My friend told me the other day that whenever I'm upset, that I should write. This guy's known me since I was fourteen, been there when I found myself, and then was there when I found myself again, as well as the umpteenth times I've re-invented myself. I guess that's why I'm writing... to see if it really does make you feel any better... Well, you wouldn't be the correct subject to put in that sentences... I guess... To see if writing makes me feel any better.
It takes a lot to admit that you're not perfect. We say it a million times. We say we're snowflakes, and that we're unique. But are we really? I like to think that I'm different, but i back stabbed my duckling just like everyone else did. I feel like crap about myself, but around her my sanity was dwindling, and dealing with the things that she was saying, was making me exponentially more upset.
I'm trying to cope; truly I am. I went to the dentist and got two stitches put in my gums. That kind of hurt. One of the stitches got ripped out during dinner and that hurt too. The dentist almost gave me the good pain meds (which i already have anyways) because he said they were going to hurt a lot. If only he knew the two root canals in my mouth hurt tenfold more then what any mini surgery I had previously this week.
I want to work on cosplay but yet again, I'm waiting for something to dry. I feel like i'm going to wake up at 4am and not be able to fall asleep and just end up down there, sanding away. That sounds like something I would do. I mean, I bake cupcakes and cookies at four o'clock in the morning so why wouldn't I work on finishing up some wooden guns?
I guess I'm too involved in cosplay because the signifigant other seems to be progressively getting more mad at me for it. I don't know, cosplay is some escape... Some escape that i stabbed my duckling in the back, and i'm only getting four hours a week at work, and i'm failing french steadily. I really am hoping to come home tomorrow and magically my staff head will be done, as well as the little pieces that I can't cut in my guns. Maybe even some of their sanding.
Doubt that one though. Wish I had a cuddle partner for the night. Don't know what kind of else nonsense to write. Just kinda... blabbering on about how pathetic I feel sometimes. :}
Happy... Whatever.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Middle of the night posting
It's 5:30am. Why am I awake? There's too many things going through my mind... mainly cosplay this... cosplay that. I don't really know what I'm thinking about though. My friend told me, that i've been getting so sad lately because I've stopped writing... so I guess this is my attempt to start, since he knows me better than most people I hang out with now.
I don't know why I'm sad... I'm not really sad... kind of indifferent. Things that used to make me cry don't make me cry anymore. I get upset, and i know I'm upset but i show visibly no emotion besides holding onto someone as a type of security blanket keeping me in this world. Did that make sense? I don't know... It's 5:30am.
I guess i'm going to start by writing a little mini letter to a girl that is almost having the same problems as I once had.
You see, six months ago... I was really lost. It wasn't that I flirted with people, just that they took my actions as flirting and I rarely corrected them. It was easier for me to pretend that I didn't exist. It felt like... they weren't permanent, so why should i fix these connections? It took me a while to realize that these semi-permanent friends took me in when I had no-one else without knowing me. Be-friended me and listened to me when there was no one there. And even though they hardly knew my name, they hugged me and held me while I cried.
These people are awesome, because when I did begin to finally find myself and who I think-- because i'm 20 and we change our minds a million times-- i want to be-- and then accept that person.
But now they're not accepting her.
I know her as someone nobody else knows her as. I remember when she had to give a big presentation for the first time in my class. I remember when she passed out in my English class, when I hardly knew her name. I remember my professor telling me to get back to what i was working on, but i couldn't stop touching her, like maybe if i held onto her, she wouldn't further slip away. I remember being so scared that something was seriously wrong.
I know her as the girl who didn't tell me she was too hungry and was going to pass out, and passed out in the basement of a convention with 32,000 people at it. I remember how fast I was running up and down every aisle praying for some solution to the problem. I remember, holding her belongings in full cosplay as my friend carried her up flights of stairs.
She said something the other day... She said she was like a little duck that everyone needed to take care of.
This isn't far from the truth. Every once and a while, we all become that little duck. We all become that person who can hardly live our lives as they spiral out of control. We all need to hold onto someone, if only for comfort, and sometimes we slip and fall and make mistakes and but our burdens on someone else. But that never changes who we are inside.
You see, through all my changes, through all the situations that brought me to the self awareness that I am at now, I still protect my friends with everything inside of me. I still fight for them. I still try my hardest to show up at their houses in the middle of the night if there's even a hint of them needing me. I'm still sympathetic to depression and suicide, and i'm still the girl who's talked so many people away from an invisible ledge. That's something to be proud of.
I don't stand high enough at the center of the friend circle to be able to sway opinions of my little lost duckling, however, I ask you this. Remember that time that you stumbled and fell, remember that person that you put a little too much weight on. Apologize to that person, and then remember that everyone has those people, and it's not a bad thing necessarily but the worst thing you can do, is to kick these people while they're already down.
I can't imagine what life would be like without all of the people that I have in it. And if I can do anything about it, I will give every thing that I have in life, including my own bodily essence to save practically anyone else. That's who I am. Now let's figure out who you are.
Going in a complete opposite direction... It's sad to watch the ways that some of the people have gone down after high school. I used to think that these people had so much potential, and now it's wasted in things like drugs and alcohol and all i want to say to them is "not cool."
I don't know whatever made it cool, parsay. I'm at least starting to get tired now by getting all of this off my chest.
My cosplay blog is mightily failing. It's sad. I want a cosplay group. Is it especially weird that I want some one that I can pose with specifically? Either that or to be singled out like Yuna normally is... I don't know. As of right now I have the entire trio from X-2, but how long will that last before we're all torn to pieces by lifes uncertainty.
I hate dissection. I have to dissect every tuesday since last week, for three weeks after that. It takes a lot out of me. It's hard to do something that you think is morally wrong. I try to think that it was never a living being, so that seems to make things easier. I think of it as some plastic mold thing that someone made because they were bored in their basements. I don't really care about grammar anymore.
It's approaching 5:48 AM.
I'm starting to fall for a boy. Like truly fall for him. Sometimes he goes quiet though and it makes me feel like something I did was wrong... but he touches me constantly and I like that because like i said above, it makes me feel like i'm cemented to this world by something and I'm not going to fly away like a red balloon.
I hate french class too. Wow this is just one giant VENT. I'm so obnoxious and tired but not wanting to sleep. It's 5:50. I am getting to the point where I type really fast, even though I don't have an aim for my sentences. French is just exhausting. I think i failed another test. Mom's going to be getting me a tutor. I hope it's someone who's understanding and can just help me fake to learn french for just another like two months so that I can do this.
I want to work out. I want to have another job so that I can afford to buy my significant other things. Mainly costumes. Does that sound gay? I want more money. I'm getting PRK in June. I'm scared that he's not going to be able to be there enough, but i know that he'd be there enough to make sure that someone is constantly there. So i'm not constantly relying on my parents. How many times did I just say the word constantly in one sentence?
It's 5:52 AM.
Four minutes and I wrote 3 paragraphs.
I want to write stories again but I don't really have the time.
My goal for my year off is to get published... In something... anything... Anything paper though. It has to be on paper like in the paper, or in a book, or anywhere that's not just on my personal blog.
Someone try to hold me to that. I won't have the time to make excuses.
Someone get a gym membership with me, so i have a reason to actually go.
I don't have the money to go.
It's 5:54 AM, my bed is cold because my windows open and at the end of the day I'm going to end up going to get the dog that we're babysitting downstairs, and pull her up stairs and cuddle with her because I'm lonely, and i'm sad again, for absolutely no reason, like I had said above.
I wasted 30 minutes of my life on writing. It's sad that that's what I really want to do with my life and I just said that. I need to make more cosplay posts... hmmm...
And a todo list:
Todo: Trick more people into cosplaying with me
Trick more people into giving me food
Trick someone into becoming my gym partner
Trick someone else into being my cardio partner (Aka, running--- ew)
Trick another person into becoming my photographer...
Well, not really tricking. I accept volunteers.
I don't know why I'm sad... I'm not really sad... kind of indifferent. Things that used to make me cry don't make me cry anymore. I get upset, and i know I'm upset but i show visibly no emotion besides holding onto someone as a type of security blanket keeping me in this world. Did that make sense? I don't know... It's 5:30am.
I guess i'm going to start by writing a little mini letter to a girl that is almost having the same problems as I once had.
You see, six months ago... I was really lost. It wasn't that I flirted with people, just that they took my actions as flirting and I rarely corrected them. It was easier for me to pretend that I didn't exist. It felt like... they weren't permanent, so why should i fix these connections? It took me a while to realize that these semi-permanent friends took me in when I had no-one else without knowing me. Be-friended me and listened to me when there was no one there. And even though they hardly knew my name, they hugged me and held me while I cried.
These people are awesome, because when I did begin to finally find myself and who I think-- because i'm 20 and we change our minds a million times-- i want to be-- and then accept that person.
But now they're not accepting her.
I know her as someone nobody else knows her as. I remember when she had to give a big presentation for the first time in my class. I remember when she passed out in my English class, when I hardly knew her name. I remember my professor telling me to get back to what i was working on, but i couldn't stop touching her, like maybe if i held onto her, she wouldn't further slip away. I remember being so scared that something was seriously wrong.
I know her as the girl who didn't tell me she was too hungry and was going to pass out, and passed out in the basement of a convention with 32,000 people at it. I remember how fast I was running up and down every aisle praying for some solution to the problem. I remember, holding her belongings in full cosplay as my friend carried her up flights of stairs.
She said something the other day... She said she was like a little duck that everyone needed to take care of.
This isn't far from the truth. Every once and a while, we all become that little duck. We all become that person who can hardly live our lives as they spiral out of control. We all need to hold onto someone, if only for comfort, and sometimes we slip and fall and make mistakes and but our burdens on someone else. But that never changes who we are inside.
You see, through all my changes, through all the situations that brought me to the self awareness that I am at now, I still protect my friends with everything inside of me. I still fight for them. I still try my hardest to show up at their houses in the middle of the night if there's even a hint of them needing me. I'm still sympathetic to depression and suicide, and i'm still the girl who's talked so many people away from an invisible ledge. That's something to be proud of.
I don't stand high enough at the center of the friend circle to be able to sway opinions of my little lost duckling, however, I ask you this. Remember that time that you stumbled and fell, remember that person that you put a little too much weight on. Apologize to that person, and then remember that everyone has those people, and it's not a bad thing necessarily but the worst thing you can do, is to kick these people while they're already down.
I can't imagine what life would be like without all of the people that I have in it. And if I can do anything about it, I will give every thing that I have in life, including my own bodily essence to save practically anyone else. That's who I am. Now let's figure out who you are.
Going in a complete opposite direction... It's sad to watch the ways that some of the people have gone down after high school. I used to think that these people had so much potential, and now it's wasted in things like drugs and alcohol and all i want to say to them is "not cool."
I don't know whatever made it cool, parsay. I'm at least starting to get tired now by getting all of this off my chest.
My cosplay blog is mightily failing. It's sad. I want a cosplay group. Is it especially weird that I want some one that I can pose with specifically? Either that or to be singled out like Yuna normally is... I don't know. As of right now I have the entire trio from X-2, but how long will that last before we're all torn to pieces by lifes uncertainty.
I hate dissection. I have to dissect every tuesday since last week, for three weeks after that. It takes a lot out of me. It's hard to do something that you think is morally wrong. I try to think that it was never a living being, so that seems to make things easier. I think of it as some plastic mold thing that someone made because they were bored in their basements. I don't really care about grammar anymore.
It's approaching 5:48 AM.
I'm starting to fall for a boy. Like truly fall for him. Sometimes he goes quiet though and it makes me feel like something I did was wrong... but he touches me constantly and I like that because like i said above, it makes me feel like i'm cemented to this world by something and I'm not going to fly away like a red balloon.
I hate french class too. Wow this is just one giant VENT. I'm so obnoxious and tired but not wanting to sleep. It's 5:50. I am getting to the point where I type really fast, even though I don't have an aim for my sentences. French is just exhausting. I think i failed another test. Mom's going to be getting me a tutor. I hope it's someone who's understanding and can just help me fake to learn french for just another like two months so that I can do this.
I want to work out. I want to have another job so that I can afford to buy my significant other things. Mainly costumes. Does that sound gay? I want more money. I'm getting PRK in June. I'm scared that he's not going to be able to be there enough, but i know that he'd be there enough to make sure that someone is constantly there. So i'm not constantly relying on my parents. How many times did I just say the word constantly in one sentence?
It's 5:52 AM.
Four minutes and I wrote 3 paragraphs.
I want to write stories again but I don't really have the time.
My goal for my year off is to get published... In something... anything... Anything paper though. It has to be on paper like in the paper, or in a book, or anywhere that's not just on my personal blog.
Someone try to hold me to that. I won't have the time to make excuses.
Someone get a gym membership with me, so i have a reason to actually go.
I don't have the money to go.
It's 5:54 AM, my bed is cold because my windows open and at the end of the day I'm going to end up going to get the dog that we're babysitting downstairs, and pull her up stairs and cuddle with her because I'm lonely, and i'm sad again, for absolutely no reason, like I had said above.
I wasted 30 minutes of my life on writing. It's sad that that's what I really want to do with my life and I just said that. I need to make more cosplay posts... hmmm...
And a todo list:
Todo: Trick more people into cosplaying with me
Trick more people into giving me food
Trick someone into becoming my gym partner
Trick someone else into being my cardio partner (Aka, running--- ew)
Trick another person into becoming my photographer...
Well, not really tricking. I accept volunteers.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Sucking
Here's what sucks about getting over someone the most, trying to find someone new.
I don't want to explain to them what happens to me when I drink milk, I don't want to explain to them how to make it feel better, I don't want to tell them how to feed a bunny, or which spot to rub on my dog, or how i like to sleep at night. I don't want to tell the boy my biggest fears, and how i hate shark fest, and hunting for sport. I don't want to tell them why I hate hunting for sport. I don't want to explain to them why I want to name my children after characters in a book who killed themselves, or what the meaning of my tattoos are, or why my piercings mean the amount they do.
I don't want to tell them which restaurants I like, and which ones I avoid, and reiterate which foods are considered dairy. I don't want them to know how much I hate my job, or how sick my bunny got, or how I cry when I can't fix something. I don't want to explain to them how i get when i'm overwhelmed, and the easiest way to make me fall asleep at night, and the teachers that I hate and why.
I don't want these boys to know why I won't pick up my guitars, and why i won't listen to certain genres of music and why I enjoy dancing so much. I don't want to have to push them back when they get to close, when i'm uncomfortable, or even when they've overstepped their boundaries. I don't to have to tell them how one of my biggest fears is being sterile, and my biggest dream is raising happy/healthy/smart kids.
I don't want to tell them what my favorite type of dog is, or how i hate hairless animals, or how much I love coca-cola. I don't want them to know that I only wear make-up when i'm trying to impress someone or when I feel so low that I actually need the added complements, or that I never remember to take my medicine or how scared i am of dentists. I don't want them to know that the only reason i like the cowboys is because everyone likes the redskins, and that my second favorite team is always whichever team is playing the redskins.
I want them to know. I took two years of my life teaching you every single one of these things and you know the answer to all of these questions and why the fuck aren't you here? Why the fuck didn't you keep the billions of promises and secrets and life plans we had? Why?
I don't want to explain to them what happens to me when I drink milk, I don't want to explain to them how to make it feel better, I don't want to tell them how to feed a bunny, or which spot to rub on my dog, or how i like to sleep at night. I don't want to tell the boy my biggest fears, and how i hate shark fest, and hunting for sport. I don't want to tell them why I hate hunting for sport. I don't want to explain to them why I want to name my children after characters in a book who killed themselves, or what the meaning of my tattoos are, or why my piercings mean the amount they do.
I don't want to tell them which restaurants I like, and which ones I avoid, and reiterate which foods are considered dairy. I don't want them to know how much I hate my job, or how sick my bunny got, or how I cry when I can't fix something. I don't want to explain to them how i get when i'm overwhelmed, and the easiest way to make me fall asleep at night, and the teachers that I hate and why.
I don't want these boys to know why I won't pick up my guitars, and why i won't listen to certain genres of music and why I enjoy dancing so much. I don't want to have to push them back when they get to close, when i'm uncomfortable, or even when they've overstepped their boundaries. I don't to have to tell them how one of my biggest fears is being sterile, and my biggest dream is raising happy/healthy/smart kids.
I don't want to tell them what my favorite type of dog is, or how i hate hairless animals, or how much I love coca-cola. I don't want them to know that I only wear make-up when i'm trying to impress someone or when I feel so low that I actually need the added complements, or that I never remember to take my medicine or how scared i am of dentists. I don't want them to know that the only reason i like the cowboys is because everyone likes the redskins, and that my second favorite team is always whichever team is playing the redskins.
I want them to know. I took two years of my life teaching you every single one of these things and you know the answer to all of these questions and why the fuck aren't you here? Why the fuck didn't you keep the billions of promises and secrets and life plans we had? Why?
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Comments on Fragile
I am not condoning suicide with the story "Fragile." I also may be portraying life events but the piece as written is fiction. Details have been changed because of creative integrity and I hold claim to that.
Hopefully you enjoy! :]
Hopefully you enjoy! :]
Fragile (finished)
Fragile
#125
It’s hard to write right now without writing about love. It’s hard to write without a response back, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s hard for me to write without him holding me, playing video games or something so he’s not looking over my shoulders. It’s hard for me to write at all. I can’t begin to tell you my story without telling you the end, but maybe the beginning of the end is a good place to start.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worst in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wandered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employee’s face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hollowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted another girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
One thing you learn when you’re the scapegoat is how to blame yourself too. Maybe if I would have just brushed my hair more? Maybe If I would have just worked out with him? Maybe if I would have just folded and let his friends treat me like crap when I was around them? Maybe if I acted like the insecure puppy I am, then he wouldn’t have left me. Then I wouldn’t be alone.
I got home one night from work and I knew he was having a party. He told me he was going to have a few friends over, including his brother and good friends. We weren’t even fighting at this point. I left work, late as always, and tried to get him to at least hint of me being invited. Instead I just got no response.
I got home, which was about a block away from his home, and I just sat there, staring at my phone waiting for him to respond to anything.
For the first time in about three years, at that moment I texted a past ex-boyfriend. “Hey.”
“Kate?”
“I have a boyfriend now and I love him a lot. We’ve been together like over a year now” I told him details about Joe, about everything I loved about him, everything he’d done for me. “He’s having a party tonight.”
“Why aren’t you there then?”
I pondered that question for a good while. With exes you always want to make
sure you sound happy regardless of how sad you actually were. I played dumb. I pretended like I had no idea why it was bad for your boyfriend not to invite you to his own party. I acted like it was normal knowledge that a girlfriend shouldn’t attend.
Acting dumb is not my strong point, because I’m not dumb. I know that may sound a little amazing considering what I’m contemplating right now, but I’m not. I kind of ignored my exs texts for the rest of the night. I didn’t want to admit that I was sad. I didn’t want to admit anything. I just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.
The next day, I went over to Joe’s house. I snuggled up on his chest and just closed my eyes. I don’t remember why but at some point he saw my text messages to the ex. That made him furious. He was always jealous of everyone else and I don’t know why.
He forbid me from ever speaking with him again, even after I showed him evidence that all I said was how great he was. That was the first of a long list of people that he banned me from speaking to. These people included people who told me to take him back. These people included some of my best friends. These people practically included me.
It gets to you, you know? Feeling alone. Everyone says you’re not allowed to give up your friends for anything, but he was the one holding my hand through everything. He was my support when my mom was sick. He’s the one who got me through all of that. Should I abandon him just because he has some quirks? I have my own quirks, and I loved him. I felt so alone. He would check my phone everyday for the next 6 months, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
Guys like me being around. It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give him a bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough. He’s the one who once held me, but turned away from my computer screen so that I could write.
When he left me, he told everyone that we’ve just been friends with benefits for the last month. He’s been showing off other girls, and sleeping with other girls. His friends say I don’t have any right to be upset because we weren’t actually dating. They say I’m being a drama queen.
He asked me to marry him. He said things like “I hope you know that after I get back from boot camp, I intend to propose to you.” He talked about it with my mother.
I know you probably think, “Why would you marry a jerk like that?” And the only answer that I can give you is he wasn’t always a jerk. He says he can’t be with me because he’s an asshole. He is one, but he didn’t used to be. He used to be the guy that smiled, and held me when I was too afraid to go to the dentist for the first time in two years. He let me cry. He rocked me, and calmed me down, just like he loved me, and he held my hand and told me he’d be there every step of the way.
Where are you now Joe? I’m afraid of myself, and you’re not around. I’m afraid of my fears and what they might turn into, and I’m alone in a bed, writing a story without you holding me and looking away.
If I told you I was in crisis mode, would you come? Would you hold my hand, and play with my hair and stroke the back of my arms? Would you sleep with me, and let me cry it all out until I didn’t have anything anymore left to give, and would you be there when I woke up?
The only thing bad about having guys in your bed is they’re never there when you wake up. They’re never there to fix your bed hair or tell you what outfit might look good that day, or what they want to see. They can’t hug you when you wake up from a bad dream, and they can’t keep your bad dreams away.
I dreamt about you tonight Joe. I dreamt that you came to me, and you said “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, and despite what everyone says or thinks, we’re going to work through this, and we’re going to be us again.”
I took you back. I would take you back, if you were here while I was in crisis mode.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
Who’s holding me now while I spread these words across these pages? Who’s not looking? He sure isn’t. There's a picture of him looking at his new, blonde, perfect girl. She's kissing him on the cheek and he's looking at her. He wouldn’t look if I reached over and I picked up the pills and I took them.
Oh God.
#125
It’s hard to write right now without writing about love. It’s hard to write without a response back, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s hard for me to write without him holding me, playing video games or something so he’s not looking over my shoulders. It’s hard for me to write at all. I can’t begin to tell you my story without telling you the end, but maybe the beginning of the end is a good place to start.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worst in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wandered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employee’s face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hollowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted another girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
One thing you learn when you’re the scapegoat is how to blame yourself too. Maybe if I would have just brushed my hair more? Maybe If I would have just worked out with him? Maybe if I would have just folded and let his friends treat me like crap when I was around them? Maybe if I acted like the insecure puppy I am, then he wouldn’t have left me. Then I wouldn’t be alone.
I got home one night from work and I knew he was having a party. He told me he was going to have a few friends over, including his brother and good friends. We weren’t even fighting at this point. I left work, late as always, and tried to get him to at least hint of me being invited. Instead I just got no response.
I got home, which was about a block away from his home, and I just sat there, staring at my phone waiting for him to respond to anything.
For the first time in about three years, at that moment I texted a past ex-boyfriend. “Hey.”
“Kate?”
“I have a boyfriend now and I love him a lot. We’ve been together like over a year now” I told him details about Joe, about everything I loved about him, everything he’d done for me. “He’s having a party tonight.”
“Why aren’t you there then?”
I pondered that question for a good while. With exes you always want to make
sure you sound happy regardless of how sad you actually were. I played dumb. I pretended like I had no idea why it was bad for your boyfriend not to invite you to his own party. I acted like it was normal knowledge that a girlfriend shouldn’t attend.
Acting dumb is not my strong point, because I’m not dumb. I know that may sound a little amazing considering what I’m contemplating right now, but I’m not. I kind of ignored my exs texts for the rest of the night. I didn’t want to admit that I was sad. I didn’t want to admit anything. I just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling.
The next day, I went over to Joe’s house. I snuggled up on his chest and just closed my eyes. I don’t remember why but at some point he saw my text messages to the ex. That made him furious. He was always jealous of everyone else and I don’t know why.
He forbid me from ever speaking with him again, even after I showed him evidence that all I said was how great he was. That was the first of a long list of people that he banned me from speaking to. These people included people who told me to take him back. These people included some of my best friends. These people practically included me.
It gets to you, you know? Feeling alone. Everyone says you’re not allowed to give up your friends for anything, but he was the one holding my hand through everything. He was my support when my mom was sick. He’s the one who got me through all of that. Should I abandon him just because he has some quirks? I have my own quirks, and I loved him. I felt so alone. He would check my phone everyday for the next 6 months, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
Guys like me being around. It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give him a bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough. He’s the one who once held me, but turned away from my computer screen so that I could write.
When he left me, he told everyone that we’ve just been friends with benefits for the last month. He’s been showing off other girls, and sleeping with other girls. His friends say I don’t have any right to be upset because we weren’t actually dating. They say I’m being a drama queen.
He asked me to marry him. He said things like “I hope you know that after I get back from boot camp, I intend to propose to you.” He talked about it with my mother.
I know you probably think, “Why would you marry a jerk like that?” And the only answer that I can give you is he wasn’t always a jerk. He says he can’t be with me because he’s an asshole. He is one, but he didn’t used to be. He used to be the guy that smiled, and held me when I was too afraid to go to the dentist for the first time in two years. He let me cry. He rocked me, and calmed me down, just like he loved me, and he held my hand and told me he’d be there every step of the way.
Where are you now Joe? I’m afraid of myself, and you’re not around. I’m afraid of my fears and what they might turn into, and I’m alone in a bed, writing a story without you holding me and looking away.
If I told you I was in crisis mode, would you come? Would you hold my hand, and play with my hair and stroke the back of my arms? Would you sleep with me, and let me cry it all out until I didn’t have anything anymore left to give, and would you be there when I woke up?
The only thing bad about having guys in your bed is they’re never there when you wake up. They’re never there to fix your bed hair or tell you what outfit might look good that day, or what they want to see. They can’t hug you when you wake up from a bad dream, and they can’t keep your bad dreams away.
I dreamt about you tonight Joe. I dreamt that you came to me, and you said “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, and despite what everyone says or thinks, we’re going to work through this, and we’re going to be us again.”
I took you back. I would take you back, if you were here while I was in crisis mode.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
Who’s holding me now while I spread these words across these pages? Who’s not looking? He sure isn’t. There's a picture of him looking at his new, blonde, perfect girl. She's kissing him on the cheek and he's looking at her. He wouldn’t look if I reached over and I picked up the pills and I took them.
Oh God.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Fragile
It’s hard to write right now without writing about love. It’s hard to write without a response back, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s hard for me to write without him holding me, playing video games or something so he’s not looking over my shoulders. It’s hard for me to write at all. I can’t begin to tell you my story without telling you the end, but maybe the beginning of the end is a good place to start.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worse in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wondered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employees face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hallowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, “Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.”
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted a girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
It gets to you, ya know? Everyone hated me. He would force me not to hang out with my friends. He would force me not even text them. I felt so alone. He would check my phone, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
I’m a beautiful, single young lady. The boys in the lounge make me alternate laps so that they can ensure that everyone gets fair treatment. I’ve been asked out 5 times in the last two days. Apparently I just have the aura of being single. All of a sudden, everyone who has covered up their feelings has stopped covering them.
It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give him a bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough. He’s the one who once held me, but turned away from my computer screen so that I could write.
When he left me, he told everyone that we’ve just been friends with benefits for the last month. He’s been showing off other girls, and sleeping with other girls. His friends say I don’t have any right to be upset because we weren’t actually dating. They say I’m being a drama queen.
He asked me to marry him. He said things like “I hope you know that after I get back from boot camp, I intend to propose to you.” He talked about it with my mother.
I know you probably think, “Why would you marry a jerk like that?” And the only answer that I can give you, is he wasn’t always a jerk. He says he can’t be with me because he’s an ass hole. He is one, but he didn’t used to be. He used to be the guy that smiled, and held me when I was too afraid to go to the dentist for the first time in two years. He let me cry. He rocked me, and calmed me down, just like he loved me, and he held my hand and told me he’d be there every step of the way.
Where are you now Joe? I’m afraid of myself, and you’re not around. I’m afraid of my fears and what they might turn into, and I’m alone in a bed, writing a story without you holding me and looking away.
If I told you I was in crisis mode, would you come? Would you hold my hand, and play with my hair and stroke the back of my arms? Would you sleep with me, and let me cry it all out until I didn’t have anything anymore left to give, and would you be there when I woke up?
The only thing bad about having guys in your bed is they’re never there when you wake up. They’re never there to fix your bed hair or tell you what outfit might look good that day, or what they want to see. They can’t hug you when you wake up from a bad dream, and they can’t keep your bad dreams away.
I dreamt about you tonight Joe. I dreamt that you came to me, and you said “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, and despite what everyone says or thinks, we’re going to work through this, and we’re going to be us again.”
I took you back. I would take you back, if you were here while I was in crisis mode.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
Who’s holding me now while I spread these words across these pages? Who’s not looking? He sure isn’t, and he wouldn’t look if I reached over and I picked up the pills and I took them.
Oh God.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worse in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wondered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employees face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hallowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, “Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.”
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted a girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
It gets to you, ya know? Everyone hated me. He would force me not to hang out with my friends. He would force me not even text them. I felt so alone. He would check my phone, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
I’m a beautiful, single young lady. The boys in the lounge make me alternate laps so that they can ensure that everyone gets fair treatment. I’ve been asked out 5 times in the last two days. Apparently I just have the aura of being single. All of a sudden, everyone who has covered up their feelings has stopped covering them.
It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give him a bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough. He’s the one who once held me, but turned away from my computer screen so that I could write.
When he left me, he told everyone that we’ve just been friends with benefits for the last month. He’s been showing off other girls, and sleeping with other girls. His friends say I don’t have any right to be upset because we weren’t actually dating. They say I’m being a drama queen.
He asked me to marry him. He said things like “I hope you know that after I get back from boot camp, I intend to propose to you.” He talked about it with my mother.
I know you probably think, “Why would you marry a jerk like that?” And the only answer that I can give you, is he wasn’t always a jerk. He says he can’t be with me because he’s an ass hole. He is one, but he didn’t used to be. He used to be the guy that smiled, and held me when I was too afraid to go to the dentist for the first time in two years. He let me cry. He rocked me, and calmed me down, just like he loved me, and he held my hand and told me he’d be there every step of the way.
Where are you now Joe? I’m afraid of myself, and you’re not around. I’m afraid of my fears and what they might turn into, and I’m alone in a bed, writing a story without you holding me and looking away.
If I told you I was in crisis mode, would you come? Would you hold my hand, and play with my hair and stroke the back of my arms? Would you sleep with me, and let me cry it all out until I didn’t have anything anymore left to give, and would you be there when I woke up?
The only thing bad about having guys in your bed is they’re never there when you wake up. They’re never there to fix your bed hair or tell you what outfit might look good that day, or what they want to see. They can’t hug you when you wake up from a bad dream, and they can’t keep your bad dreams away.
I dreamt about you tonight Joe. I dreamt that you came to me, and you said “I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life, and despite what everyone says or thinks, we’re going to work through this, and we’re going to be us again.”
I took you back. I would take you back, if you were here while I was in crisis mode.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
Who’s holding me now while I spread these words across these pages? Who’s not looking? He sure isn’t, and he wouldn’t look if I reached over and I picked up the pills and I took them.
Oh God.
Unfinished.
It’s hard to write right now without writing about love. It’s hard to write without a response back, telling me it’s going to be okay. It’s hard for me to write without him holding me, playing video games or something so he’s not looking over my shoulders. It’s hard for me to write at all. I can’t begin to tell you my story without telling you the end, but maybe the beginning of the end is a good place to start.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worse in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wondered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employees face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hallowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, “Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.”
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted a girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
It gets to you, ya know? Everyone hated me. He would force me not to hang out with my friends. He would force me not even text them. I felt so alone. He would check my phone, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
I’m a beautiful, single young lady. The boys in the lounge make me alternate laps so that they can ensure that everyone gets fair treatment. I’ve been asked out 5 times in the last two days. Apparently I just have the aura of being single. All of a sudden, everyone who has covered up their feelings has stopped covering them.
It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give hima bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough.
He would call me psychotic, because I was a little jealous. I didn’t like my boyfriend texting other girls, and I appreciated knowing where he was. My favorite store was going out of business, a store that I worked for, a store that I loved. I saw the worse in people those few months, and I often came home crying because of the amount of disrespect I was handed on a silver platter every day and night.
One day, this woman begins yelling at one of my fellow employees. It was about something stupid, because she couldn’t get an extra discount, but she was yelling at her, calling her stupid and all kinds of derogatory terms. I wondered over, after my own customer and saw my fellow employees face—full of fear.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry you lost your $20, but we’re losing our jobs. We’re not getting any severance pay, and unfortunately this is the only thing a lot of us have.”
She wasn’t too happy with that, and she said a few choice words to me and fumed off. I hugged my coworker and told her to go take a break. That was something that happened like clockwork. A single person would never be on the floor and would always be somewhere else, just to get away from the chaos, if only for a few minutes.
I told my boyfriend this, his name is Joe. I texted him.
“I’m not having a good day at work today.”
“What happened?” I told him about the lady, without refraining from using her insults and he responded back “I’m sorry baby, remember I love you. Want me to do something special when you get home?”
“All I want right now is a foot rub and to relax with just you, maybe have a glass of wine.”
“I can arrange that, I’ll get a movie and we’ll just have a quiet night in.”
I was excited for the rest of the night. I didn’t let anything else get to me. I rang people up like a hallowed out ghost and didn’t let a single one of them in on my psyche. When I finally got out that night, around eleven o’clock, I called him. No answer. I called him again. No answer. I sent him a text and sat in the parking lot, waiting for a reply and after ten minutes there was still no answer.
I began to head home. It’s not considered cool to sit in your work parking lot, while you wait for a guy to call you back. While I was driving, I noticed the road that two of his friends lived off of. I thought, “Hey, I could just stop by and see if he’s there, he might not be answering because he’s busy visiting or something.”
Pulling into their court, my headlights illuminated everything; a bunch of kids from high school, playing football in the middle of the street. I knew he was involved in the game, and there were so many people. I just simply turned around and went back the way I came. I didn’t feel like visiting with that many people when I was already upset.
He told them I was checking up on him, because I didn’t trust him. He told them that I probably thought he was taking shots or something. I just wanted a night with my boyfriend after a stressful day at work, is that too hard?
Joe had this habit of lying. There were many times where something would happen and he’d blame it on me. His friends would ask to hang out, and he’d say I wouldn’t let him. Then he’d tell me “I just don’t feel like spending time with anyone but you.” Unfortunately, that earned me quite the reputation for being a crazy girlfriend.
We started fighting. Everyone knew that we were fighting, but everyone also knew that we loved each other; except his friends I guess. Every time he hung out with them, he’d come back with a new thing to fight with me about. He would say that I was causing the drama, but it was always him. He’s the one who texted a girl telling her he missed her, and wished she could be with him that night, I took the rep for that one too.
He told me he just didn’t like hanging out with his friends anymore. He told me they were immature, and that they just didn’t understand. He stopped hanging out with them. It was always his choice. They didn’t like that very much, but they blamed me without him even saying it. I became the scapegoat for everything.
It gets to you, ya know? Everyone hated me. He would force me not to hang out with my friends. He would force me not even text them. I felt so alone. He would check my phone, and even though I had done it to him previously, he wouldn’t allow me to check his.
That’s because he was once again texting another girl. On Saturday night, he slept with her. I was his first, and he used everything that I taught him, everything we had learned together, for someone else. On Sunday night, he broke up with me. He told me he just wanted to go into the next area of his life alone, and I believed it. I was sad, but I believed it.
You’d think after two years someone would at least give you the decency of telling you the truth. I don’t believe he doesn’t love me, but I also don’t believe that that matters. I sent him a text the other day and I asked him, “Do you really want me to be over you, because I’ll sleep with someone tonight.” And he sent me back one word,
“Yes.”
My heart dropped, I couldn’t do anything with anyone but him. I can’t do anything with anyone but him.
I’m a beautiful, single young lady. The boys in the lounge make me alternate laps so that they can ensure that everyone gets fair treatment. I’ve been asked out 5 times in the last two days. Apparently I just have the aura of being single. All of a sudden, everyone who has covered up their feelings has stopped covering them.
It’s nice, because I’m never alone. Mom calls me a slut, because there are constantly guys in and out of my bed. I only sleep with them—and I mean actually sleep. For the last two years, I haven’t slept alone and it scares me to all hell.
Tonight I’m alone. I’m sitting here, holding my baby blankets and my computer on my lap. I’m watching my 43” television. My rabbits asleep next to the igloo that he bought her, and there are a bottle of pain meds within arm’s reach.
Everyone tells me it’ll get better. Everyone tells me I need to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to wait it out. Maybe I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else. I used to tell people that he was my soul mate. It sounds so stupid now, but in the 2 years we were dating, I can count the fights that we had on one hand. You can’t tell me that that’s a bad match.
I miss the way he stroked my arms with his finger tips. I miss the way he’d rub my back when I was stressed out. I miss the way he looked away from my computer when I wrote.
I know it’s stupid. I know that I’m juvenile, and that I’m a teenager and that my heart’s supposed to be indestructible. It’s not though. I’m not indestructible. I can’t hang on any longer, and I’m done thinking about it.
There was this time that I came home from work and cuddled into his arms and I told him “All I want right now is some Chocolate Chip cookies.” He got up, in a rush, and began putting on his blue jeans. “What?”
“Then let’s go get some!” he said as he kissed my forehead.
We went to Walmart, at 1 am to get cookie dough because it would make me happy. When we got home, I tried to give hima bite of dough, and he said something along the lines of it being gross and unhealthy for you, even though me and him had once gone to the store only for cookie dough and ate through the entire carton. He yelled at me, telling me that I was insensitive of his dreams of being in shape so he could join the marines.
He’s the one who popped out of bed just to get me cookie dough.
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