Tag: rambling

the girl with one (1) cold shoulder

I am best friends with the block button and the read receipt. One of my shoulders is always cold.

I feel like it’s a self-preservation thing instead of a confidence thing, because when someone I don’t care about does something I don’t like I almost always immediately fling them to the depths of The Blocked. Ex: the first week I got a Twitter I blocked Chrissy Teigen. It felt good.

When someone I do care about does something (not small) that I don’t like I have to activate my logical checks and balances system and go down my Checklist To Keep People In My Life & Not Be Dramatic. Ex: I have been known to temporarily ground my best friends from my life. One of my friends kept repeatedly saying something I didn’t like and I asked him many times to stop and on the fourth time I didn’t talk to him or interact for four months. It felt fair to me. It was dramatic.

The checklist includes:

  • How do I feel? How should I feel?
  • What do I want to do? What should I do?
  • What can I do? What are my options?
  • What will I do?

Most of the time it’s always better to underreact. I can always ramp up the reaction later but honestly, it usually just makes me feel bad and I’m in the business of making myself feel great and not bad.

Count to ten, drink a glass of water, whatever it takes to not strike the match that ignites my fiery little heart.

pink incense

I am still learning how to find a balance in everything I do and love. I gave myself a schedule and am working towards discipline instead of the free fall that I seem to always be in.

I want to read, write, work, laugh, exercise, eat healthy, kiss, sleep well, prepare myself to apply for grad school and take on more responsibility at work, laugh more, kiss more, talk, listen, get stronger, and take care of myself.

I have been writing so much lately, about everything. The spin classes I found on YouTube with the instructor who plays Taylor Swift. The way I relate to Patroclus now. The pink incense I bought that smells like roses and something I can’t identify.

I have had the same bed frame since before I was born. I am finally ready for a new one. And couches.

I also need to save money for my master’s degree.

I find myself daydreaming often about small love-filled comforts like laying next to someone and reading a book with our shoulders touching. Going grocery shopping and splitting up to cover the store; knowing smiles when we spot each other across an aisle. Little little little things that seem so out of my reach currently.

Tomorrow is a full moon in Libra. I’m a Libra. I wonder what that means for me? I like to pick and choose what symbols affect me, and I want this one to mean something in the same way that sunflowers and the rain do.

Maybe something good will happen. I feel like it has to. I have been so good lately, to others and myself. I hope there is something that will come out of that, for me and for others.

‘Experience’ by Ludovico Einaudi type of shit

I can remember so much about the people I care(d) about and yet so little about myself. I think my favorite color is red, but my brain is more worried with trying to retain all of the favorite colors of all of the best friends I’ve ever had.

I am so selfish sometimes and I don’t know why I feel entitled to know everything about someone else while giving up barely anything about me.

At the same time I want someone to know me the way I know them. I want someone to just completely and totally understand me yet I actively push against it. The times I do share I feel like I’m saying too too too much and maybe I am afraid that if the someone I wanted to, really knew me, they wouldn’t find me that great.

I am named after a flower. I think I take too long to bloom and who wants to wait to see that when there are other much brighter and prettier flowers unfurling their petals faster?

But I hope one day I will bloom and there will be someone who is patient enough to catch the slow unraveling of each of my anxious petals and believe the final result was worth the wait.

genius only comes along in storms of fabled foreign tongues

It feels like taking melatonin and getting slowly sleepier and sleepier except I don’t feel like going to sleep I just feel comfort and like I am testing my own patience like a rubber band.

In my head I am sending you waves of pink and red and white and in person I am snapping the invisible rubber band against my wrist again to literally snap out of it.

Talking to you feels like lighting a candle and feeling the warmth and smelling something clean and strong like fresh laundry, but from someone else’s house so I can’t pinpoint the exact brand.

You are not soft but constant and bold. I have always hidden my softness and hidden my strength and I worry that you still can’t, will never see either.

nineteen

I felt you in my legs before I ever met you. And when you lay beside me, for the first time I told you. I feel you in my heart, and I don’t even know you.

I can’t remember the last time I heard a song that really made me feel something so strongly. When I was a teenager, I used to stay up with Panic! at the Disco albums on repeat on my iPod and I would just imagine what being in love is like. I thought if love sounded anything like Brendon Urie’s voice then I must be on the right track. Then I heard this song and it brought back everything.

I remember my first big big crush.

I remember driving home feeling so different, and I was so sure everyone could see it. I drove home and I kept touching my swollen lips and I knew that the world knew that I’d been kissing for hours. That I just had this air about me that screamed I had found the big L-O-V-E.

I was worried about the leaves on my windshield from spending the night at the boy’s house, because they weren’t the same leaves as the tree in front of my friend’s house that I told my parents I would be sleeping over at. I thought my mom would take one look at my windshield and just know.

Then summer passed and I never really felt that way again with him. And I stayed, and stayed, and stayed for way too long. Long after the maybe-love was gone, the butterflies had escaped out of my throat, and the “iloveyous” were preceded by tears and they really just meant “I’m sorry.”

Flew home, back to where we met. Stayed inside, I was so upset. Cooked up a plan, it was good except I was all alone. You were all I had.

I remember heartbreak, and I remember realizing after that it wasn’t a real heartbreak. I just didn’t want to be lonely. I didn’t want to go back to being alone.

I was so so so confused about whether any of it was worth it. The funny thing about dating a stranger (through an app, through a chance meeting) is you don’t really know the other person on the end. You don’t know who they were in high school or college, or if they ever got a detention or if they ever smoked weed.

I think I forced it because I wanted love so awfully. What was maybe supposed to just be a fling I stretched out well past its expiration date.

I think it’s too much for me to meet someone and in one or two months decide that I’m ready to be in a relationship. I don’t even make friends that fast. I definitely don’t love that fast.

But I get so excited and hopeful about love. I love love. I feel like I was meant to experience every single type of love there is and some days that puts me on a rush and other days that makes me scared.

I don’t think I am a faucet. I think it ends at some point.

I was nineteen. How could you blame me?