the night the game changed // part two.

I watched the clock intensely, waiting for dismissal to come so I could run to my friend’s car and inhale caffeine like it was my job. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Finally – the clock struck the hour and I was free. I rushed out, not talking to anyone on my way out and jumped into her car, knowing that that was my point of release. Tears began streaming down my face as I explained the embarrassment I had experienced the night before.

“You need to talk to him,” she encouraged me. I knew she was right, but I was terrified. I hummed and hawed all afternoon about whether or not it was a good idea to bring up what we mean to each other, to him.

That evening was the big graduation – the graduation that I wasn’t invited to. I watched the Snapchats of all of them dressing to perfection, looking as handsome as can be. Pictures showing the apple of my eye all dolled up in the tie and shirt that I picked out for him because he had no clue what would be good enough. Each, a reminder of how I wasn’t important enough to come and even more so, a reminder that it was time to have that dreaded conversation that would make or break our relationship…

Later that evening, after my friends and I hit the town to take my mind off of things, I received a text from him saying he wanted to come over. He had had a horrible time at the party and wished I had been there. I muffled my rage so I didn’t start a stupid argument. ‘I could have been there’ I screamed in my head.

Ignoring him, I continued on with my night, only to return home an hour later to a tipsy, apologetic boy on my doorstep. He reeked of mixed drinks, sweat an that cologne I love and was truly hard to resist. I was both annoyed and excited to see him at the same time. I pulled him inside and up to my room, greeting him with warm embraces.

An hour went by as reunited and as we lay there in bed afterwards, the moonlight streaming through my window, I knew it was time to bring up what had been troubling me since the evening before. I don’t know if it was the buzz I still had from the bar, or the perfect setting of him holding me in his arms, but I let it all spill out. How I was confused and how whatever this relationship was was starting to frighten me a little bit. How I had never felt anything like this before with another boy and how thinking about us not being together terrified me.

We talked for hours, both on the same page and coming to an agreement that this was the real deal. I had never felt this comfortable with a boy before, and while I was looking into his eyes as he stroked my hair and said all the right things…I realized that this is what I had been waiting for.

Of course this could end up in utter heartbreak (as many relationships can and do), but even if it does, it is moments like I experienced that night that make it all worth it. I’m not in love but I feel like I am free-falling to that very location.

With all of this being said, I am still completely and totally terrified. But in a good way.


the night the game changed // part one.

Three months had gone by and I had no answers. There were no labels, or indications on what we meant to one another past a good lay and weak friendship. Every time I looked into his eyes, I felt this feeling that made my stomach do back flips – a feeling that I had only heard about from friends and read about in books. I constantly went back and forth between feeling uneasy about him and falling for him completely.

It would be as drastic as going for a ride in the car with him, and listening to a love song and watching the way he listened. The way he looked over at me during certain parts of the song. And then we would come home and he would distance himself – no talking, turning away from my embrace and anything else that made me feel alienated.

Then came his college graduation. A milestone. An accomplishment. An honor. I had heard all about the upcoming celebration, but had yet to hear if the celebration would include me or not. On the eve of the big day, we had dinner and I figured that if he didn’t invite me, then he must want to keep it to his family and him only. Besides, we had only been seeing each other (with no labels) for three-ish months. A little soon for family celebrations and milestones, don’t you think?

Soon, the assumptions that I would be attending this lavish event came out. As we gathered in his living room with his friends and their respective partners, the awkward silence hung in the air as it was found out that I was not attending – nor was I invited. “What are you wearing?” asked one of the girls. “I’m not actually going,” I laughed nervously, praying that this wouldn’t be turned into a huge deal.

The shock amongst the group soon turned to him with questions and curiosity as to why he hadn’t asked me to be his date. I wanted to melt into my chair and disappear from that living room. It wasn’t that I wasn’t invited, but it was that now everyone had realized how not serious we really were.

All of my doubts about what we meant to each other were made a reality. Maybe he really doesn’t feel the way I feel about him. Maybe he just considers this to be a casual, emotionless affair that is coming to an end soon. As I lay in his arms that night, I realized that this was a turning point in our relationship: we have to talk about what we mean to each other.

That in and of itself has it’s own complications. It is one of the most scariest types of conversations to have when you are dating someone – especially when you don’t know where they stand. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I watched the moon out his bedroom window, as he snored in the background. I looked to him, taking in each detail and feature of his face, memorizing the moles and the creases in his skin. Truly thinking about how I feel about him. Did I love him? What does love feel like? Why is it made to be such a big deal? Can you even really be in love?

‘When it happens, you will know’ – the line that is shot my way whenever I ask those questions out loud. Anyone who has ever been in love, will give you this line. I’m not so sure. I can’t say I have ever been in love. I have loved, but not to an extent that it hurts. I quickly tossed these questions aside, deciding that I couldn’t possibly feel that way about someone I had known for a short while. l

I fit my body with his and desperately forced my brain to turn off, so I could get some sleep. The morning was going to bring its own complications, and so I wanted to be well-rested to prepare.

The next morning, I got up, leaving him lying soundly and showered, further trying to clear my head of all the craziness that had gone on the night before. I dodged his friends and all other existing humans in that house (there were a lot of people). I just wanted to leave – not talk, not acknowledge anything, just get on with my day and be away from him for a while. It was the first time that I had ever been rushed to be out of his presence. He drove me to work, leaning in for a kiss before I exited the car. I pecked him quickly on the lips and hurried into my building, not turning back for that last little look (like we always do).

I felt the change in my heart. The instant preparation of a broken heart  – a feeling I know quite well. I could feel my emotions start to break down and the walls of protection start to build up. My mind was racing a mile a minute, and I had a lump in my throat the size of a grape, suffocating my tears.

It wasn’t that I didn’t care about him or wasn’t “falling” for him anymore. But I knew this feeling all too well. The feeling of realization that this good thing in my life was ending and I was going to be exactly where I was four months ago. My heart was starting to crumble at the thought of us being on separate pages and not sharing the same feelings.

However, I knew that I needed to get on with my day. So I shot my friend a quick text, letting her now how bad a night I had had and that caffeine was going to be needed as soon as I finished work. I pushed it out of my brain and got on.

This could wait. But not for long…

nothing is ever good enough.

Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like I am never going to be truly happy. I mean completely content with where my life is at – what I am doing, who I am dating, etc, etc. Even though I am with someone who I completely am into…I still feel incomplete. I don’t know if it’s because it hasn’t been officially “labelled”, or if it’s just because it’s all about lust.

I’m making it sound like I am in an unhealthy relationship – I am definitely not. This is probably the healthiest relationship that I have been in in my entire life. He is the kindest, sweetest man that I have met and where we are at is perfect and exactly what I need. However, I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that just keeps swirling around. I can’t label the feeling yet because I really don’t know what to call it.

It feels a bit like regret, or resentment…but that really couldn’t possibly make sense because I have nothing to resent him for and I have no regrets when it comes to this relationship. He has given me everything that I have asked him for – support, companionship and kindness.

Maybe I am getting hung up on labels. We have yet to call each other “girlfriend” and “boyfriend”. However, those words have always seemed so…childish…to me. Those words remind me of middle school – running around at recess figuring out who likes who. Back when hugging was the scandalous acts that we would get into, or if we were really scandalous…holding hands (oooooh!).

What is a boyfriend, really? Out of curiosity, I just typed this exact question into Google. You know what it defines this as? Well, I’m going to tell you. A boyfriend is defined as “a regular male companion with whom one has a romantic or sexual relationship.” I’ve read this definition over and over this evening. I guess he fits somewhere into this label, yet we haven’t put this label on our relationship.

Here’s the situation we are in. We see each other regularly (regular, check). He is a man (male, check). We technically refer to this as a relationship – sexual, romantic, whatever (check). So I guess, technically, I can call him my “boyfriend”. However, whenever I go to do that…that feeling in the pit of my stomach swirls. It sounds so official.

You know what making him my official “boyfriend” would mean? It would mean that he would be my official boyfriend. Not a guy that I’m casually seeing, not a guy that I am texting, an actual boyfriend. He can break my heart and it will actually hurt and leave a mark. He would be officially apart of my life. He would meet my family. He would know my friends. He would see my flaws and care. He potentially would love me.

That all really, really scares me. Which is confusing because I have wanted a boyfriend for a long time. I have felt ready for a boyfriend for a while. Now that it potentially is happening…I am scared to death.

Am I crazy? I finally have this great guy that likes me and fulfills many of my needs…but I am looking for reasons to criticize. I guess nothing is ever good enough for me. Will I ever be happy?

I’m just not so sure.

fresh pair of eyes.

It has been almost a year since I last wrote and for good reason. I haven’t really had the need to express all of my emotions in such a literal format. I’ve been powering through life…putting myself first. Which is what every woman should do – put themselves first. It’s the best kind of medicine for a broken heart, in my opinion.

After last summer ended, I took a long hard look at what I had been through from the day I realized boys were a constant thought in my mind. I thought about how I had let men treat me. How I had compromised on so many of my needs and expectations. How boy after boy walked all over me while I laid there not fighting back.

I decided to fight back.

I cleared my contacts and rid my life of all the cancerous people who were bringing me down. (I highly recommend this type of cleanse).

This year has been wonderful. I have been extremely lonely. However, those nights I lay in bed, watching the moon stream through my blinds and listening to sweet ballads, wondering if I would ever find companionship…it was all worth it.

Roughly two months ago, I was given a new outlook on life. Through this cleanse, I was able to morph into someone that I was once, a long time ago. The girl who believes in herself and her dreams. Someone who cares about her well being and doesn’t let people consistently walk all over her. A girl who is powerful and takes life by the balls.

Well, it paid off.

I was blessed with the opportunity to meet someone who values who I am, what I believe in and what I see myself doing in the future. Talking about it makes my head spin, because it is all so overwhelming.

But the one feeling I don’t have, is that worthless, meaningless, empty feeling I have experienced since I was 13 years old.

our story.

There’s nothing I hate more than the two of us. Not separately, because I love you and I love myself…but I hate us. Us, together. Together we are like this toxic, violent, exhausting combination that should be destroyed. Comparable to a cockroach that lives on through the nuclear wars and the constant battles against fear.

Our relationship has survives battle after battle.

However, you know when you have fought so long that you don’t want to fight anymore. And you think to yourself, what would it be like to give up. To give up on life, this life of exhaustion and disgust. Where fighting with you feels like an arrow driving straight through your heart.

It leaves you gasping for air, clutching the ground, the life being drained out of you.

But you don’t die. Somehow, another leg of the relationship forms and we pick each other up only to throw each other back down.

I remember after one of the brutal days. Sitting and watching the rain. Watching the streaks of water drizzle down the window, each droplet leaving a faint trail. I remember thinking about the last times we smiled at each other.

Really smiled. Not the fake smiles we constantly throw around. Deep smiles that make you feel like you’ve grown wings. The stupid happy in love smiles that make you feel warm.

It’s been a while.

It’s time for this relationship to die. It’s time to pull the plug. It will be hard. Because knowing the pain will be lessening rather than thickening helps me sleep.

Without you beside me, I know that I will get better. So will you.

This is our story. Blood, tears, pain and sorrow.

dear handsome.

I wanted to write this to you and only you. You deserve a special letter your way because you are my world right now. I am going to spill my feelings here, because I can’t for the life of me brings myself to spill it out to you at this moment in time.

When your name reads across my screen, my stomach flips. A giant smile spreads across my face and all I can think of is you. All I want is you. This feeling of home and comfort warms my body and all I can think of is being nestled under your neck, your arms wrapped safely around me.

I think of watching movies with you. Those moments you have lifted me up, when I am down. Those times that I want to kiss you, but hold back to play hard to get. All of these moments make up our confusing and twisted relationship.

Because while this all happens, other things happen. Things that make my stomach turn and keep me up at night. Okay, maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration…

Our games that we play. The constant back and forth about what we are, what this is.

It kills me to see us in this stage of waiting and guessing. Even more so, playing.

18 days.

It’s been 18 days since we started up again and I already feel tossed and turned around. However, I can’t help but feel I am the happiest I have been this year. I need to be with you. I need to talk to you every day.

I need to see you all of the time.

You are a bad drug for me that I am addicted to.

Handsome, I can’t imagine going forward, what my days will be like. I hope this game keeps up. I hope that it has a happy ending.

I’m just not so sure.


Your girl

mine to fall asleep in.

I don’t know how to say how I feel. I don’t know how to be. I don’t know where we stand.

One day, I feel amazing. The next day, I feel more amazing. Then we come to a crash and almost burn. We never burn. We never die. We never forget.

You and I are made to fit with each other. Our minds. Our lives. Somehow, we connect on all of the levels, but disconnect on equally as many. We put each other through so much pain and suffering with the lies and games that we play.

But we like it.

Because at the end of the day, I am yours and you are mine. When we lie together, we fit together like puzzle pieces. The world fades away when I am in your arms. I feel safe, but unsafe at the same time.

How can I be enclosed by someone and feel the most comforting feeling, but at the same time feel like I am going to be hurt not many moments later.

Our confusing relationship doesn’t make sense. All roads lead back to you, and somehow, we always take the same road.

None of this makes sense.

I am going crazy. You make me crazy.