Little Black Dress

The room buzzes and I feel the sweat that has stuck itself to my face. I carry my black stilettos lazily in my right hand, my left hand draped comfortably in your arm, as it’s been there a million times before, as we sway our way out into the cool night air.

It’s rare that we get the night to ourselves, but a wedding with no kids allowed was just the blessing we needed.

I stare at you, smiles brilliant on both of our faces. It feels like we’re back on our honeymoon, finally feeling comfortable in a fitted black dress again. My heart stutters thinking back to your reaction when you first saw I was wearing this dress tonight. You knew exactly where the night was headed as soon as I put it on. And I gotta say, you weren’t wrong.

It feels like we’re kids again. Giggling all the way home, hands finding each other in the dark backseat of a taxi, unbothered by the presence of a stranger that we will never see again. I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me tonight. I feel that coy smile break across my face as you lean in for another kiss.

It crosses my mind that we don’t make out sitting up anymore. It’s typically the short foreplay before trying to fit in another quickie. But tonight it goes on forever, trying to behave ourselves enough for the taxi driver’s sake. At least he can’t see your hands snaking their way up my long legs.

The lights flash outside the cab in the moments between our kissing, and all I can focus on is where your hands go, how handsome you look in your clothes, and how sexy that playful smile is.

We finally reach our hotel, and I’m still carrying my heels as your fish for our room key, eagerly awaiting the invitation that is our giant king-sized bed in a city miles away from all of our responsibilities.

As soon as you get the door open it’s game over. Our hands are free to explore each other anywhere they want, and it’s at that realization when we start undressing each other while still trying to keep our lips together. Why don’t we do this more often? I wonder. I refuse to let an actual answer provoke any anxieties. Not tonight. Not after all the liquor we’ve had. Not after putting this dress on.

Sometimes the best times are when all I think about is you. What feels good for you. I make sure I do everything you like, and it’s not long before you’re moaning and losing your breath at the same time. The best aphrodisiac? Feeling sexy for you. As I move, I glance at the little black dress in a rumpled puddle on the floor and grin. Your breath is short and you’re making that noise you always make, and I know that soon your world will be as black as my dress in just a few motions. All because of that old faithful little black dress. Thanks again, old friend, I think with a smile.

***

Fiction inspired by Dierks Bentley’s song Black and perhaps a fantasy with my wonderful boyfriend.

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Newborn Love

Black tie and black tights,
A dark bar on a cold night,
Excitement buzzing like champagne bubbles
as we reminisce about how we got here.

I have always been yours,
before I even knew you, I was yours.

“Happy New Year!”
the confetti rains as 2017 slips away,
and upstairs we run
to dance where we first knew it was right.

* * *

An amazingly packed weekend full of meeting new people and bonding with others, drinking lots of alcohol and falling even more in love.

Realistically, I had to jump start my car twice in the cold weather, got sick from one of the at least five sick people that surrounded me during the holidays, and I have the cold sore to prove it… But regardless I had a great time.

I hate to brag but it really is an incredible feeling to find your soulmate. Just wanting to spend endless days together, waking up together, going to get breakfast, doing menial errands like going to the gym, doing NOTHING on a Saturday as your rest in preparation for the next day’s New Year’s Eve celebrations, playing video games and watching movies together. Being able to talk about anything and everything, never getting bored of it. And being put to sleep as he rubs your head because you’re feeling sick. There’s no better feeling.

* * *

I was never the girl who dreamed of having babies, and when I did they were nightmares. In eighth grade I had a nightmare that I gave birth to twins. Earlier this year I had a work nightmare that I gave birth and my baby was a literal pork chop on a dinner plate… I’ve never wanted kids.

It wasn’t until I was 21 that I decided I wanted kids. Childbirth had always scared the shit out of me – I just wanted to have the baby belly and then suddenly had the baby with no painful moments in between. But whatever omnipotent force is out there has a funny way of guiding you.

For example, there were a lot of eerily timed happenings in my life before I met Andrew. I met him when I was 19, but neither of us were ready at that point. When we met again at Lauren’s birthday party this past April, we hit it off a bit, but I still wasn’t confident (though apparently at the end of the night I sat in the middle of the limo because that’s where he had been and he sat in the back of the limo because that’s where I had been sitting – more evidence of fate in the works). When we really hit it off and started talking in May, I had just graduated college a week before. Both of my cats died before we started talking, and he’s allergic to cats so now I don’t have to decide whether or not to leave my cat behind to move in with him. There are more examples, but those are just a few.

And lo and behold, last year I decided I want kids, in May I met the man of my dreams and I want to have his babies, and what falls into my lap? A birthing center client. At my new job, one of our clients is a new birthing center opening up in the Frederick area, and I swear to god I have never had this much information or this many resources about childbirth and birthing options. I literally got paid to watch a video about a home birth and I didn’t cringe. It looked beautiful. I was reading about baby milestones for the first year of life and I finally for the first time in my life understand why women always get so excited about newborns.

Working with this client has convinced me that I want to try a birth center or a home birth, should I be healthy enough to have one. Fate has given me the resources to finally not be totally terrified of having children.

As I should currently be working, I should wrap things up. I just wanted to share my newfound newborn love. It’s exciting! Finally feeling like you have your life together for a moment (before it’s all inevitably thrown into chaos as you move to a new state, find a new job, make new friends, etc…. But we’ll get to that later.)

 

I Will Try

It’s strange when it hits me.

When I roll over in the middle of the night and lay a hand on your chest. When I blow you a kiss as you drive off in the middle of a rainy Sunday evening. When I scroll through my own social media posts. And it happened today.

It’s strange to me just how much I love you sometimes.

I’ve been in relationships before, said “I love you” to people and thought I meant it. In some ways I had to realize what true love really is, what it means. Maybe it’s different for other people.

For me, true love is making goofy faces as you walk past each other at the gym. It’s crying in the car because you’re both laughing so hard at something the other said. It’s driving 4.5 hours to a wedding you couldn’t get into just to make sure they stay awake for the drive, then driving his hungover butt home the next day.

It’s waking up in the morning to a million kisses on my cheeks, nose, mouth, and forehead. It’s waking up in the middle of the night to apologize and cuddle after an argument. It’s knowing you can, without a doubt, trust the other person when he’s on his phone, because he makes sure you know how much you mean to him and how he would never do anything to lose you. It’s hearing the hurt in his own voice when I’m on the phone crying about some work stress. It’s rolling over in the middle of the night just to fall asleep in his arms again. It’s falling asleep as he strokes your hair, because he knows it will put you right to sleep.

It’s feeling safe in his arms, knowing he won’t let go. Knowing that when he says he won’t hurt you, he means it. It’s being respected in every aspect, and it’s feeling saved. It’s feeling whole.

As I scrolled through my instagram today, I was hit with a wave of gratitude and appreciation. In my mind, the difference is night and day between my life before I met you and after. I think back to what I was going through, what I was doing, how I felt. I was numb. I was empty. I was desperate to be loved by someone who was only using me because I thought that I loved him. I was hurt, but I wasn’t even helping myself. I was doing things I knew in my heart I didn’t want to do because I thought those were the sacrifices I had to make to be with someone.

It was all bullshit. And thank god I see that now.

My life changed the day I met you. I’d never really believed in soul mates before, but I know now that you’re mine. We’re too alike, right down to June 20, 1987, the anniversary that both of our parents share.

I didn’t know it yet, but I met my future husband back when I was 19. And when I met him again when I was 22, I was finally ready for him. I was ready to appreciate all that he is, all that he does. His heart of gold just waiting to be loved.

The other day I remembered that, as I flirted with him the night of my sister’s engagement bar crawl, I took a snapchat of the two of us. I jokingly captioned it “my future husband” and put it on my story. Little did I know how right I was.

We’ve been talking since May (officially dating since August), and we’re already talking about moving in together when his lease is up. Some people may think we’re moving too fast, and while I want to enjoy the moments as they come, I’ve never felt surer of a person. I told him I loved him while I was drunk in his car just three weeks after making it official, and I don’t regret it. He later told me he knew he loved me on August 13th – just two days after our first date. It’s right. Even Nana told me that she and my grandfather got married just six months after knowing each other. “When you know, you know.”

And I know. This is the man I want to be with for the rest of my life. Waking up in his arms, his soft breath at my back, on a lazy Sunday morning and not having to say goodbye just a few hours later.

I thought I was whole. I thought I loved myself. He shows me so much more. He completes me. And I’ll never be able to show him how grateful I am to have him, but I will try my hardest. As long as I live, I will try.

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Love

First Dates and Second Weddings

It took all of my focus to keep my hands from shaking every time I took a sip from my glass. I sat there, cross-legged, waiting for your arrival.

Nervous shakes grew into playful banter and genuine laughter. I glanced at you and was overcome with this urge to kiss you right then and there, but I knew if I did we wouldn’t even make it out of your apartment.

So I waited. And in the morning I woke up in your arms, to the soft, melodic sound of your breathing, fast asleep. And I smiled.

* * *

The shakes came back as I stood in a wine red dress in a room full of strangers, sipping my cocktail as fast as I could. You disappeared in this sea of strangers, but I found I wasn’t drowning just yet.

A fake proposal and real tears around the room, the buzz finally started to hit me. With your knee touching mine, you made sure I was having fun and I made sure you knew I was, that you would be too, as you grabbed your napkin.

And I grabbed your hand and led you to the dance floor, where I could see in your eyes that you were entirely too nervous about how you would look.

As the night drew on and the collection of stirring straws grew larger and larger, I could see the light in your eyes. You felt comfortable finally, in your own skin as I tugged at your tie, the smile on your face as wide as your heart. You pulled me into a slow dance, prince and princess at our own private ball, your lips sugar against my ear.

Up in arms and hand in hand, the wind toyed with our hair the whole ride home, the fresh air cool against my skin. Your head against the seat, your cool blue eyes finding me when it wasn’t, your sweet words floated in the breeze.

We trudged up to our room, lying against each other as I started to drift off, feeling at home in this foreign room, in this strange town, with nothing and no one but you. Once again, I awoke with your arms around me, a love song in my head, and your sigh at my back. Your soft murmurs became a new song that I love to sing as you traced my back with your fingertips.

***

This time you had the shakes as we drove through the rolling green hills I call home. It was your turn to sink or swim in a sea of strangers. You floated.

Your blue eyes sunk into me, butterflies zooming through my belly, and you smiled when I hadn’t made a joke.

“I’m just happy.”

Me too.

 

 

Summer Rain

To set the mood: it’s a arid, rainy night, the rain sloughing off the humidity. Lightning flashes silently, its applause so far off I can’t hear it. Listening to something I recently discovered thanks to Spotify.

Life moves on. It keeps rolling with no intention of stopping, neither for the good nor the bad. Life continues.

For me, it has meant a lot. I’ve graduated. It doesn’t feel like it yet, but maybe it’ll hit me in August when I’m not packing up to go anywhere. My grandparents are still in the hospital, and I am adjusting to life back home.

Exciting things happen! Last weekend my sister got engaged! It was a beautiful, magical moment, and we both cried tears of joy. I think for her it seemed like the end of a long battle between her heart and her anxiety. For me it was a mix. I was so happy for her, but some part of me felt like I was losing my sister. I know it’s not true, I’m really just gaining a brother who is pretty much me in male form.

There were also times that I felt a little hollow during the celebration. My family was saying “Oh you’re next!” And the smile just couldn’t reach my eyes. How can I even entertain that idea when I don’t have anyone? The only person I was interested in clearly was not interested in me. I had a few small flashes of loneliness, but they were quickly swallowed by my happiness for my sister and her now-fiance. He’s a great man, and I’m happy to welcome him to the family.

As it turns out, things may have stirred somewhere else, a friend of my new soon-to-be brother-in-law. But I’ll wait to delve into that until there’s more to talk about.

I have noticed I am more open this time around. Recently, my social anxiety has gotten the best of any semblance of love interests. It scared me whenever they were flirty or wanted to see me. I felt awkward when they showed any emotion, and I refused to show any back. I’m not sure what it meant, whether it was my intuition protecting me or just succumbing to social anxiety, but either way this time is a little different. My emotions are still dulled at this point. I wish I remembered what it felt like to wholeheartedly be excited at the start of a new romance, but it’s been a while, and I’m scared of overwhelming anything. Both because it may scare off the other person and it may hurt me in the end. But I hold on to the hope that this one may be different, and that in itself is something I haven’t felt in a while.

So we’ll see how things play out. Until then, I will be working and hiking (drinking).

Love

 

 

Drink Your Poison

Noise overstimulation has become a big problem lately. I’m not sure if I had would have more patience if I wasn’t surrounded by blaring sirens and the honking horns of pissed off drivers, but I can hope. It’s gotten so bad that sometimes it’s unbearable to listen to my roommates’ mundane and polite conversations.

Yoga usually helps clear my head. Alex and I chuckle side by side as we pick apart our yoga videos online. It’s probably the brighter side of most of my days, just social enough while also allowing me to retreat into my mind shortly afterward. Plus, when you feel limber you feel good.

Today we watched Boyhood, a movie that follows a boy and his family over approximately 12-13 years of his life, from age 5ish to his first day at college. We all kind of criticized it; the mother for her horrible choice in men, the father for his immature parenting style, the daughter for her boring and sassy attitude, the boy for his gloomy speeches about existential crises.

As much as we criticized, it was interesting to watch, and in ways it was very relatable. You grew to connect to certain characters and their fucked up life stories. I definitely related to Mason on not wanting everyone breathing down my neck about what to do with my life, something I’m sure many people our age experience. Even following the petty high school break up experience. There was something so quietly entertaining about watching these events unfold, partially because there wasn’t really any action – kind of like real life. There weren’t many dramatic scenes, no thickening movie plot. Just life and how it moves, changes, unfolds. How people develop, for better or worse. How life just goes on.

It’s an incredible juxtaposition to the other show I (and the rest of America) have been watching: 13 Reasons Why. That is quite the dramatic show. With some terrible acting and cheesy one-liners, but that’s what sold in middle school, when I first read the book that the series is based off of.

It seems to glorify suicide in a vengeful way, something that I can’t get behind showing to the vulnerable young-adult public viewers. It makes me mad. This girl is so dramatic. The things she faces in life are by no means easy to go through, but I think they are things she could get over without taking her own life. Granted, I didn’t have the mental stability I like to claim I have now when I was back in high school, so she probably doesn’t either. Hindsight, I guess.

Regardless, the thought of vengeful suicide angers me. It’s such a final, definitive move. But in the same vein, it’s not final. Hannah commits suicide and supposedly her pain is over. Except her pain lives on through other people. It’s not a final move, just the next one. A transfer of that energy. A selfish act. It hurts me most when they show the parents as they struggle to find out what went wrong, why their daughter was capable, why she felt this was her only option. This girl had a support system – two loving parents. They weren’t drug addicts, she wasn’t neglected. They cared about her. I can’t imagine doing that to my mother. I can’t imagine someone doing that to me.

It really struck a nerve because my friend’s dad committed suicide in December, and that was its own transfer of pain. But the cases were different. Scott had a mental illness that he couldn’t beat, and it took him. It took him from his wife. It took him from his three kids, the youngest of whom is only about ten. It took him from his friends, his church, his community. It left a scar so deep we don’t talk about it. People ask me how my friend is doing and all I can say is “good” because how am I supposed to delve into that kind of pain with my friend? How am I supposed to ask him how he’s holding up since the man he looked up to from day one decided he couldn’t take it anymore? It’s created a barrier between him and his friends, the wound we never touch, and one that will never heal.

But no, Hannah Baker gets groped by some jerk, nasty rumors spread around her, a stalker taking her pictures. And that’s all it takes to push her over the edge. (I’m not finished with the series. Maybe it gets worse and makes more sense, but for now I’m just angry). And the show seems to glorify suicide as the final, vengeful act, this girl only caring about how to end her pain than think about who her death with destroy. At the very least, the number to the suicide hotline should accompany each episode.

*   *   *

One episode brought me plummeting right back to you. You know how indie shows now use indie songs by unheard of artists just to seem cool? Yeah, well, I recognized Lord Huron in there. A beautiful song shared between Hannah and Clay. But I couldn’t pay attention to the show once that song came on. I just thought of you.

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.

A heaviness hit my chest. I don’t think that song was even out by the time we ended things. Maybe it was. Did you listen to it? The summer that Lord Huron was your muse? The medicine that also broke your heart, that album on repeat as I danced my cares away with a boyfriend that shouldn’t have been more than a rebound? Did you torture yourself with one of my favorite bands as a way to expel your thoughts, your sins? You deserved this, you thought, to wallow in pity and despair. You did that whenever you messed up.

I broke away from you, turned my back and ran. That was when you finally listened to all the songs I had been suggesting for months, the movies I’d wanted you to watch for years. I just wanted to share them with you, appreciate them and analyze them with you. We were insightful, emotional.

My favorite memories with you aren’t even memories. We would lay in your bed, ready for sleep, wrapped around each other, talking. Just talking. We would have those insightful conversations, ones that I wouldn’t remember in the morning. We would talk until we couldn’t move our lips anymore, couldn’t form the sounds. Sometimes we talked about how much we loved each other. When things got bad, we talked about what we were sorry for. How we could work on things. And sometimes we just talked about our thoughts. The world. The universe. We were in love. We were present in that moment, our energies floating through the universe, anchored by a warm blanket and each other’s presence.

I think back, and I miss those moments. Will you always be one step ahead of me? Would I feel the same as I did back then? Or would I be afraid, as I am so often now. Of letting you in, of being hurt, of committing to loving so wholly again. I know it is brave to love. But it is also tiring.

Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful that you are my first love. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if I’d believe romantic love existed at all. I’d think romance was all just a game. That connections were impossible to keep for more than two months. That boys were all liars that just wanted to fuck. Thankfully you showed me that that isn’t the case. You showed me love, intelligence, emotional and intellectual intimacy, and I am truly lucky to have found that in my first boyfriend. And this time it’s me who fucked up. But it’s all about how gracefully you let go, right? You were water.

Thank you.

Bloody Bags and Muddy Shoes

You are the gentle thumb sweeping across the back of my hand.

You are clutching my fingers in your hand, the reassuring squeeze.

The goosebumps of a warm rain on a cold night.

You are emanating love.

* * *

It was a strange and beautiful weekend. I learned you didn’t think too much of yourself, that you really were scared because of what girls had done to you in the past. My hurt hurt. You need to know what I think of you, drunk and sober. The kindest I had ever met. The most beautiful soul to experience. I want to love your pieces back together.

You must have hit your head pretty hard because you told me you love me.

I was running around, wishing for clones as I searched for your dog, searched for a bag of ice, searched Google about head injuries. 

I borrowed your clothes, a simple “this is what I want” smile crossing your face. Like you’d found peace you didn’t know I could give you. Like everything was as it should be, with a bandage on your bleeding skull and a beautiful girl in your baggy clothes.

Cleaning your wound, purging my own. I didn’t sleep a wink, and I’m glad you woke up. Though you should’ve let me take you to the ER. 

You were appreciative the next day. You called me your little nurse, and I couldn’t help but smile.

You wore a horrible suit for a themed party and you loved it, exclaiming “I’m getting married in this!” Tina turned to me and said “don’t marry him if he wears that.” I blushed because she thought it would happen, like she knew his love for me. 

Appreciative, apologetic kisses tickled me all the way home. I slept.

Fuzzy Feelings and Blurry Pictures

Yesterday was a magical day all around. A warm February day, warm enough for me to wear shorts comfortably, I did some homework outside, my time at the gym felt incredible, I painted (!!!), did some yoga with Alex, and had an unexpected visitor (yes, the one I write about all the time). I was up for an adventure, and he was willing.

We spent the night as we usually do when we’re together – curled around each other, sprinkling kisses on each others’ skin, and laughing every step in between. I love the pattern we’ve fallen into, remaining independent, but coming together for special moments alone.

There were many moments I appreciated, but I think my favorite was I had turned over to finally go to bed, and he grasped my face, turned it toward him, kissed me, and said goodnight. An easy way to send me into some sweet dreams (though I can’t remember any because he kept me up with his snoring…).

The moments continued into the morning, wrapped around each other, him exploring his new surroundings for the first time. We rustled the sheets (sensually and otherwise) into the late morning. He was drifting off again, my head on his chest, his hand finding mine, when I told him we needed to get up and go to lunch if I was ever going to allow him to leave.

(Realistically, he needed to go home and enjoy a day off with his dog for once, and there was a lot of affectionate cuddling that depicted how neither of us wanted him to leave, so we had to spend as much time on each others’ skin as possible)

After lunch, I drove him back home, his hand finding my leg or my free hand (“mine,” he said) as he drifted back off to sleep on such a gorgeous day. I reminisced about how I loved sticking my head out of the car window when I was younger because damn is that wind exhilarating! Something that fueled my love for amusement parks.

It was a short goodbye and a “see you in a few weeks”, and for some reason it was really hard for me. I wanted nothing more than to stay in Middletown, go hiking, spend the afternoon with him, curl up on the couch after such a nice lunch and just continue the cuddling. I’ve grown to love being independent and having my alone time, and maybe it’s because I’ve been single for so long, so I’m hoping that slipping into any kind of relationship, titled or otherwise, doesn’t also send me back to being a more dependent person.

Anyways, it’s hard not to enjoy the days growing warmer (at least for the moment), and the feel of nature and fresh air on my skin is absolutely addicting. It reminds me of endlessly playing outside when I was younger, fresh air, a thin layer of dirt and sweat that clued you in to the fact that you just had an amazing day connecting to your friends in the presence of nature. With Phoebe and I going on our backpacking trip (July 5th!!), I can’t wait to douse myself in that feeling for two whole weeks. I really think it’s going to do my soul good.

Unfortunately, I can’t seem to focus on my schoolwork due to the beautiful weather. I just want to sit outside, but College Park isn’t really conducive for just sitting and relaxing in nature (another reason I think it was so hard to leave my little mountain town today). Thank god I’m in my last semester, otherwise I don’t think I could make it.

I’m not even sure I want a white-collar job. I can’t see myself waking up for the morning commute, sitting in a little office, staring at the road in boredom while sitting in traffic on the way home, and doing it every day while trying to have a life and family outside of it. I personally have always loved blue-collar work (and workers). People that aren’t afraid to get dirty, people that are good with their hands, people that are fun! They don’t have to take work home with them, stress about the next project. They leave work at work, throw back some beers with friends, unwind, have a good time with each other! That’s what I want to do, and going to college may have been a mistake as far as that goes for me. Maybe in the future I will find a mix between my degree and what I do with my life. As with most Americans, I just don’t want to feel like my job is useless. But I do also want to keep bread on the table, while at the same time pursuing my interests and hobbies.

Clearly I’ve been itching to get out there and explore more of the world and of myself. I’m so close to that freedom! Life is good! Even sad emotions are signs that you are feeling and interpreting the world around you. Love that energy, embrace it. It makes the world better.

Love

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Remember that life isn’t always about the clear pictures. An honest, true, lovable life has blurry pictures that sometimes are more important. This one just happens to feature some of my favorite people in my life.

Reflection of a Mediocre Paradise

Romance movies, romance novels, and 90’s music. Sundays are meant for lazing around, and it’s as though the entire month of August has stretched from one long, hot Sunday.

As I maneuver winding country roads, I desperately wish I could print the mental photographs I take in my head. I am in awe of the countryside, gazing, gaping at the rolling hills and copse of mountains that maintain my paradise.

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Mary has helped me pick up a new hobby. I need something to keep my hands busy, something that takes less brain-power than trying to find the right words in writing. I’m steadily learning the art of decoupage in the hopes that I can graduate to something less concrete and perfectionist to something where I can feel comfortable creating images from my mind. I wish I could capture and share the beauty I see, but cameras are too expensive, car rides are too fleeting, and my hands aren’t skilled craftsmen.

I’m a little sad to go back to school. I want to continue to explore without being interrupted by schoolwork (though it will be nice to get back to my own apartment). It’s disheartening to think I’m leaving most of my friends behind to go to a strange place with no job, but maybe I need that push to succeed. I’m determined to adapt well, as I’m hoping to move to West Virginia or North Carolina after graduation. Adventure is pacing on my doorstep, and the handle is finally within my reach.

Something about nature is calling me too. I got to help Mary and Beth feed the calves today, and it was my first time bottle feeding a calf.

Every time I can sneak a glance at the mountainous terrain, I imagine I am in North Carolina, driving home to my private apartment or single story home.

Yet I will miss the connections Middletown has blessed me with. I love feeling welcome at my place of work. I do fear what I will miss (FOMO, as Bob calls it).

As unsteady as the future is, there is only so much I can worry about. It’s hard to worry about it intensely until it is there, ya know? I think I’ll be okay. And I’m still looking forward to it.

I only feel really lost in love. I’m confident he will find me, I’m just too impatient a person. I believe there must be past lives, because it seems I was born an old soul ready to love from the moment I entered the world.

Until then, I have my wonderful friends to swell my heart. I don’t think I’ve laughed so hard so often in quite some time. Love drunk is a true idea, as is laugh drunk.

Also, something I’ve learned about myself; for some reason I love romances in which someone is tragically taken and the other has to pull him/herself together to move on. I don’t know why, it doesn’t exactly resonate with me because I haven’t really lost anyone in that way. Maybe it just seems like a beautiful love story, maybe a past life resonates in longing. Who knows.

Embarking

Making It Right

I’m probably just going to start adding whatever music I listen to while I write these blogs.b6b4e185-fd16-4375-aaea-1d4bb43ab981

So life’s been busy between the end of the school year winding down and my new hobby as a writer for the Odyssey online.

I celebrated my sister’s birthday, had a questionable weekend at home the next weekend, and just celebrated my 21st this past weekend. I can’t believe it’s finally here! I no longer have to be nervous going out to the bars! It’s so freeing.

With the questionable weekends I’ve had, I have been doing a lot of soul searching, trying to figure out why I was doing somethings that were so unlike me. Of course, I still feel a little lost, and I’m so sure I overthink things.

One thing I asked myself is what I want, on a small scale, from a boyfriend. Everyone says the other person should bring out the best in you, and I was questioning what that meant to me. My first boyfriend was/is a wonderful person, and I think he helped shape my kindness and understanding towards others, but there was some part of me that felt like I had been forced to be this person, fit this mold that I wasn’t sure suited me; it didn’t feel completely natural to me. But I figured he was bringing out the best in me, so it should be a good thing.

As I’ve grown, I think “the best of me” is something other than kindness and understanding. I exhibit those traits on my own, without feeling forced. I have always been such a shy, timid person, and I don’t like to be pushed out of my comfort zone. Often I fight it and recede if someone tries to make me do something I’m not ready to do. However, I have also noticed that I’m willing to do something different and new and make a fool of myself if I am encouraging someone else to do the same.070d3aa8-5192-4e22-9c98-1e286d373704

I think I need someone who is about as outgoing as I am, so I can be happy and positive and encourage them to try new things. I think it will encourage me to step out of my own comfort zones and help me become a better and more outgoing person. As someone who has typically been drawn to more outgoing people, this hasn’t been an easy feat. I’d rather not have it be a competition because that shuts me down for some reason. I guess it’s a person problem? Although I can’t really say that I dislike that about myself, so maybe that’s just how I am at this point in my life.

All I know is I shouldn’t feel embarrassed and regretful because of someone I have feelings for, and I’ve been upset with myself because of my questionable weekends because those feelings of embarrassment and regret occurred. Just thinking about it today, I cringed. That’s not how it should be. I need to take a step back and gather myself, preferably before I go home for the summer and face my questionable decisions, but I think that may be too much to ask.

Side note, you should also never feel absolute rage when thinking of your significant other/someone you like. I am a fairly patient, loving person, and while it doesn’t take much to annoy me, it takes a significant amount of effort to make me physically angry. On the rare occasions I have experienced this rage, I knew I could no longer be with the people that caused it. Never be with someone who brings out the worst in you.

I’ve been thinking a lot about one of my friends. We have a complex relationship, and I’ll leave it at that, but I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate him. Ever since I’ve met him, he has been the kindest, most understanding person I have ever known. I have never seen him be negative towards anyone, and he always tries to put smiles on others’ faces, and that’s something that not a lot of people do nowadays.

We have always had the deepest conversations. I haven’t known him intimately for more than a year, and I have already shared with him more than I have shared with anyone. It’s nice to not have your walls up, not hide behind humor, and I sincerely appreciate him for that. He knows what is at my center, and when I confide in him my thoughts and feelings on certain, touchy subjects, he has always had a gentle hand at calming me down and helping me see myself – if that makes sense.

And I think I helped him too. When we first met, he really hid behind his jokes whenever we started talking about personal stuff. I called him out on it, and I showed him some love for opening up to me.

I think it just goes to show that people are scared to be themselves because they don’t know how other people are going to react. Everyone is really just looking for acceptance, be it from others or from themselves. I can’t stress this enough: be kind to people.

So many people out there deserve so much love. Be that person.

With genuine love.

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Genuinely appreciate those who came out for my 21st, as well as those who endured the morning after with me 🙂