feet first?
This has a bit of a recap in it, so sorry if redundant.
Ro and I broke up in the very end of July. I can't believe it's been so long and I'm not exactly better. I decided not to run away home but I know I had esperanzas que volvemos for a long time. Only recently we've talked a few times. I know he's still in love with me (too, probably), and it's weird. I saw his family two weeks ago and it was heavy. I still ask myself, how do I know it was the right decision?
Since then I rekindled a sexual relationship with Cèsar, who rejected me justo pre-Ro. He's a composer and musician and right now most of his time is spent preparando por estrenar el nuevo disco de su grupo huapango, Nostalgia Huasteca (buscalo si estas curiosa). And since we were friends already, and I needed someone, etc, our fuckbuddyhood turned confusingly heavy for me. Still, no pasa nada for nearly four months, and just when I meet/hook up with Cèsar (graphic designer, divorced dad of two=mature!, friend of friends, and pretty much your textbook buen tipo, without being square), Original Cèsar (so-called for his affinity for hip hop--he's El Negro in the group, and milks it since his gramps was African-American) confessed his love, a 180 from being a stonehearted patàn for the past five years. OC and Little Cèsar (so-called for making good the size of the boat vs motion of the ocean metaphor ;) now know about each other, although not that they're tocayos, and they both aren't real pleased. Being the guilt factory that I am, I feel pressured to pick one, overwhelmed enough to doubt everything, and thoroughly unsure about how to proceed.
I'm superhomesick as it's been seven months now, but I'm not going home for Semana Santa. For a while, I was terrified of going home/seeing anyone I know because of the possibility that I'd loose my shit and because of frustration about not having my shit together (emotionally-that's calmed down, but professionally, legally, financially, etc is still a mess). I am now more sick of being scared than scared, which does not mean that I might not freak out a teensy bit.
Ro and I broke up in the very end of July. I can't believe it's been so long and I'm not exactly better. I decided not to run away home but I know I had esperanzas que volvemos for a long time. Only recently we've talked a few times. I know he's still in love with me (too, probably), and it's weird. I saw his family two weeks ago and it was heavy. I still ask myself, how do I know it was the right decision?
Since then I rekindled a sexual relationship with Cèsar, who rejected me justo pre-Ro. He's a composer and musician and right now most of his time is spent preparando por estrenar el nuevo disco de su grupo huapango, Nostalgia Huasteca (buscalo si estas curiosa). And since we were friends already, and I needed someone, etc, our fuckbuddyhood turned confusingly heavy for me. Still, no pasa nada for nearly four months, and just when I meet/hook up with Cèsar (graphic designer, divorced dad of two=mature!, friend of friends, and pretty much your textbook buen tipo, without being square), Original Cèsar (so-called for his affinity for hip hop--he's El Negro in the group, and milks it since his gramps was African-American) confessed his love, a 180 from being a stonehearted patàn for the past five years. OC and Little Cèsar (so-called for making good the size of the boat vs motion of the ocean metaphor ;) now know about each other, although not that they're tocayos, and they both aren't real pleased. Being the guilt factory that I am, I feel pressured to pick one, overwhelmed enough to doubt everything, and thoroughly unsure about how to proceed.
I'm superhomesick as it's been seven months now, but I'm not going home for Semana Santa. For a while, I was terrified of going home/seeing anyone I know because of the possibility that I'd loose my shit and because of frustration about not having my shit together (emotionally-that's calmed down, but professionally, legally, financially, etc is still a mess). I am now more sick of being scared than scared, which does not mean that I might not freak out a teensy bit.