SheFallsSoftly

I keep telling telling myself that I need to let myself feel it as I feel it, stop forcing my emotions, stop lying to myself.

Fuck that. This is stupid, and that is not the way emotions work. Things are only as important as you let them be. There are millions of bad and messed up things in the world that I don’t let bother me. If I worried constantly about global warming, or rapture, or if I cried at night hoping that The Spice Girls never put out another album, people would tell me I was crazy and medicate me. Yet, when some boy who I like doesn’t like me back I’m supposed, and even encouraged, to cry and freak out like the world is ending? I’d better spend my time crying every time I saw a Hummer on the street, or because there’s going to be a Garfield movie. These are signs of the apocolypse, not a lack of cuddles.

This entire last two months just reeks of me not acting like myself. Sad little puppy following boy who doesn’t like her around? I hate those girls. I disrespect myself for acting like that. I know he didn’t feel what I felt and I should have just walked away rather than letting him get so close to me and letting down all of those walls and hurting myself so much worse in the end. And damnit, I need to stop acting like he’s the only tortured intellectual who will make me watch his TV shows and cuddle me in the world. It’s not like this group of men is hard to come by, they have whole conventions of them under aliases like “Science Bowl”, “Science Olympiad”, “Star Trek Convention”, and “The Library”.

I need to calm the hell down, and stop letting this get to me so much. I need to stop thinking about that promise he broke that proved me wrong, I need to stop thinking about the cowlick on his face and laughing. It makes no more sense for me to miss him than it does for him to walk away.

I am a smart girl. I’m well read, I’m philosophically inclined, I’m capable, and self sufficient, artistic, caring, and not bad to look at. I am entirely worth the time of anyone smart enough to want me, and the vast majority of the time anyone I’m interested in is also interested in me. I am not going to keep feeling bad because I would have been good for him. I am not going to keep feeling insecure because he never complimented me. It is entirely his loss.

And I am entirely too young, and too clever.

This is where it gets more challenging… I can handle the days, where I run from errand to errand, work, class, gym, friends, shopping, cleaning, busily focusing my attention on this and this and this, never letting my mind stray… The days are very easy. When night falls, when I find myself laying in bed late at night, staring at the ceiling… When I tell myself to go to sleep and I can’t because I’m so terrified of the beautiful things I might dream. I can handle nightmares, because they aren’t real. Dreams, though, these dreams are memories of moments past. Golden morning, warm blanket, soft skin memories that I miss too much to relive. The way I wrote in my journal about every night I saw him, recording miniscule details, it’s somewhere between admirable and unfair. I read them and I can’t help but feel along each moment, remember the second that I realized, big smile upon my face, "I have to write this down."  I was faithful too, brutally honest and terribly sincere and so utterly and completely intent upon him. This is sweet of me, but terribly unhealthy. Love, lust, general interest, whatever euphemism by which we choose to call it, is not a healthy thing to feel, I am convinced. I tell myself, to convince myself that I am doing what is right, that I am an end in myself, and I should be above dedication, loyalty, infatuation. I don’t believe it though, I can’t be so selfish. I am not a Randian. I am not an objectivist… I get too possessive, and too giving for that.

"His messy hair shirtless chest bright smile in yellow morning light–

That moment is only mine."–April 30, private post.

And, as a disclaimer;

"I imagine myself showing him this in the future and being extremely embarrassed. I’m sorry in advance/retrospect/whatever." –April 24, private post.

"–I think the most important thing in a relationship is that they respect eachother… it’s not so hard.

–Well, I respect you.

–I’m going to be overanalyzing that for a while.

–There are so many different layers of meaning you have no idea. But the third one’s the most important." –April 20, private post.

"On the way there, we discussed some apparently arbitrary stuff because I don’t really remember any of it. I have a feeling it involved Samuel Beckett.. it always does. "–April 16, Private post

"Why do I feel the need to record every second of this? First kiss in the journal, every meeting, every important word, every feeling, focusing on not focusing on the moment because it is THE MOMENT and i need to get passed it so I can think.

But the thing is

if i let it pass

i’ll ruin everything."–April 16, Private post.

I have a feeling that I let the moment pass… And even in spite of all of that, this is the one that hurts;

"He’s terrified of holding on, of getting attached, he won’t let me know that he likes me and he pretends he thinks a lot less than he does to hide it from me. What i can’t handle is being lied to and what i need from him is something he almost certainly can’t give me because he’s terrified of having it, much less giving it…. But when he kisses me… I wish I could explain when he kissed me. The moment outside in front of Doug’s house with the trees breaking up the moonlight, and the darkness pouring out around the moon, and he clutched me close, and we kissed and the breeze was soft and I could feel the grass at my ankles and he was smiling so hard it made the kiss completely awkward… the first time he kissed me he smirked and pulled me close and it was soft and hard and fast and sweet and slow all at once, beyond comprehension and he was smiling so hard… Good God, I love it when he smiles like that."–April 12, Private post.

"Later, i sat on his lap so acutely aware of his hands, his breathing, the heat coming off of his chest.

I look at him and i grow distant and sad because i realize that what I feel isn’t what he feels. because I know i’m making more of this than he probably ever will."– May 23 Private post.

Good Lord, how long have I known that this was going to happen?

"He listens to logic even if he doesn’t like it."–April 12, Private post

Then again, mixed in with obvious lies like that, it’s no wonder I couldn’t tell the truth.

In the end, I tended to believe what I wanted to believe and that just clearly wasn’t close enough to the truth for it to hold sturdy for very long.

Right now, I’m glad I’m not a Bokononist. I saw Rosie today, when I was out shopping, and realized that she must not know about Billy and I… I didn’t feel the need to tell her. I’ll do pretty much anything to avoid an awkward conversation. All of these forces pushing me to think about him, to question it all, between Isaiah and Rosie and finding the scraps of dates we went on and my journal falling open to the page I wrote after our first night out. All signs point to this… Luckily, I’m not a Bokononist, but I can still Foma my way out of this. Coincidences. They were all coincidences.

After that I made dinner for a friend and watched Quills, which was good fun. It did, however, remind me that all touch is not created equal… It just doesn’t feel the same.

Sometimes I can be downright cruel;

Peculater (10:58:23 AM): I really do need to quit being just so darn loveable

butxaxwhimper (10:58:36 AM): or just love me back. one of the two.

Or maybe it’s just honesty.. Either way it hurts like hell, even when I’m not on the receiving end. I really don’t want to make him feel guilty… I want to be honest, and that means telling him what I’m thinking… Not that I’ll be telling him anything for awhile.

I decided (by which I mean, I was talking to Andy and he told me it was a good idea and I knew he was right) that talking to Billy so constantly was probably a bad way to get over him. It would be easier if he was still his aloof, subtle, cryptic self… But he’s treating me differently lately. He told me he cares about me, in those words. He said that I was beautiful, brilliant, a good person… After these months, from that tongue, it sounds a lie. But I believe it anyway, and let it pull him closer to my heart.

When I told him this decision today, I had convinced myself that he wouldn’t care… I felt like I would write to him how much he means to me, and how much more he means every day, and how much it will hurt to not be able to speak to him and he would respond with a casual, off-handed "Oh, well, whatever you think is best." Granted,  I didn’t get much more than that in reality, but he does have a flair for understatement… Whatever he felt, I guess the point is that I convinced myself he wouldn’t feel anything and forced myself to break it to him in an atypical aloof and offhanded sort of way that I’m not accustomed to… Which brought about a surprising level of clarity, detachment, and logic. I think I understand now what it’s like to have a penis and no compassion. Oh wait, I’ve repeated myself.

We’ll see if I can muster up the self control to actually get through this… Oftentimes I surprise myself in matters like these.

Today I proved to myself that if I didn’t want to kiss someone, I wouldn’t. This wasn’t something I was certain of.

So, I guess I’m taking applications. Send a self addressed envelope if you believe you meet the following criteria; intellectual, liberal, well acquainted with philosophy, well read, talented, motivated, spazzy, caring, and soft. Preference will be given to those wearing eyeliner, individuals with brown hair and blue eyes, individuals with poetic skill, and those who are not insane. Must be willing to hold me during nightmares, smile at all the right moments, call me beautiful, read my poetry, stroke my hair, and eat my spaghetti. Job description includes; soft kisses, helping me pick out my clothes, removing them when appropriate, looking deep into my eyes, feeling every bit as much as I do, stolen glances over dinner, and being nice to me. Violence and drugs are strictly prohibited. Starting wage includes my attention, possible promotion to my trust, and later my heart. Ex-boyfriends and convicts need not apply.

This is an image that I’m trying to decide if I would like to have permanently transfered onto my body.

Why the dandelion:

Dandelions are incredibly graceful flowers, and very frail. They are soft, and lovely. They have a dual nature, though; in spite of (and because of) their soft, frail nature, they are incredibly sturdy flowers. Dandelions are very common weeds, they are survivors. They are lucky as well, you can make a wish on them by blowing off the seeds.

Why the quote:

It’s from T. S. Eliot’s "The Hollow Men". Out of context, it makes me think of playfulness, curiousity, freedom, and learning to be one’s self. In context, it’s a reference to hiding, and running, and being fluid.

It would be at my right hip bone, just inside and it would be about 2.5×3".

I won’t be getting it any time soon, but you should let me know what you think.

On another note, I’ve pretty much given up hope that this isn’t permanent, which is a step in the right direction, I guess. I’ve never really been the one who cared the most… it’s an experience, I suppose.

If you would see me again,
I’d undress,
I would cast off sheath, and shield, and armament,
Turn away quilt, comforter, jacket
I would take off denim, wool,
Underwires and bits of lace
Jewelry, ribbon, face paint
All sent away.
Step out of earth, water, skin
And fiction
If you would see me again.
I would be peeled, stripped,
And transparent
And no different in form or intent
From the first or last time we met,
If you would see me again.

An open letter;

Billy–

Forgive me for making this public. I’m certain that this will be more open than either of us would really prefer at this point, but I can promise that the 5 or so people who read this journal already know all of this or will shortly anyway. Besides, you told me that if there was nothing wrong with it, I shouldn’t have to lie about it, shouldn’t have to hide it. I can’t talk to you face to face anymore, so far as I’m concerned, and there’s a few things I need to say, if not to you then to someone. This all does come with one comfort; I don’t have to care what you or your friends think about me anymore… so I can return to being open and honest and as emo as I damn well please.

This letter will serve, in the end, only to make you feel more justified in your choice. You will read it and see how staying with me longer only would have hurt me more. I’m not going to say this interpretation is wrong, only that I know it will happen and it’s not what I was going for. This is just me saying my word, getting out my last thoughts before I’m forced to wash my hands of this and try to forget it all little by little.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this coming. When I went and saw Patrick, he gave me one answer that I didn’t believe but wanted to desperately.

Casey: So do you think Billy is capable of being in a meaningful or long lasting relationship at this point?

Patrick: I wouldn’t say Billy is incapable of anything….Yes.

We can’t be right all of the time, I suppose. Of course, at this point I’m giving myself the comfort of believing that you weren’t lying to me when you gave me the reason you did. You tend to choose your words carefully, though, and you said you weren’t capable of being in a relationship as seriously as the one you think I’m after, not that you were incapable of being in a relationship with me. Regardless, I wouldn’t have asked the question if I didn’t have doubt.

I wouldn’t have told you the other night in completely self concious and un-subtle terms that you’re allowed to break my heart and let me down. That I knew it was coming, and whenever it came it would be okay.

It still stings, though, still feels like I’ve been misled. Two nights ago, on Thursday you called me just to tell me that you cared about me and missed me. Of course you didn’t say it like that, you said it in terms of your cat caring about me and missing me, but we both saw the projection there. I just figured you were a little afraid of your own feelings, still hiding behind subtlety, keeping yourself at arm’s length. How odd that after telling me "I have no desire to see you right now," you’re fine telling me you care about me. It’s not odd, actually, it’s completely reasonable considering that you’ve gotten your final and most effective form of protection from dealing with your emotions.

I wouldn’t have picked out in our conversation last night, when you said we might not be seeing eachother for a while.

I wouldn’t have asked when we were talking if there was anything other than this stupid expirement holding you back. Of course there is/was. You’ve been through a lot emotionally. You weren’t deciding what level of intimacy you could engage me at, I was not the point. You were trying to figure out what level of intimacy you were capable of, period.

I’ve seen it coming for a good week now, not in terms I felt like dealing with, but passively and surely. I’ve been depressed and moody, not wanting to see other people, just you. Knowing my time was up, I suppose. I should have seen it before, though, should have known from step one.

After the first night together, talking until 6am and alternately terrifying eachother and having a spectacularly good time, I was just as committed as I am right now. I was certain that you had all of the qualities I’ve been looking for, that you were more than prepared to handle me on an emotional level, and that we had some sort of other connection that just felt right. I realized it wouldn’t be easy for me, and that I’d be put in some positions I’m not entirely comfortable with. Positions like having to pursue you to get any amount of time. Positions like the nagging pseudo-girlfriend who forces you to do things you don’t enjoy but you know are good for you. Positions that involve giving up my silly creature comforts like hearing "You’re pretty." every now and then. Or feeling like I have to impress your friends because I’m too insecure to actually believe that I’m smart.

Those positions, though, oddly enough, just made me invest more time and energy into you, and made me more convinced that you are and were a worthwhile person that I want and wanted to be around. I didn’t know I had the capacity just for fidelity much less for sucking it up and doing what was right to make sure that you were okay and to be able to secure something that I realized more and more with time that I actually really wanted.

It started out with you believing that you were too smart for me… that I just couldn’t keep up. Then that I was too crazy, although that may have been reversed or simultaneous. Then that I was too young. Then that I was too immature. Then that I was too emotionally attached. I’m sure one of those, at one point, had to have stuck, and you would have found a reason why I’m not in fact everything you’ve been looking for. Or was he wrong about that too? Was I ever?

I keep trying to figure out in my head what happened, if you’ve been thinking about this for over a week, how things could turn out the way they did. I don’t know what finally coaxed you overboard, I have a feeling it was the call on Thursday night. Telling me you cared, that you missed me. When we talked last night you told me that it was after that call you really got to thinking.

I’ve got this feeling, in my gut, that you’re denying the both of us something here, and it’s not just me. You can say as much as you wish that you’re doing this because you’re convinced that you’re not capable of giving me what you think I want right now… and that’s probably true. The same way that if you decide you’re not going to get off, you’re not going to.

To me, all of this just looks like you got scared. Something spooked you, convinced you that all of this is too much, and you ran. You didn’t say last night that you didn’t want to be with me. You said you didn’t think you were able to. You’re happy around me Billy, and that’s why all of this hurts so much. Walking away from bad relationships is easy, but I don’t think this was one.

We are each entitled to our opinions, though.

I got my heartbreak, though, I suppose. My eternal karmic retribution for all of those boys that thought they loved me. Finding out that this is what it feels like, I don’t feel as bad. I’ve felt this feeling on a million nights, sinking stomache, pressure in my chest, mind racing a million miles per hour. I felt it after fights with my father, after realizing my grades weren’t what I wished, after any major fuck up that felt entirely too real. Any moment that all I could think was "I wish this was a nightmare." I felt this way after losing my virginity, after crashing my car, after finding out I got into OU. Anything big and permanent feels scary this way. It’s not that bad.

The hardest part is realizing that no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to see you anymore. That with as good of discussion as we had, as clear cut as our understanding was getting, it’s just going to stop without even a good fight to convince me that it ought to.

The hardest part is giving up the early mornings where I could sit and watch you breathing, and realize how I wouldn’t rather be any place in the world. Or the nights curled up watching television, just being. The soft offhanded compliments about how you like to have me around, about how nice it was to wake up to someone in the morning.

The hardest part is letting go of the way you pet my stomach, the way your skin felt against mine, and the mindblowing experiences in the bedroom. Well not so much the last one… But I will miss the cat, and I did want to cook you dinner.

All of this, though, is just convincing you more and more that you’re right… and it’s just convincing me more and more that you were too scared to let a good thing happen.

You’re allowed to be scared, though, but I just wish we could have had an honest and open discussion about it before you took back your "we’re together" and your "i care about you" and all of those millions of smiles and soft touches.  I think I deserved that much.

It’s not as hard as I thought it would be, to be honest. I assumed something more cathartic, something that was my fault. Less running and hiding and more accusations, and bitterness, and unhappiness. It stings to let go of all of those things that were so blatantly good in the face of something so obviously stupid. All I can say again and again is "This is so stupid." But you feel like it’s right, and I’ve got to respect that. All I can think about this is "Well, what do I do now?" I found something, for a while, that seemed really good and right and even if it was difficult and a little bit painful at times for me to keep it, I wanted to for at least a while longer.

Billy, it takes a special sort of boy to find what he’s supposedly been looking for and casually dismiss it, to run from it, to tell it to go away and not come back again.

And then it takes a special sort of girl to find what she’s been looking for in him, and to still want to see him even after all of that.

I don’t want to list off my virtues or sacrifices if I had any, that’s just more fuel to feed your fire. I will say this; I was honest with you in a way I have never been with anyone, and I wasn’t certain that individuals were capable of engaging eachother at until I met you. I’m coming out of this a better person, so thank you for that much. I’ll be honest and say that I don’t feel like our time was enough, in fact I think it was stupidly stupidly shorter than it should have been. But for the time I had, I was really and genuinely happy when I was around you, and I was honest, and when you told me that you wanted to see me exclusively, I was exclusive.

One thing I guess you’re going to have to realize is this… When you have high expectations, Billy, and high demands for what the girl in your life needs to do she’s going to have to be attached to want to be around you. If I was aloof, or careless, or cold then it never would have gotten this far at all. I had to care as much as I did just to get here. I don’t want to take back any of my caring, because I’m glad I got to know you as little as I did.

I don’t know what the future holds for you, I don’t even know if you’ll tell me about it. I don’t think I’ll return to casual dating, not for a good long while. I don’t think that I will ever be the sort of person to go out and just meet people like you always seem to suggest. It’s not the sort of girl I am, Billy, and I’m hoping you know me well enough to know that about me. I may not have a huge number of friends, but I have a few close and very intimate friends. There is something to be said for quality over quantity.

To me, the way you’re always out of the house and never really alone unless you’re working or sleeping, it seems like you’re running from something. There is something big and hard that you need to deal with in that time alone, and you’re not doing it. I’m not like that. I’ll sit for the next few days, and pick apart this whole relationship and try to figure out how you could ask so very much of me then get so scared when I gave it. I’ll work it through my mind a million times until it’s lost enough of its bite that I can go on and let it stop bothering me so constantly.

I’ve promised myself that I won’t bury myself in work and fiction. I’m not going to hide behind things that matter comparatively less than my state of mind. I’ll spend a lot of time trying to rebolster my confidence. After all of this innuendo and assertion, I’m pretty convinced that I’m crazy. I’m having a hard time feeling pretty anymore, or smart, or talented. And then I’ll try to find someone else, eventually, someone smart, witty, cynical, well read, and daring enough to take me on even in spite of how emo, insecure, and fucked up I am. But that’s a long time down the road. First I have to get myself to the point where I can sleep, instead of my mind racing at a million miles per hour trying to comprehend the fact that all of those cuddles and kisses that I got from you, I won’t be getting them anymore.

"Sometimes I hate your placid-faced complexities. I just hope you find a little synthesis in me."

I hope you found what you were looking for Billy, or at least got something that you needed.

–Casey

My life just got infinitely easier. I’ve been having all sorts of communication issues with the National Merit Scholars program that have been throwing my scholarship into jeopardy. First, they wouldn’t send me the scholarship package or the acceptance letter for said scholarship–they had to send it to my father. Then, of course, my father told me he sent it in but didn’t. They then told me they would mail it to me and I never received it… With any luck it will be faxed to me tonight. On the off chance it isn’t, however, OU has already applied my summer scholarship so I have nothing to worry about for at least 8 more weeks until fall semester starts. I guess free college can’t be as easy as just taking the PSAT.

Rainy days do not bode well for the restaurant industry. I shudder to think what sort of barren wasteland a snowy winter will make of La Luna.

I’m starting to feel like I’ve got all of my bases covered, again. Of course it’s impossible to control everything, and there will always be aspects of my life that I just have no power over, but I’ve got the financial stuff down, taken care of the education, of the housing, of the stability issue of the vast majority of my existence. It’s nice to not have to stress about a million little things.

Is it June already? Where has my year gone? I don’t trust days that are going this quickly, I know I must be missing something.