Saturday, August 13, 2011

Thirteen Rugpjūtis of Twenty Eleven

I hate the fact that everything is changing. Here are all the stuff animals I grew up with, that I never had the heart to give away, and I've got to sell them. Them and all the memories that I have with them. Sometimes, I really don't want to grow up.

What's worse is when you're PMSing and growing up at the same time.

It's funny. I wasn't counting the days when I realized I was PMSing, I was listening to Taylor Swift. All of a sudden, the line comes, "I can't breathe without you, but I have to." I just lost it. I don't want anything to change, but everything is going to. There are pieces of me that I know aren't ready to move on. Pieces that still hold my toys from childhood and shed a tear thinking of them gone. Is it wrong to want to hold onto the past?

Maybe the debate should really about holding onto people from the past. There they sit, on my friends list, living their lives. They hate me, judge me, and listen to the bias that I made myself. They are not really my friends. Yet, I valued what we once had. I worked so desperately to be everything they wanted in a fried, like common values and interests. They taught me a lot about the person I could chose to be with my life, and sides of the world (and the internet) that I had never known. However, in my desperation, I lost touch with who I really am. I covered up the sides of me that made me, the reality of everything. I realize now that I never really knew them; they were all just tiny people reposts. They repeated what they had heard, copied others' genius, and only followed their group and friends. I fell to that. Because I wanted to be accepted. I want to be loved by the people I was growing/graduating with and I lost myself trying to get there. So, there they sit on my friend's list, and I'm still not ready to delete them.

The countdown gets closer to zero every day as I get ready to leave my life and start anew. I'm sad that it has to start like this, but as a good friend of mine would say, "Shit Happens." Not the point of this paragraph. Can we talk about why I was crying? (OMG SO EMBARRASSING!!11!!!!11!) It was really odd because I didn't expect it. Normally, these sort of things show up minutes before, not seconds. Yet, I managed to spontaneously burst into tears in his doorway. If I asked why, the answer would be simple: Because I don't want to face the fact that our time is wearing thin, and who knows that will happen next between us. (Oh, and I'm not ready to let go). I held him in my arms like I was going to embrace that moment forever. That goodbye started to represent the eminent and final goodbyes that we knew would come.

Even long from now when I've had time to reflect on my past, I'm never going to be able to fully express why I am so in love with this man. Is it the way that he guides me in the right direction when I need help? Is it the way that he's interested in holding me? Is it the way that he listens to me when I talk? Is it the way that he thinks I'm too skinny, not too fat or is it that he thinks that I look beautiful without makeup? Is it the way that he tells his own jokes and doesn't repeat the internet? Is it the way that he can relate to things I'm going through and gives advice? Is it the way he loves my cats? Is it the sensitivity that shows through when he's drunk? Is it the way he's up for everything? Is it the way that he always tells the truth and more? Is it the way that he protects his friends, but knows when to give up? Is it how he lets me call him when I'm scared? Is it the way that he always has something interesting to talk about or the way he says everything just right? Is it the intelligence or that rockin' body? Is it the way he says things like hungey and uguuu? Is it, possibly, the way he's proud of my achievements and hard work? Is it that he's always on the lookout for me and my well-being? Is it the way he thinks I'm adorable or the way he holds my hand in public? Is it the way that his kisses are perfect? Is it the way that he knows just how to tease me? Is it how he's amazing and making anyone smile? Is it his maturity or responsibility? It is that he loves to spend time with me? Is it his praise or acceptance of when he's wrong? Is it the knick-knacks that he loves and wants to share/show? Is it the way he thinks I'm beautiful when I'm not dressed up? Nope. I'm debating whether it's because he still cares about me, but he's too shy/stubborn/proud (who knows) to admit it (and it's AWDORABLE!) or because he is everything I'd ever want to be, and everything I'd ever want to be with.

I've never really been one for sweets.
The cupcake was perfect. She had finally grown into a perfect confetti pink paper shell and her body was fluffy and golden brown. The baker eyed her over as she came out of the oven, with the others (f course), but she looked especially scrumptious. Her curve was just the correct size to lick frosting off, but more than that, to take a bite out of. But, the baker didn't realize that this cupcake was perfect where it stood. Perfection is not when you have no more to add, but when you have no more to take away. The baker was ignorant and pulled from the tray and set in line to be frosted. The cupcake looked around the lines of her companions, trying to understand why they were excited to be frosted, why this was encouraged, or even what they wanted. There was no face in the crowd to agree with her own, so she was frosted like the others. Taken advantage of and disrespected. That baker knew he would ruin her with the frosting. (What a jerk).



'Rough sugar on my lips,
the poison candy coat of deception.
Lollipops, gumdrops, and guns satisfy
the lies that everyone sweeps under the rug.
Is there sugar in your carpet?
Can you taste the artificial days?'


All of a sudden I have this strong urge to contact her. To say something, just so we could talk again. I mean, she was a big part of my life for a long time. Does that really mean we can't be...Nope. I'm not even gonna say it. Look where my friendless-ness has left me. Scrounging around for old friends and lost moments. I can't go trying to be someone I'm not just to fit it. The first thing I need to do is figure out who I am again.

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