sitting, waiting, wishing…

September 26, 2012

“a person who longs to leave the place where he lives is an unhappy person” –Mila Kundera

I’m not happy.  I don’t think I’m unhappy, but I know I’m definitely just plain not happy.  I’ve known this for a while, but now is the time where it’s appropriate (and logical) to admit it and go through the steps to ‘fix’ it.
I hate school.  I just dropped down to part time because I couldn’t even manage 12 hours.  That’s probably because I’ve secretly been working nights at a head shop pretty much every night.  My parents don’t know this.  They don’t know a lot of things about my life right now.  I feel like a rotten child.  I don’t want to be in college.  I want to be back in some sort of service organization with City Year doing  what really, truly makes me happy.  I haaaaaaaattttteeeeeee school so damn much and I’ll say it a million times over.  I never thought that I would be that one person who wasn’t made for college, but maybe I am. I’m going to suck it up and get through this semester, but as for any more college, I’m not exactly sure right now.  I kind of want to start saving half of every pay check I get so that in like….6 months I’ll have enough money to move somewhere.  That’s ridiculous wishful thinking right there, but I need something to look forward to for real.  Ugh. rant. done. bye.

Au Revoir


after hours

September 15, 2012

So much is happening and I don’t even know how to keep up with it all.  I used to just have all this time to think and then write down my thoughts.  It helped.  Since my last post, a good friend of mine was killed.  I hadn’t known him long–just under a year, but he left such a huge impression on my life.  I first met him when I had this epiphany of sorts while I was dating Kevin.  Kevin didn’t want me smoking because he couldn’t smoke, but all I wanted one night was to just get high like I used to.  It is, in fact, my natural state. I texted my friend who I knew would know where to get it and he told me to come over.  There was this adorable six foot something skinny dude sitting all awkwardly on the couch inside.  He didn’t look at all like someone who would sell weed.  He handed me an eighth of some of the most beautiful bud I had ever seen with one of his half smiles.  I became myself again that night.
I continued seeing him as I continued buying from him.  When Kevin & I broke up, I went over to buy weed and ended up hanging out with Phil for a few hours just talking and watching Nip Tuck (his favorite show).  He was addicting.  Everything about him–his smile, his laugh, his voice, his lips, his touch…etc.  I didn’t care that he was 3 years younger than me.  We started spending lots of time together in July.  I definitely had a huge crush on him, but I didn’t want to go through my normal routine with him.  He was more than that and deserved better than me, I thought.  He wanted so much from me, but I wasn’t willing to give it to him, but not for my sake– for his.  I found myself getting lost in our kissing sessions.  I don’t think it is any coincidence that my very last moment with Phil was a kiss.
I was in a rush to leave for the beach and needed some weed of course.  He met me at my car, got in, handed me the weed, and pulled me in for one of his long, wet kisses.  That was the last time I saw Phil.  While at the beach, I got a phone call from my roommate telling me what happened.  I was in denial.  Once I was home from the beach, I had to face reality.  Phil was gone.  I kept sending him text message after text message telling him everything.  Apologizing for things I had no control over and telling him how much he meant to me since I had never done that.
I got a tattoo for Phil.  He was all excited about this new tattoo he had just gotten that said “Win some” on one forearm, and “Lose some” on the other.  My left wrist now says “win some/lose some” in typewriter font.  I chose that font for the sole purpose of remembering how I used to write and how much it helped.  I miss Phil every damn day and there is NOTHING in this world I want more than to hug him.  I become bombarded with these overwhelming feelings of just wanting him at some of the most random times.  I find myself with tears developing in my eyes while walking around campus if the right song comes on shuffle.

I feel so lost now ever since his death.  I’ve never had to deal with a death like this before.  My thoughts are more jumbled than ever and I feel like life has just become going through the motions.  I’m back to being the puppet on strings being controlled by who knows what.

Au Revoir.