not another girl meets boy

Stuck somewhere between La Roux's "I'm Not Your Toy" and B.O.B.'s "Airplanes". I'm either happy or not. Somewhere between a minor chord and a major in my head. I'm as confused as Lady Gaga's parents must be when they look at baby pictures. Even my body is in limbo-- the front half of me is burnt to a deep lobster red, and the back half is plain and pale. I'm awake and alert but all I want to do is sleep it off. I really do not like this in between.

Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
Cos I could really use a wish right now. 

My wish would be for this burn to go away. I'm pretty completely sure that if this burn disappeared, all the other things plaguing my mind would fade pretty quickly. I spent the weekend at a soccer tournament, watching C play, like I did all last summer. Sitting in the grass and watching him coach from the back of the field, run on his extremely f-ed up leg, cooly defend his keeper... nothing could make me happier for 20 minutes at a time. But once the game ends, life gets back to normal. He's just as cool off the field. He nods at me. Smiles. And walks away. He texts one word answers and I text sentences back. I crave his attention and he basks in mine. 

I've been doing this- we've been doing this- for a year. Officially for a year next Sunday. 

It's all false love and affection. 

You don't want me, you just like the attention.

Stupid sparks. Gets in the way of everything. My brain cant differentiate between anger and love, so I am trapped in this spark-heavy trap. And everyone I meet, everyone I date, everyone I spend an hour getting to know, every one of them falls short. Not because they aren't great people. They are! They're fantastic! They are all perfect catches! But if my heart doesn't skip a beat, I don't have the urge to try anymore. Someone else gets my attention for a week, but it always goes back to C. 

I'm sure thats how he likes it. I probably like it that way, too. Damn my spark-cravings. 

Prom girl wipes her tears with silver lines, and she can't get enough. 

I bring it all on myself. I know, but I like it. And if my sunburn went away, I could get back to enjoying the mess I've buried myself in. 

I just love love. I love love too much. I love it so much that every emotion wants to be love. 

But at least thats one thing I've got straight. 

L 

**Lyrics from B.O.B.'s Airplanes, La Roux's I'm Not Your Toy, and Lady Gaga's I Like It Rough.

leaving

At what point does leaving become giving up?
Maybe I'm asking because one of the most important people in my life moved across the country this morning. Maybe I'm asking because one of the most important loves of my life will not be moving across the state until next year.
But really I'm asking because one of the shelves in my closet quit on me yesterday, rendering most of my closet useless until it is repaired. My closet gave up. The shelf was about 5 feet up on the wall. Under it hung all my dresses and coats, and above it rested many rubbermaid boxes full of computer cables, photos, games, videos, blankets, towels, and more boxes. The shelf came down, and everything else fell in along with it. Now I give up.
Since I have to clean out my closet piece by piece anyway, maybe I should just pack and move. Leaving sounds like a really logical option. I have nothing to stay for, so maybe I go.
Even my closet can't handle my life right now.
L

ordinary

Not settling for less than "extraordinary" is a lot more work than I remember it being. 

At 19, everything was extraordinary. Every guy who looked my way was a step in the right direction. Every boy I fell for was spectacularly better than the last. I had a way of looking at each new love as though it were the most amazing thing that could ever happen to a girl like me. 

I lost it. 

Nothing is extraordinary anymore. Ordinary is all I can muster up. The only extraordinary moments are a select few with C- not all the time, anymore. But the point of this is not to dissect some moments with C. I'm introducing the next character in this soap opera drama: V.

V likes me. I like V more than I've liked anyone recently. We've been on 3 dates. I haven't once had to ignore a call or text from him. I don't feel like running away. I don't feel like running in, either. We are nothing extraordinary. We get along well in public and one-on-one. He is a good guy, I don't feel like I'm in danger of heartbreak. I'm not terribly worried that I'll hurt him, either. But thats not to say that I'm in this with all of me. I just think he seems rational enough to bounce back when I start ignoring his calls. 

Once again, I'm missing the spark. 

Is it settling if I wait this one out to see where it goes, even though the spark is obviously absent? Or can we just call that good sense? I think I've answered it for myself. 

It's not extraordinary. It might be a bit better than ordinary, but I've had extraordinary, and this doesn't begin to compare. I'll give it a few more shots... but then back to the war path. 

Hopefully he understands.

L

my way

(Just prose, been sitting in draft form, unfinished, for too long. Needed to be freed!)

You set me free
By doing what you've always done.
What kept me here so long
Is what's giving me the power to run.
And I will.
I will run.
Because I'm not so sure how long my disenchantment will last.

You're ignorant. Mean.
You're indifferent and heartless.
You didn't try.
You let me try.
You let me fight.
You let me cry.
You let me suffer.
You let me destroy myself,
And never tried to stop me.
Where's the honor in that?
Miserable.
You are miserable.
A miserable excuse for a man.
A pathetic picture of a boy.

Someday you'll know.
And I hope it kills you to see all I saw.
I hope it gives you nightmares.
I hope it gives you chills throughout random days.
I hope you suffer through heartache with no hope of escape,
And I hope you make it to the other side.
I hope you see how strong you have to be.
You deserve to know first hand
What you had
What you did
What I loved through.

But I set me free.
I had enough. I saw the end.
You did what you did
Over and Over.
You never changed.
You never felt.
You never tried.
And I felt enough for both of us.
I loved enough for both of us.
I tried.
But not enough for both of us.
Needed you,
But that's not your style.

So while I'm feeling stronger,
While I know I can make the trip,
I'm going.
I'm letting myself feel other things-
New things and fantastic things-
Things that will give me new scars you could never think to inflict.
I've been set free by exactly what had me so trapped.
I just had to learn to sail through.
Navigate the fantastic whirlwinds that got me caught on you.
Fun at first, but unfortunate when I've stayed this long.
I can get out now.

And I'm on my way.
L

bring the wind

It's time. I'm going to stop torturing myself for now.

Here's to taking years of my own advice! I'm going to focus on what is already spectacular in my life, and say fuck the rest. I'm going to stand facing the sun and let every shadow fall behind me. I'm going to stop settling for anything less than extraordinary. I'm going to take a deep breath, count to ten, and be amazing.

"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." -Louisa May Alcott

Time to sail on.
L

reality bites

I'm not going to say it was the worst 10 minutes of my life, but it was in the top 25. Maybe top 20. I'd have to list them all to really get an accurate figure, and I'd rather not, since I've suppressed most of those memories already. I hope to suppress this one, too. Maybe I just need to get it out there first. I think I need to back up a little.

I'm pretty easy to get along with. Not too many people dislike me, and the ones who do... well.. I don't know them very well, so I can't be entirely sure why they do. Most of those people hang out in the same place, all together, in a place I used to spend most of my nights. I don't frequent this establishment anymore, for a few reasons we really don't need to discuss. Point is that I rarely go. When I do, I'm usually the only person there.
I went the other night. I thought, due to the empty parking lot and the lack of lights glowing through the windows, that I was late enough to be there alone. I was mistaken. I was completely mistaken. And I faced 4 people who don't think highly of me, and 1 person who apparently thinks less of me than of a termite. I'd have been fine, but that 1 person decided to make a few comments, not to me but to the room in general, which were entirely shots at me. At me. I was unprepared for the attack, and I have nothing against the speaker- well, I had nothing against the speaker- which left me with no reaction prepared but to smile politely, laugh it off awkwardly, and excuse myself from the situation before anyone could catch me crying.
But wait, maybe the comments weren't meant for me? Maybe they were just random comments? Maybe just song lyrics stuck in someone's head or inside jokes from earlier in the night? Ehhhhh... no. The first thing he said when he got outside to me was "don't listen to them. just forget it."
Complete humiliation.

But not because I was ridiculed without my knowledge in front of people. Not because I was embarrassed by his friends in front of him. Not even because he let them.
I was humiliated because everything that was said was true.
And I knew it.
And suddenly, I realized, everyone else knew it, too.

I like to think my own stupidity is my own problem- if I can deal with it, then that's really all that matters. But 10 minutes on a Thursday night rearranged that whole thought process. I'm not proud of the reality. I romanticize it in my head to make it easier to handle. He's obviously framing it his own way as well. But either way, that's what I'm living. And hearing it for the first time in that situation, when I'm obviously uncomfortable and confused and caught off guard in the first place, just makes reality that much more of a slap across the face. It is still my reality, but now it is someone else's inside joke.

Okay, I got it out there. I'm ready to suppress it now.
Come on selective memory.
L

loves me like a rock

My head is a disaster. I have been repeatedly running myself into a rock, hoping that at one point the rock will reach out and hold me and tell me to stop doing it. Who am I kidding? It's a rock. I will keep running myself into it until I've learned my lesson. I've been running into it for 8 years. Book smart is not the same thing as common sense. Love sick is nothing if not ignorant. I am a fairy tale dreamer, and in my dream the rock eventually reaches out to love me.
Waking up.

Eventually this will all wear me down. I'm scared that one day I will lose my optimism. I don't want to become the woman who sees things realistically all the time. Much as it hurts, I would rather keep running into that damn rock, keep feeling the ups and downs, keep crying and screaming and smiling and hoping... I want to believe- always- that there is something worth believing in.

One day that rock will hold me. Love me. Please don't let me forget that.
The pain is starting to get dull. I'm starting to forget. I'm starting to give up.
But if you aren't going to run at that rock with full force, then why bother running at all?
So, rock, it is best for you to give in. I will keep running, and keep slamming into you, until I've worn out a cozy little hole for myself or broken you down in the process.
Get ready to love me.
L