neko chan

Too many thoughts racing.

Ugh.

Why?

Why now?

I need to stop.

STOP IT.

meh.

<3 <3 <3

I knew it was going to be awesome, but it totally blew my mind!

I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE NEXT FILM!

UGH.

I need to watch it AGAIN!

happynonsense:

It’s hard, you know, witnessing your best friend struggling, with anything really. Life at home, Life away from home, love, lost love, work, school, whatever.

Our topic of discussion:

Being wanted and needed.

Not necessarily a full blown relationship, but how it feels when you’re lucky enough to meet (not find, because you don’t search for that stuff, you peasant) someone who will meet you halfway and more. Someone who isn’t ashamed about how they feel about you and says cute shit even if it is the most cheesetastic thing you’ve ever heard. You can’t help but miss that, especially when you see it all around you.

We’ve both loved and lost. We’ve had our hearts broken but we’ve also been the one to crush another.

The knowledge and experience from past lovers, almost lovers, flings, more-than-flings-less-than-relationships, the-ones-that-got-away, creepers who won’t take a hint, the experience we acquired really makes one hesitant to continue being patient and waiting for that someone who will come into your life and make you realise why it never worked with anyone else.

This knowledge, makes it easy to turn off your feelings faster than you can say blueberry pie. It makes it easy to be “the other woman.” It makes it easy to make sure that this is just one night, nothing less, nothing more. We can make you believe those bedroom, love struck eyes we gave you were “real.” We’ll disarm you with a quick tongue and dangerously engaging charm.

Eventually, all these masked feelings will take a toll. You get tired, tired of pretending you don’t care. Tired of letting yourself be used. Tired of abusing your heart. No one else to blame but yourself.

& we attempt to hold on to the next thing that comes along, later realising, maybe, this isn’t what I want, but still hold on. Pretending to care, letting yourself be used, abusing your heart, until your Prince comes into your life to begin forever with you.

But when this happens, this is when you, step in, as the best friend and you say:

What the fuck are you doing?! You deserve the world, stop settling for less. Whether he is a thousand miles away, or your next door neighbour, the man you deserve, wouldn’t make you feel like shit. He wouldn’t make you question his intentions. If he only puts effort towards your relationship when he sees you slipping away, drop that mother fucker . When you’re giving 95 and he’s only giving 5, why do you stay? Yes, we have encountered guys who would have done anything for us, they would go to the moon and back, but you can’t force yourself to love someone who doesn’t make you happy. We gotta keep our heads up high, kiss a couple of frogs and when we finally meet them, our happily ever after, I think we will know. or, maybe we won’t know, maybe it will slap us in the face and stupify us and we won’t know what to do with it.

J: I’ll find him one day. Some day my prince will come~~~into my vagina.

D: He will come so hard, you’ll be like OH LAWDY JESUS, MY BODY AIN’T READY!

J: Jesooos Christ made me dis way.

Because we can never be serious for too long.

Amongst freshly laundered sheets, she lay
and I, unholy, reached for her.

Tracing dimples, supple spaces,
Taking what I didn’t deserve,

And how I loved her in the light!
Like none I’ve loved before,

Every inch, every crevice,
every crease, every bone,
every tear, every minute,
every stubborn heart of stone,

Every effort, every sigh,
Every unwanted goodbye,
Every scar, I have loved:

Her forever in the light.

I am going to start a church,
built from words of stone,
built with blood and bone,
built just like in Rome,

And we will worship empty altars,
and pray for love to make,
and pray for love to take,
and pray away the ache,

And like bacchants we will sing,
prancing wildly in the nude,
there, inebriate we’ll be,
both so evil, both so good…

Things I learn as I grow older: self-penitence is life’s most onerous labour. And yearning to forget that which refuses to be forgotten is the greatest burden of all.

It didn’t occur to me until today just how long it has been since I’ve sworn off emotional slash (pseudo-) romantic relationships. And now, just now, noticing my need to parenthesize and such makes me all the more aware of how, for lack of a more eloquent term, “fucked up” I am. Well, whatever. As I like to say, “we all have our Daddy issues.”

What really brought all of this to the surface was P.

And yes, we really are naming him “P” right now. And YES, we really are adopting the Carrie Bradshaw nomenclature technique to vaguely refer to our (pseudo-; and here I go again) “significant others” (wow, now I’m busting out the quotations) in ambiguous acronyms or nicknames only a step above the code names thirteen-year-old girls assign to their middle school crushes.

And no, no retraction appears in the future (of this post).

Tangents aside, this moment of enlightenment (slash “vulnerability”) was made apparent after a text message from the person in question. Damn, damn it all.

And the fact that I found myself goddamning my way through the morning post his SMS made my hyper rationally-trained ego feel uncomfortable. Suddenly, the territory was foreign, was scary, was unfamiliar. Just not long ago, I felt at home at this place—the emotional geography of vulnerability, of uneasiness at the absence of someone, of being able to “miss”. Time and experience, however, have led me to lose the art of “missing,” rendering me incapable in instances where the lack of someone challenges my tendencies towards detachment.

I don’t know what it is, but it’s there,  what really bothers me is the fact that I know this and yet I remain uneasy with it. Why does his temporary absence affect me? Why does it impress upon me so ? Most importantly, why does it matter?

In thinking about all this, I couldn’t help but consider the fact that I’ve been bothered by the wrong questions all along. Maybe, the real question I should be asking is, why does he matter? After all, at the beginning of this (pseudo-) “relationship”—whatever it is, and it certainly did not begin as anything emotional—didn’t I convince myself that it was a waste of time? That it was completely superficial and physical and expendable? And yet here I was, anxious, up in bed at five in the morning, wanting nothing more than him. Damn it all.

I begin to think that perhaps rationalizing human relationships wasn’t a wise decision. I used to be convinced that detachment and aloofness would save me from the disappointments brought on by the falling-short and the falling-out that often comes with caring about people. Maybe it just makes us more inept at handling things. Maybe, the confinement and limitation of ourselves and our emotions to those dimensions that can be subjected to explanation only makes us more inept at making sense of everything. Maybe, in this attempt, we’re only confining and limiting ourselves instead of saving us the trouble. Doesn’t psychology preach that denial only makes things worse? And really, when you think of it, doesn’t self-extrication and exclusion from the things we refuse to understand or deal with anymore (or “address”) are just another form of that?

The clock strikes six and I lie in bed. And we thought life was complicated at thirteen.

Miss Dior Cherie

and continued on about how it drives him wild. oh.