Here I sit on a Sunday afternoon, head and stomach still reeling from the night before. I woke up at 8 this morning, in a panic that I overslept (my phone charger was lost somewhere last night), and stumbled, still drunk, to my friend's apartment downstairs from mine. I'm not proud of my last night, and I'm not really proud of my today either.
I just feel that somedays, everything needs to slow down a little bit and I need to just breathe for a while and be calm inside. Sometimes it's difficult, isn't it?
I just realized that this post isn't really going anywhere, and I guess that's ok. I'll make my own rules for this little slice of my life that I have complete and utter control of.
I'm not depressed. Well no more then usual.
Blah. I need a change.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Who is Using Who?
I realize that I tend to talk about love, lose of love, yearning of love a lot...my only posts on this blog have been related to such matters. And I'm not saying that love doesn't matter-indeed, love is perhaps the most important feeling, the most important Being that there is. But I'm making a resolution as of today, and that resolution is this: I will find love in places where I do not need, nor expect return of it. I think this is my most ambitious resolution, albeit perhaps it is poorly expressed. Let me be a little more clear, and explain this a little more.
I'm going to find love around me, in places and objects, thoughts and notions. I've always had this tendency to love everyone (and this has caused many a heartbreak and disappointment) but I'm really going to start embracing it. I'm going to live a life lush with love. I'm going to love my physical self, love my soul, say only words that are said with love, respect everyone. I'm not going to expect anything from this. But maybe I'll be a little more free. Isn't it silly, I have this little idea that I have been bound, been heavy with these chains that are called Love and HeartBreak. I've begun to think they are synonymous with each other. But how can I turn these chains into wings, something that is uplifting and airy.
And here I am, talking about love again.
What a sap.
I'm going to find love around me, in places and objects, thoughts and notions. I've always had this tendency to love everyone (and this has caused many a heartbreak and disappointment) but I'm really going to start embracing it. I'm going to live a life lush with love. I'm going to love my physical self, love my soul, say only words that are said with love, respect everyone. I'm not going to expect anything from this. But maybe I'll be a little more free. Isn't it silly, I have this little idea that I have been bound, been heavy with these chains that are called Love and HeartBreak. I've begun to think they are synonymous with each other. But how can I turn these chains into wings, something that is uplifting and airy.
And here I am, talking about love again.
What a sap.
Monday, February 7, 2011
My Heart is a Lonely Wanderer
Somehow I can't help myself from writing up this psycho-analysis bullshit. Seriously, I turn into an angst-filled twelve-year old with the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It's pathetic. Fuck. Maybe I should just stop here.
I don't really know what I'm doing wrong, I guess. Well, maybe I do, but I just don't want to believe it. See, when my girl friends and I go to parties, I always end up kissing the boys I shouldn't (one of my brother's closest friends/roommate, for example). I'm the girl in the corner with the boy, making eyes, saying sexy things, letting my lips linger and stray along my teeth. I give off the vibe of a sexual, hungry animal (or so my friends say). Last Saturday was different though. As I was walking to my friends place to hang out before we went out, I passed by the house where this guy I was really into last year lives now. I was in love with this boy (even though we never "dated", just spent every day together and made out and so on) and he broke my heart. I walked past his house, and just as I get to the point of a little before the door, the door opens. Out bounces his new girl, and he comes out too. It was dark, and far enough a way that I'm not sure he could tell if it was me or not. I'm pretty sure he recognized me though, because he just stared at me. I walked on, knowing full well that my butt (the butt he so loved and lavished adoring comments about) looked amazing in my pants. I wonder if he looked at my butt.
By the time I got to my friends, I was pretty depressed, and I spilled my guts, like a pathetic heartbroken, weak girl does. They resolved to me drunk, and I obliged. We went out, to an apartment to hang out and then we went to a party. I was pretty unaware of my surroundings, but somehow I ended up kissing a boy. I'm not talking about makeout, sloppy, drunk party kisses. I'm talking about sweet kisses, along my neck sometimes, his hands always respectably on my waist or cradling my face. No grabbing my butt, no trying to unzip my pants, nothing. Just...kissing. And I haven't done that for a while. I was so perplexed, I even whispered to him that I wasn't going home with him, that he could "find another girl" to take home. And he said no. He said it was fine, and that he wasn't going to leave. And he kissed me again.
My friends left, and I was still there, kissing this boy. He called a friend, who drove us to our homes. I gave him my number. He has not text or called.
I shouldn't think that because something is different that it is special. I shouldn't get used to the feeling of worth that I get by just kissing. I should not expect anything.
But I do. And it frustrates me, and it's infuriating, and it hurts me. Why do I care so much about one guy, whose name I don't even remember, but whose lips brushed mine so gently and kindly that I would do anything to have been a little more together, so I could have been a little different, so that maybe, just maybe, he would text or call that different, slightly more put-together girl.
I don't even know his name.
I don't really know what I'm doing wrong, I guess. Well, maybe I do, but I just don't want to believe it. See, when my girl friends and I go to parties, I always end up kissing the boys I shouldn't (one of my brother's closest friends/roommate, for example). I'm the girl in the corner with the boy, making eyes, saying sexy things, letting my lips linger and stray along my teeth. I give off the vibe of a sexual, hungry animal (or so my friends say). Last Saturday was different though. As I was walking to my friends place to hang out before we went out, I passed by the house where this guy I was really into last year lives now. I was in love with this boy (even though we never "dated", just spent every day together and made out and so on) and he broke my heart. I walked past his house, and just as I get to the point of a little before the door, the door opens. Out bounces his new girl, and he comes out too. It was dark, and far enough a way that I'm not sure he could tell if it was me or not. I'm pretty sure he recognized me though, because he just stared at me. I walked on, knowing full well that my butt (the butt he so loved and lavished adoring comments about) looked amazing in my pants. I wonder if he looked at my butt.
By the time I got to my friends, I was pretty depressed, and I spilled my guts, like a pathetic heartbroken, weak girl does. They resolved to me drunk, and I obliged. We went out, to an apartment to hang out and then we went to a party. I was pretty unaware of my surroundings, but somehow I ended up kissing a boy. I'm not talking about makeout, sloppy, drunk party kisses. I'm talking about sweet kisses, along my neck sometimes, his hands always respectably on my waist or cradling my face. No grabbing my butt, no trying to unzip my pants, nothing. Just...kissing. And I haven't done that for a while. I was so perplexed, I even whispered to him that I wasn't going home with him, that he could "find another girl" to take home. And he said no. He said it was fine, and that he wasn't going to leave. And he kissed me again.
My friends left, and I was still there, kissing this boy. He called a friend, who drove us to our homes. I gave him my number. He has not text or called.
I shouldn't think that because something is different that it is special. I shouldn't get used to the feeling of worth that I get by just kissing. I should not expect anything.
But I do. And it frustrates me, and it's infuriating, and it hurts me. Why do I care so much about one guy, whose name I don't even remember, but whose lips brushed mine so gently and kindly that I would do anything to have been a little more together, so I could have been a little different, so that maybe, just maybe, he would text or call that different, slightly more put-together girl.
I don't even know his name.
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