black fur wolf
Friday. 3.29.13 8:57 pm
I can feel her distance like my ankle senses the length of sidewalk between it and an ice pack (achingly). I've been walking to class, ever since realizing that the bike ride wasn't quite gratifying enough (fumbling with the u-lock, sweating my balls off--things only my mother's genetics could possibly control), but it takes a greater toll on my ankle, which never really, properly healed.
I tell her about that, and she asks about a doctor visit (I have; I went through a month of physical therapy, and still this). We go on like that for a while. I know she's depressed, but I never realized just how much of an agonizing feeling it is to talk to a depressed loved one. Please laugh. Please express interest in my life. I'm like a puppy biting at ankles and pissing on the carpet. That fear rushes in, that your attention and support is inadequate. She won't laugh at my jokes, and I keep asking myself why I would expect anything different, right now. There's this urge to be encouraging and especially shallow and pleasant about conversation, because the last thing you want is to trigger anything.
I've been depressed countless times, but I'm still a total jackass, fumbling for the right thing to say and never finding it. I tell her I'm a jackass. She says a few things but I never hear outright disagreement (it's trivial, I remind myself. She probably doesn't care, right now. Not the best time to be selfishly apologetic). Shoot. I'm a dick. I've become a total asshole. I've been feeling it, myself. It's been a weird week, full of conflict and unsteady hands. The reminder that my two most recent major flames won't even look at me makes me take a second--and third, and fourth--look at myself. Is this the reflection of my affection? Is this the type of person I attract?
And how do I stop?
Insecurities, they pile like that. I think that's a big part of why she's depressed, but I won't say that, because it's a crappy thing to suggest. Yeah, thanks for the help. I'm really in a place where I'm ready to climb out.
I struggle to let her get there on her own. Seeing her like this is like a mirror on my worst days. After feeling all that, it's hard not to step in. But I don't know what she needs, and I think others do. Just a conversation. A small step. One little reach back into the world, after being covered by a black veil for months. It has to be slow and small, at first.
NO NO NO NO WRONG
Tuesday. 3.26.13 11:30 pm
I don't know how it is with other minorities, and therefore I'm not here to make mention. But the LGBTQQAAI community needs to get its STUFF TOGETHER.
So all the sudden, there's a crapload of support for marriage equality (thx Facebook/other media), and that's great! It isn't the biggest problem, but I guess this is a pretty small step that we all see coming, so...I get why we're moving forward here, first. It isn't ideal, but...whatever, it's still great. Good support. I like all this.
WHAT I DON'T LIKE is the poopy members of the community going off on straight people just because they aren't dealing with it in the most radical/aggressive/active way possible.
THEY'RE SUPPORTING US.
...I MEAN...SERIOUSLY...STOP... This is a big movement, and I don't care whether you just post the equal sign to your Facebook or if you color all your hair to look like a rainbow and rollerblade around town while, simultaneously, making out with someone of the same sex. I DON'T CARE. ANYTHING IS GREAT. THANK YOU.
This isn't about keeping our community safe from vocal heterosexual dominance. This is about being kind people. This is about representing THE ENTIRE MINORITY.
Just...grkrkjg! Be nice! It isn't that hard!
Sunday. 3.24.13 2:19 pm
I wake up to sounds of the ocean...the water rushing against the sides of the house, the waves making soft, gentle sounds. I wake up and think I must be at the beach--that, at some point, I entered a long and realistic dream that I didn't even notice.
This morning, the ocean came to me.
Flooding is always kind of daunting, but it happens too often, here, to be a terrifying affair. Sometimes, I find myself wishing I had a kayak, during the worst times, but...generally, it's okay. You get to enjoy living in a waterfront, for a few hours. All the plants look healthier, afterward.
I dreamt about Mike, for the first time. It was flooding in my dream, too, and he was helping me with a garden. He said, "I don't want to do this, anymore," and I just told him I was keeping the dog and that he would have to move out. I prefer that ending to what really happened, since, in this ending, I get a dog out of it and probably am still able to think of him fondly. I hate when things end badly. I hate when someone treats me so poorly that I can't like them as a person, anymore.
I'm not so much sad for myself as I am about the situation as a whole. It's a shame. My friend with a very distinct name and I were talking, the other night, and he asked how I was, and this was my conclusion: I'm a lot better than I was, because now I'm not really looking at my problems from an emotional point of view, so much as I'm looking at them as...problems from my past that now create present distance between two people who could have had a great friendship. I still think about the monster, sometimes, but now it's more like cleaning up the stadium after the Superbowl. How did I really feel about him? Is it really better that we aren't talking? Is he taking it too far by avoiding even looking at me?
I think I did like him, but that maybe it was more like having romantic feelings for a shadow of a person. Sure, there were present things about him that made me care so much, but...I think, somewhere deep inside me, we were still strolling around on a sunny day with our fingers laced together. And that wasn't him, anymore. I don't even know if it was me, anymore. Maybe not. I think we diverged, somewhere, but it was a difficult thing to admit. And, I think I was right to begin with--that it's best that we don't talk. Maybe never again. Maybe just at group events, and nothing substantial. Maybe it's even better that we aren't making eye contact. I feel like we're two magnets that can be held towards each other at a great distance, but, get them just a sliver too close, and they spring together before you can think about it.
And that is no way to live.
I'm cleaning it all up.
remember that entry when I mentioned that I'm oddly attracted to bio majors
Thursday. 3.21.13 10:18 pm
He has adorable freckles and blushes when the manager asks him if the girl in the picture with him is his girlfriend. Just friends, he says, genuinely.
Quiet, well-spoken, observant. Immediately I'm attracted to him.
Wouldn't it be funny...
"What major are you?" Him.
"Español," he responds.
He asks me to guess.
No I don't like this game. Because I think I already know, because it's always the same thing, regardless of what college they go to or what they look like or how they dress--
"Give me a category."
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO GO AWAY
"Biology major, pre-med concentration." I say with no anticipation.
"You would be correct."
OF COURSE I AM.
FUTURE DOCTORS ARE LIKE GIANT PIECES OF FLY PAPER.
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