Recent Journal Entries

  • Everyday is one of those days.

    by WarPath on November 21, 2014

    Every day seems to just drag along, the same mundane routine day after day lacking any thought, any creativity, boring and meaningless lifes we have.

    I blame society for this mundane existence, anything different is deemed wrong, anyone different is deemed as crazy.

    Charles Bukowsi was right: 

    “Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.”

     

     



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  • digging into that icecream tub

    by alterEgo on November 21, 2014

    I couldn't help but feel sad. What a sad scene, a sick girl with a cold, spooning out large amounts of icecream on a plate. I'm so hungry, but there is nothing for me to eat, so i go to the food that is least healthiest for me. in the fridge there is braised pork belly, and fried fish. What is there left for me, one slice of cheese, already ate it. 1 tub of yogurt, my mum has claimed it. 3 bottles of milk ...urk. some vegetables cooked in oyster sauce which i can't have. there's not even bread in my fridge. this is such a first world problem, but i'm struggling to cope with vegetarianism from time to time. I'm denying myself of things i used to enjoy and it depresses me. That dish looks so good, i can't have it because it has meat in it. Chef hands me a spoon and urges me to try his dish. sorry chef i can't have it. booo. what im left with a plate of vegetables.*cries inside* ok i'll go cook for myself now.

     

    see you later



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  • november 17.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 18, 2014

    Today Adam and I met up to talk, because I asked him to. We had twenty minutes of basic conversation. Little details, like marks back on assignments and how our sports were and the silly things our drunk friends did on the weekend. 

    I don't even know if I want to write about our talk because I don't know what to make of it. My voice was as thin as the paint that peels off of an old building's walls. His eyes were red from the sleep I know he hasn't been getting. I quavered as I said it was a waste of chemistry to go our separate ways, especially in light of such a short-lived romantic relationship. His hands were trembling but I didn't mention it. "I'll talk to you soon," he said, "And I'm sure this will sort itself out somehow."

    It's neat because we are both rational and compassionate, and we talk about things like our feelings or deep-set emotional trauma are questions on an exam. Where he can present an opinion for the next step forward and I will play devil's advocate. Where I say something and he concludes, "That's fair, because x. However, have you considered y?" 

    He talked about emotional discoveries and I talked about emotional discoveries. He laughed, "Sounds like we are in the exact same boat."

    Why do I have so many feelings sometimes?



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  • sleeping badgers

    by CleanLaundry on November 18, 2014

    it was 3pm and the fog was still curling around the tree trops in somber gray crowns. when I want to get really out of my mind, I walk into the woods. right then I was walking pretty aimlessly, alone, save the hibernating leaf litter phantoms.

    there's this sunday school bible verse in which the body is the temple of the holy spirit. but I also read from a poet that a human being is made out of forest canopies. I decide on the latter and give myself to the anomalous sort of hopelessness settling into the threads of my sweater. for a mile or two, I pretend to be robert frost, but I was never really cut out for the transcendental club. so instead I drop my backpack and dig for earbuds. I dig for my earbuds for a good 5 minutes and the split second I realize where they are, my phone rings. the sound is deafening and I feel the forest toss and turn, like who knew you could even pick up a phone connection out in the backcountry? I apologize to the trees profusely. 

    on my phone, in my hands, your name sends a shot of warmth through my bloodstream, like espresso, diluted by a panicked "hello?" you voice is angry. and abrasive! and amplified by the fog, asking why I left my earbuds at your house. you told me not to leave any of my shit in your apartment! you asked me twice if had everything, and I reassured you I did. what kind of game was I trying to play??

    I tell you to just throw them away. the earbuds. my thumb reflexively brushes over the end call button and the fog crackles. I am jack's complete lack of surprise.

    but it still hits me hard, it still brings my knees to the wet leaves that seep their way deep into my patellas. the fog shackles my wrists to the ground and I sit there for a long pathetic time. I know why you're angry at me, but they're just fucking earbuds. they have no haunt potential.

    but then I think of your stupid bobby pins, which I still occasionally find on my bedroom floor, sometimes with rogue strands of copper hair still attatched. I think of how they probably got there. I think of your red lips, your fingers tugging at hems, my fingers tugging at rubber bands, carefully plucking out each pin until your hair fell to your shoulders in red rivers.

    like what is it about breakups that makes me romanticize the shit out of girls and their hair?

    I think about the events leading up to this point with my knees and palms pressing against the forest floor. I think about your won't-ever-happen-again face as you walk out the door.

    ok

    I was supposedly incommunicado and there was someone else.

    ok

    not that I'm jealous or upset or feel strange in anyway.

    well...ok  



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  • muddy dreams (jibberish)

    by alterEgo on November 17, 2014

    The pangs of emotional distress send me over, and I feel the demons entering my dreams. The demons have a distorted way of speaking, almost like snippets of white noise, and they have jagged teeth, but aside from that they appear very humanlike. In my dreams, they are my friends, I feel I can relate to them because they are neglected by the rest of the world. Last night I found them in an abandoned place in the urban sprawl, the walls are lined with graffiti and vines, mildew dripping down the walls, and the place smells of damp and it's cold, but i feel safe here. they welcomed me with kindness when i entered their place last night. i remember it quite clearly, I was lost, and found an abandoned building, there was bedding and there was also trinkets on the shelves and as i walked closer to bed which was mouldy and damp, i could see this sleeping form, it was a lady around 50-60 years old, she had dark skin, and . as i approached her i heard a noise behind me, turned around and saw a vampire like figure. he was around 30, and very pale skin and darkbrown hair, his skin was cracked and flaking and he had red eyes. i felt a sense of panic, turned my head back to the llady, but she was standing in front of me now. i was surrounded by two demons, who were just staring at me. then out of nowhere i  see a floating demon baby, who doesn't look human at all, it's skin is black and red, and it has black horns. the lady goes towards to baby, and starts talking to it in a ery motherly way even though i couldn't understand what she was saying, she is hugging it and patting it's back. and the guy walks infront of me and grins widely, then he lies down in front of me. for some reason, maybe mind control i start giving him a shoulder rub, and then he transforms into a semi tanned regular guy around 20 years old, all the while looking at me, smiling. 



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  • november 16.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 16, 2014

    pardon my blatant teenage existentialism - or, wait... pardon my inadequacy to even set my scopes to existentialism. heaven knows I'm stuck on a lower frequency, focusing on only myself with a burdened incapability to fathom the bigger picture. I can't possibly be an existentialist, when what occupies my mind is only my own petty problems. 

    and pardon me, too, for writing late-night wonderings on a long-dead music website. there are virtual tumbleweeds scratching across the Forums and the Journal section, but nevertheless, I extend my most sincere apologies for burdening the ten-twenty (if that) lonely people that have discovered my journal.

    I guess I'm sorry for being sad about things when I suppose I could be celebrating the fact that I'm privileged or white or whatever. I'm sorry for taking my emotional incapabilities to pretentious writing, in a flat attempt to figure things out. I am sorry for taking creative liberties to try to explore my written voice. I am sorry for being upset about short-lived relationships and the loss of genuine connections, and for reminiscing online about smart boys with horn-rimmed glasses who used to kiss me.

    I suppose that, while I'm at it, I should apologize to the online community of SongMeanings.com for relying on the Internet as an outlet. I should know better than to declare my feelings on a public forum when instead I could be hurting myself, or getting really drunk, or letting people fuck me.

    I am sorry that I feel my feelings deeply and sincerely, that when I am happy the world is full of colour and promise, and when I am sad I feel aimless. I am sorry that I do not work to guard myself, for I see embracing feelings rather than stifling them as a positive thing (and not more irrelevent, incessant nattering typical of a teenage existentialist).



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  • cushion loving

    by alterEgo on November 16, 2014

    I wrote the previous post on my phone, and it was too laggy on my phone to write something properly. My mind has gone blank again, what was I going to say. I had a nice day. Now I'm worrying about what the voice in my head sounds like to others. I am miss annonymous to you. yes indeedy. I'm like you fellow annonymous. You have great music tastes. and thanks for accepting my friend request on last.fm. I admire your character in this world, we are all characters in the game of life aren't we?  Um,  let me crack open my heart like an egg on my keyboard and tell you about stuff. So i'm looking into my religion, reading posts and articles on Buddism as well as reading a book on buddhism, that was given free from the temple I usually go to. I have been on a vegetarian diet for two weeks, there has been the occasional meat product in my food. that has happened three times. when i went to the restaurant with my parents and my mum couldn't finish her noodles soaked in fish broth i helped her eat it, but rinsed the noodles with the tea provided. and then i ate dry noodles rinsing that off under the sink and putting my own veg sauce on. and tonight eating with my "romantic interest" i ate noodles with oyster sauce on them. im still adhering to the veg diet, because i feel better reducing suffering in the world.

    my bed is very soft and snug, and large. I love feeling craddled and covered. i've been meaning to hang out with my best friend for our once a month meetups but im so busy. i so want to hang out with her again, but lately i just feel like i want to hang out with one person. i really don't want to be 'overly attached girlfriend;'  



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  • on

    by alterEgo on November 16, 2014

    Hello world.. through the ripples of laughter and the smoke of water I found you again. No matter how stagnant the water is I find my way back to you. Though you may die before I reach you. Life is truly beautiful here



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  • Autumn Haiku @ SongMeanings

    by NomadMonad on November 15, 2014

    SongMeanings turn gold:
    Fallen leaves in the river
    many sad voices



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  • What title shall I choose??

    by Rmeena on November 14, 2014

    Choosing a title is pretty hard. Anyway, you know what? I'm really getting sick and tired with all these people around, trying to prove that they have the most miserable life with dozens of downfalls and obstacles to deal with etc., just to show you they are powerful enough not to confront anything. Why do they HELL LOVE to be deppressed? Why do they want to pitty themselves?! URGH...



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  • greetings to everyone

    by HanajimaSaki on November 14, 2014

    hi guys im new here just wanted to say hey hope fully i am able to chat with some of you guys on here! -giigles and waves-



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  • november 13.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 13, 2014

    I am a woman of many words. I like to weave with language, knitting sentences together with colourful adjectives and strong verbs. I can talk to someone every single day and still think of new things to talk about. I once talked a girl in the drive-thru window at McDonald's for such a long time that she got in trouble for chatting instead of working. I like to speak. I like to write. I like to communicate.

    The best kind of message I can send is a silent one. There is a kind of speech that rattles my bones and makes my stomach jump with anxiety. Nervousness. There's a kind of communication where the playfulness that dances around my green eyes dims, and things get soft. Cozy. Comfortable. I am a woman of many words, but the most powerful thing is when I don't need words. It's when I can slip into someone with a quiet smile and have them know without me needing to say a single damn thing.



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  • im back

    by RockPoes on November 13, 2014

    :)



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  • november 11.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 12, 2014

    I stayed out until 4am last night with my friends. We went to a mediocre karaoke night at our favourite bar. A fight broke out at the pizza parlour we went to afterwards. I ran into some of the fellas I work with that are in the band I saw on Saturday. One of those guys adjusted his glasses and asked, "Are you still all sad about that boy of yours?" When I said yes, he laughed softly. We talked about if I met cute boys that night. "Revel in your hotness," he told me.

    Today I laid in bed for two hours before I could muster the courage to face the day. I went down to the restaurant and ordered a sad bowl of oatmeal and forced a couple of spoonfulls down. I took a break to cry in the bathroom stall. I'm so fucking emotional. I called a friend and asked him to hang out with me. We wandered the mall and later sat in my dorm room. We talked. He played guitar. I sang along. 

    I fell asleep after my friend left. I texted Adam. We haven't talked since Thursday and I was wondering what the fuck was going on. What the next step was. What to do when I ran into him on campus; smile, ignore, or chat? He said that I was right, that it would be unhealthy to be friends right now. That we would invest more in this friendship than in other relationships. My pillow is stained with mascara. I went to my friend's dorm and she gave me beer. I got drunk. I texted Lance. I don't even have shame left.

    If this isn't articulate it's because I went for drinks with a friend I haven't seen in a while and alcohol hits me hard. Especially when I can't force down food.



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  • breakfast for dinner

    by CleanLaundry on November 12, 2014

    set aside today specifically to write and I can't fucking write.

    okay let's try this –

    red blossoms are falling on my fingers which are stalled on laptop keys –

    maybe this would be more romantic if it were pen & paper but my pen hemorrhaged a week ago when I bumped into you in the garden. your eyes met mine and my pen literally burst, ink smudged my palms and my jaw which I ran a shaking hand over. nauseated, I dragged my eyes away, thinking "be like water to rocks, be like water to rocks." 

    that was a week ago and I still wish I was in the Japanese countryside, at least then I'd be justified in feeling like a gaijin. 

    darling, I really liked what we were doing, but the honest truth is that I was using you for your sexytime playlists. I picked up the best music when you turned the lights down and the speakers up. 

    that's not the whole truth. the whole truth is I liked you a lot more than I was prepared for. a shame our rhythm was like two ticking clocks left to their own devices.

    once had a friend who was born with perfect pitch. I would run through guitar chords over and over until he would pick up on something average ears couldn't dream of, and his fingers would shoot out like lightning to nudge a peg ever so lightly, back to equilibrium. 

    that's what we were like. something was dangerously out of tune, but both of us were wearing the same earmuffs. or maybe you took them off ages before I did and chose not to say anything. fuck. why didn't you say anything? 

     



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  • november 10.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 10, 2014

                    Things do not occur in a vacuum. Everything is connected. We are always reacting to reactions to reactions. We are timeless, in a sense, because we are influenced by billions of decisions. Our decisions will go on to impact others. We are infinite despite our inevitable end. I read something that said genetics were as close as we can get to reincarnation. Your grandfather loved your grandmother’s eyes and asked her on a date. She got those eyes from her father. The twinkle in yours is a memory of that infinity.

                    Adam did not break up with me because of me, but because he was reacting to his past relationship. My emotional upheaval is a reaction to this decision but is built upon my friend’s choice to hang himself and Lance’s choice to move away for the summer. Lance’s choice to break it off with me was shaped by his previous summer with his ex-girlfriend, who clung to him. She clung to him because she had personal issues.

                    When I heard him say, “I’m not ready,” I reacted. My mind reeled, and I remembered a summer of choky sobs and drunk escapism. I remembered downing a bottle of Schnapps in distress. I remembered my friend taking me home and kissing me and trying to take off my clothes. I remember crying and making him leave. Most of all, I remembered the piercing loneliness of a transient life.

                    I have a constant desire to connect. I am surrounded by a flurry of friends. Texts pour in like a heartbeat, constant and pounding. People know my name and I know theirs. I am not in physical solitude. But with dozens of smiles and dozens of “How have you been?” inquiries, I wear myself thin. I am not able to connect. My stories and feelings are diluted with each re-telling of x, y, and/or z. I could tell a stranger my deepest secret. It would mean nothing to me.

                    The real victory is when I say something and feel it wriggle within me uncomfortably, ample with sincere vulnerability and fear. I could tell a friend, “I am deeply sad right now” and it would roll off the tongue like an order at McDonald’s, but if it is someone I connect with, “It’s pretty out today” carries emotional weight. Sharing is important. When I do not have this unique connection with someone, and do not have a special person to tell them how funny I found it when I put my sock on inside-out, I scramble. I spill my words like seeds, sewing them carelessly and hoping they take root.

                    I wander aimlessly until I can entwine my fingers with someone who just knows. Words fall out of my mouth without feeling. I fall out of the present and am carried away by longing.

                    I write this in a café with my schoolwork tossed aside. I was reading a book for class when a man came into the café and asked if I was hungry. He said he didn’t want to see me drinking tea on its own. He bought me a croissant, placed it in front of me, and walked out of the bakery. He didn’t buy anything for himself. He must have seen me through the window as I sat with a glaze of sadness and a downcast twinge. At first I thought he was trying to flirt with me, but when he walked out silently, I realized it was an incredible act of kindness. The world is either relentlessly cruel or exceedingly kind. I don’t know which makes me want to cry more.



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  • forewarning.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 09, 2014

    The sentences that shall follow should be considered your forewarning and my disclaimer. The things I am about to write are needlessly tedious, emotionally dramatic, and rather narcissistic. Just like me. Writing in here is the closest I come to figuring things out on my own. I need to meander. I need to write. This is how I feel things, and this is how I put my messy thoughts into definitive coherence.

    As I was undressing to crawl into bed, I stood in front of my full-length mirror. I stared. I saw tiny breasts, huge thighs, and flesh spilling over the elastic band of my underwear. I started to cry. In the past four days, I have eaten enough food to maybe make a meal and a half. I am sure I am hungry, but I do not want to eat. My body is trained into enjoying feeling famished every now and then. My disdain for cooking, refusal to eat out every day, and utter lack of groceries combine to create an indifference to hunger and dispassion for regular eating. It's worse when I am sad. When I am sad, I do not have an appetite. I have only eaten lately to ward off the dizziness. I get my calorie intake from shitty beer.

    I wrote a paper last year about anorexia nervosa. I learned that, for most, it is an attempt to regain control. I know I am far from a full-fledged eating disorder. This behaviour is only intense when my emotions are intense. (On a regular basis, though, I feel like I'm as malnourished as any lazy student.)

    I don't remember last night completely. I don't remember anything after my friend flagged down a cab for me. Judging by my text messages, I was pretty sad when I got home. I do not remember the conversations I had. I am so glad I have a fantastic group of friends because I don't know how well I would be handling things without them.

    Most people shrug and clap me on the shoulder when I tell them about Adam, saying, "At least you didn't date long. At least you didn't get attached. You'll be fine." I probably would be fine if this was a singular incident that occurred in a vacuum, but it didn't. It resonates with my last breakup, it resonates with my friend's suicide in the summer, it resonates with a lifetime of feeling second best. I don't handle rejection well. He played the Postal Service on guitar and sang to me. I let him read some of the things I have written. 

    I'm trying to write but I feel blocked right now. I pause for minutes between sentences, eyebrows knit, thinking. We didn't talk today or the day before. I wonder how his shift at work was. I wonder how much he's thinking of me.

    It's a silly analogy but I feel it rings true. Do you remember in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets when Tom Riddle comes out of the journal, and Ginny is weak and nearly lifeless on the floor? "She poured everything into me. The more she shared, the stronger I grew. The weaker she became," Tom Riddle says. I feel like sharing with another person in any relationship is like that. The more you share, the more power you give them. Adam was a journal I wrote in several times a day.

    "You have to realize this isn't your fault. Nor was Lance. Nor was Tyson. These situations have nothing to do with you. You're just in them. There's nothing wrong with you," he told me.

    One time, he called me on his forty minute drive home just to talk.



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  • the beauty of a dog sitting under a young tree in the rain

    by RosesAtSunset on November 09, 2014

    I’m trying to figure out my internal causal forces, but lately they seem to be smoky, correlational tangles. It’s a mist of existential ennui that I bury by trying to solidify the bonds with the people I care about. I don't often act as the enlightened individual I aspire to be. I have lofty goals that I don't understand and the questions I have are unsatisfyingly addressed.

    Are emotions our guiding force? Our soul seems to be defined by our dreams, feelings, and desires. But can our emotions exist without the stimuli that bring them about? It’s difficult to imagine the emergence of emotions in a vacuum. Some people believe that the soul (consciousness; the mind; the psyche) transcends the body.

    "You don't have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body."



    I disagree, because I don't see how the soul can exist without the body nor can I envision the reverse. We have a body, but we also have a soul. Through the body, our interaction with the material world feeds our nonmaterial connection to the soul that manipulates that body. When the body dies, the soul starves and soon follows suit. It is apparent that the body is a physical manifestation of the soul and the soul is a metaphysical expression of the body. Their interaction is fundamentally connected and they are fatally dependent upon one another.

    “The whole is greater than sum of its parts.”

    The dual participation of the mind and the soul creates the phenomenon of existence. The senses would have nothing to read without the body’s connection to the material world and there would be no understanding without the senses to connect the body to the immaterial world. When both worlds are firmly attached, the result is being: holistic order between the physical and metaphysical.

    You are not a soul. You are not a body. You have both.

    Existence is greater than the sum of the soul and the body.



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  • november eighth.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 08, 2014

    Yesterday I almost cried in class when we were talking about sexual abuse cases. I almost cried before class, too, when Adam's sister texted me to say, "Hey, he told me what happened. You're still invited to come out for my birthday with my friends, but you don't have to." I sat in the cafeteria and stared blankly. One of my managers (I work for the food company on campus) gave me a bear hug and we hashed out the nitty-gritty details of my break-up.

    I got sad enough to give up on my day, and I went back to my dorm room. I fell asleep in my dress and stockings. I woke up sluggishly, dragged myself down to the restaurant, and forced myself to eat soup.

    Fun flashback for the sake of context: A year ago I went to a concert by myself. I didn't have friends (or more so, music friends) in the city yet and I wanted to see the band badly enough. It was at that concert that I met Allen. Almost everyone I know and love in the city were introduced to me by Allen. 

    Anyways, that same band was back here last night. Instead of going alone like last year, I got to meet up with ten of my favourite people. The music was good. My friend gave me a beer. I bought a couple more. And my dayhad a complete turnaround. I was bouncing around with my boys, singing my heart out to great live music, drinking and laughing and hugging and loving. They make me feel like I belong and that's something I'm not used to. 

    We went to the bar afterwards. Two of my friends and I sat and drank whiskey in the car, getting smashed and talking about sexual abuse (which is quite an odd thing to discuss while passing around whiskey... or maybe not). One of my friends yelled, "I LOVE YOU, FALLEN. YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU AND YOU'RE SO MUCH FUN." I couldn't stop laughing.

    I woke up this morning in my dorm bed, all my clothes thrown on the floor.

    This isn't coherent writing. I'm sorry.

    TL;DR... I was sad because Adam. I had a shitty sad day because Adam. Then I went to a concert that was emotionally significant because it marked a year since I met one of my best friends, who introduced me to the people I love. I partied my ass off. My friends and I talked feelings while passing around whiskey. I made it home miraculously and woke up with a smile.

    I am writing because I want to, not because I have anything to say.

    I am writing because this involves me being engaged and my mind finds it harder to wander.

    I am killing time until my friend gets here and he can distract me again.

    Tonight, we go to another concert. Some friends of mine are playing a show. It's in the basement of my favourite bar.

    That is all.



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  • Sigh.

    by Fallen Leaves on November 06, 2014

    And I come to SongMeanings once more, with an itch in my fingers and exhaustion in my bones. Adam and I went to go on a date yesterday (thrifting for ugly sweaters then a crossword at a coffee shop, because adorable) and I linked my arm with his. He pulled away. I looked at him laughingly, quizically. "What's wrong?" He grimaced. "All the bad things..." I think my response was a quivering, "...o...kay...." 

    "I'm struggling," he said. We went to his car to talk about it, then went to my dorm room and sat on my single mattress. 

    "It was just so soon after my last relationship. I wasn't looking for anything serious when I met you. You know that. But you were so wonderful and amazing that I couldn't help myself. And for the past few nights, I've been lying away thinking about how I can't do this. How it isn't fair to you if my heart isn't completely in it. I need to work on myself and figure things out for me before I can be in a relationship."

    Another quaky nod.

    "You're the perfect person at the absolute worst time. I want to be with you, I do. Everything's there - we get along so well, we're beyond compatible, I'm extremely sexually attracted to you, you're so much smarter than everyone - but timing isn't. I'm just not ready."

    Oy vey.

    We laid in my bed, crying in silence. My makeup smeared onto his green t-shirt. He started to get agitated, fists clenched and pounding against his leg. I grabbed his closed hand and worked my fingers into them. "Relax," I told him quietly, "You're going to be okay." He started to cry harder. He told me things about his family and things about his dad, which I knew about (but he never really elaborted on). He told me he didn't know who he was yet. "I always do this! I have the best intentions and want nothing but to make people happy, but I hurt everyone instead." While he cried and talked, I pulled him into my chest and gently ran my fingers through his hair. I clucked soft responses. Soothing. "How did this end up being my therapy session?" he asked, voice irate. "It doesn't matter. If this is what you need, then I want to listen," I told him.

    We kept switching back and forth, each of us venting our own personal struggles, most of them irrelevant to romantic relationships. "I don't think people know how lonely I am here sometimes. It's hard for me to be here. I miss my family."

    After work, three of my friends came over. One played the reality card, the other offered relentless insults to his personal character, the other kept things cheery. When they left, I sent Adam the obligatory ex-girlfriend text. "I just want you to know that I don't hate you, and I won't hate you. You're doing the right thing. I am grateful for your honesty. I wish circumstances were different, but they're not. Work on yourself for a while."

    This morning we chatted briefly over text. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me and that your intention was not to use me. But it's painful knowing I was a rebound and now you're coming down from it being new and exciting, and you're backing out."

    Thankfully, this break-up won't be as traumatizing as the last. I have friends now. I'm stupidly busy (school, work, three sports, friend stuff). I can stay distracted. I will be okay. It's just frustrating that, again, my partner wasn't emotionally capable. Even though it isn't "my fault" and has "nothing to do with me", I'm the one that comes out worse for wear. And now I have to go through a shitty mourning period of drinking a lot and hitting on boys and throwing myself into other things, when all I really want is to curl up and watch the Disney movies he told me we would.



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