LIV. neurosis, n, a functional disorder in which feelings of anxiety dominate the personality
I never know where to begin anymore. My life is bursting with ____ness, and it's insane. Not in a negative way particularly. Or at all, really.
Like, good god, there is so much to say about last weekend and this week (sex, drugs and rock & roll--also shoplifting. and glitter.), about partying and how NATALIE IS HERE and I got her at SFO yesterday and she's staying until Saturday, and how the Black Lips were FUCKING INCREDIBLE and I totally love the weather here rain or shine...
But mostly... I've had some time to think about you on the long ride home. (Patty Griffin, "Long Ride Home".) I think A LOT about him. What the fuck am I doing? How did I get here? Is it even possible that I'm managing a marginally sane sort-of friend-sex relationship with a really wonderful boy who says sweet things and holds my hand the way I like it-- my left arm over his right, my thumb on the outside/front--?
He teases me sometimes, in ways that should be cute and endearing; good thing I'm so thin-skinned that I come close to crying. And then he always looks so penitent and contrite and I feel sick-sweet with guilt. But he semi-accidentally let slip that he's not exactly in love with brown eyes--he has VERY pretty and oddly colored ones, like Nat, and Devora--, and I was just taken back to 2005: "A clarification on the subject of eye color: I love brown eyes, just not mine. Mostly because the people around me have no over-fondness for dark eyes." (oh hai a_licksthemad.) And I remembered how many times I cried myself to sleep over stuff like that, and I told him, and he looked so sad, but it didn't change how he feels, and I was being a creepy Facebook stalker, and I noticed that his ex (they dated for two years) has BEAUTIFUL eyes and was just like...shit. And I was thinking, he is NOT every other guy I've ever been with, and I don't have to be perfect, but I want to, and this whole eye-color thing is just symbolic of how I want to be Ideal Girl.
At which I suck.
Because I compulsively overanalyze and fuck myself.
I'm making this sound worse than it is. The poor boy would probably be totally overwhelmed to know what goes on in my head when he isn't looking. He's fantastic. He's great for me; Nat and Dev have said so. He's cute, funny, TOTALLY neurotic, a music nerd, and a really thoughtful and interesting human being.
Why can't I get my brain to chill out?
In other news, the essay that I wrote half-stoned the morning it was due was graded and e-mailed back to me by my instructor several days ago and has been sitting in my inbox because I've been afraid to open it. But I'm doing the rewrite, so I had to open it tonight...I got an A-. Fuck yes. And the Poli Sci paper that I finished half an hour before it was time to turn it in, sitting at the FSM (Free Speech Movement... or Flying Spaghetti Monster? haha) Cafe with the boy, half-assing my way through the last page? Yeah, a B+. College should probably be kicking my ass harder.
Like, good god, there is so much to say about last weekend and this week (sex, drugs and rock & roll--also shoplifting. and glitter.), about partying and how NATALIE IS HERE and I got her at SFO yesterday and she's staying until Saturday, and how the Black Lips were FUCKING INCREDIBLE and I totally love the weather here rain or shine...
But mostly... I've had some time to think about you on the long ride home. (Patty Griffin, "Long Ride Home".) I think A LOT about him. What the fuck am I doing? How did I get here? Is it even possible that I'm managing a marginally sane sort-of friend-sex relationship with a really wonderful boy who says sweet things and holds my hand the way I like it-- my left arm over his right, my thumb on the outside/front--?
He teases me sometimes, in ways that should be cute and endearing; good thing I'm so thin-skinned that I come close to crying. And then he always looks so penitent and contrite and I feel sick-sweet with guilt. But he semi-accidentally let slip that he's not exactly in love with brown eyes--he has VERY pretty and oddly colored ones, like Nat, and Devora--, and I was just taken back to 2005: "A clarification on the subject of eye color: I love brown eyes, just not mine. Mostly because the people around me have no over-fondness for dark eyes." (oh hai a_licksthemad.) And I remembered how many times I cried myself to sleep over stuff like that, and I told him, and he looked so sad, but it didn't change how he feels, and I was being a creepy Facebook stalker, and I noticed that his ex (they dated for two years) has BEAUTIFUL eyes and was just like...shit. And I was thinking, he is NOT every other guy I've ever been with, and I don't have to be perfect, but I want to, and this whole eye-color thing is just symbolic of how I want to be Ideal Girl.
At which I suck.
Because I compulsively overanalyze and fuck myself.
I'm making this sound worse than it is. The poor boy would probably be totally overwhelmed to know what goes on in my head when he isn't looking. He's fantastic. He's great for me; Nat and Dev have said so. He's cute, funny, TOTALLY neurotic, a music nerd, and a really thoughtful and interesting human being.
Why can't I get my brain to chill out?
In other news, the essay that I wrote half-stoned the morning it was due was graded and e-mailed back to me by my instructor several days ago and has been sitting in my inbox because I've been afraid to open it. But I'm doing the rewrite, so I had to open it tonight...I got an A-. Fuck yes. And the Poli Sci paper that I finished half an hour before it was time to turn it in, sitting at the FSM (Free Speech Movement... or Flying Spaghetti Monster? haha) Cafe with the boy, half-assing my way through the last page? Yeah, a B+. College should probably be kicking my ass harder.