I’m sacred that I’ll convince myself once more that I am wholeheartedly over you. I’m afraid I’ll fall into that abyss of denial and will never find my way back to you. I’m quick to guard my heart, which means if you tell me I’m single, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll share the most meaningless exchanges and inject as much meaning as I can for the other person. I’ll gain their affections, hoping their piqued interest will someway invigorate my attraction to them. Currently I’m playing this little game, I already have my first play in motion, and I’m afraid it is working all too easily. You see I’ve never really had trouble in this game, I just chose to never play it, cause it didn’t suit my style. Instead I played the waiting game. I’d observe the players that walked by, and if any looked particularly unique, then I’d prepare to play. They’d take note, and the games would begin. The only reason I ever participated is because when I waited, I had the opportunity to play an entirely different game altogether. I found that when you play with the best, you always have the most fun. I miss playing with the professionals, the rookies aren’t just cutting it. They don’t know how to make my heart skip a beat, or give me those nervous butterflies. Though maybe it is due to the fact that my heart’s just not in the game anymore. My body is, but even it wants to retract and discontinue what I’ve started. I have many options, but you’re the only one I love.
Today has been an interesting day for me. There haven’t been many ground breaking interactions or events, it is just that a lot has raced through my mind today. Today I feel antsy and energized, one may even call it restless. It isn’t a different feeling for me necessarily, but it is heightened because I made the poor choice of drinking half of an energy drink this evening. One could say I am quite hyped…. I am actually kind of sad too. I am in an odd reflective, energetic mood, so a lot of random thoughts will be voiced throughout this post.
The first thing I would like to start off with is that today I was thinking about my funeral. No, I am not dead yet, nor am I planning it in anticipation, nor am I writing this from the dead. A vision popped into my mind though about how I would like my funeral to be. I want my favorite musician’s (The Weeknd) music to be played throughout the funeral. EVERY SONG HE HAS EVER SUNG. So however long that takes, would be the duration of my funeral. It is not because I want to torment my family and friends with music that I already play constantly, it is simply based on the fact that there is something about his music that feeds my soul. My body reacts to it in such a different way than it does towards other music. It isn’t necessarily the lyrics, but sometimes it is. However, the song I would have played at the end of my funeral would be about just that: the lyrics. It is titled “Angel,” and is by far one of his saddest songs (in my opinion). In this song, he sings the verse “I hope you find somebody to love” many times, and every other utterance eats away at my heart. It is because he doesn’t say that to mean exactly that, he sings it in a mournful way towards what he and the girl he is singing about once shared. This song would be played at the end with the sole purpose of speaking to the guy I love one last time. I want the overall event to be joyous and cathartic, but I definitely feel that every funeral has a sad note to it, and depressingly enough, I would like for mine to end on a sad, reflective note.
Throughout my funeral, while the songs play, I want people to dance, talk, and interact without a care in the world, not worrying about how others are perceiving them for their poor dancing skills. I want my guests to be weird, eccentric, and most importantly, fully immersed in all senses. If someone cries, I want them to not feel any need to hold it in, or be quiet, I don’t want them or anyone else to feel awkward about it. I want it to be a mess of emotions, a fully raw experience, whether they be sad about my death or not. I want it to be an opportunity for them to look at life differently. It wouldn’t necessarily matter that I’m gone, I don’t even care if they shed one tear for me, but I do have one condition. I want people to begin living life differently. No, not change themselves. Live and love like you’re taking your last breath. Dance like everybody is watching and don’t give a rip. Lastly, stop feeling self conscious with new people or any people for that matter. We all are human, we get quiet, stumble on our words, and make fools out of ourselves. So stop letting silly things like self-consciousness get in the way of you living your life. One more thing, stop thinking so hard about being “normal.” Be you and do you, that’s all I ask.
To end this, I would like to bring up one last thing. I am frustrated at the world around me, which is partly why I wrote this post. Right now I feel the urge to contact each and every person I feel like contacting and say exactly what is on my mind (not necessarily the same thing to every person, cause I have different topics flowing through my mind currently) without having to think about what was last said and feel as though I need to “stay on topic” whatever that means… (it means humans are notoriously boring in conversation due to this obsession). I want to know that other people share the sentiment that life is precious and we should start living like every moment is our last. Everything around me is so stagnant, and people are so hesitant, all in efforts to not step on anyone’s toes. Yet there comes a time when you just need to LIVE YOUR FREAKING LIFE. That is all. Goodnight.
You stare contemptuously, letting the hate eat away at what remains of your character. All that lies before you is filthy, ridiculous, and unloveable. Unfortunately, that is an incorrect conclusion. What lies before you is the perfect example of care, humanity, and kindness. All that has been exemplified by that form in front of you is nothing but pure humanity, and you view it with the utmost disgust.
That’s where we falter. We see all the flaws immediately, sometimes never acknowledging those qualities that embody true perfection, true admirability. It perpetuates a vicious cycle of hate and creates an absence of appreciation. It is one thing to let these negative thoughts and comments silently ruminate in one’s mind, it’s another to continuously voice them aloud to taint the current rapport.
The most unexpected things occur when one spreads love rather than hate. One receives love back, the world becomes a better place to live in. It’s miraculous to see the results and watch happiness and love spark from every action, setting the world ablaze to create a bonfire of positivity. Soon all the flaws are unique features we’ve never seen. Those actions of ridiculousness, imperfection, lack of attention that causes us to stumble, are the pieces of humanity that spill out of us to signify to others that no one is perfect. While simultaneously discovering that it is this same quality of imperfection that leads one to claim that the one they love is perfect.
The other day, I looked in my mirror, and in the reflection, I saw a stranger. She looked at me with wide eyes, begging to be noticed, but I avoided eye contact. She made weird faces, bugging out her eyes, sticking out her tongue, forcing a smile, finally shedding tears in defeat. None of it worked. I looked at her, but not directly at her. I was scared, and she was sad. I had forgotten her in the mirror. Every time I step in front of that mirror, I look right past her. I don’t look, because I don’t recognize her anymore. I’m afraid that if I look too long, it will all become to real. I’ll finally take notice that I’ve heartlessly abandoned her for all these days. The fear that I’ll remember her. Who she was, her vibrancy, her enthusiasm for life, how I felt whole when I saw her in the mirror and could tell you her name. Every second she’s trapped in that mirror, I hear her cry. It’s quiet in efforts to not disturb anyone, yet I hear it all the time and it keeps me awake at night. She knows I hear her. I feel her presence beside me wherever I go. She and I used to be one, but now we’re two entirely different entities. She’s drowning in her tears, and I’m numb. She screams at me, in order to bring me back to reality. She makes a mess in every area of my life in order for me to see the destruction to bring me back, to make me aware. Yet I’ve lost all touch with reality. She knows that. That’s why she continues this seemingly pointless effort.
She’s the only one who knows, and she’s the only one who can bring me back.
Warning: this post may come off as insensitive. It is merely meant to air frustrations. I am open to hearing your opinions on every part of my position if you are offended”
It has recently come to my attention that as a result of the controversy of pronouns, my professor* always refers to each individual as “they.” Now it is all fine and logical to me to refer to a group as they, but eh hem, it is damn obvious that that girl over there is a she, and that guy in the back.. yeah.. umm I’m pretty sure he is a he. I get it, we have people who don’t identify as a he or a she. Though, I believe if one prefers to be referred to as a he, a she, a star, an other, a they, they’ll let you know if you are addressing them in an offensive manner in relation to their preferences.
Let me give you an example of how my professor* uses the word they though… My professor* will ask a question to the class, get a response that may be too quiet for the class to hear, and as the professor* looks at this girl with make up on and long hair, the professor* says “if you didn’t all hear, they said ‘blah blah blah'” In a way, it removes the credit given to the person who has commented. It also distances this professor from us as a class, but also as individuals. I realize that we must respect other’s pronoun sensitivities, but the road goes both ways. What about those who identify to the standard pronouns? Do they have room to be offended that you aren’t addressing them how they would like to be addressed? Oh but you’re making it so that everyone is included in the pronoun you have generalized and chosen to use to address every single one of us in the room. Well to inform you, I identify as she, not they. I am not a group of people, I am one individual who would appreciate that at the very least, you address me by the gender I identify with, to show me you are giving me a small bit of acknowledgement as an individual.
Perhaps at this point in my rant, you all are saying to yourselves “you are all offended as a person who conforms to a gender many ignorantly will assume you are. You are primarily accepted by the pronoun you associate with. So don’t you see how those who prefer to be addressed by a different pronoun feel when addressed incorrectly?”
I get it, it is frustrating. It is also frustrating that we have gone from including one demographic’s opinions into consideration. Then completely shifting over to a new demographic’s opinions in order to be less ignorant towards the issue. When we have just forgotten the previous demographic all together.
I nearly feel compelled to request that this professor call me she. I feel as though those who identify with non-conforming pronouns should feel the same freedom. So then I must ask, if we are so concerned about being socially correct that we generalize an entire group and address every individual and they, why can’t we simply ask EVERY SINGLE PERSON what they damn well desire to be addressed as. Well that would take too much time… So it is really in an effort to save time? What about the effort to respect the wishes of those sensitive to how you address them? Or are you not concerned with that? Is it simply because remembering what everyone prefers to be addressed by, or remembering the names is too time consuming? Or in a way, do you also feel like it is not important. You are the main star of the show, we listen to you for a great portion of the class, so why is it important to know who we are.
Through all of this sarcasm and frustration, I am merely trying to allow those who address EVERYONE by ‘they’, to see that ‘they’ are still offending and frustrating those who don’t identify as a ‘they.’ If you really want to be socially correct, remember a name or two…
Quote in reference to being addressed as ‘they’: “yeah, it wasn’t me who said it, it was a group of us: me, myself, and I”
*pronoun omitted and replaced by professor in order to respect the professor’s possible unstated pronoun preference
Sitting, surrounded by people, and none know a single thing that’s going on. The opposite sex accidentally reveals their struggle blatantly, but yours remains hidden. It’s random, unexpected, but also pleasant. You’re not supposed to feel these sensations while in public. It’s a private matter. You tell yourself to stop. To think about neutral topics. Despite it all, your body rages on. Coerced by nothing, stimulated by the unexpected. It’s just happening. As hard as you try to stop it, to repress it, it continues on.
The second you can, you run to a private space. You question why you’d allow yourself to feel such innapropriate sensations in public. ‘It didn’t harm anyone.’ ‘Yeah, but it’s also deviant behavior.’
There’s a knock at the door. You answer, and in he walks. That innocent little striped dress is now slipped off of your body by his big hands, with your assistance. Next thing you know, there you lay, directly undrrneath him, both of you with minimal fabric to cover your bodies and shield your eyes from lustful glances. His gaze is begging to look at your body in its one true state. Unclothed, unaltered, the imperfections revealed. You look into his eyes and desire the same of him. To have him reveal his body, for you to watch as he unveils what your body is begging to see. Both of you take turns indulging in how every part of one another’s bodies feel under the touch of your hands, how wonderful it is to run your mouth along the most delicate, sensitive areas, and place a kiss, or deliver a tantalizingly gentle bite. Your lips meet, and your tongues begin to explore and intermingle, like two long lost lovers discovering one another once again. He flips you two over, and now you’re on top. You’re nearly naked form on display. The first article of clothing… Then the next… Suddenly you’ve found yourself completely stripped of everything. His eyes take in every inch of your body, arousing all of his senses. It’s his turn next, and he happily obliges. Soon, the two of you have now found yourselves ultimately revealed. There’s nothing left to cover, everything’s exposed. You indulge in your desires. Your bodies mold as one, as he moves in you. You engage in the most sensual, lustful, forbidden, sinful, dirty act known to man, and you love every second of it.
Time is a social construct made for those who feel compelled to measure life, measure moments, measure the time it takes to obtain happiness. There are others who disregard this petty measurement. They don’t see it as lacking or possessing value, it simply exists to them. A short love is not any less powerful than a longer love. You commit for a year, you commit for 4 months, the longest must be the strongest, right? It just might be the one that was worth holding onto. Well maybe that’s the case, but other times, the love most fleeting, those connections torn apart by bad timing, those are even more powerful, consuming, and captivating. However, let’s not discount time all together, for it plays a more drawn out role in those shorter love affairs too. It’s the time spent yearning for a lover’s presence after the split, it’s the time you’ll never get back, but couldn’t care less. The longer something resonates within your mind, the harder it becomes to deny it your attention.So when you pride yourself at staying together so long, 1 year, 2 years, whatever it may be, and celebrate that milestone, I apologize for my perplexed expression. Yes, it’s commendable that you’ve stuck together for so long, but I can’t help but be saddened by the thought that it’s so prevalent in your mind. What’s with the counting? The tallying of the days? I feel as though that alters your mind to think of it as a challenge, not a pleasure, to stay with one another. It’s like one of those games that requires intense endurance, that you can’t wait to set the record and finally take a rest (traffic master or flappy bird anyone…). Sure, setting that record feels great, and it provides ultimate bliss, but you’ve just cheapened the game. Where is the pure enjoyment of playing it? I think the problem is that it was never for the fun of the game, it was winning, it was beating the rest, proving you could do it.
Now I’m not saying you must look at games differently, but I feel you should look at relationships and love differently if this is the mentality that you’ve adopted. It’s not failure to lose a relationship 1 week in, 1 month in, 2 months in, etc. It’s simply a byproduct of self discovery. Your self discovery, but also the self discovery of who you date and choose to love. You find what you’re looking for, how you want to be treated, how you need to be treated, and they do the same. If in the process, one of you finds that it’s not working, it’s not a failure. In fact, that’s a success. You may not think that at the time, but when you’re happy years down the road, knowing that you two weren’t meant to be, you’ll be glad you stopped tallying the days and trying to set your new best record for the longest relationship you’ve had. Because that’s when you’ll find a relationship that feels like you’ve only been together for a week, when in reality, it’s been years. Days will blend together, and you won’t care to keep track of how long it’s been, cause that’s not important to you. You live in the moment of love, and that’s all that matters.
I feel tired, I want to sleep, my motivation is ceasing, and all I can think of is how this isn’t me. I haven’t been me for a while… Not just a few weeks, but for months, I’ve been some other person. I’ve lost the part of me that I love. To some it may seem trivial, it may appear to be lust, or come across as petty that something as simple as earthly desires occupies my mind so frequently. I apologize, it’s just something that never leaves my mind. For the longest time, I was free, I shared affection with those around me, and I loved life. When I’d become exclusive with someone, I’d easily turn people down, but still maintain a sincere friendship with them. The reason I turned them down so easily is not because I felt I had to or that they weren’t perfect in their own way, but because I was perfectly content in my current lover’s arms. When I’m in love I feel whole. Not because I need someone else to be complete. I don’t need someone to be happy. It’s the fact that I can express a part of me that is otherwise left unrevealed. I’m very affectionate. Not just your typical huggy, cuddly type, but even more. When I kiss your lips, I want to sense every part of your mouth. How you taste, how your lips feel pressed against mine, your breath. When I kiss your neck as I straddle your lap, I am in my most comfortable state. The action of kissing your neck is very enjoyable, but it’s not even just that. It’s watching you tilt your neck to expose more skin for my lips to devour. It’s hearing a groan escape your lips. Feeling you relax and enjoy every sensation. As I trail kisses up your neck and reach your ear lobe, I love the shift in reaction. To me, your ear lobe is perfect. It’s soft and adorable and fun to nibble on. For you, this simple, innocent part of your body contains nerve endings that somehow send pleasure throughout your body. There’s something about such an innocent body part providing you with pleasure that makes me happy. I love to run my hands through your hair and hold your head in my hands not only because I know it feels nice, but also because feeling your hair in my hands makes me content. It’s soft and perfect, and smells like you. When I sink my body into yours as I grind into you, I don’t simply enjoy the act just because it’s turning me on. I like to grind into you, to bring my body closer to yours, so that I can get as close to you as possible. I want to feel every inch of you pressed up against me, because to me, you are perfection. Perhaps I’ll finish the list of sexual acts at a later date, but for now, this will do. My point is, affection is one of my main modes of self expression. It makes me feel more like myself. I haven’t truly touched someone without inhibitions in a very long time. Just like in other aspects of my life, I’m quite particular and meticulous when it comes to choosing who I touch, simply because touch means so much to me. I don’t waste my time all too often, cuddling, kissing, or hugging the wrong people. When I like you, it means something, it doesn’t happen that often. So far, my methods have worked, I’ve never regretted a single touch. I wish to continue this way, but I’m not so sure how long I can hold off. I miss it. That human to human contact that reminds us of what it’s like to be alive. The foreign feeling of a first kiss with someone new.
My finger was seconds away from pulling the trigger. Standing in front of me was a figure I’ve come to know all too well. I felt inclined to end the existence of that form that stood before my eyes, but I hesitated. If I shot, the battle would cease and there would be no more uncertainty anymore. No more unanswered questions. No more undiscovered mysteries. The suffering would end, but so would the possibility of a happy ever after. It’s quite confusing as to how all those scenarios could be wrapped into one, but it’s a unique case I guess you could say. That figure embodies hope, but it also embodies despair. So when I waiver or consider ending it all, take a moment to envision yourself in my shoes. Know that this is torture. It’s prolonged heartbreak that seems to be never ending no matter what path I choose. Each path I see involves a new weapon, one that is far less lethal, but still inflicts harm, despite my efforts to maintain peace. I’ve come to the realization that no matter what, a wound, no matter how small, will come about from my actions. So I’m choosing a new weapon, not to purposely harm the figure, but to allow myself a release in order to feel again. I’ve set the gun down for now, because I’m not prepared to attend that funeral just yet.
There you stand in your life, having a great time. You’ve got the girl, yet you still have those who meant something to you before, still answering your messages. Soon everything will change. Not abruptly, but gradually. You know that one who “means something to you,” so you insist on remaining friends. Well now it takes a little longer for her to get back to you. You notice she doesn’t compliment you the way she did before. It appears as though in her mind, all of that history between you two has vanished. The next thing you know, you start hearing of her new guy. No, not that friend of yours. Although why did the idea of the two of them together bother you so much when you had already moved onto someone else? This guy of hers shows her the love she’s been holding out for for all of these months she’s been heartbroken by you. He holds her tight and doesn’t let go. In every hug and every kiss, he lets her know she’s all his. He cherishes being with her, and let’s her know that he’s not going anywhere. He’s everything she’s wanted in a guy, and more. The next thing you know, you begin to allow your mind to snap into reality of what goes on behind the scenes. Those lips you used to kiss are know being passionately kissed by another man. That beautiful cascading hair is now grasped by someone else’s hands. Those eyes that used to stare into yours are now looking into someone else’s lustful gaze. That body you used to explore with your hands isn’t in your possession anymore. Her heart, her soul, her mind, and every part of her is now his. You got what you wanted: her friendship, even when it was killing her inside. Well an unfortunate byproduct was that you also lost her. She’ll remain your friend forever, but now it’s your turn to face the reality that her soul has found company in someone else’s sheets. The secret side of her personality that you got to see is now being displayed to her new guy. Although you may not notice, he’s like you in a million ways, all but one quality that is: he’s never letting her go. Soon these images will become more vivid as time passes. It won’t simply be a little kiss forever. Soon you’ll face the reality that this guy doesn’t just kiss those lips, he ravishes every inch of her body, in some ways you never got the chance to.
When you finally begin to realize you’re feeling the terrible feelings that she felt before, know this: that love you see between the two of them isn’t like what you two shared. She’ll put on a happy face, but chances are, her heart still yearns to be with you.
So when it inevitably happens, remember not to give up, cause I’m sure it would be tempting. You’ll think to yourself “she’s happy, she doesn’t treat me or talk to me the same way she did before, she’s moved on. There’s no point. She’s happy with him.”
Tell her you miss her. Finally share your thoughts. That’s all it will take to knock her back into reality. You don’t do it often–which is why she’ll pay attention.