with thoughtcatalog ♥
it makes me laugh, cry, love, be passionate, think intellectually.
the articles make me question myself, build myself, see how I've grown.
Thoughtcatalog forces me to look inside myself and see what's broken, what's healthy, and what's grown a little rusty.
I believe it's a healthy relationship, for now anyways.
Friday, May 27, 2011
An Open Letter To My Five Year Old Self.
Dear Ashleigh,
In about four years, you're going to realize that boys are the most desirable things on earth. At first, this will make you very happy. You'll tell someone which boy you want and the resulting humiliation will result in wanting to keep every boy a secret indefinitely. You will be twenty years old someday and still feel like this. It'll be a curse.
When you're thirteen, you'll begin to realize that everybody is coupling off, and you'll fall "in love" with someone who ends up being your best friend. This "love" will last four years before you realize that this boy is the last person you'd ever really want to date, or marry, or even kiss, because EW. That is your best friend, and that is all. You'll start writing your name as "Ashlie" because it makes you more interesting.
Freshman year, you'll meet a total loser scumbag who is just the best thing on the planet and the only one for you - even if he's three years older than you and has not just a criminal history, but a criminal history in sexual assault. Way to pick a winner. He'll be your first kiss and you'll be confused and think you love him. You don't love him. After your freshman year you'll never see him again, except for that time at Disneyland sophomore year where you could've sworn that was him.
Throughout high school, you'll only ever have a "boyfriend" for a couple weeks at a time. There will be very few of them. You'll become a hopeless romantic who believes every crush is "the one" that's going to at least last a couple months. You will only kiss two of them. You'll kiss one more boy you never actually date your senior year of high school - and he'll be a sophomore (who you nickname "eleven" with a close friend) who doesn't know what he wants. But neither do you. You'll delude yourself into thinking that kissing someone is significantly important, a sign from love gods that this person is so important in your life you'll never forget them. You'll keep count of how many people you've kissed.
Two months before you graduate high school, you'll meet someone online. You'll fall in love. You'll maintain a long distance relationship through your first year of college and visit his home, and spend the money for him to visit yours. You will never get this money back. After a year of working out plans to be together forever, get married, and planning names of your children together, he will leave you for someone who lives in the city next door to his. He'll have sex with her and you'll learn he's bad at it because he doesn't like sex. You'll remain a virgin, always glad you didn't have sex with him.
A week later you'll get drunk for the first time in your life. You'll spend the summer making no money, getting trashed, and meeting people who you'll forget almost instantly. You kiss four more people who won't mean a thing. That best friend will leave for the military. Your other best friend is one of the four people you'll kiss - and it will be hot because he's supposed to be in this fucked up non relationship with your other "best friend" who is female. You will be that shitty friend.
You'll start your sophomore year of college with a dorm room and a roommate who will unconsciously help you realize how close you are to God. You'll realize you've been reaching for God for at least a year now after years of believing in "Love." You'll realize they're one in the same. Your roommate will introduce you to a boy who will date you in the most superficial relationship you've had to date. He'll do nice things for you because you're his "girlfriend." You're a title to him. When he breaks up with you you'll cry for three days, on your carpet.
You'll kiss someone who seems desirable and after you kiss him you'll realize he's kind of immature. You'll begin to feel like he's your little brother and it'll gross you out that you ever kissed him. You and your roommate will start going to Church and you'll fall in love with God and it will be the beginning of a glorious relationship but you still feel like God wants you to love somebody.
You'll be four months away from turning twenty and you'll meet a boy who's playing pool by himself in your dorm building. You'll play seven games with him and walk away smiling. He'll drunkenly knock on your door at two am and the next day you two will go on your first date. He'll be the eleventh person you kiss. In the weeks that follow you'll go on many dates and have drunken encounters and sober encounters and you'll wonder what will come of it. At the end of the school year you'll go on vacation and he'll graduate and leave for the summer - and he's not coming back to Fairbanks for graduate school.
He'll tell you incessantly that he misses you and you'll begin to believe in something more. You'll justify this boy as different because he's got just a strong a faith as you and because you're too happy to not believe. But there will be moments like this morning where he didn't say goodnight last night and you'll read too many thoughtcatalog articles and wake up bitter and accidentally cry a little bit.
You'll sit on the fact that you still don't know where this is going and realize that your heart may be in a little too deep and you'll write a letter to your five year old self, wishing she could read it and not wake up one day fifteen years later consciously giving her heart to a boy who isn't close enough to hold it.
Stay strong,
Love, Ashleigh.
In about four years, you're going to realize that boys are the most desirable things on earth. At first, this will make you very happy. You'll tell someone which boy you want and the resulting humiliation will result in wanting to keep every boy a secret indefinitely. You will be twenty years old someday and still feel like this. It'll be a curse.
When you're thirteen, you'll begin to realize that everybody is coupling off, and you'll fall "in love" with someone who ends up being your best friend. This "love" will last four years before you realize that this boy is the last person you'd ever really want to date, or marry, or even kiss, because EW. That is your best friend, and that is all. You'll start writing your name as "Ashlie" because it makes you more interesting.
Freshman year, you'll meet a total loser scumbag who is just the best thing on the planet and the only one for you - even if he's three years older than you and has not just a criminal history, but a criminal history in sexual assault. Way to pick a winner. He'll be your first kiss and you'll be confused and think you love him. You don't love him. After your freshman year you'll never see him again, except for that time at Disneyland sophomore year where you could've sworn that was him.
Throughout high school, you'll only ever have a "boyfriend" for a couple weeks at a time. There will be very few of them. You'll become a hopeless romantic who believes every crush is "the one" that's going to at least last a couple months. You will only kiss two of them. You'll kiss one more boy you never actually date your senior year of high school - and he'll be a sophomore (who you nickname "eleven" with a close friend) who doesn't know what he wants. But neither do you. You'll delude yourself into thinking that kissing someone is significantly important, a sign from love gods that this person is so important in your life you'll never forget them. You'll keep count of how many people you've kissed.
Two months before you graduate high school, you'll meet someone online. You'll fall in love. You'll maintain a long distance relationship through your first year of college and visit his home, and spend the money for him to visit yours. You will never get this money back. After a year of working out plans to be together forever, get married, and planning names of your children together, he will leave you for someone who lives in the city next door to his. He'll have sex with her and you'll learn he's bad at it because he doesn't like sex. You'll remain a virgin, always glad you didn't have sex with him.
A week later you'll get drunk for the first time in your life. You'll spend the summer making no money, getting trashed, and meeting people who you'll forget almost instantly. You kiss four more people who won't mean a thing. That best friend will leave for the military. Your other best friend is one of the four people you'll kiss - and it will be hot because he's supposed to be in this fucked up non relationship with your other "best friend" who is female. You will be that shitty friend.
You'll start your sophomore year of college with a dorm room and a roommate who will unconsciously help you realize how close you are to God. You'll realize you've been reaching for God for at least a year now after years of believing in "Love." You'll realize they're one in the same. Your roommate will introduce you to a boy who will date you in the most superficial relationship you've had to date. He'll do nice things for you because you're his "girlfriend." You're a title to him. When he breaks up with you you'll cry for three days, on your carpet.
You'll kiss someone who seems desirable and after you kiss him you'll realize he's kind of immature. You'll begin to feel like he's your little brother and it'll gross you out that you ever kissed him. You and your roommate will start going to Church and you'll fall in love with God and it will be the beginning of a glorious relationship but you still feel like God wants you to love somebody.
You'll be four months away from turning twenty and you'll meet a boy who's playing pool by himself in your dorm building. You'll play seven games with him and walk away smiling. He'll drunkenly knock on your door at two am and the next day you two will go on your first date. He'll be the eleventh person you kiss. In the weeks that follow you'll go on many dates and have drunken encounters and sober encounters and you'll wonder what will come of it. At the end of the school year you'll go on vacation and he'll graduate and leave for the summer - and he's not coming back to Fairbanks for graduate school.
He'll tell you incessantly that he misses you and you'll begin to believe in something more. You'll justify this boy as different because he's got just a strong a faith as you and because you're too happy to not believe. But there will be moments like this morning where he didn't say goodnight last night and you'll read too many thoughtcatalog articles and wake up bitter and accidentally cry a little bit.
You'll sit on the fact that you still don't know where this is going and realize that your heart may be in a little too deep and you'll write a letter to your five year old self, wishing she could read it and not wake up one day fifteen years later consciously giving her heart to a boy who isn't close enough to hold it.
Stay strong,
Love, Ashleigh.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
thoughtcatalog sparked rant.
Read Thought Catalog obsessively, sharing particularly heart-wrenching pieces on Facebook or Twitter and being comforted by the fact that you are not alone, there are girls just as ridiculously, stupidly in love. Emphasis on stupid.
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/dating-an-emotionally-abusive-man/
I just want to know what part of me demands that I long for something so out of reach yet dancing so mercilessly within my vision. It's the texts every night that make me feel spoiled because I wasn't supposed to be able to talk to him - and then the heart wrenching agony that he didn't say goodnight tonight and it's been five days (FIVE!) since he's told me he missed me. But then he expresses how badly he wants to see me... But no matter what he says there's the reality that it's all me - that I'm investing too much stock in this almost-nothingness because really, what could we be? That hook-up every time we're in the same city? A potential reconnection years from now? An affection that sideswept me and left me incapacitated for months, but in five years I'll have barely any recollection of?
goddamnit it may be wrong and it may be stupid and entirely reckless and it may bring me wayy to much grief and it may be the exact reason my heart shatters in a month or two or three, but I refuse to just let go. and if I could tell you why I refuse to let go I wouldn't be writing this trying to justify it to myself. this is not what I'd ever wish upon myself, or anybody, but this is what I'm going through and this is where I'm standing strong - I'm walking this path, right or wrong, because no other path feels right.
fuck it. if i can't explain why i'm doing it then fuck it. just realize this: no matter what you say, i'm blazin down this path. fuck consequences, i'm doin it.
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2011/dating-an-emotionally-abusive-man/
I just want to know what part of me demands that I long for something so out of reach yet dancing so mercilessly within my vision. It's the texts every night that make me feel spoiled because I wasn't supposed to be able to talk to him - and then the heart wrenching agony that he didn't say goodnight tonight and it's been five days (FIVE!) since he's told me he missed me. But then he expresses how badly he wants to see me... But no matter what he says there's the reality that it's all me - that I'm investing too much stock in this almost-nothingness because really, what could we be? That hook-up every time we're in the same city? A potential reconnection years from now? An affection that sideswept me and left me incapacitated for months, but in five years I'll have barely any recollection of?
goddamnit it may be wrong and it may be stupid and entirely reckless and it may bring me wayy to much grief and it may be the exact reason my heart shatters in a month or two or three, but I refuse to just let go. and if I could tell you why I refuse to let go I wouldn't be writing this trying to justify it to myself. this is not what I'd ever wish upon myself, or anybody, but this is what I'm going through and this is where I'm standing strong - I'm walking this path, right or wrong, because no other path feels right.
fuck it. if i can't explain why i'm doing it then fuck it. just realize this: no matter what you say, i'm blazin down this path. fuck consequences, i'm doin it.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Five things you probably hate about me.
1. Every love song ever is about me.
If there's just one chord, one lyric, one amazing sounding harmony in a song, then it is quite obviously about me and my love life. If this supposed love song does not strike a chord with me, then it is obviously inadequate and not truly a love song. "Need You Now" was totally about me, despite what Lavina and the video both say. "Lucky" was ruined for me when a couple I didn't agree with sang it at the local fair, even if I hadn't seen my significant other yet. Absolutely ruined because how could they know? It wasn't about them at all, stupid fucks.
2. Every conversation MUST tie back into my love life.
Raise your hand if you've talked to me in the past month and haven't heard me bring up Javan. See this metaphorical absence of people raising their hands? Yes. Because no matter what, the only thing that's ever on my mind is who I happen to be seeing. This time last year, if you told me you were from the South, "Oh my boyfriend lives in the south." Now, you tell me you ate a fish taco? "Oh the guy I'm sort of seeing does commercial fishing. You ever seen Deadliest Catch? his cousin is on that. Yeah he's a sweetheart... (etc.)" NOTHING could be possibly more interesting to talk about than whoever I've set my sights on. That's just the way it is.
3. Fuck this food in the kitchen.
If you're not going to make me a gourmet meal with whatever is in the kitchen, we HAVE to go buy already prepared food, or hit a restaurant. I have wasted thousands of dollars buying food because the thought of putting together a sandwich with whatever's in the kitchen sounds like a SHIT TON more work than wasting the gas to go to Fred Meyer's and get one of the most delicious fucking wraps ever made for man. The ONLY time I willingly get food out of the kitchen without pacing it realizing I have no cash and no gas is when there's leftovers from the last jaunt to a restaurant with a friend because fuck making mac and cheese, i'm going to spend thirty bucks on a quesa-fucking-dilla at chili's.
4. I'm terrible at hanging out consistently.
The only person who's never experienced this is probably Chelsea. Because I fucking live with her. But aside from constantly being in my same living space, chances are you've gone at least two months barely hearing from me. Not that I'm trying to be such a shitty friend, I just suck at keeping contact with people until all of a sudden realize I really fucking need to see Lavina and go to Glow Putt right now or I'm going to die. Or one of those drives with Emily where we're both like "why do we never hang out?" Or how I only see Hannah when I'm with Lavina which SUCKS because I LOVE Hannah. Or how the only reason I see Keber as often as I do is because He makes an effort to hang out with me. Which is strange because of all my friends he's the one who never says "I REALLY want to hang out with you!" And I've tried to remedy this habit - but then I get busy with work, school, boy, or nothing is more enticing than sitting on this couch and staring off into space. Idk. I just suck as a friend, really. I'm lucky I have the friends I do.
And as a bonus, when I see that certain friends have done this or that together, I get REALLY jealous that I didn't get to go. Which is shitty. Jealousy as a whole is absolutely shitty and I'm the most jealous person I know.
5. I'm an awful texter
Unless I want to jump your bones, chances are you sent me a text two days ago and I don't even know I got it, or if I did, I said I'd answer later to myself and then forgot about it. Not that I'm trying to ignore you, like I said, I'm just a shitty friend, I guess.
BONUS NUMBER SIX: I have a TERRIBLE addiction to facebook. Don't even need to explain this one.
If there's just one chord, one lyric, one amazing sounding harmony in a song, then it is quite obviously about me and my love life. If this supposed love song does not strike a chord with me, then it is obviously inadequate and not truly a love song. "Need You Now" was totally about me, despite what Lavina and the video both say. "Lucky" was ruined for me when a couple I didn't agree with sang it at the local fair, even if I hadn't seen my significant other yet. Absolutely ruined because how could they know? It wasn't about them at all, stupid fucks.
2. Every conversation MUST tie back into my love life.
Raise your hand if you've talked to me in the past month and haven't heard me bring up Javan. See this metaphorical absence of people raising their hands? Yes. Because no matter what, the only thing that's ever on my mind is who I happen to be seeing. This time last year, if you told me you were from the South, "Oh my boyfriend lives in the south." Now, you tell me you ate a fish taco? "Oh the guy I'm sort of seeing does commercial fishing. You ever seen Deadliest Catch? his cousin is on that. Yeah he's a sweetheart... (etc.)" NOTHING could be possibly more interesting to talk about than whoever I've set my sights on. That's just the way it is.
3. Fuck this food in the kitchen.
If you're not going to make me a gourmet meal with whatever is in the kitchen, we HAVE to go buy already prepared food, or hit a restaurant. I have wasted thousands of dollars buying food because the thought of putting together a sandwich with whatever's in the kitchen sounds like a SHIT TON more work than wasting the gas to go to Fred Meyer's and get one of the most delicious fucking wraps ever made for man. The ONLY time I willingly get food out of the kitchen without pacing it realizing I have no cash and no gas is when there's leftovers from the last jaunt to a restaurant with a friend because fuck making mac and cheese, i'm going to spend thirty bucks on a quesa-fucking-dilla at chili's.
4. I'm terrible at hanging out consistently.
The only person who's never experienced this is probably Chelsea. Because I fucking live with her. But aside from constantly being in my same living space, chances are you've gone at least two months barely hearing from me. Not that I'm trying to be such a shitty friend, I just suck at keeping contact with people until all of a sudden realize I really fucking need to see Lavina and go to Glow Putt right now or I'm going to die. Or one of those drives with Emily where we're both like "why do we never hang out?" Or how I only see Hannah when I'm with Lavina which SUCKS because I LOVE Hannah. Or how the only reason I see Keber as often as I do is because He makes an effort to hang out with me. Which is strange because of all my friends he's the one who never says "I REALLY want to hang out with you!" And I've tried to remedy this habit - but then I get busy with work, school, boy, or nothing is more enticing than sitting on this couch and staring off into space. Idk. I just suck as a friend, really. I'm lucky I have the friends I do.
And as a bonus, when I see that certain friends have done this or that together, I get REALLY jealous that I didn't get to go. Which is shitty. Jealousy as a whole is absolutely shitty and I'm the most jealous person I know.
5. I'm an awful texter
Unless I want to jump your bones, chances are you sent me a text two days ago and I don't even know I got it, or if I did, I said I'd answer later to myself and then forgot about it. Not that I'm trying to ignore you, like I said, I'm just a shitty friend, I guess.
BONUS NUMBER SIX: I have a TERRIBLE addiction to facebook. Don't even need to explain this one.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
This post used to have a picture of my boobs. (In a bra). And it's full of self hatred. With self love for dessert.
I'm sorry, I just can't deal with this any more.
this stomach will be GONE by July 16th. I will exercise, I will eat right, I will do whatever it takes to have it ABSOLUTELY PERFECT by the time I turn 20. I can't deal with this self hatred any longer. I can't go shopping and see all the cute clothes that fit funny or don't fit at all around this absolute monstrosity. I just can't fucking take it anymore!! It hurts getting in the shower and seeing it and thinking to myself "holy fuck... how much longer do I have to deal with this?" in the past month i've lost a pant size which is great but I know I can push myself more and I've had it. The minute I get home, no more junk food, no more excuses I'm going to the gym every day. I just can't hate myself over this any more.
*INSERT PICTURE OF MY UNEVEN BOOBS HERE*
(i removed the picture because it really doesn't need to be on the internet. but if you've never noticed, one's a D and one's a DD. it's embarrassing as fuck)
I'm hoping that losing weight will even these puppies out but if not, then I'm having corrective surgery by the time I'm 21. These are my two biggest insecurities and it bothers me that I've recently let a guy get in my pants but I won't let him see me topless. What kind of fucked up is that? Maybe it's vain to worry about cosmetics but I refuse to be self conscious about what should make me feel absolutely sexy - because either size would be great to have!! I wouldn't mind going to the smaller size - all of my bras actually fit that one anyways!! So I'm unapologetically going to get cosmetic breast surgery if weight loss doesn't fix this issue. These are my two biggest flaws, my two biggest insecurities and I refuse to let them not let me feel sexy any longer.
That being said, I have to give myself some love. And if I'm going to give myself some love you know I've got to love my hair. It's fantastic. It's so rarely done me wrong even when I've used and abused it. It has it's days where it doesn't want to cooperate but don't we all? I don't think I've ever had a truly bad hair cut in my life. Hair cuts (and perms) I didn't particularly like have happened numerous times, but never once has my hair said "Fuck you, Ashleigh. I'm going to look like shit until I grow out and you can cut me differently." or "Fuck you, Ashleigh, I'm going to look like shit no matter how you style me. Why don't you just give up?"
Continuing with the self love we get to MY favorite part of my body - My feet. I have amazingly adorable feet. They're cute, even if you don't like feet. And the little freckle on the middle toe of my left foot - it's absolutely, undeniably my favorite thing about my body. It's so freakin CUTE, I don't even know what to do with myself. Sometimes my feet get a little rough because I don't like to wear shoes in the summer and I go a few months without a pedicure but they unfailingly make me smile. They've never been to fat, they've never been too bony, I have clearly defined ankles and sometimes my toes move at just the right angle to make my veins appear in a very flattering light. So I love them, whether you think they're gross or not, and I always will.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Don't worry, this will only lead to pain and suffering.
What I want you to know is this:
There are things that make my tongue curl and my eyes spin, all because I want to say them aloud so badly. Say them to you. Strings of words that form sentences that don’t have any meaning until I write them down. Write them for you. I want you to know that up until today I never thought I’d write this. It’s liking carving in stone all that should be forgotten and now I no longer know if I want you to see the writing on these walls or to just knock them down. - thoughtcatalog
"missing you, miss watson....." (should totally be an indie love song)
"i miss you too..."
Tripping over ourselves to give compliments, longing to take the other person’s face in our hands and force them to look at us head-on: “You are beautiful, you are incredible and, no, you’re not going to blush and ignore this one.” The way he looks around and fusses with his glasses when he thinks, the way she takes her hair down and it effortlessly falls around her shoulders like warm caramel. Whoops, there it is, we are infatuated.
And then, as if by magic, those couples who annoyed us, the metro that was never on time, the forecast for rain, rain, rain–couldn’t be less relevant. The way he slips his arm behind your back, the way she opens her eyes like a child on Christmas after she kisses you, that’s all that matters. That’s what we should really be focusing on.
We suddenly want to go up and give all those couples a high-five, “You did it! You’re in love! Good for you guys!” We suddenly want to stop everyone on the street who looks upset and tell them how beautiful the weather is, that the flowers are starting to bloom, that kissing on a park bench at night may be the single greatest thing about living. “You should try it, seriously.”
Kissing, kissing for hours, stopping at random street corners and leaning across tables in restaurants and even while clumsily walking. Inelegantly, beautifully attached at the lips. Those long, urgent, yet somehow slightly chaste kisses that take over us before sex has even come into the picture are the best in the world. Pressed against another body, eyes closed, trying to make a mental image of every rise and curve you feel–shaking your present on Christmas eve, approximating its size, shape, its texture, trying to take a guess as to what it could possibly be. Giddy with anticipation, stomach fluttering, a hand on the small of the back. Not tonight, not tonight, but soon.
The moments where you listen to a love song that you previously thought trite and overdone, hearing it again as if you’d never known it existed, longing to take out every note and hold it in your hands, examining it. Surely it must have some physical mass, surely something so beautiful and so universally true must have a shape and size. How did they know just the inflection, just the chord progression to perfectly describe how you feel when he kisses your forehead? - thought catalog
"hey ashleigh, i'm kinda missing you..."
this is the part where i use my own words to be honest with myself. i've hidden them deep inside other people's words and you telling me that you miss me three times over and it's only been 7 days since I last saw you... 7 nights since you felt more of me than almost anybody else because you took the time to caress everything.
and then i left and while i've been gone, you've left and you're not coming back. and I can't figure out if it's fate or if i'm deluding myself when i say that there's a reason we didn't get to actually say goodbye.
i really don't want you to be on a boat for three months and only get to talk to me once or twice a month, because I don't want you to forget about me. i want to be on the back of your mind, incessantly, all the time, i want you to miss me so much you can't wait to talk to me the minute you get to shore.
but even not being able to talk to you for three months while you're stuck on a boat with a bunch of other men getting all smelly and fishing and other manual labor doesn't compare to how sick to my stomach i feel when i think about the fact that when you go to grad school, there are going to be sooo many other girls with so many similar interests who are there.
and that's why i won't ask you to be with me. i don't want to be the thing holding you back from doing whatever you want, whether it's pining away for me (hey, a girl can dream), or having mind blowing sex with different girls every weekend. i don't want to hold you back and make you miserable that way. i've already done it to someone once and it damaged me.
and as much as i know it'll hurt me to see you as infrequently as i may, if i ever do, i'll keep seeing you because i'm me and that's what i do. i get caught up in the moment, too passionate, and i set myself up for pain. but i wouldn't trade that life for anything.
so here's a toast to the tears and the heartache to follow, and the smiles and the laughter and the feel-good moments that won't ever last. here's to come what may and someday, and the fact that i'll get over you somehow but i hope not anytime soon. here's to the heartbreak i want to have on your behalf. here's to being entirely reckless with my heart, consciously, adoringly, despairingly.
here's to the reality that it's going to take too long for me to pick the pieces up after i realize you won't want me anymore, but
here's to the dream that we'll make something of ourselves. the dream i keep hidden inside a mound of other people's words and things you said that made me smile.
"kinda missing you right now"
"i miss you too!"
While I’m aware cheating and love are not mutually exclusive, or even deceptive if you have done what I described above, I just can’t escape the hurt that discarding monogamy brings. Maybe I mean jealousy, but they go hand in hand don’t they? For me, loving you means I don’t want anyone else to have you. I don’t want anyone else to have even a semblance of the intimacy we share… to know about that oddly shaped freckle, to feel a drop of sweat, to feel any intensity together at all, even if I am the keeper of all your secrets, the shoulder you cry on, and the one you are so comfortable with that you’ve abandoned closing the bathroom door. The thought is maddening. - thought catalog
"you busy?"
"nope just watching family guy."
"with whom?"
"myself....haha."
"hmm, can I come over? :)"
"if only(: idk how you plan on making it to california tho."
"i'll walk for you!"
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Things running in my head at the Sea-Tac airport. (mostly about Javan and Tom Hanks.)
you might not want to read these if you don't want to experience "tmi" about my almost-sex life. especially since it's all centrally located on one boy and one night.
holy shit, I feel like he ravaged my body hardcore. this is amazing.
dear miss lady, please, continue to stare at the hickey like you've never seen one on a consenting adult before. shit happens. often times it's amazingly enjoyable. get over it.
would it be wrong to tag him in that picture as "sexy beast who touched and teased EVERY SINGLE INCH OF MY BODY LAST NIGHT" ?!?! Probably. Father wouldn't like that.
Is it weird that I spent the flight to Seattle crying because I miss him already and now I can't stop thinking about last night and how FANTASTIC IT WAS?
Really, really glad I didn't actually have sex with him, though. Because when I cycle back to depression, it'd hurt more.
But OH MAN if he was staying in the same area as me, and we were actually together... Woah man... Things would've gotten wayyy rowdier.
I have never. in my life. in real life. seen a penis that big. (i'm sorry to anybody who may have read that. you probably really didn't want to know.)
I'm giddy as a motherfucking school girl. and who knows when (or if) i'll see him again. and if I do - who says we'll hook up again? hmm.
yep, i'm Tom Hanks. Sleepless in Seattle and all. What's with him and movies involving planes indirectly. Plane crash, airports, ... Okay maybe it's just those two.
Soo many bruises. It hurts to move my neck - in any direction!!
But don't worry, it's amazing.
I think instead of satisfying the "horny as shit"ness i was experiencing yesterday, he just served to make it worse for me today. assshole.
Who even reads my blogs anymore? Cause i know nobody comments on them anymore. Do I not say interesting things anymore? Probably not. Oh well.
"man when we hook up... we hook up rough." apparently. but you LOVED it. even if you don't remember.
HOLY MOTHERTRUCKING CRAPBALLS I just learned how to tag someone in a status with ONLY their first name... This is going to make tagging Chelsea in everything SO much easier.
Man, sex must be AMAZING. Why haven't I tried that shit before?
I don't think I've ever been called beautiful, sexy, or amazing that many times in one night before.
Not or, AND. Yeah. He's quite affectionate when he's drunk.
(Really, you don't want to read this next one. Unless you're chelsea and you already know.)
His fingernails... CUT... my vag. Like, really? One place I never thought I'd have to worry about lacerations...
I've really got to stop thinking about this, or it's only goign to get worse.
holy shit, I feel like he ravaged my body hardcore. this is amazing.
dear miss lady, please, continue to stare at the hickey like you've never seen one on a consenting adult before. shit happens. often times it's amazingly enjoyable. get over it.
would it be wrong to tag him in that picture as "sexy beast who touched and teased EVERY SINGLE INCH OF MY BODY LAST NIGHT" ?!?! Probably. Father wouldn't like that.
Is it weird that I spent the flight to Seattle crying because I miss him already and now I can't stop thinking about last night and how FANTASTIC IT WAS?
Really, really glad I didn't actually have sex with him, though. Because when I cycle back to depression, it'd hurt more.
But OH MAN if he was staying in the same area as me, and we were actually together... Woah man... Things would've gotten wayyy rowdier.
I have never. in my life. in real life. seen a penis that big. (i'm sorry to anybody who may have read that. you probably really didn't want to know.)
I'm giddy as a motherfucking school girl. and who knows when (or if) i'll see him again. and if I do - who says we'll hook up again? hmm.
yep, i'm Tom Hanks. Sleepless in Seattle and all. What's with him and movies involving planes indirectly. Plane crash, airports, ... Okay maybe it's just those two.
Soo many bruises. It hurts to move my neck - in any direction!!
But don't worry, it's amazing.
I think instead of satisfying the "horny as shit"ness i was experiencing yesterday, he just served to make it worse for me today. assshole.
Who even reads my blogs anymore? Cause i know nobody comments on them anymore. Do I not say interesting things anymore? Probably not. Oh well.
"man when we hook up... we hook up rough." apparently. but you LOVED it. even if you don't remember.
HOLY MOTHERTRUCKING CRAPBALLS I just learned how to tag someone in a status with ONLY their first name... This is going to make tagging Chelsea in everything SO much easier.
Man, sex must be AMAZING. Why haven't I tried that shit before?
I don't think I've ever been called beautiful, sexy, or amazing that many times in one night before.
Not or, AND. Yeah. He's quite affectionate when he's drunk.
(Really, you don't want to read this next one. Unless you're chelsea and you already know.)
His fingernails... CUT... my vag. Like, really? One place I never thought I'd have to worry about lacerations...
I've really got to stop thinking about this, or it's only goign to get worse.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Shit.
I really didn't want anything more than a fun, flirtatious, casual experience. I am pretty sure that's what I was prepared for.
Yet here I am, wishing that tonight wasn't the last night we'd have, if we even spend it together. I guess that's the problem with actually getting to know someone.
I know that he's got a strong connection with God.
I know that he's dedicated to school,
and he really wants to be a lawyer.
I know that he thinks family is really, really important.
and I know little things.
So I guess it's just really hard to talk to him now about what we'll be, when tomorrow I leave. Especially since I never thought i'd even consider doing long distance, ever, ever again. Not after Adam.
Except I am considering it because I don't want to lose whatever this is. I really, really enjoy what we have going.
And I would just suck it up and talk to him - but what if he doesn't want to be with me?
Yet here I am, wishing that tonight wasn't the last night we'd have, if we even spend it together. I guess that's the problem with actually getting to know someone.
I know that he's got a strong connection with God.
I know that he's dedicated to school,
and he really wants to be a lawyer.
I know that he thinks family is really, really important.
and I know little things.
So I guess it's just really hard to talk to him now about what we'll be, when tomorrow I leave. Especially since I never thought i'd even consider doing long distance, ever, ever again. Not after Adam.
Except I am considering it because I don't want to lose whatever this is. I really, really enjoy what we have going.
And I would just suck it up and talk to him - but what if he doesn't want to be with me?
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