Fall in Love

You are my right person. You make my soul sing. You don’t make the bad feelings disappear, but you make them so much more manageable. When I’m with you, I feel like I can do anything.

Baby, I will wait. You are so worth waiting for if you just give me the chance, if you want to. If you want to stay in LA when I finish school, I would be more than honored and happy to join you there. We’ll get a studio apartment like we talked about, you can work on commercials and music videos, I’ll write speeches and books, maybe even scripts. If you want to come to the east coast, get an apartment on Wall Street, baby we can do that too. The world is your’s and I will follow you wherever you choose to go. My work isn’t contingent on a location as much your’s is, I am willing to trade.

You would always tell me I am the master of my universe and in charge of my happiness, and baby, nothing makes me happier than you. Please, believe in us. Please believe we can make this work. I am willing to make sure it does, but only if you are too.

You give me reasons to be alive. You give me the ability to be happy. You give me motive to be a better person. I want to spend my life with you, but only if you do too.

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A Lack of Color

I wouldn’t call Tuesday an overreaction, but a gut reaction. Over time, and especially since seeing him, I did the one thing I was supposed to avoid at all costs: getting attached.

I love him. He loves me. We know this. He is my world as I am his. The distance is too great to make this any shade of easy. The distance itself isn’t even the problem; the real problem is how intense his workload is, to the point that simple texting is unfeasible for him. I know if he tried harder we could make it work, but I don’t want to ask that of him. He has too much to focus on and I don’t want to be a contributing factor to his stress; inversely, I want to be a source of relief and relaxation. I can’t be that person if I get attached.

I brought up spending a month in the summer with him, and he said he’s discuss it with his mother. It wasn’t a no, which gives me hope and I am allowing myself to hope, even if it’s just this once.

I miss being loved. Life is lonely and it isn’t easy.

Water Under the Bridge

I think I’m due for a brief life update.

I’m doing okay. I’ll hesitantly even go as far as to say I’m doing good. I’ve been struggling a little on what to do with my alone time, since I seem to have an abundance of it now. I spend a lot of that time sleeping, though I don’t know if that’s to catch up on the sleep I miss during the school week or it’s the depression. I’m not lacking motivation anywhere near how I was during my bad months a while back, but every now and then it’s particularly difficult to get out from under my covers.

Recently, I told myself that it’s okay to be sad and I just have to ride out the wave whenever it comes, because only then will I be able to truly appreciate the times that I’m motivated and energetic and content. It’s a sensitive balance, but I really do think I’m managing it okay.

Things with Pretty Boy fell apart so fast, it’s hilarious honestly. I’ll spare the details, but I learned two things from that experience: 1. I’m (almost) ready to date again. 2. I’m terrified no one will compare to Ex Boyfriend.

It’s the second lesson that has been particularly eating at me, no matter how hard  I try to send it to the back of my mind.

December is 7 months since I broke up with him. The beginning was grueling; I had no idea how to be my own person. I had no knowledge of my personality or how to change it, had no concept of my personal aspirations, and I generally didn’t know how to live as my own person.

Since then, I have worked slowly and diligently to create a person out of the shell I so long inhabited, and I am so proud of my progress. I’ve learned it’s especially important to praise yourself as much, if not more, as you critique yourself, so I don’t feel ashamed to admit that I’m proud.

I was lower than rock bottom at the start of 2016, and I didn’t really start to come out of that rut until just a couple of months ago.

In the beginning, I missed him with a weight and pain that threatened to crush me. I definitely do still miss him now, almost more I’d say, but in a different way. I don’t miss the attention or affection as much as I did in the beginning, though there are moments I long to bury my face in his neck or pull on the hairs at the back of his head, but more than that I miss his company. He was my closest and most valuable confidant. I miss our lengthy conversations about nothing and everything. I miss the way we could communicate with each other just by glance, without having to say a single word. I miss the hours spent together without speaking, just enjoying each other’s quiet company. The times I dream about him, I wouldn’t say that I’m happier, but that I’m consumed by this overwhelming sense of peace. When I wake up from the dreams, that peace is immediately what I realize is missing.

I know who I am God damn it. I know what I want, and I have intricate plans for how to get there. I’m taking care of myself, I’m expanding my relentless pursuit of knowledge, and I am growing more comfortable with myself and my body with every passing day. I know (I KNOW) I’m bound to meet incredible and inspiring and exhilarating people when I go to college, but I’m truly scared I’ll never stop wanting or needing him.

August 20, 2014. You walked into the studio with your schedule change in hand to show to Pelican. It was the third day of school and I was going mad trying to finish the first show. I had just stepped down from the stage where the anchors’ desk was mounted when I looked over and saw you and stopped in my tracks. I’m sure I could go back to the studio and point to the exact spots where both you and I were standing. I didn’t see your face from the front, only profile, which is where you got the platypus name from (when I look at you from the side, your chin does this thing that makes you look like a platypus, I’m sorry). You never saw me, but I swear on my life and my heart and my brain and everything that matters to me that I felt a pull, as if a string connected us to each other. You know how I am about my gut feelings, and this time there was a voice in the back of my head that just said “You need to know him, be close to him. This one’s important.” Nothing, nothing, nothing eats at me more than this single memory does. Nothing.

 

I needed to get that off my chest. There are still things I keep bottled, no matter how much I talk or vent. This memory is a weight that follows me around, almost whispering that I can’t let you go no matter how hard I try. I’m sorry.

Stubborn Love

I haven’t published a post in a while because I haven’t been able to finish writing. I keep starting to write, starting to develop a story, some mediocre plot, but it falls apart just as I begin to pick up some steam and I never follow through. School began two weeks ago for me, and I feel like I haven’t had time to even breathe.

My goals for this school year are to become completely independent and to eat healthier. I’ve been eating salad whenever possible and trying (sometimes miserably, sometimes bravely) to stay away from heavily processed and all around unhealthy food. I’ve seen a dramatic change in my blood sugars since I changed my diet, and I have much more energy than before, but I know that the road ahead is long and foreboding. I’m determined to stick it out.

I keep feeling like none of my classes stimulate me or my mind. I’m taking mostly Advanced Placement, AICE, or Dual Enrollment courses, and yet I feel like I’m hardly in a Gifted class. My appreciation of intelligence and learning is quickly being depreciated as my teachers seem to have given up on educating seniors before we can even begin to lose our willpower. I’m not ready to take a break or stop learning; I want to be challenged and tested and pushed to my limits so that I can keep breaking my limits. It’s upsetting that my teachers seem to not share in my passion.

I’ve made friends in unlikely places and people, but I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve been in months. Ex-Boyfriend still rings a steady pang in my heart, but I’m learning to live in memory of him instead of for him. I’m learning to be my own person, and most importantly, to be a better person. A few days this week have been particularly difficult, and I’ve had moments where I’ve wanted nothing more than to pick up my phone and call him, but I power through. We watched a short movie once from Disney; the moral of the film was perseverance in the face of adversity with the catchphrase “Chin up now, pip pip” repeated throughout the film. When I would be having a bad day, he would kiss my forehead and tell me the phrase, and just the silliness of the “pip pip” would make me feel better. I tell it to myself almost every day.

I’ll be okay. The more I say that to myself, the more likely it is to be true. At least, that’s how it works in theory, right?

I’ll be okay.

Down by the River

Have you ever felt like you were drowning, but you manage to kick your legs and keep your head above water, but only just barely so? Your legs are starting to fatigue and it’s taking so much work that you barely think it’s worth it but you keep kicking anyway.

That’s as close to accurate as I can get to describing how I feel right now. It’s a down day, really really down, and I’m trying so hard to keep my head up and remind myself of everything I have going for me, but it’s so hard. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and I can’t reinvent myself in a week, but it feels barely worth it at this point. I feel so inherently alone.

Ghost!

Today is a down day and I’ve stopped trying to fight it. Down days are essential to making the up days extra good. I think I’ve been doing okay. I’ve had a few slip ups and moments where I’ve let myself feel worse than I should have, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and I can’t expect to completely reinvent myself in a week. So today is a down day and I’m doing my best to cope with that.

Ex-Boyfriend never called. He said he’d call when he got back in town, but he never did, and as we speak he’s boarding another plane and flying miles away from me. I yearn to talk to him. Besides Pelican, I feel like he’s the only one who ever really listened. I’ve been keeping a lot bottled up lately, and I know that I shouldn’t, but I don’t feel comfortable enough with my friends to try and talk to them about anything.

I’m coming to realize that I think I need new friends. While the ones that I currently have are often my pillars of support and the only people keeping me afloat, sometimes, especially as of late, they’ve been doing me more harm than good. Their characters have changed as they have entered relationships, they are often aloof when I need them most, and they hurt me when all I’ve done is try to help and be a good person. I’m not that good at making friends, I guess.

Home is no different really. I feel like a stranger in my own bed, but that’s nothing new.

We’re going back to school and working, and I welcome this much needed distraction. I feel Ex-Boyfriend’s ghost in almost every room I walk into, but I try to take inspiration from likely suggestions he would have given. I try to make the memory of him helpful instead of painful. On down days, that’s hard to do, but I think I’m doing okay.

Overall, I think I’m doing okay. Let’s just hope I can do okay for long enough.

How do you get over someone who gave you a whole world?

Shade and Light

Scrolling through some pictures in my photo roll, I stumble across a few from my freshman year of high school and I’m dumbfounded. It’s hard to believe I was that broken and lonely person just 3 short years ago. Since the time that those pictures were taken, I have grown in ways I never before realized. I am a stronger, more intelligent, and more charismatic human being; in many ways, however, I am also more sensitive and frail.

I hate that I have allowed the events from the past few months to affect me so severely. I am ashamed that I allowed myself to feel weak. I worked for so long to be more than that, to be better than that. I lived a life of hiding in the shadows, and I was tired of not being myself and I vowed that I would not allow myself to be put down by anyone again, but I forgot to include myself in that. I put myself down, I was my own worst enemy. I deserve better than how I have treated myself.

I miss Ex-Boyfriend. I don’t think I’ll ever stop missing him, or needing him, or loving him. I think he will always own a piece of my heart. But eventually, sooner rather than later, I need to start moving on. I need to learn that it’s okay to be alone, that it’s okay to need someone, but that I’m all I need.

I don’t know how to be alone. I never have. In those moments of solitude, I forget who I am and I forget how to live. I feel weak and battered down and like my existence is meaningless.

I lived a life of hiding in the shadows and Ex-Boyfriend brought me into the sunlight. He taught me courage and bravery, and I can’t let that go to waste. I owe him my life and my happiness. I need to learn how to be alone and be okay. I owe him that at least.

A Letter- A Dream

I had a dream that we were in school, and you walked in unexpectedly. I was simultaneously overjoyed and wreaked by anxiety. You were wearing your gray shirt, the only with the colorful design of what I think is an elephant but have never been completely sure of. You were also clad in your light wash jeans and torn up red Vans. It felt like if I looked at you long enough, I could tattoo your image in the very front of my mind where I could see it every day and never forget what you looked like. If only I could capture scent in the same way. Your smell will forever be one of the only sources of true comfort I will ever know. I still have your Hummer cologne, but I haven’t sprayed it in fear of what my reaction would be.

In my dream, we were working at the dual monitor computer in the classroom and you slipped me a piece of folded lined paper. In scratchy pencil were the small words “I’ll always love you”. I looked at you and you told me you forgave me. I wrapped my arms around your neck in the very hug that I’ve daydreamed about for weeks now. We went home together afterwards and your mom wrapped me in another hug and cried about how much she missed me, while your step-dad questioned why we were back together. I was never sure he really liked me. I awoke from that dream with the soul crushing and bitter taste of disappointment on my lips.

In my dream, I was so happy. I felt a quiet, calm peace that has been absent from my life since May 27th when I broke up with you. Today marks 2 months since that dreadful day and I still regret it and I still hate myself for it and I still love you. I love you more than I will ever, ever, ever be able to express. You were the sun that shone on the dark side of my moon. You made me feel whole. I am so sorry. I am so proud of you.

A Letter; Memories and Regrets

A situation at home with my parents a couple of nights ago turned very ugly, and my gut reaction was to call you. I obviously didn’t, but I cried for a really long time as I sat at my desk, going over in my head how you would have reacted and what you would have done to comfort me.

I know I spent a lot of time during our relationship mad at you or criticizing you, and I know that those are probably the only memories of our relationship that you think about. They aren’t mine. I think about how foolish I was to always be upset with you, and I’m working so hard now to calm my temperament and think before I react or speak. I mostly remember the times you’d console me on your lap when I was having a bad day, or our adventures walking aimlessly to the nearest fast food joint or supermarket. I remember being comfortable enough with you to sit at your desk and study while you slept, or how you made me so comfortable with my body. I remember our showers together and how we would always come out freezing cold, but laughing. You would let me take a nap after school every day, and you would complain about it but you would always take off my shoes for me when I lifted my legs. We would walk Jackie at night together sometimes, and the conversations we’d have during that time would be short, but usually really deep and special. I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive when Jackie was put down. I’ve never had a pet before, I didn’t know how much it hurts to lose one.

I got my AP scores, and I wanted to text you. I know you would have been proud of me, but I’m not sure you care anymore, and you probably don’t.

You were my biggest supporter and my best friend, and your absence has taken its toll on me. I am working to be a better, calmer, and more poised person, because that’s what you always wanted me to be. I’ve been playing soccer a lot, trying hard to remember all of the tips you told me about being a goalkeeper. I’m keeping myself occupied as much as possible to avoid feeling sad, but I always get to a point where I can’t keep the feelings away anymore. I want nothing more, in those moments and in the good moments, to pick up the phone and call you, listen to your voice.

It upsets me to feel like all of the sacrifices and choices I have made have been in vain.

I love you, with my entire heart. You are still my favorite person in the whole world. I miss you so much. I’m sorry for all of the pain I’ve caused you. I am trying to make up for it in ways I don’t even know. I’m so sorry.

I love you.

A Time To Be So Small

The past two weeks have been the epitome of hyper coasters.

Crush-boy became boyfriend on Monday, and I can strongly state that this was one of the best weeks I have had in quite a while, especially in terms of my anxiety and depression. I feel like I’ve known him for years when in reality I’ve known him for only a handful of weeks.

Yesterday we went on a date to Miami’s Art District, entered a couple of galleries and walked around the Wynwood Walls with his camera in hand, him snapping candids of me against the pieces of artwork every opportunity he had. It was the most incredible date I have ever been taken on.

Getting home that night, however, was a completely different story. We got home much later than expected because we ended up going into a later movie than planned with the rest of our friends, due to Annabelle being rated-R and only one of us being 17 years old. To say that my parents were furious and ballistic is an understatement. I’ll spare the details, telling only that I am basically under lockdown. I had the sort of anxiety attack last night where people are taken to the hospital for, but as always, I had to stick it out alone.

I’m not entirely sure why but words have been failing me lately. I have been having a decidedly more and more difficult time formulating words in an order that accurately conveys my feelings, likewise with drawing. Nothing seems to be coming out right, and I don’t know how to fix it.