more moping

I think that this is what I would like, in my romantic brain, though I am unlikely to receive it:

someone who likes the way I move
someone who thinks my laugh is great
someone who takes pleasure in my presence
someone that loves me for my idiosyncrasies rather than in spite of them
someone who notices the mole on my cheek
someone who adores small things
someone who wants to know me. all of me
someone who reads these entries
someone who keeps in touch with me
someone who wants to know how my day was
someone who wants to make it better
someone who lets me help
someone to be open and honest
someone that loves my cat
someone that has lost someone, too
someone that wants to hold me
someone that misses me sincerely
someone that feels
someone that talks.

I used to think these things were obvious until I started meeting people that didn't do them. our own experiences and needs are rarely apparent to other people. this surprises me. because I can tell when someone wants me to leave them alone. so I cease my interaction. and I can tell when someone wants more from me. that's when I tend to pull away. I am distance.
I have crushes on people and I don't pursue them.
there's just no point anymore. everyone is disappointing.

all this, all the time

when shiny and I were first together, I spent a lot of time online so that I could talk to him. constantly. I neglected the real world for the sake of being around him. since I couldn't do it in person, due to the distance, I did it online. it wasn't healthy. I knew it wasn't. but I liked feeling desired and I liked that someone that I thought was so amazing thought I was pretty awesome, too. in time, he faded, and stopped being so responsive. my passion didn't wane, but his did.
and I have to remind myself that people change.
he is not the person he was a year ago.
neither am I.

to think about the way things were is self-defeating. to think about how he used to be is self-defeating. to think about him is self-defeating. even to write these entries is self-defeating. it just reminds me of a past I thought would be my future, but died. it died.
and I make myself sad. and I make myself remember things I'd be better off forgetting. I might hold onto these feelings just so I feel something. but maybe being empty is better. it's more honest. what I'm doing now is like eating when you're not hungry. it's a habit. my sadness is habit.
I want the spring to come.
I want to push these memories from me. they serve no purpose but to hold me back. hold me back from what? from moving on. moving on to what? I don't know. a lack of attachment would be nice.

lacking motivation

curled up inside myself. found chat logs from over a year ago, when shiny and I were first falling all over each other. and I wonder what happened to him. and I wonder why it still hurts so goddamn much.
it doesn't hurt, it aches. it's a fresh scar that throbs when the rain comes. it's too many memories that play back over and over at random times. I still look for any sign of him. there is none. there is no one.
I hold onto these feelings because I don't feel much anymore. he was the last thing I felt passionate about. I make masks and art as a way to distract myself. I have a show coming up in less than a week. I'm going to be 30 a week from tomorrow. the age isn't a big deal. it's just another year gone by.
when I used to lay in bed at night, I would think about him. and before then, I would think about Pants. before then, ex-otter. before that, von. buttercup. ex-husband. various other partners. there's always been someone. I'm trying to clear out my head but when I get rid of those desires, it feels like there's nothing left. I don't know what to think about. tasks. stresses. school. throughout my life, who I love has always been the most important thing to me. it sounds fucked up, but what can I say? I'm a romantic.
my passion has always been people. it seems strange that I keep myself so separate from them now.
not that strange, actually. I realized that the bulk of the important people in my life that I have lost happened in the grieving period after ex-otter left me. I fucked up a lot and people walked. troy would say that means they weren't good friends. troy over-simplifies. they were some of the best friends. but things were strained anyway, and my inability to see beyond my own grief just exacerbated things.
I want reasons. I want logic. I believe there are reasons. I need that kind of sanity.
I don't know how much I really miss shiny. he was very sweet and open at first, then closed up. I know that I miss feeling adored and wanted and special. I really miss feeling special. I miss being in love. I miss passion. but these losses breed desperation and that is terrifying to people. I still have stupidly rigid standards, luckily. otherwise I'd be a much worse mess.
I know I should delete the chat logs. otherwise I'll just keep reading through them, and they're all over a year old, and I'm not that person anymore, and neither is he. I want to stop falling for emotionally unavailable men who aren't self-aware and don't share and won't ask for things.
and women still scare me. go figure.
there is more to me than who I love. I just feel so alone. I know that I'm not, that there are people who care, etc etc, but I don't have anyone to talk to about this stuff. no one that won't try to give me advice. I am doing what I can. it's just not enough.

oh sure, but maybe they could tell me

I can't sleep. so I figure it's a combination of hunger, the chocolate I ate, the nap I had earlier, and maybe the amount of time I spent staring at a screen this evening.
I can't sleep, so I keep thinking about how I've been asking troy to come over to take care of the cat, since he moved out before the new roommate could move in. no reason for it. not that I can see. other than the aforementioned chick.
can't sleep so my mind wanders to shiny. wonder how he's doing. but not enough to call, or ask our mutual contacts. not enough to actually want to know. thinking about the silence my therapist told me could be an answer. thinking about how I hate passive aggressiveness. even more than I hate passiveness.
can't sleep so I'll probably miss spanish class in the morning. couldn't sleep last night either, thanks to cramps and the neurosis my cat now possesses. I don't blame her.
can't sleep so I started thinking about the shit I need to do. call my psychiatrist, call my doctor, call the gas and electric company, make all these calls I find impossible to make. thinking about the painting I need to work on, and the paper I need to write, and the book I need to read. trying to figure out when I'll have time for it.
can't sleep so I was considering how I could get a medical marijuana card. not so I can smoke, but so I can cook and have little treats that help calm me down. you know, help me sleep.
can't sleep so I wonder how people are doing. wonder where they are. wonder why I don't hear from them.
can't sleep. I miss everyone.
can't sleep. I wonder if sleep can't me.
I wonder if people miss me.

care about me

since troy moved out, my cat won't leave my side. This is unfortunate, since I'm not home very much and when I am home, I don't necessarily want a cat attached to me thanks to the homework I'm probably doing.
troy and I have texted a little, but he's really severely distanced himself from me. this isn't much of a problem, honestly, except that I had fun hanging around him and I thought we would continue to hang out. oh well.
I am still waiting to feel something other than the usual loneliness. having him around really helped me out for a while. his way of approaching things was sometimes a little brash for me (pot, kettle, black, what?) and we are both defensive people so I think some situations ended up in places they need not have gone. it's easy for me to talk to him about things that don't have anything to do with him. you know, like missing my mom. but if it touched on him at all, it was very difficult to bring up.
I am in between things right now. I am essentially living alone, since the new roommate isn't moving in until april 1 and the other one is only home twice a week. I wish troy would just come over and hang out, just to keep my cat company. just to have someone to come home to and hug.
been wondering lately why I miss shiny. kind of a nice thing to wonder.
trying not to be bitter. it's difficult.
a lot of school things stress me out right now. but it all feels so transitory. it's hard to get too upset about it all.
after all, nothing lasts.
realized today that I have been the only constant in my cat's life for the past two years. and even I've disappeared for weeks at a time. poor kitty. but I always come back.
I miss having that sense of security.
I miss mutual love.

this is probably self-loathing

lonely. alone. the words have become synonymous to me, though they weren't always. back to being alone again in my apartment. roommate moved out yesterday. guess I have to name him now. let's call him troy. good ole troy-boy.
he chose yesterday to move out because chick came to see me. last time chick and I hung out was new year's, when troy overheard us having sex. sex is a problem for me, I guess. it always has been. it's how I've gauged my self-esteem. it's stupid. I don't really do that anymore. but that's not what things were like for chick and I, nor for troy and I. so let's change that to past tense. sex is how I used to gauge my self-esteem. now I think I do it for comfort and to get out of my head for a couple minutes. it's still a little self-destructive for me. but is it as bad as drinking? is it as bad as cutting? is it as bad as sleep-deprivation? I don't think so. at least I know the people that I sleep with. it isn't strangers and one-night-stands. I've only been sleeping with friends. and with troy, it was always sober.
so troy moved out yesterday. no warning. I was relieved, actually. I feel less relieved right now, because I'm alone, and my other roommate (you know, the one I've probably never mentioned) isn't here. she's rarely here. I saw her for about 30 seconds today. when she's home, she's in her room. I hate it. if I had someone else to take her place, I'd ask her to move out. she's nice, but I hate being left alone. I hate it. I hate being left behind. I hate feeling like nothing.
but really, who likes that?
maybe not everyone has the opportunity to know how that feels. maybe people put themselves in those positions. maybe that's what I've done. I don't know. my sister thinks I think too much. I think I'm alone too much. but I'm not willing to do enough about it. I just expect someone to swoop in and save me. there is no one to save me. I know.
I still miss shiny.
I don't really miss my roommate. I just miss having someone around. and I feel really awful for my cat. she loved troy. he was home a lot, and he played with her, and she cuddled with him at night. she was so content. she was so happy. she stopped crying. she stopped being neurotic. now what?
I hate how much I can relate to that. you get used to someone, you think they're staying, and then they're just gone with a shitty explanation. and how can you explain to a cat, anyway? how can you say, "it isn't you, it's me?" so that she'll understand?
I don't know. I told her again that I would never leave her. I told her again that I will always return. I hope that I'm not lying.
my old roommate, the one that bought Luca with me, hasn't been back to see Luca once. Hasn't written. hasn't called. nothing.
I hate this horrible, stupid world. I hate how heartless people are. and I hate that I let them be that way. I hate that I let myself be heartless too.
I hate that I keep expecting things to change without my actually doing anything to change them.
I stress myself out. I wish I could just relax. I'd get more done that way.

I've been worried about my lungs.
the pneumonia was back in october and I still don't feel completely recovered. it's been five months. I developed asthma at some point. the wheezing when I ride my bike is not only embarrassing, but it makes my heart's job a lot harder, too. I tire easily. I'm not sure what to do.
even before the pneumonia, my lungs weren't functioning optimally. I don't have asthma attacks, but it's definitely not easy to breathe deeply. I don't know what it means.
my heart hurts sometimes. is that related?
my well-oiled machine is lacking parts. my well-oiled machine is running dry.
I want something to feel hopeful about.
I want to function fully.

not anything

shiny used to lick my wrist. I loved to watch his tongue press against my skin as much as I liked the feeling of it. my roommate rolls his Rs at me because I become transfixed by the fluttering of his tongue behind his teeth. he looks at me with heavy-lidded eyes to gauge my reaction. it is hard for me to not push him back against the couch and beg him not to leave.
but the truth is that I want him to leave. what we do, what we are doing, has only ever been temporary. and he teases me with the mention of love but I do not give in. I deny his jokes. I know the power words have. I do not want to go down that path. I'm not sure what I would do if he told me that he loved me. he's not the type to say it first, luckily.
we were lounging in the living room yesterday. he played with the cat. I worked on a paper. I called him by shiny's name. "you think about him a lot, huh," he said to me. "I guess I do."
still haven't heard from shiny. probably won't. can't kill the hope, though. not sure why it stays. I'm illogical. everyone is illogical. nothing can be predicted. say "I knew this would happen," but you didn't. if you knew, you would not have needed to do it.
I've been sad and lonely and looking for something to hold onto. I freaked out badly yesterday and tore through the cabinets in my bookshelf, desperate to find something with my mom's handwriting on it. handwriting has always been important to me. I found the card from her memorial service and the envelope with the lock of her hair in it. I was sobbing when my roommate came in and put his hands on my shoulders. I was inconsolable.

I found a birthday card she sent me several years ago. I want to get "mom" tattooed on me in her handwriting, under an elephant. I like getting other people's handwriting tattooed on me. at this point I have von and ex-otter's handwriting. I have some of buttercup's ready. I would like shiny's and ex-husband's too. I don't even know what shiny's handwriting looks like. that's bothered me for a long time now.
I left the card open on my bedroom floor. there are things that she left behind when she visited that I've been unable to get rid of. it took me months to move the book she left in the living room.
can't let go.
can't get over anything.

who's listening?

two guys today that made my heart almost beat. one at whole foods. he was ringing up my food. the other one at the bike rack. he had a bike and was singing to himself. not my type, so to speak, but maybe the other guy was.
and I found myself thinking, "why let yourself get worked up over a guy? it's women you should be pursuing, not these men that will only misunderstand you and break your heart." and besides, in this town people don't make the first move with me. I have to do all the work.
so fucking frustrating.
haven't heard from shiny. oh well. big surprise there. I guess it's time I let go of that. it's hard, though, since he was with me when my mom died. since he held me at 2am when I was sobbing over her. since he was so many thing I wanted.
hard to be alone. hard to be here, alone. another friday night and I stayed at home. I could have gone out. I could have. but I didn't. so sick of people. so sick of not being around people.
tired. just tired. mostly of everything.
I need hope to come back to me. I need it to come back and stay.

I miss things

a little more bitter, a little more sweet. add lemon. add maple syrup. whiskey and tea. mix it. drink it. but it doesn't fucking matter.
I've needed so badly to get out of my head. so badly. and I haven't been able to figure out why the art doesn't work any more. then tonight I realized that it's because I lost my passion. all my life it is what has sustained me. now it's gone and without it I have nothing.
not have nothing. am nothing. I don't know who I am now.
haven't known for a while.
don't know what to say anymore. the words were all there just a minute ago.
too much sweetness. too much. the whiskey helps fog me, but it doesn't take away the melancholy. the loneliness causes that.
drinking doesn't take that away.
but if I drink enough, I don't care.
usually I keep myself from getting to this position because I know it will be bad for me the next day or so.
look, I've been drinking. I'm sad. not as sad or despondent as I've been in the past, but still there. sad. I miss people but I don't miss myself too much. I just miss the passion I used to have. but isn't this where I wanted to be, anyway?
didn't I want to be more consistent?

telling myself what I already know, but now you know it too

last night I invited my roommate to share my bed with me. it wasn't for sex, it was for comfort. he held me and when I sighed and started to attempt to control my breathing, he asked what was wrong. "I miss my mom," I replied, and realized I was crying.
It still feels dumb that I cry because I miss her. that I am nearly 30, and I cry over my dead mom. it feels dumb that I have so much trouble accepting that she is gone. my birthday's in a few weeks and it's going to be the first time I haven't heard from her on that day. part of me is numb. part of me is screaming.
I can't get outside of myself to see this from another perspective. I can't look outside of me to say, "it's ok that you are sad. that is expected. it's not dumb. death hurts. permanence is hard to wrap your head around. loss is devastating." I always expect myself to accept things immediately, despite the fact that I have never done that.
like this shit with shiny.
every time I hear his name, it feels like a tiny piece of me withers and dies. every time I say his name, I am emptied a little more. maybe I need to talk about him to someone that can listen, instead of just typing here. but people always want to give me advice. I don't want advice. I just want someone to listen and empathize. to say, "that sounds hard," not "you'll be fine." because you don't know that. you don't know that I'll be fine.
when my mom was in the hospital, I said to her, "you know that you'll be fine, right?" and she nodded. nodded because the tube going down her throat didn't let her talk. well, she wasn't fine. she died.
she died, and then shiny left me, and then I got poison ivy, and my step-dad doesn't like me, and my friends scattered, and I got pneumonia, and I had to go to the hospital, and I missed school, and shiny led me on, and the year ended. I let it take some of my sorrow with it. I let it take some of my self-pity and self-loathing. but it couldn't erase all of it.
it takes me a long time to process these things. my sister once told me that I shut myself off. it's true. I can't handle it all at once, so I let it out a little at a time. it took me four years to process my dad kicking me out of the house. it took me five years to get over California. I don't know how not to put things away into boxes. I don't know how my sister deals with the loss of my mom. through her kids, I think. it's different when you have people depending on you. I have my cat. she helps a little. but she didn't know my mom. and she can't commiserate.
I try to throw myself into self-realization but it can only take me so far. looking in the mirror doesn't change things, it just makes you aware of your appearance.
of course, admitting there's a problem is the first step.
I have made admission into an art form.

passengers in training

Boston yesterday. lunch with one of shiny's roommates. hung out with puppy. went to the museum of science. and I missed shiny. went to the planetarium and fell asleep thinking about how once upon a time it would have been with his hand in mine, or my head on his shoulder. I missed his bigness, and his quiet, and his smile, and his warmth. I missed his presence.
on friday I went to see my therapist. "I sent a letter to shiny." she was surprised. when I tried to explain, I told her I felt foolish for wanting him back. I told her that I was trying to remember the things I didn't like about him.
"how about his communication?" she asked.
I thought that was something that could be worked on. I thought I had time. just like I thought I had time with ex-otter. I thought we had the rest of our lives to work out our problems. but that wasn't the case.
so many people I have lost. so many people gone. and I am so resentful for the absence. I am so angry.
I told my therapist that, too. that there are people that I just can't forgive for not being there for me when my mom died. I can't let go of the sense of abandonment. and I feel guilty because I know I have been unavailable when people needed me. so maybe I deserve this. maybe I should be alone. why would I have good friends when I myself am not a good friend?
see, there's that selfish thing again.
the thing about being alone is that, sure, you don't get hurt by people. but things hurt a lot more when there aren't people around to support you. so my therapist told me to think about who of my friends I would like to get close to again. To whom do I want to express my disappointment? I don't know. I can't let it go. I can't let anything go.
I tried to tell joy, once, how difficult it was for me that she tried to convince me that my mom wouldn't die. I have tried to tell people how their blind optimism makes me angry, angry, angry. how believing that things will be ok just doesn't work, because I have lived that lie. my mom didn't get better. shiny hasn't come back. my relationship with my dad is still ghostly and my brother is still absent.
I write here because I have so few people I can talk to about these things. maybe no one at all. the times when I write the least are the times when I have someone to talk to. the times when I write the least are when I'm happy or when I can't feel at all.
I am not as despondent as I was at the end of 2010, but I can feel that something in me given up. given up on people, on life, on myself. I still act like the same person, to some extent, but I wonder what I'm doing as I'm doing it. Why am I laughing? I don't really feel joy. Why am I talking? I have nothing to say.
mostly I think I'd rather sit alone in silence then be with someone and have to pretend I care.
lately I've wanted to get fucked up. then I remember that the thing I used to do to keep that feeling at bay was art. I used to make those masks. I just don't have time anymore. I don't have time, and that hurts too.

melodrama without the --

against my better judgment, I sent the letter. I think I know what I hope it accomplishes. I think I want him back.
so to temper myself against disappointment, I have started thinking again of all the things I didn't like about him. the physical and emotional attributes. and this is what I mean when I say I'm stuck between letting go and hanging on. I don't know why I give him so much power over me. power he doesn't want or utilize.
sometimes I feel so young. (like the way I let this all affect me. like the way I write letters to him. like the way I write about all of this at all.)
sometimes I feel so old. (like the way I feel when I think about how much I miss my mom. it feels like my skin is hanging off my skull, like my face is sagging, like everything aches all at once. I can feel everything pressing in on me and the weight is like being hundreds of feet underwater. the weight is like walking against the wind. the weight is like laying down in the shower and wanting to never stand up again. there is timelessness at the same time as feeling the inevitable crush of age.)

and sometimes, thankfully, I don't feel anything at all.
my passion has all been bled away by living.
it's so hard to miss something that only ever caused you pain. that is a thing for younger, less lived-in people to do.
I am not old by years. oh no. I will be thirty a month from today. that is barely any time at all. I have not lived as much as some people, but certainly more than others. and I have felt more than some will in a lifetime. and it has made me tired, and cold, and it has killed parts of me, and it has made me entirely the person that I am today.
sometimes I am thankful for that.
other times I wish I could have been more evenly tempered those years ago when I was screaming out my passion.
it's too late. all I have to work with now is what is left. and I still wish for pills to take the feeling away. I still wish to be numb. just to get through the next few years. until I can move away and start everything all over again.
I cannot stand the new england life.
it only furthers the death of who I used to be.

when I think about you, it hurts like a dream.
like a dream does when I first wake up.