black flies

i’m sitting in bed, hoping that i can fall asleep quickly because i need to wake up early for class tomorrow. not that it differs from every other morning, but i feel urgent right now. i need the sleep.

and it comes to me.

in a rush of thoughts and slow, fat tears streaming down my face. the urge to write comes to me in this same way often, actually… embarrassingly… in a very real way.

i can’t stop thinking about this person that i am in love with. i’ve cultivated them in my imagination. not exactly in physical looks, i have no idea what they look like, nor do i care. but i’ve created this person in feelings and smiles. i can feel their arms around me, and i can hear them speak. i think of this person, and i feel full.

because… i don’t know. i’m a little crazy? i’m slightly obsessed with the idea of finding a person that makes me whole despite my unwavering efforts to fulfill myself by myself? i’m a champion at run-on sentences?

i’m not creating an unrealistic person that will never disappoint me. i want the disappointment. i want the fights and the passion. i crave the frustration. because, to me, these things surrounded by love and laughter mean that it’s worth it. that the love is worth it. that i am worth it.

~*~

“tell me i’m worth it,” i said, laying in bed. a hot tear rolled down my face. my jaw was tight, i could feel every inch of my throat drying while i waited for you to respond to me.

“you’re worth it.”

i knew i pressured you to tell me that you loved me, but i didn’t care. i needed your lies to make me feel whole again. without them, i wasn’t just missing pieces. i felt completely empty. i craved your attention with relentless energy. the rest of me felt constantly tired, but the promise of you gave me so much hope.

i wanted someone that looked at me like i was magic.

you aren’t them. as badly as i wanted you to be, you just aren’t.

~*~

“why don’t you date a woman?” my mom is sitting across from me. i look at my sister.

“i’ve thought about it,” i say. “but i really just don’t think i’m interested in women. i don’t think i’d enjoy the sex.”

“that’s understandable,” my sister says. i think she’s holding in a shutter. i’m guessing a gay person might see this as the true sign of a straight person. then i think that if i were gay or bi or curious in any way, i would probably be able to identify the true signs of a straight person.

then i wonder why i’m so boring.

~*~

i keep seeing these quotes on pinterest. i call them “sad girl quotes.” they’re things that i think women save and look at to remind themselves that they are special.

i fucking love them.

i see one, and i think, “this is about me,” or “this perfectly sums up my relationship with xxx.”

it amazes me how words work. carefully placed next to or near one another. they say so much, sometime with very little and other times with a lot.  

reading beautiful things makes me happy that i am a person that feels too much to hold inside because who would i be if i wasn’t me? it makes me happy that i can’t fall asleep until i’ve carefully arranged all of my thoughts into words for my brain to understand because who would i be if i wasn’t me? it makes me happy that they often come to me, hand-in-hand, with tears… because who would i be if i wasn’t me?

who would i be?

nobody likes valentine's day

i hate valentine’s day. i’m pretty sure i’ve almost always hated valentine’s day, and if i ever did, even remotely, enjoy valentine’s day it was probably because of the snacks. i even hate valentine’s day more than i hate christmas, and the only reason christmas wins is because christmas always brings more finger food to the party.

the only time i really enjoyed valentine’s day was this one time in middle school when a boy i liked handmade a card for me that i may or may not still have.

but besides the times with snacks and the one time in middle school, i basically have always hated valentine’s day.

i’m not romantic. in fact, i kind of hate romance even more than i hate valentines day. it’s never felt very organic to me. the thought of someone saying something romantic in my ear makes me so uncomfortable; i’d rather go to the dentist than go on a fancy date.

for the most part, human contact makes me cringe. unless i really love someone and i want them to touch me, every second of unwanted contact makes my skin itch. my body is such a private thing that i love and take care of, that i don’t want someone touching it unless they ask permission or i invite them in.

but valentine’s day this year is really scary to me.

because it’s another new milestone for me. my first valentine’s day as a single adult.

valentine’s day was never a day full of fancy dinners and outfits and chocolate. it was a day of whispered “i love yous” in long distance conversations and a bouquet of daisies and baby’s breath with a note about how much valentine’s day sucked, but i didn’t. there might be a nice dinner, but it was clouded with sweatshirts and wellies and a weekend expiration.

it’s just a weird thought, to be alone on a day when the rest of the world is holding on to each other.

last year i was laying around my apartment when i heard my phone ping. a valentine’s day proposition i should have said no to, that i instead said yes to. i ended up reading patti smith at my favorite bar because, despite dating three to four men every few weeks for the last three months, i thought the bar tender was the most consistent and supportive man in my life at the time. he deserved my silent company and my tips.

my phone pinged again. a second proposition. i was waiting for this bicycle messenger i really liked to ping my phone and then maybe ping me, but all of my backups were calling in their backup, and my phone sounded like it was on a countdown to implode.

so i said yes to the one backup that i thought was most likely to turn into something more, the one that i had hoped might ask me to be his girlfriend if i could trick him into falling in love with me.

the night ended with free drinks and not enough of my book read. i think it says something when you’d rather read a book and pay for your own drinks then choke down awkward conversation in exchange for free whiskey.

and as scared as i am to spend this valentine’s day as a real, true, in the flesh single person, i am glad that i’m not the same scared girl i was last year. a girl who was so scared to be alone that she sacrificed her time to be with someone that made her feel less than she should.