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.