Everywhere for Nothing.

I spoke with the USMC boy, he said that I've always been right, about him, us, the world. His anger management counselor showed him a power-point, the visualization helped more in just a few moments than I was able to get through to him in over a year. utter failure. I told him I'm, "okay." and, I am.

I'm turning into the person I used to be. happy, excited for life, friends and family. I'm the guy who meets his friends for a two-hour-coffee-talk about nothing at all, except that the world is a cesspool and we're trying to wade our way through it all, without slipping and being submerged.

I don't know if I'm just socially awkward, or socially handicapped in a much more serious way.. but, I'm enjoying life and all of the embarressing, heart-crushingly awkward moments along the way. Maybe it has to do with my blindness of pop culture. Maybe it's that I'm too self-absorbed to look and see what the rest of the world is doing for fun. But, I guess I've never been partial to spending more time picking out clothes than eating, and I'll never be fond of stabbings, shootings, or rapings.

On a bus to nowhere, meeting a boy for pitas and Matt White. It's Thursday. I'm not going to classes tomorrow, because I'm spending my night in a room where I'm told I may be peed on, also because I decided that $52 and 12 hours of travelling time is worth good company and a better party in Virginia. I almost don't recognize myself, I have a life. This is college.

unjustified disappointment.

Maybe I'm jealous that people can live life with such little regard for anyone else. I want to not care. I want to be apathetic and fuck and lust and not think. I'm disappointed, and it's not justified. I brought this upon myself.

The thought that someone would lie to me.. It's almost maddening. Is there some quality about me that makes people think that it's okay to lie to me? Is it the chewed at hangnails that make me not worthy of truth? Maybe it's the way I wear my hair, or that I'm underweight and can't help it no matter how much I eat.

I have toes that get so cold they burn. Knees I don't think to wash behind every time I shower. I'm self-conscience about every hair on my body. Cheeks that have had the softest, saddest tears roll so slowly down them that I couldn't help but to gasp without breath. I'm human, just like you. Why do I deserve to be lied to?

Shattered Dreams.

My roommate is a pre-med-biology-major. She says she's going to cry when she gets her doctorate. She doesn't get the best grades, and maybe I'm just jaded, but I'm fairly certain that medical school is kind of competitive. I don't want to be her friend when the time comes and she's not accepted. I don't want to see her crushed. That's not something I'd want for anyone.

losing it.

I didn't go to my morning econ class because, well.. it's cold and snowy outside and I'm boycotting oil, so it's cold inside too. It just wasn't happening. Now I'm going to my German class to listen to my civil-war-reenacting-outrageously-loud professor ramble about nothing.. so I'm in a rush and cleaning up from my monster breakfast, put everything away and about to leave... and I realize I put the toaster in the fridge. I'm a blubbering fool and I shouldn't be allowed to interact with society. bah!

Vagina Monologues.

Simply amazing. I wish I had a Kunt and that it would tear and bleed and be a beautiful flower for everyone, especially myself, to enjoy. I think it's an experience everyone should have. -Seeing the monologues, not having a Vagina.

This is the first thing I've been proud of my school for. Awesome.

Das ist super!

dreadfully early morning class, rushing to get all of the notes from older-gay-disgustingly-intelligent professor. i hope to be him someday. he talks about drinking vodka and is elitist in the most horridly classy way.

rush to economics, midterm. twelve (yes, 12) minutes after the start of the test, i'm enjoying some pizza-n-dew in the SAC. i wish it was as sexy as it sounds, but it really isn't at all. i eavesdrop on a jewish gay boy talking about how chaotic his dating life is. i just want to hug him, but i'm not attractive enough, or brave enough to ever do that. instead i cowardly eavesdrop, and reflect on how quickly i finished my test.

two hours of german, and i love it. i get an A on my test (again) after minimal effort, and feel badly for those who can't memorize the almost english vcabulary. there is a red haired girl whose hair is so messy but perfectly curled, and is just beautiful. i want to be straight and marry her and love her. i want to know if she wakes up in the morning with perfect locks of sloppy curls falling everywhere. i want to tell her that it's okay to be the only single girl in our german class. i want to tell her how there is always a dried booger dangling from her nose, but that i don't mind and i'd prefer it if she kept it there. she's beautiful.

rush home. laundry that hasn't been washed in a month. shower for a date i won't admit to anyone i'm going on. i even shave. clothes shopping for him, book shopping for me. i beg him to read The Kite Runner, he says maybe over the summer. pizza, snow, and legless homeless beggars. he kisses me for the first time, in his car. i almost ignore it. he's nice and sincere, so i return the kiss. he tries aging to kiss me while at a red light in rush hour traffic. i say no, but smile sheepishly. tetris for forever, i dominate. one more (successful) kiss, and he's gone. home, to friends who don't know i exist. who don't know their friend is playing with the heart of a boy who just needs a break from stressful relationships. we're going to talk about dating next time we cuddle and kiss. i'm going to try to say not yet, but i'm weak and will give in.

i'm pathetic. i need to talk to the red haired girl, maybe she'll know what to do. maybe she'll ask me to be her nearly straight fag, and go to all of the parties with her. hopefully, maybe.

homemade pie|Camel Toe Cup

finally got around to making my own homemade pie!

--breaking news--

you can buy a camel toe cup, here. I almost lost my dinner. Fantastic!

drink.ink.

I play host. I pretend to be an adult. It feels like all we ever do is pretend. I cook slowly to be sure not to destroy dinner or send anyone to the emergency room with food poisoning. London broil, mashed potatoes (with skins still intact), broccoli and garlic pasta-loadedwithbutter, garlic bread, and salad. One bottle of wine later, dinner was served. drunk.sloppy.hott mess of a host. Jose, of the Cuervo-persuasion, and I are good friends. REALLY GOOD FRIENDS. I'd let him fuck me, we're that close. instead, I kiss everyone. that's a lie, I'm lying to you already. Not even I, being a messy-happy-say-sorry-million-of-times-drunk, could bring myself to kiss my best friends brother. or her date. but I DID kiss everyone else. some were too drunk, lazy tongues.. some were terribly aggressive, throwing people against walls and sticking tongues down throats.choking.suffocating. no, wait.. that was me. My russian princess left me. She's beautiful and cold. too cold for relationships. too beautiful for me.

I learned that I can only read with one eye closed when intoxicated. Also that I'm a whore. bah!! I kissed his friends. yes, USMC's friends. at least one of them is single. I'm a terribleterrible person and have ink for blood.

I told Casper, "I think I like you a lot". I told my Rainbow Boy, "I love you, skittles". I have a date with the first, the later might be discharged from the Navy for being gay. I'm just glad it's happening after we dated, so I can't be blamed at all. Is that bad? Does it make me a bad person, that I'm mostly glad that I can't be blamed for someone else's misfortunes? ink for blood. I'm writing this with blood spilled by a rusty tack that was holding your picture on my wall. inkforblood. let me be the pen that writes your life, please?

I am a writer.

I guess this is the part where I delete the silly and awkward pictures off of my hard drive. Her face and eyes and lips are just taking up space. My heart is just taking up space.
Thinking in the wrong pronouns and arguments about genderfucking, oppression, and left-wing conservatism. Our relationship was sour in the end.
The end.
Except this isn't really the end. Nothing stopped, it just dissolved. Melted. We were ice cream that turned into a smoothie that turned into a sticky mess smashed into the carpet.
I'll delete the pictures, but not the words. You can get rid of the images but not the feelings.

-Zoe Trope
[PDKTF]

Ultimately, I ended it. He's in the USMC, and I'm just a silly college boy who dreams of love and loves, but doesn't really love at all. What started as a one night stand, turned into a rocky and unpredictable barely-over-a-year long relationship, turned into a war head of a break-up. sweet-cheek-puckering bitterness.

It was a relationship. we dated and fucked and I met his parents and family, but knew he would never meet mine. He's black. I'm not. We both cared.. maybe too much, probably too little. Selfish, I just wanted someone to turn to. Emotionally neglected as a child. I'm a masochistic sadist, I knew from the start it wouldn't work. Oh, but I wanted it to. I wanted it to work so badly I wished and wished, and would have sold my feeble little soul if only I could know it would work out..

No matter how soon I start dating, the taste of his lips salty with tears remains on my lips, with the slight buzzing feeling of bliss. The perfectly genuine smile that allowed me to do nothing except tear up and smile, and hate him for making me so happy. The never ending energy that made me feel alive from the very first moment I opened my eyes every day, until he kissed me and I fell asleep. It all remains. He's gone, but the feelings are still there. They will always be there, even after I've dated and fallen in love with someone else who is absolutely perfect in their own ways, even after I'm married and have two children and spend my weekends grilling for my family and friends because I can't stand the thought of being alone.. I'll always love him for what he did, didn't, and couldn't do for me.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter. He's in the USMC, and I'm just a boy. We were never meant to be. I love him, and I hope he will love someone else, but in a different way.