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.