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[acethoughtsatnight-blog]

I’m not sure what caused it. I’m not sure when I felt it. I’m not sure if I truly am. At a young age, I was sexually assaulted. Yes, I remain scared. I do not blame that incident for my asexuality. Walking in on my mother and her girlfriend awaked my mind. What could they be doing? I left it alone. I heard rumors of one of my best friends and his girlfriend having sex. As a 9 year old, I didn’t quite understand what that meant, all I knew was that was bad since all the students reacted with disgust. In middle school, it was more common for students to discuss sexual things and make dirty jokes. I joined in cause I found it amusing how people reacted. By a certain point, i figured out what it sex meant. In 8th grade, I had my first somewhat meaningful relationship. We were exact opposites. I was a quiet weird kid with no desire for physical activities. He was popular and in several extracurricular activities including band and wrestling. So how I even agreed to date him is unknown, but he was alright. I was very inexperienced with the whole relationship scene. We hugged everyday after school and walked around the track at lunch holding hands. I thought that was a big deal. He asked over text if we could kiss soon. I was terrified. I told him we could another time. After him persisting countless times and him threatening our relationship if I didn’t, I gave in. We kissed a couple times in private then about the third time we made out. He started getting more comfortable and handsy. One day when he came over and we were making out, he started undressing and removing my clothes. I panicked. I stopped him and the next day he broke up with me. After this, I thought something was wrong with me. I found my body appalling. I started throwing up after meals on the rare time I ate in hopes of being thinner and prettier. I sought after positive attention from males. No one wanted me in real life, so I ventured the internet. I struck gold, I was flushed with positive feedback and had several long distance relationships. Was I catfished? I don’t ever know. It satisfied my needs for attention, but they wanted sexual attention, instead. I agreed cause I feared I would lose them. I didn’t find pleasure in any of the acts. I studied, futhermore, and came across sexualities. One of which I most likely related to was asexual. I identified myself as that only some friends who understood. I forgot about all that by the fall. High school came along with me still hating myself. I found out that boy that had me thinking I was worthless is going to the same high school. A single second of eye contact with him made me sick for the rest of the day. After about two weeks, I met another boy. We were practically the same. We occasionally flirted, I admit. I invited him over and we watched a movie. He began to scoot over and hold me. I found this strange and just played along. Our flirting became more prominent, and the next time he came over, we made out. We were never official, but sure acted like it. I liked this guy a lot and still do. I later found out that his best friend is the boy I dated in 8th grade. It hurt. I now felt forced to see that boy. I did more often and became sicker. The new guy couldn’t handle it and we drifted apart. Later freshman year, I was reunited another boy, who lived at my workplace. He was 17 and dropped out. I considered him who I was on the inside. He had piercings, tattoos, and flaunted the punk style. He was very open on the sexual subjects in person and over text. I didn’t want to be alone with this guy ever. The first time we hung out, he forcefully made out with me in the back of my mother’s car with her driving. She thought it was funny and encouraged I was more sexual in private. He began grabbing my chest and rubbing up my thighs. I pushed him away and later confessed I never wanted to have sex with him. Of course, he left. Some time later, I met “the one”. He was charming, caring, and funny. I couldn’t help, but fall in love. Did I take the warning signs? No. I never noticed myself becoming distant with my close friends. I didn’t notice my mother losing trust. All I knew was I loved him. With every stroke, touch, grab, smack, and swift slap. Yes, I ignored the threats. I ignored the abuse. I ignored the pain. I did finally have what I was not looking forward to. Sex. Not what I expected. It hurt. I confirmed my sexuality, with no cravings. It hurt more with every pounding. I lost control, he didn’t care. Months, I waited. I finally left. And he would do anything to have me back. Oh, but I felt free again. I got to see my friends who squeezed me and welcomed me back. I did meet some new ones. This guy, who I still talked to even in the abusive relationship, but I never let “the one” know, got closer. Not long after I left him, I finally got to see this guy. We hung all day. We laughed and told stories. We went back to his place. A tickle fight turned into cuddling. Then came a kiss. And there went our clothes. This time, it felt so much better. We agreed to stay friends after, and that sounded nice. We continued for only two days, until I happened to find a girl. His girl. Who I never knew about. I told her. She deserved to know. I didn’t expect a legal matter to be threatened, that’s all. Well, he was 18 and I was tagging three years behind. We stopped talking. While in the brief moment of infatuation, I was pursued by suitors. I didn’t like any, but I felt too bad to reject most of them. I continued living life and going to parties and drinking. I only went cause I did set my eyes on one guy for awhile. I knew him most of that year. He was always kind and caring, but a big flirt. He invited me over a lot, but it wasn’t until a couple weeks, he finally made a move. We were laying at my old elementary school, and he held me while his friends laid aside from him. His friend fell asleep, and I looked up at him. He asked, “Are we thinking the same thing?”. I responded, “What do you mean?”. “I’ll just show you,” he said, before pulling me in and kissing me. We returned to his place and he held me and kissed my cheek and lips in front of all his friends. I asked about it later that night, and he informed me he wasn’t ready for a relationship. The very next day I returned, after he invited me, and I was introduced to his new girlfriend. I left almost in tears, and have no intentions of returning. I see Facebook pictures and I’m glad he’s happy. He deserves it, but I guess not with me. Life went on and I hung out with friends most of the time. I still talked to the second guy’s (I had imtercourse with) best friend. He rarely came uptown and finally visited. I practically forced him to visit. We met up at McDonalds and the second guy showed up. It was awkward and unpleasant. His best friend left and we talked. He told about everything and how much of a mistake it was. It sounded sincere. I forgave him and we ended up making out. He kissed me in public and it was strange, cause he never did that. I though he changed, but I was wrong. His on and off girlfriend got hold of me and I was attacked with insults. Which I thought was funny that I was being yelled at, when her boyfriend kept getting with me. He’ll always be around, sometimes we just go quiet. A “fuckboy” randomly messaged me one day. I knew who he was prior since we go to the same school, but he’s two years ahead. He’s tried getting with two of my best friends, which was an automatic turnoff. I guess I didn’t care, I was lonely. I continued messaging him and we got a bit carried away. He wanted a relationship and I wasn’t quite ready. Yet we acted like it. Oh, and then the feelings caught. Ugh, what a shame. I loved the single life, yet I accepted his request. My blue haired boyfriend. The sweetest thing I’ve known. Hah, boy was I wrong. We fucked, and he left. I should’ve saw that coming. Anyways, weeks went by. I was partied and hooked up with any guy I could. The second guy and I have become friends. Oh, this is about the time I started counseling. Remember my first boyfriend? He’s back. We decided to become friends, but that quickly changed. We’ve been flirting nonstop. Then it escalated. Oops. Ex with benefits, as I would say. It’s kinda funny how his friend who was my second boyfriend decided to say hi. We appear to be friends. I wonder how long until I up in his bed. Surprisingly nothing happened. But time went on. Blue haired boy came back and tried tru ask his might to be mine, instead I settled for his pink haired boy. He was sweet and kind, and made sure to wait to be mine.

[acethoughtsatnight-blog]

I want someone who doesn't make me their everything, just something. Something important. Something that can't be replaced or forgotten. Something that they care about. So much. Something they'll take the time to appreciate. Something that needs connection to open up and affection to feel safe. Something that takes a lot of work, but will be worth it. Something they're not ashamed of. A work of art, perhaps. A piece that'll be displayed. Enjoyed. Loved. That piece will not be perfect. Lines will be crooked. Blending is not considered, cause there's only rough edges. Shades of blue will mask some spots, but soon pink will flood. Oh, but that something will see them as everything and anything that they need.

[acethoughtsatnight-blog]

Perfect Love

You'll realize he's perfect. He'll smile and try to hide his dimples, while your heart gets heavy. He'll give a little smile when he realizes you've been staring and kiss your cheek. You'll lose your breathe and hide your face. He'll point out that you're blushing and you'll try to deny it. He'll run up and sweep you off your feet, you'll feel embarrassed, but you love being in his arms. You will not only love being around, but you'll love him. You'll make a dumb comment and he'll giggle, even if it wasn't that funny. He'll talk about the future and make you finally feel comfortable. You'll share things no one's heard. You might even bring up the past, and he didn't want to hear. He'll shake it off and get quiet. You know he's upset, so you joke around to make him feel at ease. The jokes don't work. You get close and try to hold him. He softly pushes you away and you're both silent. You keep trying and he snaps. You feel the burning mark of a handprint on your face. You're speechless and look at a different pair of eyes. A more aggressive and empty pair. You don't recognize him. He lost his dimples. He lost his smile. He lost his giggle. You'll realize he's not perfect.

[acethoughtsatnight-blog]

Motel

I was working at a motel over the summer. I saw the ocean, his eyes mirrored the sky that bright day. His hair matched the sky, too, but the darkest one that night, with wrist tattoos to contrast the stars. I longed for him and made it quite obvious. I paced the sidewalk, biting my nails while my heart raced right to him. I confronted him and stated my pure intentions. He wasn't sharp unlike his knives, Or I was too high like him most Friday nights. But we talked for hours, days, weeks, even months. Seems longer in memory, but the calendar goes on. He clung on and didn't want to watch me go How could I say no to that baritone? I still remember that voice It was surprisingly soft and quiet but deep as his mind I pieced together the stories and questions out of his mouth Maybe I was too focused on his lips to hear the sounds He was sweet but I knew the sweetest things costed me pain from a young age The dentist warned me about suckers Who knew they'd be leaving marks on me? He often disappeared in broad daylight, but that slender figure was hard to catch I met up with him on his returns. I didn't bother to ask where'd he gone, I knew I wouldn't like the answer. I recall by Christmas break I met his face to mine. His snakebites tasted of tobacco. I still crave his metal spikes pressed against my lips. I tried to convince myself we didn't belong. I soon forgot that after three simple words, So simple that they'll be repeated constantly. I met my eyes with the sea and sky. The smoke was clouding up the clear skies. The ocean was polluted with chemicals and spills of upper pills. He had to leave short notice, actually without one at all. He was off before I could hold him tight. I wonder what he will look like this time. I guess children wear you down, so does suffering. Before the pain would clench my chest, I had to realize he is a criminal. A metal box clenched his ankle, A officer at his side, Child support bills piling, His father drinking, While his mother is dying. He didn't know what to do. The world on his fragile shoulders, The cuts at his tracked wrists, the different kinds of bottles at bedside, The drugs and alcohol being his only hope, His feelings were blurred by the blotched paper, And his mind faded with each inhale of powder and plants. I knew his intentions were nothing like mine. I was meaningless to the girls he had at his fingertips. I still check his accounts and wait for any evidence he's alive. I stopped reading obituaries afraid I would find his name in a bold font. He's probably on the side on a street begging like his mom. Or back behind steel bars with no bail so he faces the charge. I avoid the sunny skies, I'd rather not cry when a cloud blocks the light. A reminder of his eyes with the brightness of his mind being dimmed. I wish I could feel his hand on my shoulder when I'm behind the cleaning cart. I'll be working at that motel next summer.