seven

When things ended with Cam in summer 2011, I was heartbroken. Purely, maybe for the first time (even though I had thought it before). Earlier this past summer, a year after I had last seen him, I remember having a conversation with Marissa in which I said I wasn't sure I was ever going to have feelings that way for someone again. I even remember where we were at the time, walking down the pretty path by the small revine, and up the steep, windy hill that was actually Houston Street behind the house, on the way to play on the swings at the park on Chestnut before sunset.

Granted, I have a very real, very loving relationship with Sascha. But my feelings for them aren't equal to having a crush, or a being in love (or like or lust), dating someone, sort of way. They are the closest person in the world to me, my very best friend, and I am very lucky to have someone who's arms I can safely fall asleep in, or vice versa, when we need it- and even when we don't because sometimes it's just nice. I have someone all of the time that will hold my hand if I ask them to, with reason or with out. And in the past year and a half, I've kissed some people, I've accidentally formed baby crushes- and even told some of those baby crushes about said crushes- but there hasn't been anything real or real meaningful.

I've wanted it of course, not badly, just a thought in the back of my mind. But for the most part I've been pretty okay on my own, as I always have. I have the greatest friends in the world in so many different places, and sometimes I prefer that to just be it, because nothing was better, in terms of reaffirming my ability to be independent, this summer than helping Amanda move to Atlanta, and when she left to go back to Asheville for a bit, staying behind on my own. I met some wonderful folks who I like enough to make me want to LIVE there (among other factors) and that's exactly what my plans are now. Nothing was better at making me feel okay alone than falling asleep on a couch in the humid summer air coming through the windows, alone at five in the morning, after an exciting late night out and a long conversation in that living room with a new friend.

I am always okay alone.

But that doesn't change the fact that feelings exist and are real. And especially when you're capable of doing something rational and healthy, meeting someone you come to care about romantically, and having them seem to return those feelings, is a feeling that is hard to beat.

I came out to California because I was broke and needed some time to get my shit together, which I've barely done but I'm doing alright mentally and emotionally and I feel like I can actually be happy sometime soon and I can't remember the last time I felt that way. I think I know what I want for the first time in a long time and that's more to start with than I have in a long time. Along the way I went to visit a best friend in Portland and was happy just for that, when the thought crossed my mind that I was in a place where there was a slight possibility I could meet someone worth meeting, I don't think I actually expected it to happen.

I knew going into it that regardless of what the outcome was, good or bad, it wouldn't matter because my home is in the Southeast, thousands and thousands of miles away from here. That is where my heart is and I don't know what it would take for me to choose to give that up. There is no telling if that will ever change, but for now I know better than to let it (because I've been there before and it is always a mistake).

But regardless of the unwaivering facts that make up my life, I did meet someone worth meeting.
I felt myself start to feel feelings I told someone six months ago I didn't think I was capable of anymore, partially because I don't go looking for them (because I prefer it that way, and because I might actually be kind of picky), but mostly because I believed what I was saying whole heartedly.

Yet I met someone that made me stop questioning for a minute if I was good enough, someone who I felt comfortable with the first time we hung out (and the amount that happens feels like never), and with that like I could hold a conversation and make someone laugh. I met someone who I have all of the best simliar interests and views with, who I like kissing and holding hands with, who made me feel rational and healthy at the same time my head was spinning from smiling too much, when I've always been so bad at that. I met someone who feels like such a good thing and for once I didn't think I had to question their intentions.

Important enough to also mention, who made me feel like I didn't need some kind of substance in me to have fun or feel nice or hold a fucking conversation. I thought I was falling in love with Cam, and maybe I was, but  the fact of the matter is that our relationship was very drunk. And most of my relationships have been, and continue to be. I can say now more than ever that's not what I want. I've been saying for months now how much I want to remember sober fun. How much I want I want all of my friends to be able to think of things that could be amazing that don't involve bars or alcohol. I bring up 2010 a lot, because things have been so sloppy and backwards and confusing and different since then, and how happy I was then and how that was before we drank so much. The best year of my life was spent sober for the majority of it and that has to say something about something, whatever that means.

Tonight, while driving him back to his parents house, we had a conversation about what was between us and  what to do about it, knowing the smart thing is to not let ourselves grow more attatched. We kissed anyways. I think it would have been unfair not to, to feel all those things and not allow ourselves to feel it at least one more time. But we left on a note of mutually knowing  the circumstances aren't in our favor and there's not much we can do about it. I'll probably see him again before I leave this coast, but I can't help but feel we'll exchange some conversation over cups of coffee and hug goodbye only to watch the short time of memories made fade slowly.

I wonder if we'll ever think of each other as the one who got away. As silly as that may be, maybe there's something to it.
Because that's how it feels to me right now.

hb

I've been overthinking this for weeks, and I'm just now acknowledging it. By this time in my life, almost half way through twenty-two, you'd think I'd have a better grasp of my own personality and qualities or quirks.
But no, I'm still irrationally doing the same things I've always done, even though nine times out of ten, in this sort of situation, over thinking almost always comes to the wrong conclusions.

I just feel like I deserve, not in an entitled way, but in a I'm allowing myself to do what I want sort of way, to pursue personal happiness and it's just always going to cause my mind to spin when it can't just be simple.
And even when it is I'm always scared it's going to change at any given moment.

You'd think people couldn't just stop caring, or change their minds in an instant, but I've had it happen to me so many times that I'm expecting it with out any given reason. I just hope that my fears don't overcome my ability to feel okay in the now and make themselves more real, or some how negatively affects any given situation in which they're relevant.

I also want to say something about how I've never really enjoyed the idea of being into "posi", and I think that's because for the most part those are the people who have the advice when you're sad, to just think positive or just try and be happier. No, fuck you. Unhappy and sad are my permanent states of exsistance. And if I want to think and talk about everything I think is terrible and unfair and shitty when I feel those things, it anything it's going to justify my feelings and make me feel a little more sane. Plus I WANT to be filled with all this hate and rage, its the only way anything is ever going to fucking change. So screw your positive, "be happy" shit. I'm going to cry and break things all I want. I'm going to sit in these feelings and know them and I'll be more of a person because of it.

005.

Sleeping next to the cat with lukemia every night, watching him get sicker, knowing he'll be gone soon when he's only two years old. Feeling guilty when I stop petting him and he looks at me because he deserves to be pet indefinitely.

Crying about my dad for the first time in a long time because this holiday is probably never going to feel special or like it matters again, with the small family we had to start with, we won't ever be unbroken.
I'll never be a woman getting to feel like the little girl when I hug my daddy.

It's coming up on eight years soon.

I'm doing so much better but it's never too hard to remind myself how everything will always be fucked up.
Merry Christmas to me.