Million-way Storm

I don't know why I felt so threatened. It was odd really.
He kept saying she had been jealous of girls--he kept saying she made it all about him. And I felt I was falling into this stereotype he hated. And yet haha, she was a threat. Also there were girls I'd know he'd dated he was still semi-close with. And I just felt so terribly on the outside. I knew if I just talked to him about it I would feel better, but the paralyzing fear that I would push him away stopped me.
I feared he would move away and find someone better. He refrained from saying that wouldn't happen, and he had since stopped telling me how good I was for him. I was rained with endless comments of how cute I was, but what I wanted most was gone. That he knew I was right for him. I guess there was no guarantees in life. But oh man, how I wish there was.
I felt myself shutting off from him, no matter how hard I tried.
But every girl who he talked to, hugged, attacked seemed like a potential threat and did a little bit of damage to my self-esteem.
I knew this would be the last thing he would want to hear, so I kept it to myself. No need to drive him away. I felt like I was losing the battle to keep the water cupped in my hands. I just couldn't keep it from leaking through the crack between my fingers.
I began to wonder if I would ever be loved by him again, ever feel that way again, ever feel as though the world was on my side once again.

Take My Hand

Here he was, doing the most unthinkably kind thing without even batting an eyelash.
Not that he would ever in his life bat an eyelash...but you get what I mean.
He was completely and totally surrendering his room. To me. All I had to do was say something and he gave it to me. He jumped through all the hoops housing put him through. And he got his own room.
In my opinion, although it meant less privacy, sharing a room was one of the most fundamentally fun things about moving away from home and going to college. It was the person that you would have normally not gotten to know under any other circumstances in the way you got to know them. And that inspired a sort of closeness. Still, he did get to live in the house. But I personally felt we were denying him some sort of universal rite of passage. It wasn't his fault we all had already decided to room together.
When I looked at him I had to laugh a little inside. He dressed like he hadn't quite figured out what fit him best yet--his jeans were boxy, like the kind you buy for little boys because they grow so fast. And his shoes were punk skater high school shoes with socks above his ankles. Hopefully with a year out of the house we would cure him of this. Ah. Another project in the making, I thought to myself. I was already planning on becoming extremely close with all my new found housemates.
They all had huge hearts...just like mine. I was ready to do this!

"Take my hand, there's a world I need to know, oh woh oh oh."
~ Phil Collins, from the Tarzan soundtrack

Eternal Sunshine on the Spotless Mind

I was entirely too grumpy.
Why did sucking at sports bug me right now? It had never bugged me before. Before I had just accepted it as a normal part of my existence. It was just something about me I couldn't really change. It wasn't his fault I was crappy at it, and seemed to get crappier. He even put it away. I could tell I was being cantankerous, but I found it hard to care even though I KNEW I was getting on his nerves. Mental note: try not to be such a brat.
Then he didn't want to pick me up. I was angry about that even though I knew why he didn't want to. So I did the right thing after complaining. I went and got his backpack that he forgot and rode trax. But then I ruined it by complaining about time lost together. That just made me more upset.
There is another point here I will make in a minute.
When I came, he was tired and he fell asleep. I desperately wanted him to notice I wasn't talking. But I knew he would take this as me being tired. Or did he? I don't know. I didn't fall asleep for a half an hour. Most of that time I stared at the ceiling wishing he would notice I was awake.
I knew it wasn't his fault but I wanted to talk to him.
Because today I saw someone.
No one I knew but a girl wearing a sorority sweatshirt.
Only, that's not what I noticed first. First I noticed her legs.
She was wearing heels, walking along. For some reason her legs triggered a response. I immediately thought of her. The girl I wanted more than anything to outclass. I wanted to be more beautiful, more charming, more loveable than her. And those legs brought me quickly into focus. Or out of focus, as the case may be. I don't know why this was bugging me lately, but I felt...I felt as if he hadn't been ready. As if he had deluded himself into thinking he was ready to pursue something with someone else and I was just an unfortunate casualty. The memories of her constantly were dredged up. And never having been in any kind of relationship, I had to wonder. Did he just keep moving to avoid the pain?
Again I was the unfortunate casualty.
I wanted to know...hopefully knowing wouldn't destroy me.

Heart Sunglasses

It was funny.
I wasn't the kind of girl who always liked to look put together and professional.
I wasn't the girl who always had to have every hair in place, nails perfect, makeup perfect, clothes perfect.
I wasn't the girl who blended in.
I wasn't the girl who dressed maniacally sexy.
I wasn't beautiful.
I found myself slipping into a sort of cuteness. Everyone would agree. An adjective used to describe me was cute. I would still prance around in skirts, rain galoshes, and heart sunglasses. (although I've never worn these all at the same time, I'm willing to try ;)) My face was just...one of those cute faces. Mostly. I didn't ever feel like my style said much else. I was a lace girl.
Would there be a time I would be more?

"If looks could kill, they probably will in games without frontiers, war without tears."
~ Peter Gabriel

Deep Stupidity

So...sometimes I did things even though I knew they would make me upset.
Seems kind of masochistic, doesn't it?
I sift through the information, just waiting for the tears to come pouring down my face or the knife to twist in my heart. It was hard to pretend like nothing had happened, like what had happened wasn't real, like it didn't still hurt me to think of the things that had been said and the things that had been done. I had laid in bed, crying for hours over those things.
I couldn't help that I had been a spy and still was. I went back to the times I knew had been hard and painful. Why did I do that? Why did I dwell on this? Because it hadn't broken me almost completely through. That's why.
So...putting the pieces back together wasn't so easy. Especially if I kept picking the scabs. I was a scab picker...great.
I wanted fully to believe that he loved me, but I didn't know if he would ever say those words again.

Whispers in the Dark

I am not going to lie.
There are days when I wonder if getting back together with him was the right choice.
Life feels...so different now. More than ever I feel the insecurity closing in on me, thinking that I'm just an accessory to his life, just this mindless need that really, he could just do without and not someone important in his life.
Someone asks me how things are going. I pause a moment before saying things are good. Things aren't bad. It's just...I want to say things are ok. But I don't. Because I know that their next question will be: "Why just ok?"
Things haven't been as good as they used to be. But I guess that's just all in the perspective. Before I didn't care about skipping class or not studying...now I felt the pain of those things. I felt my life as I made bad decisions. But I didn't feel as in love with him as I did. I didn't feel faith in him caring about me. I felt like an annoyance. Well, maybe I wouldn't go that far. But I felt like a nice accessory. Something you take out of the drawer and wear, use when you want to.
I kept my annoyances to myself because I knew what everyone else would say.
They would tell me I would have to deal. Because I got back with him. They would take it as a sign that they were right about him and I was wrong. Which I didn't want to believe. The thought of breaking up (dare I even say it aloud) made me want to curl up and die.
I cared about him. I just wanted to know he cared as much about me. I wanted him to do something romantic like he used to, when he was trying desperately to win my heart. I was a hopeless romantic and it showed. I got into people's heads and tried my best to find sweet things to do for them, things they needed and would appreciate, things they would see as an extra cute effort.
Like his birthday coming up. I wanted to do something super special. Lots of things swam through my head, all of them equally fabulous, at least I thought.
And I wanted to know he had stop caring about her.
That girl who had given me trouble from the start.
Because remnants her always tended to pop up and they made me feel small.
It was like I was waiting for them to show up, because they always did.
And they always made me feel miserable.
Hold me close, and whisper to me in the dark all the things I want the most to hear.
Love me instead.

"I can't tell you that I won't hurt you, but I'll promise to try. Everybody wants a piece of pie honey, but I just want him alive."

I wasn't actually sure why I was upset.
I could kind of feel like I was overreacting. And the fact that I was wrong for some reason drove me to more anger. Like the fact that I was the problem made me horribly sad, and the way I reacted to that was to be as upset as possible to see if he would still care for me.
I played by an odd set of rules.
And I hated being wrong.
Or rather, not being wrong, but being a problem.
I just wanted him to want me no matter how horrible I was to him. And granted, I wasn't really all that bad, but I did create points of tension every now and again. I gave him a hard time, and even though he made it clear some of the things upset him. I was joking, wasn't I?
I didn't know anymore.
From this moment on I was going to try to be more conscious of his needs. I was aware sometimes with the people I was closest to I was the neediest.
"I can't tell you that I won't hurt you, but I'll promise to try. Everyone wants a piece of pie honey, I just want him alive."
~ From Swing Gently by Leona Naess