“He’s not a bad person, but he’s also not a good one. I think he tries too hard to seem mysterious and deep, but at the end of the day, he only thinks about himself. Also he’s just selfish and uncaring of other people. He’s good at making you think he cares, but he has no problem dipping whenever he wants. That’s the signs of a shitty dude. And I’m just pissed that you did so much for him and he’s doing this”
Raza is sleeping right next to me as I type. Tonight, Cameron, Raza, and I decided on a sleepover, so I get the comfy red couch, Raza gets the foldout black futon, and Cameron gets to cozy up in his bed. I hate admitting this, but I turned the brightness all the way up on my computer for a second, and turned the light towards Raza’s face, to see what he looked like all sweet and cocooned under the covers.
Don’t get this mixed up, though. I do not have feelings for him. Read More…
There’s this boy that I’d been sleeping with for a while– his name is Raza– and over the past week we’ve gotten really close. An important aspect of our relationship was intimacy, so before I debrief into my self-psychoanalysis, I want to cover the sex (sorry mom and dad).
It wasn’t always the best.
Thought I’d share a funny short update on Nicholas Henry Holiday here, for the three people on here who’ve been following my life.
If you want a refresher, rereading the preface (AKA my first three-or-so paragraphs) of my On College Loneliness and My First College Boyfriend post would give all the context needed for this.
My closest friend Toph and I went on a friend date on Friday. It was sort of an early birthday celebration– really early, because I don’t turn 18 until January– but since Toph is going abroad on a trip with his Middle Eastern studies class during my birth month, we decided to dub it as such. That day was probably the best I’ve had in recent memory, and so I couldn’t help but update my Snapchat and Instagram stories every time we arrived at a new destination to show off its greatness.
In one of the captions, I hashtagged #FRIENDSHIP in big letters across the screen. My friend, Juniper, sent me a private message shortly after that read:
Damn! Friendzoned the shit out of his cute ass!
This post goes out to Charles E Stetson, the man of my dreams. He doesn’t know it quite yet, but we are very much destined to be with each other. What a beautiful, beautiful human. Every psych class, he sits two tables away from me and my eyes couldn’t feel more blessed than they do looking at his curly hair, glasses, and pullover sweater with the collar of his button down poking out.
He’s the one.
It happened only twice, but when I would tell people my goofy stories of how Nick Holiday would unconsciously call me by a different girl’s name, they would be in absolute shock. Everyone was always more distraught about it than I was.
Sometimes I hate being 17. Correction: most of the time I hate being 17. The only time I ever confidently claim my age is when I’m sucking up to old people who are absolutely impressed by how a 17-year-old youngin’ got her way into college a year before her peers. Besides them, everyone loves to patronize me.
“OMG. You were only nine months old when 9/11 happened?” My roommate, Flower Hussain, brilliantly deduced in front of all of her friends. We were on the top floor of Mellwitt Hall in room 410, and the gathering of girls were blown away at the prospect of a 17-year-old attending their institution.
Taking a break from the long posts I’ve been writing, let’s have some light fun and reminiscing of the good moments I had in my life.
Nicholas Henry Holiday and I would sleep together nearly every night, and I quickly found out that he sleepwalks. There wasn’t a single night we slept together that he didn’t wake me up. I thought I’d share the first time it had ever happened to me.
Going into my freshman year, I was told that college can be a lonely time for us adolescents. Had you known me exactly one month ago, I would have disagreed: I had a rich, popular boyfriend, went to parties on the weekends, and had friends galore. If you had asked me a month ago from tomorrow, I would have one-thousand percent concurred.