Up. Down. Up. Down.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold.

Christ. I’m never given any chance to adjust, or even catch on. Totally caught off gaurd with each change. 

At least I’m always on my toes.

It’s a strange sensation.

Count on Little Brother to take my absolute worst mood ever and somehow turn it into a mix of worst and best. 

This is why I love him. He always makes me smile. Best friends.

Music on.

Music loud.

Dancing.

1. Build a blanket fort.

2. Watch Legally Blond.

3. Dance. (Okay, that’s all the time)

4. More specifically, slow dance. 

5. Play all of my original Playstation games.

6. Get a tattoo.

7. Get a lot of tattoos.

8. Get a pedicure.

9. Get my lip pierced.

10. Put my tapers back in and force my ears to DEAL WITH IT until I have successfully reached an 8-gauge.

11. Find new jewelry for my nip piercing.

12. Read soooo many books.

13. Finish writing all of my stories.

14. Write more poetry.

15. Get sloppy drunk

Get dressed up.

Wear sexy lingerie.

Dance.

Give a speech.

Hug a stranger.

Fight someone.

When I was little, my parents separated for a little while. My dad was living in a house on the east side of Toledo, which he normally rented out. My mom stayed at home. I went to my dad’s every other weekend. 

It was the first time I ever saw my dad cry. I remember that. The memory of it still brings me to tears. I thought he was unbreakable… until I watched the cracks spread. 

He used to play two songs for me: Here Comes the Sun and Ooh Child. 

Oddly enough - though tied to really painful memories - these are two of my favorite songs ever. 

I was just considering places I really want to have sex.

1. A library/book store

2. A car

3. A kitchen table/counter

4. A hot tub

5. A sailboat. A little one. 

That is… without it turning into and OMIGOD OMIGOD NO WAI! post. Because that’s what happened to the facebook status about it. Lol. 

And Zach did ask for an explanation. Haha.

Soooo….

A while ago - it honestly feels like it’s been so long that I wasn’t expecting a response - I entered one of my poems into a contest. I wasn’t particularly thinking much of it, but it was the only way I knew to take steps to getting my name out there, I suppose. 

Not a serious contest. It’s an actual Poets’ Society of some variety, but the contest was on Facebook. I mean, I guess it didn’t seem like a serious contest to me. I think that was the appeal. If I never heard back… well… fuck it, it was on facebook, right? 

Anyway. Back to the good stuff. I was actually selected as a semi-finalist. Which means I’m in the running for $1000. Or a shiny medal. Lol. Honestly, I don’t care much if I place at this point. I’m just kind of stoked. My poem, regardless of whether or not I place, is going in a book. Which is, in my opinion, pretty damn cool. 

So, maybe I’ll do a little more with poetry than I ever planned. Because apparently it’s decent enough to be acknowledged by someone. 

I know it’s not a particularly big deal… but I cried. And I’m still shaking. Though I suppose that could just be because I haven’t eaten all day. 

I keep hoping for one more warm day.

Not so that I can enjoy a day outdoors like a normal human being… but because there’s this really old cemetery a couple miles from my house that I’ve been wanting to go write in. 

Is that wrong? I just want to put down a blanket and write. Something about that place is so… charged. It’s beautiful in its disrepair. And there is a lovely, dead tree right in the center that looks like it’s right from a Grimm fairytale. Every time I drive by, I have to resist the urge to pull over and go in there for a bit. 

Now it’s so cold that it’s really not an option, but if I could get just one nice day before Winter takes hold, I would spend it there. 

Just because I don’t want to text you 24/7 or go out to eat with you does not mean I do not care about our friendship.

It means I don’t pay attention to my phone much anymore. It means I’m feeling a bit introverted. It means I’m poor, and I hate it when you pay for me. 

It means I don’t know what to say to you anymore. Because, frankly, I don’t know how to be your friend when I’m constantly wondering if I’m going to say something that’s going to make you think I’m open to the possibility of more than friendship. It means the fact that you have feelings for me has severely complicated everything, and you either need to bear with me while I figure out how to handle it - because I can never reciprocate, or give up. Because harassing me about how you feel like I don’t care only make that awkwardness more obvious. 

It makes me uncomfortable to be around you now because you hold my hand and hug me too long. You don’t even just try to hold my hand. You forcibly take it. And then I feel obligated and awkward, and you act like it’s “just a friend thing,” but I don’t feel like it is to you, and I don’t like it. Being around you has started to feel like an obligation instead of a joy, because I’m constantly worrying about not being too close to you. 

I don’t want to hug you for any more that five seconds. Five is pushing it. I don’t want you to pick me up and spin me around. I don’t want you to jokingly grab my ass. I don’t want you to kiss my cheek. I don’t want you to try to keep me in the car when I go to leave. I don’t want you to refuse to get out of my car or leave my house. I hate hovering. Don’t do it. It makes me feel like you’re waiting for something. And what you’re waiting for will never happen. 

And I don’t know how to make you believe that either. Because I know I confused you before when I got jealous about your girlfriend. Because I was being a jealous friend, and I didn’t understand what my feelings were doing. And right around the time I realized there was absolutely no way in hell I was attracted to you (or even could be attracted to you) and I certainly would never want to date you… you suddenly realized you were attracted to me and did want to date me. And frankly I think that all came on because you were hurt about the breakup. 

But it didn’t go away. I really wish it would. I wish you could just be a normal friend. I wish you would stop saying I love you every single time you talk to me. I don’t mind it every once in a while. I love you, too - as a friend, a brother. But you say it constantly. And you call me pretty, and say you miss me - all things you did when we were established as just friends… but since you admitted to having feelings for me it all carries entirely new meaning, and I hate it. I feel… embarassed for you. I want you to stop acting that way. 

And you think it’s another guy’s fault. Like somehow, if he weren’t in the picture, I’d fall for you. That’s actually my fault. I used him as an excuse so that my rejection would hurt less. I should have told you flat out: I do not see you that way. I’m not attracted to you. I see no potential there at all. At the very least maybe it would stop you from telling me how much you don’t like him all the time. And you don’t even know him. So then you successfully piss me off on top of making me uncomfortable. I’ve tried to tell you since, and you tell me I’m lying. You reference the converation you had before. Why do you believe the lie and not the truth?

And then I want to spite you by being brutally honest. I want to tell you that you could absolutely never compare to him. No one really can. I want to rave about how wonderful he is. And then I realize that you’re driving me to the point that I actually want to hurt you to make you stop… so that we can finally just go back to normal. 

I miss you. I miss the you that I had before our friendship got complicated. I want it to go back to normal so I can have my best friend back. But while things are like this, while you’re trying to hold my hand and hugging me too long and hovering and complainining contantly about how you never get to see me… you will continue to never see me. Because I will avoid the discomfort. Because it’s all I know to do. 

So, there. There it all is. Spelled out. Honest. The things I don’t say to your face because I’m afraid of losing whatever hope there may be that things will go back to the way they were. 

But I don’t think that’s possible. I don’t think we’ll ever go back to “normal.” We might fake it well, but we’re always going to know. I’m always going to be uncomfortable with you. At this point, it would almost be a relief to just stop trying. To say, “Okay, we’re broken. We can’t fix it. Time to give up,” and go our separate ways entirely. But I’m afraid of what it would do to you if I disappeared from you life. You seem so much more attached to me than I am to you. So I respond to the occasional text message. I give in to hanging out about once a month. So I’m still present… but I’m sort of… phasing myself out. So eventually, when I do disappear, you might not even notice. 

Hell… maybe you’ll disappear first. 

…

Woah.

I really didn’t mean for this post to go past the first two segments. Apparently I’ve needed a rant. 

Here, Tumblr, have my secrets. It’s a pleasant relief.