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mageofblack6 · 8 years ago

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New York, New Week

Day two starts here. I took an Uber with an actor to my apartment and he said he was starting a business and gave me his card. My living situations were interesting. I got the top bunk of a bunk bed in this three bedroom Air BnB where my host doesn't even live here and the front door to the apartment doesn't actually shut... there could be up to 9 girls here which I thought there was going up to four. (Including the host). I had trouble getting in the day before because the host's designated person to live here didn't even know I was coming so I didn't have a bed when I first arrived last night. Eventually I got into the apartment building and left my stuff to find my school. It was a fifty minute walk down Broadway, i saw naked girls and Disney characters and dancers. There were a lot of people. I eventually found the street my new school was supposed to be on but I circled the block twice trying to find it. A man from the Dominican Republic let me into the building because it seemed to be the right one. His accent sounded Hungarian. Once I was inside I left to return back to my apartment as it was getting dark. Next morning I woke up to loud police cars making an awful noise and using a speaker to tell people to get out of the way. I really had to pee but from 9-10:30 there were females in the one bathroom. Eventually I got into the bathroom did my business in and was ready to go to orientation. That process was somewhat inspiring the teachers seemed to love what they do and they do it well. They know what their craft is and they're wanting to share it in as little time as possible. The safety orientation was incredible, the instructor was entertaining and hilarious. Once we got our schedules we needed to find Barnes and noble, My phone wouldn't pull it up so I decided to find a group headed that way and went with them. They were young, loud, and obnoxious so I ended up chatting with one of the moms there. She bought my school books and gave me her card and invited me to Long Island when I get settled in. She was beautiful and looked young and she was really nice, only a little bit ditzy but it was very endearing. I really like her. I realized I live directly off where Wicked is ran and I am so close to Broadway I can pretty much taste it. After getting my books I walked home, saw some break dancers, and went to find The Waitress. I impulsively bought a ticket (later I had to exchange the day because I realized I have class) and found a clothing store to apply to, as well as a grocery store. I bought a week's worth of breakfast and lunch and ramen for dinner for $40 and the couple in front of me bought 5 or 6 items and spent $74, so I was doing good spending food money. I returned home exhausted and organized and moved my stuff to the side, put my schedule in my phone and tried to relax. I keep missing Love and my puppy and my cat, but I really like this type of life, I feel like I could do this again. Let's see how I feel after a month. Ive almost finished learning exactly where I need to go without a map. Yesterday a German girl stripped and then climbed into the bed below mine.. which I thought belonged to the Host's designated person... and then that person also climbed in the bed too... I think they're together. I went to my first class, a dance class with a really sweet teacher who reminded me that I could do musical theatre on ships: definitely a future option. We had lunch but because I searched for my keys for 18 minutes I forgot my breakfast and lunch so I bought delicious lunch at a hummus pita place. It was great. We returned to class which was a scene class and we shared our experiences and given a couple scenes. Then proceeded to out vocal class where I accidentally held my breath too long. After dinner we had a song performance and our teacher was interesting. Reminded me of a teacher back in Georgia. We did an exercise where we each sang a line of the new song in a circle and then we needed to speak it as a monologue. Everyone in the room went there were some really compelling actors and amazing talent in the room. One of them even made me tear up-- and she was the one that struggled the second most. Another teared up herself in the beginning! For my turn, the instructors blurted it that I was different and unique and I believe they even said I was weird. They told me I was almost not human and almost a celestial being. They told me I could be someone from what sounded like a show with mermaids? Unfortunately I forgot to write it down. But also that I was very different in the sense that there was no one like me at all. (Then they told the rest of the class that they also were unique so they didn't leave them out and came back and told me that I was especially unique) and that I was a natural comedian (I laughed because I was told multiple times by other people I have no sense of humor). One of them told me that I am that person who makes the 'cool' choice but then I shut it down. That I have a ray of sun in me that I basically flash and then shut down. I felt like I was having my fortune told. After classes ended I rushed to the train with a classmate to find the trains broken and then she bought a taxi ride halfway to my apartment. I walked the rest of the way and then back at my apartment I studied and showered. I discovered the German and the host's host aren't dating. I listened to the screams as the cast of Wicked came out to sign autographs. I also bought a filter water bottle because the tap water here tastes gross so I tried to make it work... and I kind of made it work and then it was bed time because New York, I'm discovering is exhausting. I woke up multiple times and had a bad dream so I thought I'd be exhausted come the next school day, and I honestly was. But our movement course was a lot of ensemble building without the ensemble. He wanted us to emphasize on ourself within the circle and decide everyone else will follow which was a really unique way of looking at it. He told us he didn't want our group mentality to be ensemble building. He wanted us to be grounded within ourselves. We basically did running knees. Together. Attempting and failing at being exactly in unison but eventually we figured it out. Out next course was an acting course where he asked us to bring a private moment in class and to follow people around and mimic their walks. Our film course is going to be the hardest for me though the music we listened to was gorgeous, I don't know how I'm going to remember the people or the songs and certainly I don't understand how the American songbook songs would be a good use for auditions if they don't want you to sing a very well known song and everyone knows the American songbook... but I'll take notes and listen. Our last class in song performance we did an exciting exercise where we each sang the song in concession and the first time around was just changing keys. The second time around we were given circumstances with the music and we needed to respond to it. Some of the stories were extremely compelling and it was incredible to create he same story with someone without talking about it first. I headed home and didn't do my homework, still super sore from dance and movement. I woke up this morning and looked up Squeaky Fromme, as she is one of my characters and I found out she's still alive and probably in Rome. She was a very interesting person to read about. I also read about Gypsy Rose Lee who died in the 80s of cancer. In dance class I got hit by another student. She always takes up twice her space in room and we were doing choreography and she takes a little longer to learn or understand what's going on and is a little slower in her movement. So she hit me. And gave me a headache for half the day. She always ends up next to me so she always bumps into me or hits me and she's overall annoying in that way. I think she has a good heart and good intentions. But she's still young and has to grow up some. Our next class was scene study and we read our scenes in a circle, I made some discoveries and I definitely favor Squeaky Fromme. I really feel like I can identify with her on a base level. I'd LOVE to meet her. Our next class was song performance where we each were given two song to memorize, one with the group, and one specifically for us. Mine was definitely an interesting combination. I can't wait to start working on it. Then we had our monologue class where we met Dia. And she's a hoot. She's the actress I used to see and thought I could never be like, but now I know I'm more like her than others. She let us know about an amazing shop for plays and the library lets us see Broadway without having to pay for it. (Old shows of course). She had a little trouble finding me a monologue, but when she did it was an "I love you" pep talk and it suited me extremely well. Following that was reading for our acting course tomorrow and passing out early from exhaustion. Which didn't end up being too early because I was sharing some of myself with Love and acknowledging that Ex and Molester were toxic people and trying to talk to me and it reminded me of how grateful it was to have Love around. Even if he was tons of miles away. He was and is one of the best things that ever happened to me. And this opportunity is one of the best things I've ever sought.

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mageofblack6 · 8 years ago

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The Start of New York, Before New York

I woke up early when the sun rose. I definitely did not want to be up. I turned over and went back to sleep, later waking and seeing my phone brightly display the person I love and a time of 8am. I was so sad. I almost couldn’t get up, but my dog was whining pitifully in my ear to go potty so eventually I sat up and I cried. My Love is gone and it isn’t the same without him. His smell is still fresh as he just washed the sheets before he left. I cry into them. Missing him so much my heart and head and body just wanted to be surrounded by him. By 8:30 I have already walked the dog and got in the shower to rid myself of my tears; I’m dirty in different ways and the tears are not helping. I had a lot to do before my trip. I got out of the shower and grabbed my phone to text Love; I texted my best friend, Alice, as well. I open my computer and noticed the time said 10 something in the morning and I, the ingenious character I am, realized my phone was set two hours prior. I lost two hours I thought I had for preparation to New York. I get to work, packing, checking lists, buying necessities since I lost time. At 5:30 my ride, Forest, has joined me while I am making some last minute choices, like doing the dishes and printing out resumes and train tickets. My travel anxiety is in the process of kicking in and I quadruple checked my lists to make sure I didn’t forget anything, which later I realized I forgot my antibiotic pill on the counter. We headed to Atlanta, my anxiety caused my chest to feel heavy, my eyes to water, and my hands to pull on the antlers of my stuffed Swiss Goat, Jorj. I remember my Amoxil on the counter and have to get the biggest busybody I know, that is caring for my dog and cat the first two weeks I’m away, to return to my apartment earlier than planned to find this pill and remove it from within chomping distance of my 5 month old Husky-Shepard mix. When I left home he was crying throughout the whole complex that I live in, I could hear him as Forest drove away and there was nothing I could do to change it. I was uncomfortable crying, but tears filled my eyes multiple times anyway. At 8:05, the scheduled time to board my train, we arrived at the train station. Unfortunately, my train had been delayed until 9:26 and I had nothing else to do, Forest and I talked for a few minutes and then we removed a splinter from his finger that the old time train benches gifted him. It was pouring outside, which is definitely how I was feeling. I was definitely waiting for my doom to come, go anxiety. My thought process was along the lines of: My train keeps getting delayed, there’s a sign on the wall about sex trafficking, the white guy two benches down, the two black guys against the wall and the Spanish female are all watching me. Oh and the couple behind me are also watching me, I’m not going to see my cat, dog, or Love for a month or more and I am going to a city I know virtually nothing about. There was a 70% chance I had a yeast infection from the Amoxil, but no medicine. I am going to die. Eventually the Hispanic lady across the way started talking to me, initially very quickly in Spanish and I told her I didn’t speak Spanish in Spanish and she translated mostly in English for me. Then later told me she thought I was Hispanic when I was saying goodbye to my boyfriend. (Forest isn’t my boyfriend, but she doesn’t speak enough English for me to want to try to confuse her with who he is.) She had just assumed because of my face and skin color I was also Spanish speaking. Which, on a general occasion, I might have been. We chat a little longer and then she gets up to go closer to where the train is supposed to be. It got delayed again. Until 10pm. I begin to wander to expel some anxious energy, plus someone stole my corner seat when I got up for the restroom. I wander inside eventually and discover a bag that says Chipotle on it. I got super excited since I’ve been craving Chipotle for the past couple years but not enough to drive over an hour to get it, and here I am only three minutes walking distance. I went to investigate, but unfortunately did not buy Chipotle. I talked myself out of it, saying there was food on the train. (What I did not know is that they closed everything by 11 and that was when we were finally seated.) I returned to the train station and continued my wandering until I found a garden I wanted to be in. Then it started raining again so I went back inside to sit next to an elderly white woman and an elderly (About 70) black man. They were talking about something and would eye me as I passed by so I decided to sit next to them. The woman got up and left and another black man, not as old, walked up and gave the first man a drink. He had a distinct foreign accent but when I asked where it was from he said “My lips.” He was funny, a Jokester, when he first sat down he said that the train people needed to “hire a boat” with all the raining and possible flooding that had caused our train to be late. I tuned out their conversation for a while until I heard them mention knives and guns in the house and I told them “Why stab people with knives when you could throw it?” And later the woman indicated that the Jokester and I would go around the house with a knife and get killed while she would have a gun and shoot whoever was in her house. I told her I wouldn’t walk around the house, I’d hide and wait for them to pass me, then I’d kill them. Which caused the whole group to laugh at me and decided I was a murderer and that I would definitely do that in my home. The train was finally here, there was a female around my age in line with a handsome man, she started crying, then he started crying. They had been there since I was and she stared at me for a moment when I first got there after she was done shivering from the AC and rain. When we went down the stairs I realized why she was crying. He was on the other side of the fence, no longer next to her. But he was dutifully waiting in line with her by himself across the way. She kept waving goodbye and nodding and trying not to cry. And he was clearly trying to hold it together. He eventually stopped waiting in line with her and started texting on his phone, I lost sight of him. I found the Hispanic woman again and had helped her down the stairs, I boarded the train holding her pillow. To be specific she is from Dominica, she said what part, but it was too fast for me to understand. She boarded the train but left her bags in Coach. I tried to get her to switch seats with me, we were given the ticket numbers 9 (window, me) and 10 (isle, her) and she took the window seat and told me she would be moving so it didn’t matter. When she tried to get into coach she got in trouble and sent back. She told me later, but then showed me photos of her gorgeous grandkids, then fell asleep like a rock. And still sleeps now while I type this. She has a tattoo of flowers on her left shoulder and she took her bra off before she slept. I can see a bubbled up scar on her right arm. We had a little bit of a language issue so it was interesting to try to piece together the conversation, but I definitely do not think I will ask her about the scar. If it’s a long story I do not think I could keep up. The first man next to me, I think is an alcoholic. He wanted to buy a beer but everything was closed, then filled his coral cup with rum form his bag and coke. He then asked when he could buy alcohol again and they told him 6am. He is still drinking Rum… now with Pepsi. I boarded with him and he was very fidgety and seemed kind of like he needed something, I initially thought it was travel anxiety too… But I’m pretty sure by the way he holds his cup even as he dozes off that he is an alcoholic. At 1:30am or so I got to the point where I had played with everything I could on the train and decided I should try to nap, even if it is only a little bit. It was hard to get comfortable and Dominica seemed to seep into my space, but she was warm so it wasn’t too bad and eventually I was able to doze off for a moment. I awoke multiple times due to being cold and an occasional back spasm. I put my feet on the table in front of me and my back popped so I could rest a little while longer and before I knew it, 6am had come and the dining car was open again. I couldn’t decide if I wanted food but I definitely wanted to travel between cars. It was like a video game, you had to wait to jump to the next one because of the way it moved and the train seemed shakier than a cruise ship so I had to figure out how to step. I could not step lightly on the train, I had to step with purpose and put my foot down. No tiptoeing or I would be knocked over. The landscape has stayed about the same, the grass is greener and some of the stops we made were filled with old masonry and old train stations, I could almost smell the hundreds of people and women crying goodbye to their lovers for war. In the train the seats are larger than airplane seats and we have more room to walk around, and we are allowed to walk around. It just might not be the safest. Though, there are no seatbelts. Do trains even need them? The internet is awful, and often I have no service, but the majority of my friends are still asleep so texting is not a huge problem. I just hope my pets are okay. I am excited to get to New York, my anxiety went away and now I’m itching to explore the new area that is New York. Hopefully I will not have too much trouble. Though, this is a first for me to travel and still miss home at the same time. But I know I will return to Love and animals in a month’s time. Hopefully everyone will be there when I’m back and I haven’t changed too much, or if I have, I won’t lose the people I care about most.

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mageofblack6 · 9 years ago

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A Letter to The Risen Dead

To someone that I lost too soon,

There is so many things I wanted to say to you. There are things that I’ve done that I know you wouldn’t be proud of, things that I don’t know how to admit I did to you. Some things I cannot believe I did or things I almost wish I hadn’t. There are a lot of people who I have stopped talking to, or people that you told me I would be around forever.

There is so much that I wish I could see you for or say to you.

There are times that I scroll through my phone and your name stops me in my tracks and I just stare at what once was a means of communication to you.

I remember when we sat down and argued for hours and hours. I remember fighting when we shouldn’t have.

Or I remember that time when I peed my pants and you came to rescue me and we went shopping directly after.

I hear your voice when it’s cold and I’m driving home. Man, was I thinking of you whispering in my ear, “Watch out for that black ice.” You always called it black ice… There wasn’t any.

I see you when I see the cheapest deals, or I see the logo for places you used to shop online.

If I was given the chance to see you again, I don’t know what I would start with. I don’t know where I would go. I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone else, but I know I would. I would be the last to see you, I always am.

So what would I say with your last five minutes?

I love you. I miss you. I’m sorry I never did everything that you thought I could do, I’m trying now. I am trying to follow the path you laid for me so many years ago. The things you tried to teach me that I just ignored or things I didn’t understand. Things about life, about relationships, about family, about love, about care, about myself.

I hope you would be proud of me. I can now. I think because I lost you I can. It still hurts, but that is all I can do.

So maybe I didn’t lose you too soon. Maybe I lost you just at the right time. Just enough time to make it work.

Don’t worry about me. I’ll tell the family that you didn’t get to that you miss them, that you love them and you’re watching. But I think that I got this now…

I hope that I got this now because you gave it to me. Thank you for giving me those lessons.

I love you.

Love,

Me.

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mageofblack6 · 11 years ago

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Sex Driving with a Splash of Marriage

So, when people feel like it they go have sex. Because they want it. That must mean they need it. So they do.

What happens when someone doesn't want it, but does it anyway for social norms?

I think that my personal relationships suffer because I don't have that desire. I have the desire to want to wait. Simply because I am insecure enough as it is, I don't want to have to worry about my SO only being with me because of my female parts existing, but that also causes people to leave. I think my relationships suffer because of the generation where if you want it you take it and I am pretty steadfast in not wanting it. Well the people I'm interested in, they already crave it. Like an addiction. I don't have a very addictive personality, (even if people easily get addicted to me). I really have no addictions besides making people happy -- if that could be considered an addiction.

Did you notice that causes conflict? To make an SO (in my generation) happy, sex is a huge part of that. I see quotes all around like, "Good Sex and No Lies are what keeps a marriage going." or "Great sex and good communication makes a marriage." Do you see my dilemma? What happens to people like that? Do they end up alone for the rest of their life?

What about the people who say you marry your parents? I didn't have a dad. My mom is marrying come this fall, and has never been married. Uh - oh! That is just another cliche right there.

I think people have an idea implanted in them from the beginning.

"If you want it, go for it.

If you go for it, don't stop.

If you don't stop you can take it.

If you take it, it feels good.

If it feels good, it is good.

If it is good, do it again.

If it's good enough to do again it is no longer a want, it's a need.

If you need it, don't settle for less."

In other words, Take what you want because you need whatever you want and that is all you will settle for. But that preconceived idea has nothing to do with relationships. I was at the location a lot of people go to to help sustain their lifestyle regularly, and my coworkers were talking about age differences. "All you want is the booty, but at my age, a real lady, you get it after the third date otherwise it's See ya!"

Wait. Isn't that still all you want is the booty? Does that mean that when she's old and grey and wrinkly and you're limp and bald and wrinkly all that matters is the sex and not the companionship? What happened to respect at a young age and marriage until sex and all of that stupid stuff? There is a lot of pressure on me as a young adult to have sex. It's there. Even with very minimal amount of contact with people outside of a means making, professional setting, that pressure is incredibly heavy. I think I maybe do it to test my strength? Go against the flow. Some people may say, "If he's the right one, he will stay." What if I don't WANT the right one? I want to be experienced in the ways of dating (without sex) before I meet the right one. I want to know what the wrong one feels like. I already have a fairly strong sense. If they are wrong I just know it. I have trouble deciphering between like and crushes and just friends, probably because (and why) I have very little amounts of true friends, and even then I don't talk to them regularly. I want to know why he's the wrong one. I think most of all I want to learn how to get over people. What can I do but try to move on? My extremely awkward self. I'm like a four year old child when it comes to relationships, truly. I am still sitting in the "Oh my goodness I can hold someones hand. But why does it feel weird?" How do I set my boundaries to both keep me happy and still in a learning situation?

This entire society seems to revolve sex and money, things that do not interest me at this point in my life. I want to have fun. I want to have good conversations, I want to go out and dance, party, chat, eat, laugh, maybe do some karaoke, play some board games. But I need to find a new pool of interests. The people I'm interested cannot hold conversations -- I don't know how to do small talk, either. So it's almost okay. But they cannot stand silence either unless they are touching me. I understand the hormones thing somewhat... But control yourself a little bit. You couldn't even tell me my favorite color by the second week. I could probably tell you your favorite color, your favorite animal, and at least your preferred music but the second or third day (if I'm actually interested in you).

"I miss you." You don't even know me. Don't give me that, my best friends miss me. I've been on outings with them.. even if it's just walking down the mall with them, what have I done with you? Talked on the phone for twenty minutes?

"I need you." Get in line. I have family as my first priority, and my closest friends as my second. If you can give me a good reason to become emotionally attached to you fine. You can say that. But anyone who I'm attached to already knows that I try to help even when they don't know they need me yet. It's called a daily dose of Mage. Get over it.

"I just.. want to talk to you." Then talk to me. I will talk back, but don't be all, "I want to talk to you." *three hours later* You are STILL talking about nothing, i.e. "Hey." "Hey." "How are you?" "Good. You?" "Good." That's not really talking is it? Ask me questions. If you really want to know you will ask. I love talking with older people, who are skilled in the way of conversing. "Hey! How are you?" "Oh I'm good, just came from an aerobics class it was pretty intense, I liked it! How are you?" "Oh I'm doing good, just finished this great book about blah blah blah." And depending on who's leading you continue about the book first and then the aerobics class... Saying you don't just spontaneously get on to a conversation about a cat, and then how you thought the weather was going to be spastic today. Don't deadpan me. I will deadpan you. My generation doesn't care about the other person's information. Just the motion of asking.

I don't want to seek the people who can converse, the 25-30 year olds, not only are they practically in my mom's fiances generation, but they are a little farther along in life than I can be in right now. Yes I want kids. (duh), yes I want a house. Yes I want to settle.. But not right now! I want to have fun, travel the world, do stupid stuff I can tell my kids later! And I want a good person to do it will. Sure. I could marry now, but I want to make sure that me and him can compromise together not all just one person saying " I need kids now." and the other saying, "I need France now." It doesn't work that way. I'm already internally torn with how I want to go about it... I love new things and innovation, I love when other strong people suggest awesome ideas and cool things.

"Let's hang." Okay. When? Where? How long?

I may not be forty, but I actually DO have responsibilities. What does 'hang' even mean? Does it mean we are going to go walk around the mall for an hour? Is it a booty call? Is it time to play games? Go to an arcade? I meet your friends for a little Q&A? I work a lot and love fun. But my interests are so wide that you really need to pick something because I know you are more picky than I am. I understand that other women are picky, but please believe me when I say I am not. Pick something. I'm down for it. I don't do drugs. I don't smoke. I can't drink. But I love to learn how to do new things. And I would love for you to teach me something new. I could spend hours with you if you had something to teach me. I freaking would go to my best friends house with plans to go out and do something, but we'd stay in and play games. I'm down for spontaneity, just please actually have something other than "I want to see you to cop a feel."... Please.

I'm not sex driven. I'm not sorry about it. And I cannot and will not do anything about it, if this society has their head in the wrong place, at least try to understand that my head isn't with the society. My head is with me. And on my shoulders. And I have plans. And what I want is a good conversation. Not sex. Not drugs. So please don't just assume I'm just another girl out for the D.

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mageofblack6 · 11 years ago

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Him (This was SO not posted in June....)

You know. I always told myself that I wanted to be called "One of the Guys." I also would say I didn't have very many friends. Truth be told I have a lot of 'friends' but they don't necessarily add up to people who I will be talking to 10 years from then, 5 years from then, 10 months from then, 5 weeks from then... Just people that kept me on the line of alone and surrounded. I was always lonely... So I didn't really see them as friends since they couldn't really stifle my lonliness-- even if they were real friends.. Even if they ARE real friends (which I just contributed to my lack of social skills-- which I have skills... I'm good with people, and a lot of people like me (I think ;) )but that doesn't mean that I feel like I connect with them.. I feel like there's still a wall. And I'm fairly sure it's mine. ) So when I was called one of the guys by a buddy I had just reached the age where it was suppose to be an insult but I felt more honored than anything.

It was cool. I was a part of something. I never felt the camaraderie like being "one of the guys" in average groups. Sports even I never got to feel like I was in a group. I played volleyball in 8th grade and I was a Cheerleader Freshman year (and somewhat in elementary school), and I never felt like I was one of the girls.. like I'd be invited to that party. The new kid. The kid who didn't get invited to birthday parties. You get used to it. But you don't. Freshman year and Sophomore year I got invited to a couple birthday parties and on outings it was way cool... But I still was somewhat left out. Oh well. I was kind of used to it by then. But being one of the guys... It felt like if I had trouble with somebody I could call someone up and say "Dude. I'm gonna go rip this guys car up. You in?" and have the guy on the other end say "Sure, I'll grab ---- and ---, where is it at?" and we are on our way. I'm sure I have people like that now... If I was there. Where they are. But at the same time it's hard not to follow the social 'norms' and be insulted. One of the guys means comfortability. It means that dating you would be like dating a guy-- and trust me... When I played WoW I was deemed a 30+ year old male.. so I guess I have the characteristics. I used to brag about it, I was proud of it. I'm a little-- kind of a lot-- more feminine now. It scares me to be a girl... I don't want to be hated. I don't want to be ugly. I don't want to be too skinny. I don't want to be fat. I don't want to worry about weight. I don't want to worry about strength. I don't want to worry about hair. I don't want to worry about makeup. I don't want to worry about shoes. Dresses. Clothes. Feet shape. Nail length. Eyelash length. Hair color. Hair style. My voice. Farting. Belching. Whether to say "girls" or "chicks". I don't FEEL girly. And I certainly don't have the grace of a girl. I don't have the finesse of a girl. And I don't have the right.. mannerisms.. of a girl. But I don't of a boy either. I really cannot say one way or another. I seek for the loneliness to go away. So being one of the guys isn't an insult. It's camaraderie that you cannot find elsewhere.. but that also means you are unreachable. That you are undateable. So if in that said group of one of the guys you happen to connect with moreso than the others you are stuck on the outskirts. So. Girls aren't the only people friendzoning. It's just more hated and accepted if a female does it. Sometimes I like to just sit and think. What if I wore dresses? I kind of want to.. but I don't want to ruin the dress with my every day activities. Plus. that's years of T-shirt and jeans to be replaced with undershorts and skirts. I love skirts. I love dresses. I love feeling pretty because Lord knows I don't feel pretty enough. (For anything) and I don't have the money to redo my 8 year wardrobe I've built. I entered a relationship and all I wanted was for him to make me feel pretty. For him to see me for me. Be okay with it. Little did I know that wasn't acceptable. He didn't call me pretty until I asked for it in anger-- because he'd somehow made me feel worse than I knew I should. I noticed walls I have that no one I know should have-- but do.. And not only could he not deal with them, I couldn't either. I wanted to let him in. And I did. I thought. But he didn't. It didn't help during that confusion, I learned something... or I realized it. I think I knew it from the first night. But I didn't want to notice. It was a friendzone technique. You meet someone who could see you and you say "Oh God! Oh God! I'm gonna scare him off. Just.. Just.. Do not ever think of a relationship with this person." So I didn't. And then I left. And all these memories of people describing a feeling to me and my friends told me I talked about him differently and that I was so much happier when talking about him or to him. And I couldn't help but think of the connection. The loneliness that I didn't know had vanished returned ten-fold. I realized my relationship to make me feel pretty was doomed... From the second I was at the airport. It had only been three days and I knew. I knew because I only knew I loved him when I let him go. When I pulled away. Tears in my eyes. Tears that got attributed to airport stress when really it was the fact that I may never see him again. Feel his hug. Smell his scent. Dance with him. Hear his laugh. His song. His voice. Feel his heart through his music. His eyes. I couldn't help him. I wanted to help him. Be there. I could see it. He hid a lot. I honestly don't know how much he really hid and he knew about. I wanted to take it all away. And instead I left. I always leave. I know if I go back it won't be the same. I cannot make what I wanted a reality. But at night when I'm alone and thinking.. Or the hour to school and the hour back I think of how well it might've worked. The rest of the day I think of him. I hate when I'm thinking of him and all I want to do is vent and groan about thinking of him when I shouldn't be.... I can't. Not because I'm afraid who knows- I'm afraid that I'll hurt someone or mess something up - But I'm not sure I care anymore - because the people who are closest to me know. He knows. But about three people know how much it really affects me. How much I really think. How much I feel. I would like to say I am not much of a feeling person. I don't understand them. Feelings I mean. Good and Bad. That's it. Maybe a little anger or sadness. That's what took me so long to realize that I was lonely. But I moved a lot. So it was "the norm" for me. So when I was looking this new feeling in the face going, "Oh God please don't let me screw this up." and I did. Oh boy I did. I keep telling myself that I can win him over.. But I have this little voice in my head that tries to keep my grounded because I know I'm not much of a long distance person. I know that. I know that I am really good at letting myself down. I'm trying not to. I'm trying to let myself fantasize and pretend it will work- I can court him. But I don't think I can. Something so fragile that can break so easily. I don't know whether I'm describing me or the bond. I am overwhelmingly impressed at how the bond is there-- on my end. People call me negative, people call me positive. I call me real. I am so real that I am terribly mean. I'm honest. I'm scared. I'm hurting. I'm happy. I'm not. I am. I am enough. Even if I'm not to him the way I want to be... I am enough for me. And if this is what it feels like every time he messages me back I smile. My day is just SO much better with a quick message. He messaged me first the other day. I was having a terrible day.. but it didn't matter because I thought, for a moment, he was thinking about me. All the hours and hours and weeks and weeks and months of my constant battle to not fawn over him... He thought of me. That is enough for me right now. If this is what it feels like for him-- and I cannot court him... And he isn't the right guy.. what will the right guy feel like?

I am enough. I promise.

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mageofblack6 · 11 years ago

Text

Beautifications.

April 13, 2014 The beginning of the end.. or the Ending of a beginning or something creative like that.. Hah!

I just wanted to use a big word. Try to keep up with the train of thought.. This isn't my book and I'm not editing much. :P Let's just talk about beauty and get it over with. I'm pretty. I think. Well. Sometimes. You are pretty too, I could-- Or handsome-- I could easily tell you that. (And mean it of course), but even so... Who says you would believe me? And YES sometimes I will go down the street and thing "Oh my goodness that person is ugly." But if I look at them I'll think, "Well.. she has gorgeous eyes." or "He has nice teeth." or "I like the shape of his cheeks -- because I can see some of it through that fourth chin." Beauty is subjective somewhat. I find some "Hawt babes" butt-ugly. I find some pretty - pretty ugly people and I can find something pretty. Usually their eyes. I love eyes. I really really love eyes. I cannot express that enough to you. The eyes are the gateway to a soul, I don't know who said that but it's semi-true for some people. Me... I don't know. People always tell me they can see it in my eyes... But I ask them what and it hurts almost as much as the initial hurt I was hiding to just nod and smile at their assumption that I'm angry or irritated instead of hurting. Or that I'm happy instead of mad. Not many people can see the tears on my face before I cry. My mom. She can do that... It always amazes me because she didn't point it out before.. So could she before? I guess. Maybe. I was told once that I was a beautiful crier. Which is a good thing since I cry. A lot. (Thought she was INSANE by the way.. turns out she was and she was one of my favorite people too). Someone once told me they could see it. That I wasn't alright. I was so stunned I forgot I was hurting a moment. I told him, "What?"... I was like "Are you serious?"... He went "Yes. I am." I asked him why he didn't say something. Secretly, I'd been hoping someone could see it. I was always hoping. Since I was a little girl all I wanted was for someone to see me. Turns out this person was a pretty good match, I, needlessly was enchanted with him... But that enchantment was before he said that (And I believed him.. and most people that are close to me know I'm not a 'believe the stranger' kind of person-- gullible.. but I always suspect.) I was enamoured I guess. Anyway- besides the point. Eyes can see the pain just as much as they tell the pain. They betray everything about you. I notice your eyes first. I won't remember that about you.. But I will look at them, and then sort them out. Beauty isn't a thing. It's a state of mind. Watch.

What do you see? Do you see the gorgeous sunset? The color blend between blue and orange? Do you see the cool streams of clouds that look like water flowing over the sky? (Which they basically are) Or do you see the smudges of a car windshield? The frame of the inside of a car? I see them both. I had a bad day. I see them both. I don't want to see them both. I just want to see the colors, because I love colors.. I live by colors. I don't always feel beautiful. You probably don't always feel good looking. I could list out whats wrong with me... but I've got killer eyes. Beautiful freckles and as plenty of people have told me a wonderful voice (unless I'm singing.. and then only a few people have told me I'm good, and the rest are people who want to tear me down and at that moment I trusted them enough to believe them.) I have humor contrary to popular belief. But it's not something that a lot of people understand. That's beauty there. Do I need makeup to BE beautiful? No. Do I want makeup to FEEL beautiful? Yes. Do I use make up? Sometimes. I know that a lot of people think that it's a necessity for makeup. It's not. I love you just the way you are. And that is all you need. I don't care who you are, where you are, what you are, I will love you until you can love yourself. That's the mindset that I believe that a person needs somewhere, somehow, someway. Who's your person? I'll show you a picture of me today, my bad day, I look at the photo and cringe.. but thought my hair is all funky at that moment in time I liked my hair. And I'll show you the moment when I was talking to someone I care about and was snapping them and I had to save it cause it was such a gorgeous photo and you'll see the difference. I felt like crap. But I thought I was beautiful. There is a huge difference. You can see it too, the moments you feel beautiful (Or handsome) in a photo... Look through them and just go "ooo" and " ahh" notice those gorgeous dimples or cute noses. Beauty will always be a state of mind... A disposition not a deposition. A:

Hint.. Look at those eyes.

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