We spend all of this time being comfortable with being alone, the aching long days and hours of finally accepting singlehood and BAM it’s all thrown out the window. It’s as if we’re training for a marathon, only to have our legs amputated. And while amputees have found ways to still run marathons (it’s possible, I’ve heard) the rest of us sometimes find ourselves right back where we started, anxiously hesitating the familiar Start line when we will have to learn how to run alone again, but with emotionally less of ourselves.
Love is smiling because they walked into the room.
Love is loving their friends and their family as they love them.
Love is accepting flaws and appreciating him more for them.
Love is him making your favorite food at the end of a bad day because he knows it will make you feel better.
Love is laughing until 4 in the morning one night and then hot, passionate sex until 4 in the morning the next night.
Love is being embarrassingly adorable and completely unaware that everyone else in the world thinks you’re embarrassingly adorable.
Love is so unique and mysterious to everyone it’s very hard to accurately define. It is that long, complex inside joke you have with one other person in the entire world that when explained to someone else, they give you a puzzled look and you say, rolling your eyes, “You had to be there I guess,” because no one else can understand it but you and the one you love.
O B S E S S E D … a little too obsessed. But i’m okay with it.
“Somebody That I Used to Know” by Gotye ft. Kimbra
This is my friend’s band from Charleston, South Carolina.
Y’all seriously… THEY ARE AMAZING.
Tru Colors. Coming out with a CD soon.
listen listen listen listen listen listen
(Source: prettylivin)
I can’t help but think, “What if?”
What if…
the drinking age was 18 again?
men and women switched roles?
my parents didn’t force me to go to college?
I was still with him?
My only answer is, “So what?”
What if the drinking age was 18 again?
So what if the drinking age is 21? We’re not allowed to drink because authority tells us too, yet some of the best drinking years we spend are under the legal limit. I’ve been “21” since I was fifteen, according to a tiny, rectangular piece of plastic that I hide in my wallet. No matter how many times it has been taken away from me, no matter how many friends of mine have received underage drinking charges, and no matter how many regretful decisions I’ve made while intoxicated, I assure you, I will never let this policy stop my fun. Besides, at the rate I’m going, I feel like once I actually reach the golden age of 21, I’ll be tired of drinking and resort to staying in on Friday nights with a bowl of popcorn and a good romantic comedy… Who am I kidding, that will never happen to me.
What if men and women switched roles?
So what if we live in a “man’s world?” We’ve come a long way since the earlier days. In fact, women have evolved into controlling not only their own cash flow, but their men as well. Little do men know that with every inch of skin we show, another string is tied neatly from their ligaments to our pretty little fingers. Back in those early days, women hardly showed their ankles, let alone arms or (god forbid) neck line. No wonder the men wouldn’t let them leave the kitchen, they were getting fashion tips from their grandmothers. Maybe we can’t make them stop being arrogant assholes every once in a while, but sometimes the puppeteer needs a break, too.
What if my parents didn’t force me to go to college?
So what if I can’t live in the Virgin Islands and drink away my parents’ savings? That all sounds lovely, but honestly where would I be in ten years? Drinking at the same sandy beach with a beer belly and five screaming kids, all with different (some unknown) fathers. I would be lucky to have a stable job by then. Even with all of the stresses of exams, hours, majors, and bullshit that every parent beams at the thought of, it’s pretty nice to be guaranteed at least a decent career in something. God only knows what that will be, but maybe someday I’ll be thanking mom and dad for making me take Principles of Biology… twice.
Finally, the inevitable end and possibly worst and most confusing part of my rant.
What if I was still with him?
So what if I’m single? So what if we broke up after three weeks of dating? So what if I thought I loved him too soon? So what if he wants me back? He does want me back, though. And I miss him… a lot. If I was still with him I would miss him more than I do now. Tonight I finally received closure, an hour long phone call of him telling me how he screwed up and how I deserved better and how he misses me a lot too and how he wishes he acted differently… What if he’s right? What if I do deserve better? He said the two of us are a right fit for each other, that he needs me. Strangely I never felt like he needed me, the whole time I thought it was the other way around. Sometimes it is during the act of closure that we define a relationship for what it truly was.
We (plural pronouns in present tense): functionally dysfunctional; crazy in love without a sense of time or direction; only having one purpose, to be with eachother.
What if I was still with him? So what if I don’t know? I’m not a fucking psychic.
I’ve been feeling very emotional lately. This month so far has sucked a large one. First and foremost “the perfect man” that I mentioned in my last post turned out to be far less than the ideal that I presumed him to be. He left my life almost as fast has he came into it, and left me broken and bewildered, without reason and without closure. Call me crazy, but… I. Need. Closure.
Basically he disappeared, stopped being so “crazy about me” for no apparent reason and I couldn’t handle the hurt so I broke things off. Part of me thinks if I maybe held on longer it might’ve gotten better, but in two weeks we would be 5 hours apart and that was not a risk I was willing to take. I could already foresee gallons of ice cream being consumed along with his absence and unanswered calls or texts. I pictured jealous rants based on meaningless Facebook comments or pictures. I pictured a lot more disappointment and longing than happiness and loving. I know that it’s not the most positive outlook, but for him to change so suddenly when we’re already an hour and a half away from each other, odds are it would be all downhill from there.
I want a guy I can study at the library with. I want a guy who will make me dinner and watch sports center with me while he’s rubbing my back. I want a guy who will take me to football games. I want a guy my friends and family will love. I want a guy who doesn’t think everything I do or say is “childish” (new ex did this a lot). I want a guy who will love me for who I am, breakouts, breakdowns, and all.
Please, God, throw me a fricken bone.
The Events of July 7th, 2011
1. I became an unofficial referee in a cat fight between two girls, one my best friend, the other a girl I went to high school with who is bat shit crazy…
2. My friend had to go the Emergency Room tonight because his teeth were knocked out by another friend of mine.
3. While in the waiting room of the ER, another friend of mine came in covered in blood, hand wrapped up in gauze and a surgical glove.
4. Feeling down on my luck, I wanted to redeem myself with good sumaritan points by driving a helpless young black boy home, to miles away in the ghetto.
I can’t explain how or why any of these events occurred in my life. Maybe I need some new friends. Maybe this is a book idea waiting to be published. Maybe God was giving me a chance to save myself. Maybe I was meant to witness it.
The only exception to my ridiculous night is the fourth event. Because of my lack of good fortune, I felt that it was my duty to give fortune to another. After everything horrible that had happened to me tonight, I hadn’t, at one moment, felt sad. It wasn’t until I saw this little boys face, hiding under the white knitted blanket the nurses gave him, that I truly wanted to cry. I saw his watery eyes. I saw the gauze underneath the clear bandage on top of his hand where the IV had been. I saw that he was completely alone. I couldn’t control myself, I had to offer him help or at least give him a caring intention.
He called 911 himself, thinking he was going through a fatal attack due to his Sickle Cell. I found him waiting outside the Emergency Room door leaning against the wall, eyes glazed, legs shaking from the weight of his body. His momma had no idea where he was.
He had no one to call and no one there for him, while my friend was stuck in the ER with four of his friends waiting outside. My heart broke for him. I did what I had to do. I had to give him a ride home. Even though it wasn’t my car, my friend Chloe graciously drove 6 miles deep into North Charleston, the fourth most dangerous city in the country, to drop this little boy off.
All I can hope for now is that this little boy never goes through I night like I have. This is a night I will truly never forget.
(Source: prettylivin)
After almost two years of being single, I have a boyfriend now! He’s so damn perfect. I wish I could see him everyday instead of having to be away from him for a week while I waste away in Syracuse, New York for a family reunion. Ugh. Trying to remain casual and not show how truly head over heels I am about him. This is harder than I expected…
First of all he’s the only boy I have actually liked since my last boyfriend. By liked I mean having actual feelings for, instead of having meaningless sex. My last boyfriend kind of ruined this whole “love” idea for a while. But now I have a hotter, sweeter man to call me his own. He drunkenly admitted that he wants to spend the rest of his life with me.. dangerous words to spill to a hopeless romantic but never the less I appreciate the comment. We met only three weeks ago, and yet I can easily say I’m falling fast and hard for him already. No doubts this time, no games either. Just pure unabashed affection and infatuation with a man who’s feelings are very very mutual.
Pinch me, I must be dreaming.
