Home.

26 09 2012

When I think of home I think of prisons, pine trees, and Jesus.

The only one of those that I have a fondness for, is pine trees.





No distractions in grad school

25 09 2012

I will not obsess, I will not obsess. I will not, obsess.

 

He gave me this orchid plant, I named it Evelyn. She has two and a half blooms right now. I’m afraid I’m going to kill it, even though I’m doing the whole ice cube thing, that seems to make it happy. Well… most of the plant. I guess blooms will always fade no matter what, that doesn’t mean the plant is dead.

Nina Simone is the sound of my soul.

Every time I sigh…. I feel this pain. I keep trying to not to listen to the part of me that keeps saying, “That’s dumb”

The sun is out, its gorgeous.

 

We had a pregnancy scare… I took Plan B, twice. My period is still messed up. It was so consistent for years after I stopped taking birth control. And these two pills have made it strange again. I kept thinking in the back of my mind that I might be pregnant…. and then I’d have to get an abortion. I remember he said that I wouldn’t have to go through that alone, but that was in the summer, when he had time for things outside of grad school. I was so happy to see that red, I don’t want to have to go through something like that alone.

I have this book of his, Ways of Seeing… its a pretty fast little read. Good too. I finished it the other day and didn’t realize, because of the citation section, I just thought it was another chapter, the last chapter. I’m going to read the book again before I give it back to him.

I can’t help but see some strange metaphor or some shit. The book was over before I knew it, the relationship the same way… well almost, except I saw it coming.

It was him that wanted a relationship.

It was me that told him to be careful, because would be the one to hurt him… because that’s what I felt like I did. Hurt people. Not meaning to, but since I wasn’t really good with having emotions…But that’s not true anymore. I feel like a teenager again, in all this overwhelming emotive state not knowing what to do with them.

You aren’t supposed to hang on to your anger, or else it becomes bitterness. And sadness you aren’t supposed to hang on to because it could become anger. The only thing that people seem to say that you’re supposed to hang on to is happiness. But that’s the hardest thing to even come close to. And love, love you’re supposed to hold fast to.

Part of me still wonders if another day, another time, if I had done something different. If I had told him how deeply I felt….feel for him.

That’s the thing I do feel very strongly… towards every one who I love. I don’t let go of people, unless the love becomes poison.

I don’t know if we will really maintain a friendship, I hope so. I know I don’t think ill of him.  I’m not ready to let go of the kind of love I have for him. I try not to hope for us to redefine again as lovers. Part of me still does. But I have a strong feeling that part is over now.  And that when we meet again, there will be a distant glimmer, but a strong unspoken word. For even if he wants to, what it boils down to is that I am a distraction.





22 09 2012

I started a text message to him. I reads, “Hey, hope you’re well.”

I did not send it. I wanted to send it. but more, I wanted a response, and the fear of radio silence, keeps me quiet. I know that I shouldn’t want to be in a relationship with a person who obviously doesn’t want to be a in one with me, but goddamn it I love him.

It was probably for the best though.

He insists that we are still friends. I really hope so, because I don’t want to loose him as a friend, or any more friends for that matter.

I feel like maybe I was too sexual. Like I don’t know how to relate to men I’m in a relationship with unless sex is some how involved. I’m so used to being seen only or primarily as a sex object, I guess I’m learning how to not only be that. And I think I was so close. And I mean yes, I do enjoy sex, but it was so much more than that.

 

I miss him most in the mornings. I loved waking up to him, I felt safe, and reassured. I don’t know if he knew that. I don’t know if that matters.

Maybe I’m still too influenced by the way I was raised. Maybe if I could shake that, then it wouldn’t matter.

I keep trying to ignore the question in my head of, “What did I do wrong?”

And the thing I try to ignore even more is the answer I hear, “Love him”





22 09 2012

I’m not a humorless bitch, chauvinism just isn’t funny.

 





18 09 2012

I’m okay. And I don’t hate him.

I do still love him. And he says he still cares, though that I’m not so sure about. I feel better this morning. I watched mad men all day yesterday. I was so cold, and couldn’t stop crying. Half the time I didn’t even realize that tears were leaking out of my face.

I’m changed.

I don’t want to go back to having numb sex. I don’t want to be faceless anymore. I am capable of making love. Yes I wish it hadn’t ended so soon, but really, I’m okay.

I’m free.

 

Now I need to focus.





17 09 2012

The Person I love just broke up with me because grad school is more than he expected. Even though when I was saying that we should just be friends who like each other, and not be in love with each other he was like, “No we should totally be in love with each other and only be with one another”
And I did… IT took a while but I did, I loved him back, I let him love me, and I even maybe fell a bit.
And now here I am with a stupid bruise on my heart. For caring. Well fucks a million.





Did all girls l…

14 09 2012

Did all girls learn to hate their bodies from their mothers? I certainly did not learn to love my body from my mother. I learned of creams, balms and tweezers, not razors…no that was my father first then mother. I remember him distinctly saying to me when I was twelve years old, “You might not want to shave past here” gesturing towards my upper mid thigh, “It might get a little itchy.”

My mother when I was fourteen years old trying on my previous year’s bathing suit. “You’re getting some cellulite back there,” then pinching the part of my thigh that connects to my ass. I was only standing outside of the bathroom in our dark house, but I remember being horrified. 

At El Chico, a tex-mex, restaurant one evening after gorging on queso and salsa, and probably quesodillias, “Well technically, you’re obese- for your size” I was fifteen or sixteen. 

My mom waking me up in the summer at four AM so she, my sister, and I could go do some horrid aerobics class that started at 4:30.

“Don’t pick at your face, you’ll make it worse, put this on it.”

“Are you using that cream I gave you?”

“Do you use a moisturizer?”

“Do you use a moisturizer for under your eyes- You should you know, it will help you not look so tired.”

“Do you want to go through these old clothes of mine? I’ve just lost so much weight, they don’t fit me anymore.”

“I’m doing the Akins diet”

  • the south beach diet
  • jenny craig
  • slim fast
  • special K
  • durken
  • Tibetan medicine