When loneliness comes stalking, go into the fields, consider
the orderliness of the world. Notice
something you have never noticed before,
like the tambourine sound of the snow-cricket
whose pale green body is no longer than your thumb.
Stare hard at the hummingbird, in the summer rain,
shaking the water-sparks from its wings.
Let grief be your sister, she will whether or no.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also,
like the diligent leaves.
A lifetime isn’t long enough for the beauty of this world
and the responsibilities of your life.
Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.
In the glare of your mind, be modest.
And beholden to what is tactile, and thrilling.
Live with the beetle, and the wind.
This is the dark bread of the poem.
This is the dark and nourishing bread of the poem.
Yesterday he saw me at my weakest point. Landon experienced an anxiety-crying attack. We had a rough day full of passive aggressiveness towards each other. Eventually, I just popped and began crying, very loudly. He comforted me in my car until I stopped crying. He cried a bit as well from just seeing me upset. I was crying because I didn’t want to lose him, and this was the first instance in which I felt him slip away from me. I feel as if this is the first time that I am actually in love. In the past it has all just been youthful, puppy-dog love where I love anything that gives me compliments and attention. But this, this is different. With this I am not afraid to show weakness, not desired to lie about where I’ve been, hell I even take my makeup off when I’m with him. I see the way he is with Nala and I sometimes daydream about having children with him one day. About how he would be since he is so nurturing with me. I sit here typing with happy tears in my eyes because for once in my life I am in a relationship where the love is mutual. Where someone actually cares equally back for me. Yesterday when all of our plans ended up being trashed, he stopped me and said “every day that I get to spend with you is a great day, even if we do nothing” and that just meant the world to me. I always spend so much effort and time to perfect things to impress the people I care about. Going above and beyond. And this is finally someone who enjoys the downtimes just as much as the highest peaks. I still haven’t told him that I love him. It’s eating me alive. I just haven’t found the right moment. I want to make it count.
Which head was he thinking with? Was it based out of love or lust? Passion or actual meaning? These are the questions that I sit here and think about as I replay last night’s activities where Landon, once again, said I love you during sex. This time he whispered it. Our sex isn’t really romantic. It’s rough, all over the apartment. Loud and sweaty. Not something you light candles for and play soft jazz to. Which makes me think that what he is saying is solely based out of the heat of the moment of being deep inside someone. We are nearing 3 months now and my birthday is coming up next week. My best friend is coming down to visit and celebrate with me so he and I are going out to dinner the night before she gets here. I was planning on telling him, when we are fully dressed, that I am falling in love with him. I aspire to be someone who is bold and says what’s on her mind all the time, yet I will always have the fear that he will feel threatened and disappear in the night, as so many of the men in my life love to do. I have never told someone that I loved them. It was always them telling me and me responding. The last time someone told me they loved me was two years ago. A lot has changed in two years. I want to be free and independent and say what I mean in this lifetime because you never know when it is going to end, but I also want to protect myself in the process. Even though you don’t know when it is going to end, you will still have to deal with the heartbreak tomorrow. Live in the moment, not for the moment. I will decide before we go out to my birthday dinner.
I have to tell him. This week I am planning to, just trying to find the right time. I keep kicking around different ideas of what to say. “I am falling in love with you” or “I love you” or “I know this was slipped out, but I love you too” or “I cannot hold this in anymore, I think I am in love with you”. They all sound cheesy and awkward to me. The worst thing that could happen is that he gets scared and backs off. But, in the end, it is better to have tried and put myself out there than have shied away the whole time. I am leaving for Peru on Saturday for a week. This needs to come out before there.
Every minute of the day the idea pops in my head. I have read every Buzzfeed, AskMen, and Elite Daily article about when to say it. I have taken all of the pop quizzes to see if he feels the same way back. I want to bring it up. I want him to come over and I sprint into his arms and tell him how much I love him and respect him and enjoy every second of his company in my life, but unfortunately it is not that easy. Especially at this age. Men at this age have a tendency, as seen in my past, of vanishing when feelings start to intensify. They get scared and coward away. Thus I have to walk on thin ice, making sure that I show enough affection to keep them around, but not so much that it breaks the ice and I go falling through. All while they’re walking off the ice and I am left drowning in the icy water. Splashing myself into the reality of heartbreak. I desire to live a very blunt life where I saw what I want and do what I please because you never know when you are going to get hit by a bus. You don’t know when that bus is coming. But I feel like I need to wait on this one. Even though I would rather be hit by a bus at this point than hold it in anymore.
Right now it is 4:16 AM on a Thursday and my boyfriend left for work an hour ago. Once he left, I took a shower, wore a face mask, wrote a homework discussion post, and now here I am: still wearing the face mask. The pup is passed out in bed and I would love to as well, but my mind is racing for answers. 2 nights ago Landon came over in the evening. We were going to run stadiums together and then hang out. Once he arrived things started to get heated and next thing I knew I was on my back on my bed and he was on top of me. Classy as always, my friends. The sex was outstanding and midway through we are looking into each others eyes, all panting, and he says it. “I love you”. It was kind of a breathy, whispered “I love you”, but nevertheless he said it. I was taken a bit aback when I heard it. At first my brain didn’t register what he had said. I didn’t say it back, even though my insides are burning to tell him back. It was so quiet when he said it that I don’t know if it was meant to be even said. I didn’t want to respond with it at the time because I wasn’t even fully sure what he said since it was so faint. I know he feels it, though. Or at least somewhat. The way he stares at me. There has to be something there.
As I am embarking on this new relationship, I can sense my feelings beginning to intensify. I need to keep reminding myself to not fall in love so easily. To stay true to myself and make sure that the love I have towards myself stays stronger than anything. Than any love towards a boy who thinks I am pretty. Landon and I have been together for two months and have spent endless amounts of time together. There have been good times together, and bad times apart where I am upset over Tinder or other petty things. Recently, I adopted a dog. I think this is honestly one of the best things for me because with her I am becoming more self-less. I am learning to be more responsible. I am directing the love that I would throw completely towards Landon in the direction of a beautiful animal who needs the love more. The dog has brought Landon and I closer as well. I truly love this dog and I think is going to be best for me in case Landon and I don’t work out. At least I will have something there that, regardless of the circumstances, will give me the unconditional love back that I give towards it.
Last night I experienced something I never have: I got high. Sat on a couch in a fraternity house with another brother and smoked out of a bong. Marijuana is legal here, relax. The first hit made me cough like I was going to vomit. Not cute. The next few hits really made me feel it. We sat there and watched The Office for hours. Barely even spoke, but it was nice. Well needed after a long day. The night prior, Landon came over drunk as ever. He could barely even stand straight. He then proceeded to tell me about how he has “hoes” and doesn’t tell people that we are together. Really made me feel like shit. Thus, after an anxiety-filled day, I lit up. It was something unexplainable. Very strong, potent weed that made all of my anxiety and stress melt away. I came home listening to disco and had a full night of sleep.
Loyalty and respect. They sound like basic morals that are taught and ingrained into children at a young age. Yet, it seems that in today’s culture of side hoes and lying, these ideas are gone. Vanished. A rarity if that. It seems that faithfulness in a relationship is just a luxury. We have become so subjected to side hoe culture that we have accepted it. When he or she cheats, we just say, “well, they better not do it again.” This is due to a mix of fear of being alone and acceptance to the fact that this has become the norm. Cheating is a normality. “Everyone does it.” We are a society built upon an infrastructure of trust issues and DM’s. Of secret Snapchat messages in risqué clothing while our significant other is in the other room. Too scared to commit to a relationship, but wanting nothing more.
Landon is technically my boyfriend now, yet still has his Tinder in which he actively uses it. I want to bring it up, but I am terrified because I have succumbed to side hoe culture.
Sex isn’t hard. It’s something engrained into our brains due to biological makeup. Opening up to someone; that’s the hard part. Allowing yourself to become vulnerable. Showing sides of weakness, always in hope that they will accept each layer that you shed of yourself. Until you are left with just an exposed core, longing for them to understand. Hoping that when you turn around, after all of this time, their core is exposed to. That you both are on the same level. But we live in a world where things are easier said than done. Lines get blurred, judgement gets passed, and one ends up contributing their whole being only to receive nothing in return. Devastation. Heartbreak. Late nights. Your mind then has to begin the process of healing, again. It seems this same cycle of happiness and love, to heart shattering sadness, to recovery, and all over again plagues everyone. Or at least yours truly. This evening begs the question into my mind, is it truly better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all?