Left school for the weekend despite being invited to things, events happening, and having work to do, I needed to get away from it all for a little bit. I was doing fine, even considering telling my parents “sorry, I’ll have to come home another time” because of everything that was going on, but then on Thursday I just started feeling…ill.  

I hate that since my life has gotten to the ideal place that I’ve wanted it to be in for awhile, yet I can’t seem to handle it. I have a lot of different friends, I’m an editor on the school paper, and literally just landed my ideal part time job working on an actual, real newspaper. My weight could be better, but I’ve been getting a lot of positive attention for my looks lately, which is definitely weird. I am not at all used to getting compliments based solely on my appearance from strangers. In fact, it pretty much never happened until I got back to college three weeks ago.

This is such an in-between place in life, even more so than high school, I think. In high school you’re still a kid, for the most part you kind of know what your next step will be, and you still live under someone else’s control. In college/around college age (at least for myself and many other people I know), you’re caught in a strange place. You still identify with teenagers and teen culture, you’re not totally financially independent but you’re almost…transitioning into it. You’re in a learning environment, yet many professors will treat you more like an equal than a kid they’re babysitting. You start looking for real jobs, wondering about your career, wondering about if casual dating could become a serious relationship, or maybe not.

It is kind of overwhelming. I’m an adult. I can vote, I do not live with my parents, I have a real job in a real office. Yet I still go to school. I still only can work part-time because of school, so I’m still dependent on my parents financially, yet I no longer have to follow their rules or constantly try to meet their expectations. 

I wonder where I’m going.

Old Friends and New Friends

When I got to college, I had a lot of expectations and ideas that turned out to be different from reality. That is not necessarily a bad thing at all, because it’s only my second semester at this school and I have a close-knit group of female friends. This is something that growing up I never, ever had. I always had one or two close friends and then a slew of school-based acquaintances. Now I’m part of a group of six girls, which is kind of crazy. And for once, I’m not the least important friend. That feels great.

Honestly I’m pretty proud of myself for being able to reach out and make friends. That’s something I never thought I’d be able to do in high school, so it’s kind of like one big stepping stone passed. I have five really cool, different, silly friends that I really love. I also have other friends outside the group, but I could use more of those. I need to not be afraid to introduce myself to people. I had this weird friendship-hungry rush of adrenaline or something the first week of school and was introducing myself left and right. Now that I have a secure friend group going, it’s harder to put forth the effort to meet other people, especially because I really like being alone. Last week and most of this week is going to be spent by myself in the library because I have an overwhelming amount of work to do, a midterm to study for, and a speech to prepare. Anyways.

As for my old friends, I let go of a lot of people when I left high school, but I guess that’s just the way it goes. I still see my oldest and dearest high school friends (who graduated two years before me) from time to time, they’re just those type of relationships that never go stale, even when you all live in different places. Months can pass, and it’s like nothing’s changed. Those types of friends are hard to find, so I’m glad I have a few of those. One of my high school friends who I really only got close to my senior year is still one of my best friends and I’m always really excited to see her. 

Then there are some old friends, one in particular, that I’m not sure what to think about. Our whole friendship we always lived a half hour a part and would go months without seeing each other, but we’d talk on facebook or on the phone every day. Ironically, we now go to the same college and finally live a mere five minutes walk from each other, yet we communicate even less than before. I still love her, but it feels like we have really little in common all of a sudden. We’ve been friends since first grade, yet I feel like the length of our friendship is one of the only things keeping it together. I don’t know if she really cares about me anymore. 

One more thing to mention again: I really would love some more new friends, and internet friends definitely count as real friends. I don’t know almost any of you who follow my blog personally, but I would love to be your friend.

The Hardest Person to Write About

There is a man here on this earth that I love more than any other person, and for some reason, that makes him the most difficult person in my life to write about.

I feel like this goes beyond the cliché “I can’t put my feelings into words,” because I can. There are a million words to describe all the feelings and thoughts I have about him, the trouble is just choosing the right ones.

There are moments I have with him that make it feel like time has slowed from it’s usual brisk jog almost down to a stop. The air feels different, the light looks different, and it’s as if in those moments my mind is attempting to take a photograph to keep the memory as in tact as possible, but the photo is overexposed. I feel like gravity has just stopped working and that we’ve fallen off the planet and everything in the universe is now existing on a completely different plane and we are alone with the elements of the earth.

Even as I write this, it does not seem totally accurate. There is always a point in your relationship with someone that your feelings spread far apart from the simple “I like you,” and “I love you,” into something that takes you far out of your body and into something else. This is the kind of thing that Shakespeare and millions of other authors have tried so hard to write about. Unfortunately, while we try the best we can in sonnets and songs and novels and Hallmark cards, we will never get it right. Yet just like myself, we try and we try, and I’ll continue trying until I have run out of possible combinations of words, or I’m dead, the latter being the most likely end.

Calling him my boyfriend, although that’s what he is, seems petty. We’re best friends, we have been since I was a freshman in high school. Calling him my “high school sweetheart” isn’t right either, after all, we didn’t get together until he was already out of high school altogether and high school memories are not the first thing that comes to mind when I think about him.

His name is Alex. Truthfully and legally, his name is Christopher, but he’s been called Alex (his middle name) since before he can even remember. He is strange and has brown eyes and wears glasses just like mine; we’re almost the exact same level of blind. When we met, he had really nice long hair like River Phoenix. Now, being in the Marines, his hair never gets more than two inches at any once place, but that’s just fine. I’ll still think he’s handsome even when he’s bald.

Right now, we’re far apart. After spending years evolving in his presence, physically, he’s thousands of miles away. As cliché and naïve as it may seem, the distance has somehow brought our minds closer together, even though our bodies spend a lot of time apart. It only makes the moments that we’re near each other again seem that much more like magic. We were happy before he left, but there is a change as well. We now know exactly what we’re missing, so we hold on to those moments we have like they are the only precious things left in the world.

He’s a better cook than I am, but I’m a better baker. We can both sew, but he does it only for necessity whereas I do it more for fun. It goes back to the one part of him that is just very good at fixing things when they are broken or torn. He fixes the holes in the knees of his pants just like he patched up the spots of me that had been worn down by the life I had before we met. He holds me together, and I care for him fiercely.

We both like reading, but we have very different tastes in books. He loves those super complex fantasy and sci-fi novels, where as I prefer non-fiction and realistic fiction (not to say I don’t like fantasy too). He uses books to escape to another world so far from ours that it is almost impossible; I use books to escape the pettiness of my own life for a few hours while I slip into someone else’s. He says he hates sad books and movies, because there is enough real sadness in the world, and maybe he’s right. Maybe myself and others are just using other people’s sad stories to make our own sad stories seems less so, and he’s beyond that. Perhaps, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.I’ll never quite know, because it’s impossible not to believe every single word he says. He is one of those magical people who doesn’t speak very much, but when he does every single syllable means something.

The best way I can describe him right now is that he fills me with life in a way nothing or no-one else can. He is the brightest beam of light that shines into the dusty attic of my heart. But he is more real than any metaphor about him I could ever write. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” Shakespeare rhetorically asked his love a long, long time ago. I could compare him with so many things. I could personify the moon and the stars and the ocean to fit his image and help paint a picture of him for the world, but it would never be quite right, because to me, he is much more real than any of those things. He is the most possible impossible thing that will ever float into my world, and like all possible impossible things, novels and epics will be written about him that will never pinpoint what makes him so grand.

He is difficult to write about because he is not a character, he is not just a story. He is real. The most real force of life I will ever know, and no matter how many books are written about it, real life cannot be read on paper, it can only be seen, and tasted, and felt, and felt about.

For him, I feel an encyclopedia’s worth of feelings with 100 thesauruses’ worth of different words to describe those feelings wrapped up inside. Every day, the words and their meanings continue to expand with every thought I have of him, with every time we make each other laugh. We’re both impossible people living in a world of possibility.

Our story does not exist on paper, but in everything else.

Here Comes an Unnecessary Personal Rant

I didn’t start this blog wanting to post things like this; I want everyone who may be reading it to get that straight. Also on that note, shoutout to the few people who have followed me the past week. I just want you guys to know that you guys are really cool and I’m honored that you’re interested in things I have to say.

This post is mostly me “getting things off my chest” because lately my friends are driving me nuts. I know I’m a lucky duck white girl and all that stuff (I posted about that earlier, trust me, I get it). Also I want to unleash this tiny rant onto the world, and all my other social media outlets are followed by my friends that I am referencing here (this is getting deleted from my tumblr the second it auto-publishes because I’m too dumb and frankly too lazy to know how to turn that function off from this page). Everyone is just being extremely petty and catty and nobody has any patience for each other. We went an entire semester without this happening, so I do not know what everyone’s deal is with each other all of a sudden. It’s like something clicked in everyone after we got back from winter break and suddenly everyone has a huge problem with someone else in the group and I don’t know where all these negative feelings have come from.

People are constantly ragging on each other and snapping at each other. Suddenly no-one has any tolerance for even the small little annoying quirks we all have. I feel like maybe we all shouldn’t even be real friends if we can’t tolerate those kind of small things, really. This level of just…extreme bitchiness is something that needs to absolutely stop. People will talk about another person when that person is literally mere feet away. Not to even mention what people say to each other behind backs. We even had this little group powwow last Monday that was supposed to let everyone air their shit about each other and someone that was supposed to help. But really, I don’t think it helped anything, because less than a week later we are back to the exact same bullshit that we had last week.

Honestly, I’m not going to name names here (no point anyways, none of you lovely readers know these people), but now that I’ve been writing about this and thinking about it, it’s kind of just one person who has been acting extremely toxic lately. She has been personally attacking one or two other people and then attempting to get other girls on her side. This level of high-school dumbassery is not something I am cool with at all.

Unfortunately, I’m a huge coward. I will freely admit it: I am a huge damn coward and I do not have the guts to talk to her about this. Because right now, I’m on her good side, and after 12 years of schooling in which I was picked on because I absolutely refused to be on the good sides of all the head girls at school because they were vapid and their personalities were bland, I am on someone’s good side and I want to stay there.

I don’t even know where this post is going anymore. I’m just very frustrated and I am glad I have a close-knit group of friends because I have never been in a group of girl friends before, but I wish I had branched out more.

I’ll post about something cool and relevant tomorrow, guys. I’m sorry.