If ever I’m crying I’m most likely in bed. You’re most likely beside me, your breathing not yet deep enough to indicate slumber. I’m either really good at concealing it or you just don’t care. My tears are probably because I’m too scared to initiate the resolve (because you don’t know what you did really offended me and I may feel really inadequate because of the reason behind the sentiments). Or I’m sick of being the one saying sorry first - sometimes I don’t mean it but do it just to hear you say it. At times like this I hate it when you reposition yourself because the rustle of the sheets reminds me youre there. Despite this, once I concede that your respiration rhythm is too slow to try keep up with, I snuggle up and know youre sleeping because you don’t move away. Sometimes I like to imagine you are awake and find my warmth comforting. Then I roll away because I feel indignant and find my neediness repulsive. I roll backwards and forwards until we’re together in slumber.
Posts tagged with a.
Once my bf took my mums car to pick me up (complicated) anyway later mum drives us somewhere and the car wouldnt move. He squirming in his seat. The hand brake was still on.
I had always valued the passionate personality trait. It was naive to revere this quality because such motivation requires sacrifice. To what extent does the all consuming consistent attainment of ever changing goals become unattractive? One often forgoes cleanliness, study, work and time with loved ones for one aspect of self-development. Its such a great cost.
All these people are asking me if my mum’s -who has been in the Philippines with her significant other for about a month- okay and I’m like, “she’s having too much fun, she hasn’t really contacted us much…” Its one thing to leave me with the responsibility of a kid brother, I can’t deal with telling people of my uncertainty about her mortality. I wish she’d call.
At what point in mass production does a novelty item lose its innovation?
I like crossing my arms, it feels like a hug and its socially acceptable to do in public. I can secretly give myself copious amounts of love. Woe is me, as well as sad and pathetic.
I was having an extraordinarily enjoyable day until four something. My boyfriend asked me to go over (having woken up beside me and with dinner plans). It was so unecessary, so some surprise event being underway became obvious. I had an academic commitment in the outer suburbs and could not justify going to his place at the expense of my aforementioned appointment. Having abruptly asserted my unwillingness to attend, I were dubbed a ‘selfish prick’, disappointing attendees who had gone ‘extremely out of their way’ for this event. My best friend who was there told me they delayed the event (of five people) two hours while a couple of them went to gym for two hours. I cant really sympathise, it’s not completely my fault my surprise birthday didnt work out. I was unclear about the details of my evening and it was easy for him to make assumptions. The nonconducive situation was out of our hands.
I’m writing this after having been crossing my arms to comfort myself. My night is open, I’m not upset, I’m alone except for my housemate who hasnt really elected to be here but is, out of no choice, so she doesnt count. Called my 13 year old brother for company.
Happy birthday to me.
This is an ode to the remarkable person he is. This may be a little soppy and not as spirited and perhaps not as titillating. I’m glad that you’ve committed to reading.
Less than four months ago, we celebrated our six months and he surprised me with dinner, took me on a walk along the river, blindfolded me and span me till I found myself indoors, where he took my blindfold (headband) off my eyes and awaited a reaction to the brilliant views of the prestigious hotel, forgetting I was shortsighted and that he took my glasses for safekeeping. I could not see for shit.
He’s the first person to really know me and still love me. He’s seen and been victim to such ugliness from me. He’s the sole person who has uncovered oppressed childhood memories.
Hes a person I’m in awe of everyday. He makes his crazy extraordinary goals into real life with an intense force no one can mess with. He has an uncanny ‘all or nothing’ approach, with an unwavering committment to his priorities. His work ethic is only matched by his father. These qualities position him to be the most intelligent and physically strong person I know. Reading that may seem like I am being overly generous and may be biased as his girlfriend. I don’t know how to convey otherwise except with the facts that he was dux, is on scholarship and I can’t rest my head on his anything for too long because his muscles are too hard and bulky.
Being in his arms however, is like attaining the iridescent flower in mario (the one that comes after the mushroom). Theres a certain assurance I can’t describe. I’m invincable to hurt, fear and negativity. Its the best place in the world. The weight and width is a weird source of comfort.
I really do need him. I find that we really do complement each other. His raging optimism is counteracted by pragmatism (which he hath dubbed negativity). I dial down his levels of excitement and expectations, while he gives me hope. We also keep each other in check. As individuals I feel like we both have strong characteristics, we’re as stubborn as each other. I’d get too big for my boots without him and he’d drown in a puddle of pride.
I very often allow my relentlessly hardhead to cause rife in my relationship. I need to learn to pick my battles. I need to know his banter is not a dig at my honour. One day I secretly hope I will completely eradicate my fear of losing myself in my love for him.
Forget my name, I should from now on be known as “unemployable.” I am in a financial rut, having already made such an effort, reaching for the most unreputable jobs. It’s wrecking havoc on my selfesteem. No one within a 20km radius wants me as their servant bitch. Being so dependant on welfare is demoralising. I am striving to be a productive and evolving member of the community. To contextualise, I’m a full time student who has moved out from home. This issue is so awkward to talk about, because for once its not some made up problem in my head.
Just having one of those days.
Highschool was really good to me in the fact that it set me up with beautiful friends in an assortment of groups. This granted me with flexibility and a loving environment no matter what.
It’s approaching two years since we were made to be in each other’s presence.
I’ve been clutching onto a few relationships and I’ve totally invested myself in the wrong ones.
In particular, there’s this girl whose gone through a break up from a 1.5 year relationship. All I wanted to do was hold her hand and ensure that she never felt alone but she never let me. We’ve had four sets of plans that she’s managed to bail on. And another whereby during our conversations she’d take 10 hours to reply to my text. I was supposed to see both these people today but I’m here sitting at my mum’s house on my laptop. Also instigated group plans for an occasion and asked my significant other to rsvp. He said he was busy and since ten spots are already paid for I endeavoured to replace the perceived vacancy. Instead he became distressed and exclaimed that he didn’t want to see me for the rest of the year.
This is a real stupid post but I’m just sick of being made to feel worthless and that my time is meaningless and unimportant. I’ve put all my eggs in the wrong basket, in the expense of other friends.
I wish there were a solution. A way of knowing who is able to be reciprocative and true to their word. I hate this feeling of distrust.
I have a burning secret. It’s not really that great though; in the way that it won’t really impact anybody. The proposition has been made and celebrated; however we have agreed reluctance to share it. But I’ll divulge with you.
Before I begin, I believe I have created expectation through my starting sentence. The aforementioned burn alludes merely to the fact that it’s pristine. I haven’t told anybody, not my best friend, or my other best friend, my teddy bears or my mum. None of them read my blog.
So I’m in the late eighth month of my first serious relationship. I’m 18; he’s eight months and eight days older. We’re in our second year of tertiary education. (take home message – we are young and naïve)
His family is based in rural Australia so he had to move out to further his schooling. I moved out because mum wanted to charge me rent as a result of “treating [her] house as a hotel – for sleeping and eating.”
I hate to say we are different from other relationships amongst our peers, because we’re not. Its just we have endless sleepovers, to the point where we pretty much live together. We don’t answer to anybody. Which paves way to the body of this text.
We had a night out in town, both mildly intoxicated, both sharing things as a byproduct of decreased inhibitions. Considering our condition, I knew what he said was true and I could tell he’d been pondering the thought for a while. We have also since discussed it sober.
He asked me whether I would be interested in moving in together.
I replied with a kiss.
I am excited. I feel daunted. I am a bit scared. I feel like I don’t understand the magnitude of the anticipated circumstances. I expect to be judged. Negatively. By everyone. I don’t know what to do. It would save money. It would save us the time trekking from one house to the other. I believe I would be deluded to think even for one second that this boy, my first kiss with tongues, will be my forever. I can’t ask anyone because we agreed not to tell anyone for a bit. I wouldn’t know whom to ask. But I know no one could stop us.
I was upset. Because I chose to be sad. I decide to uphold a morose disposition often. One might say periodically. I distanced myself from the one who cares most. He only did something little, something so insignificant that I cannot recall. He wanted my company but I wanted to continue my jigsaw puzzle and told him he couldn’t watch. I banished him out of my vicinity. Then I craved him warmth when I had tuned his station to be cold. I withdrew and wept in my wardrobe. I was found and held. He sat in lap for I like to feel his weight. But I was trapped, a blubbering mess and I couldn’t get tissues. He told me that boyfriends were of multipurpose but I miraculously managed to find one a little beyond arms reach, however used. He wanted to see me face but I wouldn’t facilitate it because crying is ugly. He insisted and with brute force, he manoeuvred my face into his and told me that crying was beautiful and that he wished he was as in touch with his emotions. The radio had been playing all this time and when the song stopped he told me through whisper that he would still love me when I’m not young and beautiful anymore. I’ll keep you posted.
Today, a librarian complimented me on the stack that I asked to be lent. He was a little older and his spectacles made him look real knowledgeable. There were a few he had read and enjoyed with others which were penned by authors he were familar with. He continued with a recommendation whose title I found titillating. Pity they keep it at anoher branch. I came to ponder the significance of this exchange. I hadn’t dicussed literature with anyone quite like that. As this interaction was between strangers, there was a certain formality which to me, conveyed a degree of authenticity. As a librarian, I took his words about books to be authoritative. He gave me more than an intellectual conversation. he gave me a compliment on my choices. Not outwardly perceiveable ones either like wardrobe decisions.He made me feel real smart which is a novel sentiment for me.
I am everything I was afraid to be.
I am dependent.
I am attached.
I am mediocre.
I am poor.
And its okay.
Which setting do you have it on?
This weekend I hit an all time low. There had been a lot of anticipation for it, the first party in a while, with so many perceived reasons to drink as well. I took it beyond the realm of too far. Never made it to the party. Threw up in front of my local supermarket. Lost my keys and my favourite lip balm. Got into a paralytic phase. Spent two hours with my head in a toilet. Got so inebriated the entirety of my Sunday was spent in recuperation. My brain felt too big for its cavity and I remember thinking, “if my intercranial pressure is so great maybe my skull will crack and I’ll die and the pain would be over.”
Our saviour was my best friend’s boyfriend. For which I’m crazy grateful. Mine own upon hearing was jealous he wasn’t there and I thought that was really very weird. But then he explained, “cos youre so independent, you dont ask for help so its nice to be there when you actually need it…” Suck shit buddy you were busy. He also said that I usually maintain an element of class when intoxicated, especially never having thrown up. But no he supposedly sees me differently now ha.
It was a really humbling experience. The whole of everything. I’m going to make a thankyou for looking after me card bye.