But, don't get too attatched to the living. . .
I cannot help that. His wish is really throwing me for a loop. Seriously, I am literally infatuated with him now. Not trying to be like the other girls who say that just because they lost their virginity to their boyfriends. That isn't really it. . . It's this fucking wish, that he won't tell me what it is exactly.
This one fucking wish he put in this wish jar I painted for him. The only wish he says he really wants for it to happen. I snooped around in it to see if he re-wrote it on another piece of paper after his mom dumped it out and put his change in there. He didn't. He says, he doesn't have to because he'll remember it.
". . .If I do, then it won't come true." says Jesse.
"I just want to know so badly! Please tell me, I am totally infatuated with you and this wish! Not saying being infatuated is a bad thing. . ."
"It isn't a bad thing."
All I know about this is that it could take more or less six years, and it's about me and him.
"Six years? Why is it going to take six years?" I ask.
"Six years or more, or less. I don't know yet. It's usually how long these things take." Jesse calmly replies.
"Oh, okay. " I laughed, but wanted to know with such seriousness, "Are you sure you can deal with me for that long?"
"I am going to try."
So, I guessed something, that I thought it was.
"What. . . Do you want to marry me?" I laughed nervously and all girly-like.
"You're kinda wrong, it can possibly lead up to that. However, that's not what I wished for."
". . .You'll never tell me with it is until it happens, will you?"
"Nope, I want it to be a surprise."
"Really, Jesse?"
"Really."
"Ohmigawd, tell me what it is!"
"Nonono, shut up."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. I am in love with this guy. It's weird. Even though there was a lot of heart ache for two months and a half between the both of us, we're together again. At first, to be honest, I was kind of nervous of what people were going to say when they saw the two of us together once again. Everyone I talked to, I just told them that I harbored this intense hatred for him, and that he broke my heart in the most unimaginable way possible. However, I always urged to be in this slacker's arms again. You know? I missed his scent, and rubbing my face against his neck.
I am totally a hopeless a romantic.
For the longest time, I was confused on who I wanted to be with in life. Maybe, at one point which gender. I mean, no one ever seemed remotely interested into me in that way, so who am I to judge someone by their sex at that point? Plus, everyone assumed I was bisexual or lesbian. I guess the way I dressed and talk presented it that way. In present tomboy nature, I dressed like an emo-scene faggot or more positively, a hipster guy, that had a lumberjack lifestyle. I think that is the best way to put it? Skinny jeans, studded belts, Nikes or All-Star Converse and various plaid and flannel shirts was the normal garb for me. Also, I'd always cut my hair an inch or two under my ear. . . Oh, my voice gets kind of deep if I'm really passive about something. "Yeah, you dressed like a flaming dyke. . . Like a grunge band in the 90s threw up on you. . . The plaid isn't very flattering, it made you look thirty pounds heavier." Hah, thanks for letting me know, Jesse. Anyways, back to what I was saying. . . It didn't really matter. . . I wasn't getting any action from nobody. So, I just would say I am pansexual: I am interested in who I am interested in.
I just had my standards. I wanted someone who was real, opinionated, funny, hot, had nice hair and who liked music, comic books, video games as much, or more than I do. Of course, most of my guy friends have these definitive traits. So, I felt somewhat attractive to them, yet I knew it wasn't ever going to go anywhere. None of them liked me like that, they didn't see me as more than a friend to talk with and shit. I wanted more out of life than just friends. So I just felt insanely ugly, and fat. Love please, please give me love, that's all I wanted. So, when a few girls started edging me on, I played along, kind of. I felt kinda awkward about it -- like it was forced. I wasn't really that interested at all, really.
Then, there's Jesse. By that single point in my godforsaken social life, I did not care if I would ever be in a relationship or not. To be honest, I never really noticed anyone at De Anza to begin with. I always had my headphones on sitting in Ms. Hipolito's classroom or in the cafeteria waiting for fourth period to begin. My sister and her new boyfriend told me that their friend thinks I'm cute.
It was in the afternoon, and I was cooking dinner when Jordan called me over to my parents room where she was using their computer.
"You know Jesse, right?" Jordan asked.
"Oh. . . Yeah. That white guy with the long hair. What about him?" I replied, I wasn't really into the conversation. She usually tells me really useless shit, and I had things to do.
"Well. . . What do you think about him?" She continued without answering my question.
"Uh. . . Well, I don't really know him. We haven't, you know. . . talked. I don't know what to say about him." Being me, that was kind of weird. I am always quick to judge.
"He thinks you're cute."
"What?! Ew!" That threw me off. "Why me? I mean, not "Ew!" about him. Just. . . You know "Ew!" about me." Never had I heard anything like a guy thinking that. Sure, people said I was pretty on MySpace pictures, but fuck. . . That's MySpace.
I kinda left the room at that point shaking my head in disbelief. You know. I never really made myself very attractive to begin with and such, so it just made me feel that this had to all be some sort of sick joke.
It isn't a sick joke. This guy thinks I am really cute. I mean, after a week and a half or two of talking, holding hands, and a horrifying first kiss, we were dating.
That went on for exactly two months. I mean, exactly. He just abruptly said we should break up. At that moment, I felt like there was this huge piece of my heart missing, and nothing could fix it from being shattered like that. He said that he wasn't ready for the obligations of a relationship, we said we loved each other too early. I agree with the love thing. I didn't really know, I mean, I trust him so much, and felt almost normal around him, I thought that's a real part of love. But the obligations thing, never did or do I want him to feel obligated to do anything for me just because we were together.
Those two and a half months really fucking hurt. Yeah, sure I changed myself into a better person outside and in, but I didn't like many things. I didn't like me trying to talk to him at lunch at that there wasn't much input going into the conversation. I didn't like his constant appearances in my dreams; that kept me up throughout the night. I didn't like the whole fucking piano class fiasco. I really honestly did want to learn a new skill, but it wasn't going to happen when everyone called me a stalker in that class, and he was starting to believe it too. Him avoiding me because of the whole "Faythe addressing Jesse as a faggot" thing. I didn't like the beating emptiness where my heart was suppose to be. I suppose his presence was just lingering there. I wanted the pain to stop, and for me to stop caring. It appeared obvious and with such clarity that he never wanted to be in a relationship with me ever again.
And, then after my pseudo apology about it all, I started to see him around me more often at school. Weird? I was finally getting accustomed to his absence around me, and yet, our eyes meet and he approaches my being to converse a bit. Maybe we are going to be friends, which I'd be insanely happy with -- there can finally be some closure between us. We were finally going to stop ignoring the inevitable. . . Oh, trust me, we were finally going to stop ignoring the inevitable: Facebook. Oh, thank god for fucking Facebook. We were talking so much more again, and him addressing the fact that he still liked me. . . That was perpetual bliss. It was obvious to the whole entire world I was not over him. The conversation between Jesse and I made me stay awake that night. I literally laid down with my skin covered in goosebumps. Thinking about how such a normal guy would still like a faulty, clumsy and weird girl like me? Even when I look back at it this now, my heart fiercely flutters.
The next day. It was epic too. April 4th, 2009.
On the AC Transit's 74 bus to the Orinda BART station, he grabs my hand and says, "Do you want to try this again?"
I looked at him before staring down at our hands clasped together replying with a straightforward "YES."
After I made my decision, he held onto me as the bus was continuing onward to its destination.
Just as before, he looked at me, and continued on, "I am so sorry if I hurt you." When I saw the remorse -- the utter sadness and guilt in his face, I wanted to cry right then and there.
"It's okay." That's all I could say, and kissed him. I could not function to create a more definite response. If I had tried saying anything else, I would probably start bawling.
So, now. The rest is history. Basically.
I have to wait for six years. Maybe more, maybe less, for this wish to happen. He'll tell me when.
Either way, it's going to happen.
I truly feel loved and not not alone anymore.
This one fucking wish he put in this wish jar I painted for him. The only wish he says he really wants for it to happen. I snooped around in it to see if he re-wrote it on another piece of paper after his mom dumped it out and put his change in there. He didn't. He says, he doesn't have to because he'll remember it.
". . .If I do, then it won't come true." says Jesse.
"I just want to know so badly! Please tell me, I am totally infatuated with you and this wish! Not saying being infatuated is a bad thing. . ."
"It isn't a bad thing."
All I know about this is that it could take more or less six years, and it's about me and him.
"Six years? Why is it going to take six years?" I ask.
"Six years or more, or less. I don't know yet. It's usually how long these things take." Jesse calmly replies.
"Oh, okay. " I laughed, but wanted to know with such seriousness, "Are you sure you can deal with me for that long?"
"I am going to try."
So, I guessed something, that I thought it was.
"What. . . Do you want to marry me?" I laughed nervously and all girly-like.
"You're kinda wrong, it can possibly lead up to that. However, that's not what I wished for."
". . .You'll never tell me with it is until it happens, will you?"
"Nope, I want it to be a surprise."
"Really, Jesse?"
"Really."
"Ohmigawd, tell me what it is!"
"Nonono, shut up."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. I am in love with this guy. It's weird. Even though there was a lot of heart ache for two months and a half between the both of us, we're together again. At first, to be honest, I was kind of nervous of what people were going to say when they saw the two of us together once again. Everyone I talked to, I just told them that I harbored this intense hatred for him, and that he broke my heart in the most unimaginable way possible. However, I always urged to be in this slacker's arms again. You know? I missed his scent, and rubbing my face against his neck.
I am totally a hopeless a romantic.
For the longest time, I was confused on who I wanted to be with in life. Maybe, at one point which gender. I mean, no one ever seemed remotely interested into me in that way, so who am I to judge someone by their sex at that point? Plus, everyone assumed I was bisexual or lesbian. I guess the way I dressed and talk presented it that way. In present tomboy nature, I dressed like an emo-scene faggot or more positively, a hipster guy, that had a lumberjack lifestyle. I think that is the best way to put it? Skinny jeans, studded belts, Nikes or All-Star Converse and various plaid and flannel shirts was the normal garb for me. Also, I'd always cut my hair an inch or two under my ear. . . Oh, my voice gets kind of deep if I'm really passive about something. "Yeah, you dressed like a flaming dyke. . . Like a grunge band in the 90s threw up on you. . . The plaid isn't very flattering, it made you look thirty pounds heavier." Hah, thanks for letting me know, Jesse. Anyways, back to what I was saying. . . It didn't really matter. . . I wasn't getting any action from nobody. So, I just would say I am pansexual: I am interested in who I am interested in.
I just had my standards. I wanted someone who was real, opinionated, funny, hot, had nice hair and who liked music, comic books, video games as much, or more than I do. Of course, most of my guy friends have these definitive traits. So, I felt somewhat attractive to them, yet I knew it wasn't ever going to go anywhere. None of them liked me like that, they didn't see me as more than a friend to talk with and shit. I wanted more out of life than just friends. So I just felt insanely ugly, and fat. Love please, please give me love, that's all I wanted. So, when a few girls started edging me on, I played along, kind of. I felt kinda awkward about it -- like it was forced. I wasn't really that interested at all, really.
Then, there's Jesse. By that single point in my godforsaken social life, I did not care if I would ever be in a relationship or not. To be honest, I never really noticed anyone at De Anza to begin with. I always had my headphones on sitting in Ms. Hipolito's classroom or in the cafeteria waiting for fourth period to begin. My sister and her new boyfriend told me that their friend thinks I'm cute.
It was in the afternoon, and I was cooking dinner when Jordan called me over to my parents room where she was using their computer.
"You know Jesse, right?" Jordan asked.
"Oh. . . Yeah. That white guy with the long hair. What about him?" I replied, I wasn't really into the conversation. She usually tells me really useless shit, and I had things to do.
"Well. . . What do you think about him?" She continued without answering my question.
"Uh. . . Well, I don't really know him. We haven't, you know. . . talked. I don't know what to say about him." Being me, that was kind of weird. I am always quick to judge.
"He thinks you're cute."
"What?! Ew!" That threw me off. "Why me? I mean, not "Ew!" about him. Just. . . You know "Ew!" about me." Never had I heard anything like a guy thinking that. Sure, people said I was pretty on MySpace pictures, but fuck. . . That's MySpace.
I kinda left the room at that point shaking my head in disbelief. You know. I never really made myself very attractive to begin with and such, so it just made me feel that this had to all be some sort of sick joke.
It isn't a sick joke. This guy thinks I am really cute. I mean, after a week and a half or two of talking, holding hands, and a horrifying first kiss, we were dating.
That went on for exactly two months. I mean, exactly. He just abruptly said we should break up. At that moment, I felt like there was this huge piece of my heart missing, and nothing could fix it from being shattered like that. He said that he wasn't ready for the obligations of a relationship, we said we loved each other too early. I agree with the love thing. I didn't really know, I mean, I trust him so much, and felt almost normal around him, I thought that's a real part of love. But the obligations thing, never did or do I want him to feel obligated to do anything for me just because we were together.
Those two and a half months really fucking hurt. Yeah, sure I changed myself into a better person outside and in, but I didn't like many things. I didn't like me trying to talk to him at lunch at that there wasn't much input going into the conversation. I didn't like his constant appearances in my dreams; that kept me up throughout the night. I didn't like the whole fucking piano class fiasco. I really honestly did want to learn a new skill, but it wasn't going to happen when everyone called me a stalker in that class, and he was starting to believe it too. Him avoiding me because of the whole "Faythe addressing Jesse as a faggot" thing. I didn't like the beating emptiness where my heart was suppose to be. I suppose his presence was just lingering there. I wanted the pain to stop, and for me to stop caring. It appeared obvious and with such clarity that he never wanted to be in a relationship with me ever again.
And, then after my pseudo apology about it all, I started to see him around me more often at school. Weird? I was finally getting accustomed to his absence around me, and yet, our eyes meet and he approaches my being to converse a bit. Maybe we are going to be friends, which I'd be insanely happy with -- there can finally be some closure between us. We were finally going to stop ignoring the inevitable. . . Oh, trust me, we were finally going to stop ignoring the inevitable: Facebook. Oh, thank god for fucking Facebook. We were talking so much more again, and him addressing the fact that he still liked me. . . That was perpetual bliss. It was obvious to the whole entire world I was not over him. The conversation between Jesse and I made me stay awake that night. I literally laid down with my skin covered in goosebumps. Thinking about how such a normal guy would still like a faulty, clumsy and weird girl like me? Even when I look back at it this now, my heart fiercely flutters.
The next day. It was epic too. April 4th, 2009.
On the AC Transit's 74 bus to the Orinda BART station, he grabs my hand and says, "Do you want to try this again?"
I looked at him before staring down at our hands clasped together replying with a straightforward "YES."
After I made my decision, he held onto me as the bus was continuing onward to its destination.
Just as before, he looked at me, and continued on, "I am so sorry if I hurt you." When I saw the remorse -- the utter sadness and guilt in his face, I wanted to cry right then and there.
"It's okay." That's all I could say, and kissed him. I could not function to create a more definite response. If I had tried saying anything else, I would probably start bawling.
So, now. The rest is history. Basically.
I have to wait for six years. Maybe more, maybe less, for this wish to happen. He'll tell me when.
Either way, it's going to happen.
I truly feel loved and not not alone anymore.