The brink of Summer or Doom?

Thursday, April 17th 2008 at 10:51pm


I’m back around to this again. All this time and I’m still coming back around to friends. I don’t want to go through the effort of creating and maintaining friendships when I could just be with My boyfriend, but I can’t just be with My boyfriend all the time. He wants to have friendships and go through the effort of maintaining them. It’s worth it to him.

According to what he’s explained to me (partially in the past, but more throughly today) is that when he was with Brianna she didn’t have or want friends in the beginning. And then she changed, and she started going out with her friends and leaving him behind. He says he felt the way I feel, and that’s why he hasn’t been going out as much... But he still wants to go out.

I just don’t comprehend why. I can’t understand it. He says it’s just because I’ve never felt it. He says he felt this way too, but he changed, and says I’ll change too. I don’t want to change. I want to just be with him, and leave it at that.


I just want the world to swallow me up. Swallow me into the ground, and then devour me instantly and painlessly. Then this ticking would stop. I can’t honestly say I want to die, that’s not the truth. I’m just so tired of exploring myself. I’m so tired of wanting anything. So needy for affection, do desperate for creation, so down on the world, so up when he is up.

“There used to be such happy banter between them, Josh and Isadora,” says Erica Jong in parachutes and kisses. And there is happy banter, there is, there is, there is. And that’s just about to describe it: happy banter. Joking, and laughing, prodding and poking, giggling and snorting, talking and kissing, fucking and making love. All of it is so wonderful that it leaves everything else to be dust. Everything else just melts away in “maintenance.”


Why does it hurt so much to watch him leave? What’s underneath everything that makes it so painful? I don’t want him to get frustrated with me.

“I can’t leave you when you cry like that,” he says.

“Not now, but eventually you’ll just call me a big baby and storm out on me anyway,” I say, on the verge of tears for at least the fifth time.

“Nah, not even. It was hard today, but I can’t leave you when you look like that. I really wanted to go out, but after that one time I left when you were crying, I can’t do it again.”

This cheers me, but I’m still afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to make him snap someday. I’m afraid I’m asking too much, and that I can’t give enough.



Friday, April 18th 2008 at 1:37pm


Nathan,

I happen to believe that Elijah is gay not because anyone says so, but because I’ve seen footage, her dialogs, and listened to my mom’s testimony, and read blogs which all point out and show a large number of facts about Elijah. Personally, I don’t care if he is or isn’t gay. But I do believe that he is, and that he doesn’t want anyone to know because it could (and probably would) ruin his career. Furthering the argument doesn’t really have much purpose.

Tater,

My father has helped some with the bathroom, though not a lot, but he does work during the day and morning when my mom has the most energy to work on it herself. When my father gets off of work she picks him up, cooks him dinner, and sometimes they watch TV together. From what I can tell, that pretty much sums up their relationship.

As for being controlling... I can see more and more clearly how controlling I really am, and more and more clearly I can also see why. My own psyche is probably my favorite thing to study, and I usually do this in the form of talking, writing and mentally asking myself a lot of questions and then trying to answer them as fully and completely as possible.

My sex drive (incidentally) is rising at the time being. Not at all sure why. My diet and my emotional state seem to be related, but not very directly it seems. My moods are certainly directly related to what I eat and the events in my day, but if the sex drive is just as directly related then it’s in such a way that I can’t comprehend it. It used to be I couldn’t stand morning sex, now three days in a row I’ve had morning sex with My boyfriend and found it to be the most pleasing sex in months.

I have realized however (just as you have) that I don’t want any sex while resenting my partner, just as you said. And I like that you used that word, because usually I’d say “upset” and that wouldn’t be completely true, because sometimes I’m upset with him but still want him. It’s specifically the resentment that makes me not feel in the mood for sex.


Hallie,

Nurture versus Nature is probably the oldest argument of psychology. Since I believe in souls, I think that we’re born with some of our soul’s natural instincts and understanding. For example, some children listen to their parents and are very obedient from birth, and some take much more harsh discipline – even siblings with the same parents often have a drastic difference. People can of course argue that this was a difference in how those two children were raised, but often twins come out with very different personalities, even conjoined ones.

That said, I think that our environment can completely change us from our initial inclinations. If our initial inclinations prove to work against us at a young age, I believe they can be completely wiped from our personality.


Friday, April 18th 2008 at 2:00pm


I can’t believe I haven’t written about this dream yet, since I had it probably a week and a half ago. Perhaps because the dream disturbed me so much? Well, here is all that I can remember at this point.


I was carrying groceries in with my Mom, and My boyfriend was leaving for work. The door was open for long periods of time as my mom and I were in the kitchen, and this bothered me. What if the cat got out? What if something got in? I’m not sure if I went upstairs to check if someone was there, but I went upstairs and into my parent’s bedroom and Tre was there. Oddly, in the dream, this didn’t startle me.

I laid down next to him and we talked. I didn’t tell him, but in my mind I was guilty that I had let him in by leaving the doors open. I felt more and more sick and upset and desperate as I talked to him. This anxiousness was overcoming me. (I don’t remember a word that was spoken.) I told him that he should go and I stood up, and I hugged him, and then my father beckoned me. He told me that I needed to bring Tre downstairs because it had to be done.

He didn’t specify what needed to be done, but it’s as though I felt that they were going to do something awful. I felt trapped though. I couldn’t sneak Tre out, because that would make it look like I purposely let him in, that would make it look like I wanted him there. I couldn’t let that happen, so I led him by the hand down the back stairs. When we entered the dining room my heart began to sink. I remember my father said something about paying people, and how it would be a waste if I didn’t cooperate.

So I walked into the living room tentatively where there was a number of people gathered. There was some sort of filming equipment. I caught a glimpse of someone hidden partway behind a large chair. Something was in their hand, something deadly. I grimaced, not knowing what to do. Tre seemed to take this for some sort of party and tried to get people dancing. Dad seemed to go along with this idea so I began dancing too. And then someone says that they need to do Tre’s hair and makeup for the movie, or whatever they were doing.

Tre kneels on the ground for this, for some odd reason. The moment he’s down someone leaps out with a huge syringe filled with black fluid and stabs him at the base of his neck and then quickly pushes the black fluid in. Tre looks shocked for a moment, and then slumps forward.

In total shock I scream, not really expecting him to just die in front of me. Who can ever expect someone to just die right before their eyes? Shocked that my father would hire people to kill someone, shocked at seeing murder, shocked at the harsh reality of how flesh and blood is just a shell we hide in for a time I dash into the dining room screaming, collapse to the floor, and begin kicking wildly. I smash through the legs of the table with my feet, and my arms shatter boxes full of things (totally unlike real life where such antics would only leave me bruised and a few things displaced) and the world seems to whirl around me.


Of course I wake up at this point, sweating and freaked out. I feel like the dream means something deep. What it means is completely up for debate. Usually the feeling of a dream is more relevant than anything. If I break it down into feelings I felt guilty, then anxious, then scared and then horrified and disgusted.

The other thing to analyze is the main characters, myself, Tre, and my father. I think my father holds a large significance in this dream. Perhaps he’s representing some sort of fucking up heartless justice, and Tre is representing a past I’m afraid to remember wholly, afraid to admit is mine wholly.


Friday, April 18th 2008 at 2:27pm


Angel writes:

“I’m sorry to hear about you and My boyfriend’s relationship. I have to point out something; you once told me that you have to find a partner who is not different from you. From my viewpoint, I’d say that My boyfriend and you are very different but I’m sure you know that already right? For example, he’s more socialized and you’re not so socialized. He likes to party, smoke and drink (though I don’t know how anyone could take such pleasure in something so horrible) whereas you are not into it at all.”

>

I reply:

That’s the funny part. That we are so much alike, but from that perspective is sure doesn’t look like it. And what’s even more ironic is that if we both go out together I do 80% of the talking between us. I behave more social than he does, but he enjoys being around people more than I do. He tells me now that he doesn’t want to drink anymore, but that he misses the sensation sometimes. And I did used to want to party, smoke and drink, I just quit all of that. What’s funny is that he used to never have an interest in doing that stuff, but after his last relationship went bad he got into it.

The reason My boyfriend and I get along as well as we do, and are as happy as we are (when we’re happy, which is probably 85% of the time) is because of how many things we both enjoy doing. Reading, digital painting, drawing, web design, video games, goofing around with each other, anime, cuddling and sex and grooming each other. We both are very passionate about sex in a way that a lot of people are not. We’re more affectionate than other couples. We cook together, and then we watch shows we both enjoy together, whereas many couples can’t agree on what they like to watch. We disagree about what video games to play, but we agree on playing them in general. We both love all forms of art, except for writing. I love writing, and it doesn’t interest him very much.

The only thing we disagree on besides going out, drinking and smoking and socializing is music. I can’t stand gangster rap, and he loves it. But we can agree on metal music and anime music. So we’re really not that different, but our small differences are enough to cause a lot of arguments.

However, personality-wise there are some things that need to be different. For example, two quiet people in a relationship can make a relationship spoil because of lack of communication. Two loud people in a relationship can cause arguments because of cutting each other off, always waiting to speak, not listening because of having too much to say, and so on. In that way, My boyfriend and I compliment each other. He’s quiet if I’m quiet, but I’m usually talkative, and I can get him talking. If I was quiet too, it wouldn’t work as well, and if he talked as much as I do, that also wouldn’t work as well.


Angel writes:

“You also once told me that the next relationship I jump into, I should inform the guy that I do not want to be with someone who wastes his life on alcohol and drugs, it makes me wonder why you didn’t tell My boyfriend that in the very beginning of the relationship. Unless you did tell him and he couldn’t manage to stick to his compromise (if there was one) In that case couldn’t you predict from that moment, that there’d be problems? (I feel like I’m making no sense here…… but I hope you understand me.)”


I reply:

Actually I didn’t think drinking and smoking weed were a big deal when I met him. I didn’t quit until about four months in our relationship actually. However, I did make it clear that I wouldn’t date him unless he quit smoking cigarettes, which he promptly quit and has not turned back to since.

When I went on my road trip with my father (and left My boyfriend for an entire month) there was one night where I got very drunk and fucked another guy (mostly just because My boyfriend said I could, I was testing the boundaries) and it was bad. The sex was bad, the night was bad, how I felt was bad, waking up with bad, and on top of it I vomited over and over and over again. I have not drank even one little sip since that night. And over the next month to come I gave up smoking, trying it again on and off for a while before I just quit entirely.

However My boyfriend’s drinking is a more serious problem because he becomes so dramatically different when he’s drunk. He’s not an violent drunk, but he’s an angry drunk. The more he drinks the more irritated he acts, even though he feels good, so he says. However he hasn’t gotten drunk in months now, and he hasn’t drank anything at all for about a week and a half, which goes to show much he’s cutting back. And a week and a half ago he had one beer, which really isn’t much compared to the six beers I watched him drink towards the beginning of our relationship.

But you’re right, I couldn’t predict how many problems the drinking and partying would cause. When I met him I believed that I was the party person, and he was the quiet indoor person. Funny how that reversed so quickly.


Angel writes:

“You know when I was younger, I always told myself not to give out advice until I learn to follow my own but as I grew I always wondered that just because I’m not capable of following my own advice doesn’t mean that I can’t help someone else. Who knows they could be a lot stronger and wiser than me, which means they would do a lot better at taking my advice and doing what I couldn’t do. Then they would be my inspiration. Are you following this?”


I reply:

I completely agree. It’s great to follow your own advice, but not always possible. And when other people do it when you can’t, it can be inspiration. Honestly, I’d advise all young girls to go out with a lot of guys while they are young, but not to have sex with them until being in the relationship for at least one month. One month gives enough time to prove the man actually likes you, and doesn’t just want you. It gives enough time for you to stop looking at his body and start seeing the guy for who he is. Going out with a lot of different guys while you’re young helps you develop your preferences before you get old enough to make a serious commitment. I think a bigger mistake than sleeping with too many men is marrying your first love only for it to all fall apart because you didn’t know what you wanted yet.


Angel writes:

“Anyway, when I fall for a dude, I fall hard. And I fall harder each time. I don’t know why; I hate it but that’s a cycle I never seem to break but so far I’m getting a better grip on it. What I mean is, you’re confused about what you really want from a man but I know what I’m looking for. It’s true, over the years my mind could change and I’ll end up running to someone who isn’t my type. I’m so aware of that.”


I reply:

I think more times we fall in love the more we realize how much we don’t know what we want. Especially when you find exactly what you thought you wanted. I thought I wanted a man I could have an open relationship with until My boyfriend and I tried it. Turns out we’re just as jealous as everyone else, but I didn’t know that until we actually tried it. I also always wanted an artist, and I do love it now, but at first it was hard for me to swallow that I wasn’t the artist in the relationship, that I wasn’t the talented one. It was a lot to chew at first, but now I love learning from him.


Angel writes:

All I know is I’m not going to get married. Ever. I made that decision based on a majority of the marriages that I’ve seen. The husbands usually beat the wives, cheat or suffer from some sort of alcohol/drug addiction; in general the husbands usually turn out to be bad guys. My father is a mean man; I grew up witnessing a father who I never f#cking asked for, you know? He’s the main reason why I choose not to get married. I think my greatest fear would be … me getting involved with a man like my dad. Someone who beats their wife (he doesn’t do it anymore), someone who fights with his children, someone who drinks obsessively, and damn the list goes on. I don’t want to make the same mistake that my mother made. She knows that he’s bad but she doesn’t want to let go because she fears solitude. She doesn’t know how to raise us on her own. She doesn’t have a job so she depends on my father on everything. When I grow up, I want to be nothing like her. In my past relationships I relied on my partner for my happiness. Once I realized that was a major problem, I tried to quit it. Each time I got a bit better but now I think it’ll be something I’ll always struggle with.”


I reply:

Relying on a relationship for happiness is still something I’m struggling with. In fact, I cry when My boyfriend leaves sometimes. I mope while he’s at work at other times. I wait at the top of the stairs for him to come home some nights. I call him obsessively at work.

In terms of marriage, don’t cast it away so hastily. Just because so many marriages go bad doesn’t mean yours has to go the same way. Some people marry two and three and four times, but eventually still find happiness. I know someone on their third marriage who is now very happy with their relationship. My mother might not be the happiest, but my father doesn’t beat her or anything else awful. If anything, he’s hard-headed and neglectful and a little distant. And this is my mother’s second marriage.

If getting married to the wrong man is a huge concern to you (as it should be, and is for most people I imagine) then I’d advise to not marry anyone you have not already been with and lived with for at least a year, probably two or three years. Once you’ve lived with someone for enough time you already know what their habits are, and how they affect you, and how you affect them, and then you can properly assess whether getting married is a commitment you want with that person. Chances are that you will fall for someone so hard that you’ll change your mind.

I don’t want to make my mother’s mistakes either. I want a more loving and romantic husband than my father is for my mom. I want a more considerate man than he is. And it seems to me that My boyfriend is. I want to marry him in April next year, one year from now... That’s the plan. I must admit that I’m not 100% sure that it’s the best idea to be married so soon, or that My boyfriend really is the best person to do it with, but I also don’t want to wait longer than I should, I don’t want to be too scared to do what I should, I don’t want to not do it just because of the risk of heartbreak. And I honestly feel like we’re good for each other, even when we argue.


Angel writes:

“Yeah that realization hit me while I was sitting in my aunt’s room thinking about life. If I were to beat the sh#t out of them, that would mean that I only cared about everything so I decided it wasn’t a good idea. I learned that those girls are all talk and no walk though so whatever. ROFL, I’ll most definitely use that line the next time someone calls me out because of my journal. Yeah I know what you mean about the whole karma thing. I don’t include anything personal in my journal anymore and when/if I do, I keep it private.”


I reply: I most certainly can’t seem to stop writing personal things in my blog, but I do try to careful.


Friday, April 18th 2008 at 7:48pm


Is this an imbalance in my brain caused by lack of b-vitamins? Why do I feel like it has to be more complicated than that. I feel so restless. I feel this burning ache to create something. But it can’t be just anything. I want to create something fun to create, something worth creating, and something that will be appreciated by people besides myself. I have this nagging feeling that I’m supposed to get a job or go to college, but that would being so much change to my life that I really don’t want. So much drama that would be for not.

My legs bounce as I sit in one place, my brain is bored as I attempt to dance, to exercise. Perhaps I have that womanly want of “excitement” or something. A little romance and excitement could sure go a long way... At least the romance part, we can skip the excitement and replace it with surprise. I love being surprised, so why does no one ever surprise me? How come Tina never drops by to catch up? How come Mom never suggests playing a game with me? How come my father never suggests doing anything, and worse yet usually rejects all offers to do anything? That seems more crushing than anything. Do I still have that missing-daddy syndrom or what? Perhaps my hormones tried to replace him too young, and he felt the push and he let me push him away instead of reeling me back in (boyfriend or sans-boyfriend).

I have this nagging habit (which I recently confessed to My boyfriend) of thinking to myself “I wish I would just die” which is such a bad habit. What a negative thing to think to myself! What could I possibly think to myself less productive than that? Is that an exemplar of my poor mental health, or my poor source of vitamins or of the actual condition of my life? But what on earth is missing from my life? I have time to myself, time with my lover, time with my Mom, time spent creating, time spent gaming, time spent learning, time spent working (though on household things.)

My mom says my life is lacking in challenge and that this is why I seek video games for life sustenance. It makes sense. But this is what I opted for, a life free of drama. I hated my life back when I was working, in school, was around people and their lives full of drama, and of course the most difficult aspect was having someone as demanding, immature and lazy as Tre as a lover.

Speaking of Tre, he left me a comment on here asking if I wanted to meet up with him in person to say hi. Strange, the thought is mostly amusing more than anything. After a year and four months of dating My boyfriend (a year and five months since Tre and I broke up, a year and three months since I saw Tre last) I’ve cast away all remaining emotions towards Tre (except those mingled in my dreams which make no sense to me at all) and I feel like seeing him can’t possible hurt me or my relationship. All except for the detail of what My boyfriend thinks.

If indeed Tre actually follows through with coming to Buffalo and seeing me (which I have little confidence in looking back on his track record of following through on anything) I plan on seeing him at a park, probably Delaware park. I’m not so paranoid as to think he would actually try and kidnap me or something as insane as that, but I am paranoid enough to believe that bringing him into this house would be a bad idea. My parents and aunt would have a fit, My boyfriend would have a tantrum, and I would be even more uncomfortable than all of them combined in all honesty. I don’t want him to see what was “our” room that is now My boyfriend’s room. I don’t want his energy to mingle with the energy of my home. That is something sacred and something peaceful that he would most certainly rupture... Or maybe I’m paranoid on that one, but my own emotions about it are certainly the most relevant ones.

Of course then there is the major reason I wouldn’t want him there. I don’t want him to sit on the bed (even in the form of a couch) I sleep on, or to gaze at drawer with my vibrator’s cord hanging out of it, or to see the things My boyfriend has bought me. For some reason that would all be way to personal for an ex-boyfriend, and I know My boyfriend would agree.

Being in a park seems like a safe neutral location. There would be background noises that have nothing to do with me or my family or him or his life. There would be things to look at that have nothing to do with either of us. There would no temptations (mostly I’m worried about his temptations because I fully trust my temperament to not be fuddled by looking at him anymore) and there would be nothing to do but talk, which means that once we grew tired of talking there would be nothing to do but to both go our separate ways, which all in all, is ideal. As indifferent as I feel about seeing him, I do feel curiosity. What has changed in his life? Has he married Danya? Is he happy now or does he wish he never royally screwed up his relationship with me? And actually, what I’m most interested in is what he’ll notice about me. Do I look different? Do I speak different? Do I act more mature? Do I seem like the same girl that broke up with him? That would be very interesting to know just because for him I am only what he remembers from over a year ago, which means everything that has changed about me in the last year will stick out and be obvious to him. I’d like to hear how much I’ve changed. Validation always feels good, even when it comes from strange places. Will I beam from being filled with My boyfriend’s love? Will he feel My boyfriend’s energy mixed with mine? I hope he can, just because I want to be “My boyfriend & Atara” to the world, and he is one person out there who will always remember me as “Bante & Derly” – this makes me chuckle at the memory.

I look back on the person I was just a short year ago and I openly laugh. She was so confused, so misunderstood (aren’t we all, and aren’t I still?), so lost, so on the verge of transformation... Back into myself. Those two years with Tre will always stick out because of all of their oddities. I was high all the time, I spoke differently, ate differently, and listened to different music. (Then again my music taste has changed nearly ninety percent in just the past few months.) I had different sexual ideals, and different life goals. My entire perspective has shifted. I don’t view men and women the same way.

So I left a message on Tre’s phone saying I’d like to go for a walk in a park with him if that was along the lines he had in mind, and mentioned that he could not come here. I then called My boyfriend and told him about it (not wishing to hide this for even the length of an hour, because I need to make sure he trusts me and has no reason to doubt me) and he says he doesn’t trust me with Tre. This hurts, but then again, what did I expect? Did Tre ever trust me with Jeremy? No. So what could I expect? Perhaps that is just another reason why I want to marry My boyfriend next year in April and no later. I want to prove to him that he really is the center of my world. I want to express that commitment to him, to myself and to everyone. I feel it, but that doesn’t mean anyone else can see it. Marriage makes commitment visible, and over time, it makes lack of commitment a sore thumb in your life.

I really don’t see the harm in spending a few hours with Tre after it’s been over a year. It may be a small blow to My boyfriend’s ego, but only for a short time before he recovers and realizes that after all, it was only a conversation, and that I’m soon to be his wife. I wouldn’t stop him from seeing Brianna after all, not that he would ever want to see her. But I don’t hate Tre, at least, not anymore. Then again, it’s not like after all this My boyfriend hates Brianna. I’d be afraid for his mental health if he held a grudge on her for that many years.

Ah, writing feels good, but I still feel restless. Somehow I suspect the heat is getting to me. I’m sweating almost everywhere. Time to go wet my hair and chest in the sink again.

My boyfriend should be home soon. There has been a plumbing problem at work, and he got off early on Wednesday, and he stayed home all day on Thursday, and today they called him in to “help out” and he left here at one o’clock. He called me to let me know he’s on his way home now. I resent the fact that he’s been hanging out with El and everyone all day smoking blunts undoubtedly and has ignored all of my calls. I know he did that on purpose to get a day away from me. I feel angry about it, but I also understand that he feels he needs friends in his life, so I won’t make a fuss about it.


Saturday, April 19th 2008 at 11:50am


I feel like I’ve been kicked in the teeth by a wash of sudden icy realizations, amid a blast of humid heat allowing me to sit here in my underwear and bare feet.

Last night My boyfriend proclaimed that he didn’t believe that I really wanted to have sex with him, that I was just doing it to placate him. In terms of seeing Tre he reiterated that he didn’t trust me. And this morning he asserted that now that it’s summer time, there is no way he’s going out less than once a week. I think an icy kick in the teeth is an understatement for how I feel about that odd assortment of statements.

Of course we argued, of course I cried myself to sleep, of course he woke up and had sex with me, of course I didn’t feel better, of course he tried to comfort me (belatedly) of course I expressed my concerns that this is the turning points in my two past relationships where things went bad until they eventually ended all together. Of course he thought that meant I was breaking up with him. This is all a rumble-tumble game. Who can adapt? And who can adapt to what?

Who is stronger? Him to not go out? Me to cope with him going out? Who is going to make the bigger sacrifice? Will he quit drinking? Will I give up and let him drink, smoke and party? Will we compromise and get married and putt his in the past? Or will we fight it out to the bitter end?

These were not questions I asked myself a short couple weeks ago. Getting married was a sure thing, and so was him quitting his friends and his drinking. He has asserted to me that he will not give up “chillin’ with the boys” for me. He has asserted that I’m immature for not having friends, and that in the future I will have friends, and that he will not be the person left at home.

That’s just lovely. I want to duplicate myself so I can hit myself over the head with a shovel! I feel like such a blasted idiot. Either deal with him going out, go out with him, or go out and make my own friends, or try one last time to force him to stay home with me. I hate all options. I’ve hated all of those options from the moment they arose. I hate summer. I hate the heat. I hate myself for not seeing this coming. I hate myself for loving so goddamned much. Why couldn’t I just love myself for myself with the validation of some blasted male? Why couldn’t I stay single and hug myself to sleep?

Erica Jong has written three books about Isadora Wing, and how she wanted love and validation just as much at forty as she did at twenty-nine. So I guess since I’m still only nineteen there is no way in hell I can escape this burning need for love and companionship. Of course Isadora also has friends. What the fuck are friends good for anyway? Chewing up all your time? Making you feel guilty? Telling you how to live your life? Getting fucked up on drugs with you? Carrying you home when you’re drunk? Giving you bad advice? Calling you and using up all your minutes? Walking in and our of your life like it was a bathroom for them to shit in and leave without even spraying air freshener?

That’s what friends are in my experience and I have no interest what-so-ever in going and making my own friends. But who can live on socializing one day out of the week? He socializes all day at work, and with me on Sundays, and when I proposed once a month he socialize with his friends he agreed, but he never stuck to it, not even for one month. At least, if he did, it was such a quick and blissful month that I missed it in a blink of my life. And now, after already going out one a week, (sometimes skipping a week) all winter, now he asserts that he will go out once a week all summer like I bloody believe that. He’ll be gone on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays too if it’s anything like last summer. Last summer I didn’t believe we were going to make it to January. Now I’m having trouble believing we’ll make it to his birthday (in July) after last night.

All this time, and I have not told him a single lie and he still doesn’t “believe” me. All this time of trusting him despite everything and he has the nerve not to trust me.


Saturday, April 19th 2008 at 2:00pm


Tina’s baby shower is tomorrow. Her baby is due in a month. Since I agreed to be her baby sitter I guess that means I’ll have something to do with myself that feels meaningful. I just haven’t seen Tina in a while so I kinda forgot that she was pregnant even though all this time I’ve been keeping in mind that on 4/20 she was having her baby shower. What a funny date to pick for a baby shower, huh?

It’s only supposed to be for a few hours, and My boyfriend has previously told me that he would stay here and just listen to his music, but considering the heat, somehow I doubt that he’ll feel like doing that. I’ve progressed from sitting here with wet hair being enough to putting foil (shiny side towards the glass) on the windows, making damn sure the attic door is closed, putting both the window fans on exhaust, wetting my hair, stripping down into my underwear and putting a fan directly on me in order to be comfortable and it’s only April. I can’t bare the thought of June where I’ll do all of that in addition to laying nude on the bed with the air conditioner on high right beside me.

I hate summer.

This morning I thought I felt cramps coming on so I took two calcium-magnesium-zinc complex pills, which usually help considerably especially if taken before the cramps really start. I don’t want to even think about cramps in this heat. What’s worse is thinking about My boyfriend going out while I have cramps in this heat. That would just be so miserable...

I looked up some things, regarding how often My boyfriend really goes out. If I average the last 35 weeks together (since I’ve been tracking every hour of his life so that I can prove my points in arguments instead of being told that I don’t know what I’m talking about) which goes all the way back to August of 2007, then I get 2.6 times a week that he’s gone out. If I then average the hours out over the weeks I get 9.5 hours a week. Now this really isn’t a lot, but he works sixty hours, and on top of his working hours he leaves an hour before he has to be at work and he gets home half an hour to an hour after he gets out. Which means he’s gone seventy-two hours a week just on account of work. From midnight to one o’clock in the morning we spent an hour together, from eleven in the morning to noon we sometimes spend an hour together, but other than that, there is Sunday. I’ve been complaining about this since the beginning, but what else can I really do but complain? It makes me miserable and I’m helpless to stop it.

But that considered, I’d rather he went out on a regular scheduled basis than on a whim, with no call, with me left here to just wonder. The drinking has improved but is not completely to be rid of on top of it. Last night he drank one tilt. Okay, not very serious, but also not very serious about quitting. Perhaps he just wanted to see if I’d notice, and I did! I smelled the difference in his sweat, I saw the way his eyes shifted as we had sex, I felt how much more tired he was, I saw the variance in his expressions, the taste of saliva, the slightly different movements of his lips, the slightly different twitches of his eyes, the way he looked more agitated than usual, and slightly guilty, and the fact that he protested having sex on the account of the likelihood of falling asleep afterwards, as if he ever cared about that before. I’m not stupid, I can read the person I love the most in this world. I can see the difference than even one tilt makes. The part that really pisses me off is that he was trying to hide it from me.

“But you would be mad” he protests. Yeah, and what did I do the moment Tre asks to see me? I call him, despite the fact that he’d be mad. In fact, I called him because he might be mad. The nerve!

The lack of trust he has in me is killing me. His lack of faith in me is burning me. The way he doesn’t believe my words are knifes in my heart. The way he gets restless and bored and wants to go out, and eventually does go out leave me high and dry and swirling in insecurities. The names he calls me leave me feeling worthless. I can’t believe I’m sinking into this same pit again. It’s about that time, one year and five months. This summer will makes us or break us once and for all.