I met Meredith once before last year during a party my (now) ex-boyfriend Charlie was throwing. Considering I was four shots in when we introduced ourselves, she didn’t leave much of an impression at the time. I heard from a couple of people after the fact– Charlie included– that she was pretty awkward and left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth. She tried to hard to fit in, they said, and she was mean and didn’t get anyone’s sarcasm.Read more
So, it’s been a minute. A lot has happened since October, and normally I frequent this hub more, but I’ve accumulated a lot of starts-of-blogs and not a lot of ends. There’s definitely a lot of boy drama happening in my life once again, and I lost my friends once again, and I also am homeless once again– all of which are important social contexts to consider– but I figured if I just word vomit on the page and post whatever comes to mind, I’ll feel less pressured to make my endings perfect.
a blog post I never published from September 23 about my depression, my now ex-boyfriend, and my best friend in college
Lately, there’s been this emptiness that’s been creeping up on me. It’s familiar. It reminds me of senior year of high school and the nights I spent still, staring at the ceiling feeling nothing for hours. Breathing is hard. My breaths feel long and intentional. When I exhale it feels as though my insides are quivering. Anxiety? Maybe. I don’t know. I’m not a doctor. I don’t want to self-diagnose. What if I stopped breathing. I shouldn’t think like that.
It’s over. Officially. The pretty boy whom I blogged about sitting two tables away from me in first semester psych one year ago pursued me for five months, dated me for nearly two, and broke up with me yesterday.
My feelings for my boyfriend have absolutely perished. Currently, I’m at the airport waiting to board my flight back home to New York after a successful freshman year of college, and I’m arguing with my boyfriend, Marlowe, about something that happened last night. Actually, calling it “arguing” would be a stretch considering I give no f*cks about the conversation he’s trying to have with me. He’s essentially been talking at me for the past 2 hours in absurdly long paragraphs.
When it comes to men, I’ve always had a knack for one-sided relationships. Almost every relationship I’ve ever been in has been a product of an intense crush they’ve had on me that I’ve felt too guilty to reject. It’s a cyclical thing that’s always happened like this:
I miss him so so much. I can’t even begin to describe how much I miss him. It’s the fucking vignettes, I’m telling you. I’ve always wanted to have a movie perfect summer. I’ve wanted it to be rose colored and warm so that, in my memories, I’d always be smiling or laughing. They’d be the kind of memories that played to a road-trip pop song.
“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.