colormeconfused - Tumblr blog

[colormeconfused]

the 5 love languages: song recommendations, parallel play, talking about The Character, offering to kill each other’s parents, gifting little trinkets

[colormeconfused]

are you mad at me. have you been mad at me. will you be mad at me. when will you be mad at me

[colormeconfused]

here, i blur into you

(a love letter to my best friend)

ribs, lorde | kigiom | trista mateer | memorial bench for judy, from janice, source unknown | emma, jane austen | from a letter to doris dana, gabriela mistral | written on the body, jeanette winterson | sunsbleeding | friends, bts (jimin + taehyung) | we were girls together, delaney bailey

[colormeconfused]

You know what is really difficult as an ace person?

Being a heteroromantic grey-ace, and having your love language be physical touch.

It doesn't necessarily mean sex, but many people think physical intimacy ultimately ends in sex.

I can live without sex, but I can't live without cuddles, kisses, and physical nearness. I want holding hands. I want affection. I want non-sexual intimacy.

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If you want me for a friend, please put in some work

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I'm glad you're happy. I'm glad this are going well, really well

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I gave the bare minimum. And got even less in return. On a phone call.

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Maybe don't call me. Not if I'm the only one who asks anything to keep the conversation going

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Anis Mojgani, “To the Sea”

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Can I talk to you? Is that something I can do? I know you read my messages, you respond to some. But are you in your cocoon phase yet? Can I tell you I miss you? Can I tell you that I am waiting for you? Waiting for you to escape school, at least this school, so I can See You?

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Two parts. Got them out

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Things are shifting in my head. Interactions with Anabelle are starting to feel giggly and fake, like I'm holding onto an image of myself. When we went shopping together before Addie came, she talked about her stained glass ideas. The entire time. And I'm happy she's excited for her creativity and letting it out is good. But I never got a "how are you?" You don't really give those either, not unless we haven't talked in a minute. Is that just a me thing? My way of caring? My way of saying I love you? But shifting- I've got no image to hold onto with you. I'm comfortable. I can lay on the floor and not feel a fool. I don't have to be one of the girls, or a gamer, or a nerd. I don't have to know everything or be tough. I can be small, sarcastic, silly, slightly impulsive. I can feel safe to cry, safe to smile at everything without a reason. You make me want to take up space. You make me want to be creative. Andrea is leaving today I think. There's a lot of bags in the dining room. I had to tell Aleks to clean up his beard hair again. Also had to show him the other day where the Clorox wipes were. The place they've been this entire time. Where I said they were when I asked everyone to wipe the counters down as often as possible. He said he wipes them down with soapy water. He will do more chores once she leaves. That's a promise and a threat. Minimum of wiping down the toilet. That thing gets gross under the seat and that's no one's fault but his. I wish you were my housemate. Cleaning would have gotten done. And if I did have grievances with you and your habits I would feel a lot more comfortable talking to you about it versus the unstable alcoholic with trauma, anxious gamer with the sad eyes, and complete fucking stranger. Really wish we'd lived together. We'd have vibed I think. At least in the same house, not same room. I don't think I was a good guest over at yours. We could have talked for hours and I couldn't get any words out. I was there for you and I should have done something for me. I miss the late nights at the boathouse. Talking and walking there and back. You know one of the nights I almost tried to kiss you on the cheek? Impulsive. Sorta. I thought long and hard about it, when and how. I chickened out. Obviously. I couldn't figure out how to get your consent. If you didn't meet her, how would have this summer been different? I wanna text you that I miss you. So much. Even though it hasn't even been a week since you left. But I can't bring myself to do it. Not when the first time you brought her up you told me you were exchanging I miss yous and the reverence in your voice made it sound like you two were saying I love you instead. But god do I miss you. I missed you every time I left your house just to text you 5 minutes later. I missed you every time you asked to reschedule something. I missed you when you switched from Saturday to Friday at the desk. It hasn't even been 24 hours since we last said anything to each other and I miss you so much. I can't get you out of my head. Why am I like this?

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I saw the bear this morning! I was on my way out of the house and Mark is calling at me to pay attention because the little guy was near the other house. He's just a little fella. Really cute. And Donna is working Sundays now! I had a good start to my day. And what a slow day it was. Only about a fourth of the volume of people from yesterday showed up today. Slow and dead. Plenty of time to be with my thoughts. I didn't wanna text you though. I don't wanna bother you when you're with your girlfriend. So I wrote. And wrote. For hours. About how I'm still unclear about how you feel exactly. All I know is that we're "wrong time, right people" (I absolutely abhor that trope, I hate angst especially if there isn't a happy ending) and that I'm attractive (what part of me?) and that I'm funny (sure hun). I wrote about how I wish I knew more. Do you think of me? What's the difference between her and I? How do you feel when you're with her? With me? Did you know that I normally fear the future? I don't like thinking about it, it fills me with anxiety and dread. But if I think of a future with you in it, it's not so scary? Platonic, romantic, what have you, life seems doable. You asked me "what would it take for you to come to Australia with me?" I gave you an honest answer. Help me get a passport. I mean it. You could say "let's run away" and I'd go get my shoes on. I don't know why I'm so devoted, all you've done was string me along. But I'm a fucking simp I guess. Bat those doe eyes at me and I'd do a lot for you. I wish I could let you in. I already let my guard down too much. I gave into a lot of impulses, let you feed me (I don't know why that feels so significant to me), accidentally gave boyfriend privileges to you (which is why the news of her hurt so much), and let you comfort me. I feel safe with you. I can breathe easier with you around.

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I think my thoughts are too long for Tumblr

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I spent so long writing you a livestream of my thoughts over the course of the day and Tumblr just ate it. All my thoughts and feelings written mildly coherently, gone. And yet I'm going to try again. Because I, for some reason, need it to exist outside of my head.

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I hate this app. I wrote something for hours, on and off, and it just lost it. "Hit a glitch, try again?"

[colormeconfused]

I can't just cut myself off from him, he's become one of my best friends and he's stated that I'm his but I don't know how to maintain that same vibe without shattering