In which I romanticize something that never really worked in the first place // when I am mourning the loss of having a second half

I drove my gf at the time back from the homecoming football game. We had a talk about my fears (as usual) but then the light was golden and she was singing and her hair was so, so orange, and I thought “there can’t be anything as beautiful as that.”

I’m reflecting back on the year, and it makes me so melancholy, because there was a time where I looked in the mirror and realized I had everything I ever wanted. It was my ex's birthday and I was washing my hands in her bathroom. I looked beautiful. She and her friends were waiting for me in the other room. Her friends adored me, and I adored them, and I couldn't comprehend the idea of having a group of people so thrilled to see me. But more than that, I had a tentative but happy relationship with a girl I liked since the moment we met. It was all I ever wanted.

I’m reflecting back on the year, and it makes me so melancholy, because there was a time where I looked in the mirror and realized I hated myself. I sobbed my eyes out and wished I could unzip my skin. My ex and I had kissed for the first time -- and it was disgusting. I was too old to be reacting like this, but too young for prior experience. It was squishy and wrong and she tasted bad, but I was supposed to like it. Everybody liked it. As we head into the New Year, I dream about college; I dream about living in the mountains and getting away from it all. Will there be someone to understand me? Will there be someone to cherish me, and walk oh-so-slowly alongside me?

I think there’s something beautiful in the suffering. I think there’s something beautiful — if not a little dramatic — about letting yourself get rained on. It’s the same thing as getting wrinkles around your eyes and mouth; we sob, and our ribs grow stronger, and the stretch marks and creases say “I lived.”

My ex, now, is more of a symbolic lost cause. She is just another crushed hope that I have tried to mold into confetti. I worry that my mind will stay stuck on her forever. But today, I woke up to the fog outside my window, covering my neighborhood like a veil. And once again, I thought, "there can't be anything as beautiful as that."

Driving home from a football game. Gone wrong may be an exaggeration, but it takes 5 minutes of walking back to the car for the headache to fade. We finish an embarrassing conversation that leaves me wondering if I've said too much.

The blinker clicks. I mutter under my breath. I try not to take my turn too sharp and end up in the opposite lane; I successfully turn. I had told her before that she could put on music. Now, soft guitar fills the car, accompanied by her voice harmonizing and her fingers dancing up and down in the air as she follows the notes. Her hair is an apricot orange, lit by the golden hour autumn sun. Leaves float down from the trees and rush towards the car, skimming the windshield. She lets me leave the windows down.

It is the rushing of the wind. It is her voice lilting as she sings. It is her small, happy laugh when I offer my hand at a long red light. It is my headache fading. It is my insecurities lifted. The earth whirs, but my mind is calm.

we were young. him 11 and me 12, a sunny april day that we were spending inside watching a movie (La La Land. the end made him cry. i love that kid). Mia and Seb, on screen, finally kissed.

my boy, ever the quick-thinker, offered a kiss and i accepted, just a quick peck, and i spent the next twenty minutes staring at the floor and trying to compute that i had just been kissed. like for real. it was too much for my hopeless romantic brain to handle. i had been hyping that moment up for years and it happened on the couch in my den.

couple months later, he tells me he's gay. after taking a month to get over the rejection, it's been almost four years and he is now my best friend. i'm going to his house tonight to eat dinner with his parents and sister.

- listening to my dad on his work calls

- my name when typed or spoken by someone else

- the new shirts i got from Khols

- this book i’ve been reading called Simon the Fiddler which i have yet to finish but oh gosh, the writing is just so beautiful, the way the mc talks about music... i feel truly seen and understood

- cold air and the whisper of snow in the forecast

- waiting on writing competition results (which is more nervewracking than enjoyable, and i’m trying not to get my hopes up... but for at least one thing, i think i have a chance)

- the new pink color for my username on discord

- (momentarily) figuring out how to set up a bot for my friend on discord and feeling like a ~woman in sTem~

- the hamsa i colored pink, purple and blue that i taped up to the inside of my desk cork board

- my friend is responding to my texts again and i think she’s gonna be alright

- watching all the marvel and star wars movies with my friend

- writing a lengthy review of thor and why i didnt like it

- ^^ more specifically, being interested in something enough to write about it again

- recognizing directors before seeing their name in the credits

- singing at myself in the mirror

- good hair days

- hot chocolate

- my new bed and the bedspread i ordered

school is a prision

a place where i am somehow not good at the things i have always been good at.

red pen is the law

and my tears are the handcuffs.

self hatred in my veins,

so deep it makes the mariana trench look like a kiddie pool.

i’d jump,

i want to jump,

sink down into the ocean and become just another fish in the bunch.

but isn’t that who i am already?

just another fish,

pushed around by the sharks.

and naturally they don’t care,

nobody cares,

nobody sees the way i’m floundering.

My walls are up too high /

faulty defense mechanisims, like the button's jammed / lungs refuse to open /

they won't release, i feel like i could cry /

and i'm so jittery and scared i think i'll die /

it's 10:22 and i'm still awake /

watching the clock go forward, forward /

backed into a corner / i wanna hit the breaks / please drop the game /

i'll try and stay / please forgive me if i leave /

healing animal, that's what i am / fight or flight, i wanna flee / big brown eyes that cannot hide and tiny legs that break to carry me / healing animal, that's what i be /

kiss me with your mask on / we're seeing stars

honey / the world may have gone to shit / but at least we're / who we are

i lost the chance to touch you / i've fallen too far

at least we're alive / and that life is ours

my friend has the big sad.

she deflects and jokes and says it’s okay,

but she stares at the knives in her kitchen drawer and thinks, ‘i die today.’

my friend has the big sad.

her mom is sick, and it’s gotten bad.

my friend stays alive for her mom and her dad, but she’s tired of holding on.

so i try to text her every day,

do what i can.

the big sad doesn’t really go away, even knowing someone cares,

but maybe it’ll shrink.