Our well finally ran dry. I want to make sure that 1) I never experience this again because it's freaking miserable and 2) nobody else has to either. I want to do my part to save the world's water. I want to do my part to save the world. I want to help someone. But first, I have to help myself and get the fuck out of here. It's killing me.

Love Faces.

I know I want to see you. As much as I really want to deny the fact that I want to see you, I can't help it. I can't go a day thinking about what we've got. We've got a "cupcake-no-frosting" kind of fling, and I can't help but be comfortable in it. I remember this past semester and it makes me smile. Just thinking about the way you smile as soon as I walk in, the cute little way you hug me from behind as I'm slipping out of my shoes, the way you help me organize my stuff in a neat pile so I can make a quick exit if necessary, the way we play and laugh as I nearly push you out of bed because I insist on being next to the wall, the way you lay your head on my chest, the way you kiss me subtly. The one time your roommate walked in while we were together, I fell for the way your heart raced next to my chest as you struggled to find the words to explain that I was with you. I even like the way you call at nearly the most inopportune times...from me being in a taxi on the way back from a club, to being on State nearly every time, to very late nights in Seneca just as I'm starting to get ready for bed. I walked to your suite in the rain, in the snow, and in the dead of night. And even through all that, I find myself missing it. Maybe it's just me being an attention whore. Maybe it's me just being sexually frustrated. But, I know, there's something about this that I really like...and I've definitely missed it for the last month. Maybe I'm actually starting to look forward to seeing you on Monday night, even though I don't know when I'll actually get to campus.

Scheduling.

He says we're getting together on Monday night. Oh, cool. Monday night. That's less than a week from now. That's less than a week for these sutures in my mouth to heal. Awesome.

Since when did we start actually scheduling things? Since when did I have to budget time for this? Since when? Do you have a claim on me? No. What if I had something better to do Monday night?! What if I've already made plans? (Not that I have.)

You know I've had surgery. You know I might not be completely healed. I'm not looking forward to potentially letting you down. If I have to, I'll just say I'm "tired" and postpone. After all, I deserve some independence And you know, I'll definitely make it worth your while. It always is. It isn't always for me. I wish you knew how to better satisfy me. I wish you actually cared about what actually satisfied me.

Someday, you'll know how I feel about this. Someday you'll see.

Surprise.

You thought to ask me how I was feeling? Really? I have to say, I'm quite surprised. I didn't think you'd even remember. After how many times I had to tell you I was even having the surgery, you actually thought to ask me how I was doing. I'm slightly impressed. Of course, it's going to be a fleeting moment. I know for sure it won't be so magical soon enough.

But for now, I'll settle for this pleasant surprise. After all, it's not every day you're this nice to me.

This is how I feel.

You're such a boy.

I hadn't realized that grown "men" were this dumb. I mean really. I have to tell you the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. You never remember anything. It's almost like you don't actually pay attention to me. Which you probably don't; I mean, it wouldn't surprise me. I've told you this, that, and the other thing multiple times!

And now you suggest we do our thing in a semi-public place? Are you on druggggggs?! Oh dear me. "You gotta live dangerously." You don't understand. I do live dangerously.

Ugh this conversation is not going where I want it to go. It never is.

I need to remember that I don't have a claim on him.

Dear Journal...?

I'm contemplating journaling again. My friends both journal and I feel like it would be good for me. After all, what is a blog? It's practically an online journal. I mean, I dump all of my shit in here. My triumphs, my tribulations, my heart and soul. I tap my fingers away and explain the deepest pieces of my heart. I say what I think, what I feel, what I want, what I need. The happy, the sad, the melancholy, and the just plain confusing. It helps me iron out the wrinkles on my mind. Sometimes it's enough, sometimes it's not, but it always helps me feel at least that little bit better. I have something here for me to look back on, to remember, that holds without judging. People can read if they want to read, but they don't have to. People can judge.

I used to keep a journal. I kept a journal very regularly between 5th-9th grades... back when times for me were a little more difficult. I went through some stuff that wasn't good and even some stuff I didn't think I was going to make it through. I still have those journals. I don't know why I hold on to them. I think I hold on to them because they remind me that I can get through anything and that I'm strong enough to get through anything and everything.

...Writing this, I've looked at the word "journal" quite a bit. I've written it enough in this post for it to look like a strange word. "Journal." I see the word "journey" in there, and it makes sense. The journeys I've gone through in my life have been chronicled in journals. The journals I've written hold the secrets I kept, the feelings I felt, the desires I had throughout those journeys. It's all making sense.

I need to start journaling.

Good thing I have a blank one here at home.