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I Got Your Back
I know one of my best friends has my back. I feel that I am getting to understand him more and more the more we talk. I think he understands me to some degree Ė and he actually listens. Iím glad I have Adam as one of my best friends; heís one of the few who I feel really cares about me. My girlfriends could care less most of the time, and my other guy friends are too caught up in wanting to get laid to care about another girl who wonít fuck them. Boys are silly.
I Hate Everything About You
I hate how you think big boobs are so wonderful, and yet you pretend to be satisfied with my nonexistent barely-A cups. I hate how you think anime characters are more beautiful than real women. I hate four-wheeling. I hate that you wear black all the time. Iím sick of seeing it. But at the same time I love you because I am pitiful. I love you because you mean that much to me. I love you because you are my best friend. I love you because we have nothing in common at all anymore.
I Like to Move It
What? I think Iím going to stop using these subject lines. They get more and more ridiculous every time. And for the sake of consistency, Iím going to take back everything I said in yesterdayís entry. That was just mean. Really mean. I put bitch mode into overdrive yesterday Ė I donít know what is wrong with me, except that I am jealous, as always. Jealousy and insecurity are my identities along with shyness. I do want to ďmove itĒ however. I want to go home and make it to Carrboro in one piece on Saturday.
I Like To Murder People Singing Showtunes
Thatís a stupid line. In my dream, I was screaming at my boyfriend because he was unfaithful. He was kissing this girl we know in real life and I screamed at him, halfway because I wanted the girl to think I was nuts, and halfway to let my boyfriend know I meant business. Then I was hanging out with this girl in my Fiction Writing class and I was telling her about everything. I woke up and found out my boyfriend was hanging out with the girl he was kissing in my dream.
I Love You
I do not feel love anymore. All I know is lies. Heís lying to me and I know it. I donít know what love is. Is it that heady, first-date kind of infatuation, or is it that settled 4.5-year relationship comfort? Either way, I donít feel love. I feel that I am no longer good enough, that I am too boring. I am trapped in my cloister with books and papers and I feel no affection from anyone. I donít want a pity-party, I just want the truth. Iíll withhold everything from him until he tells me.
I never played that game. Well, I might have once or twice, but I probably donít remember. I do remember reading
Harriet the Spy
when I was a kid, and I liked the book. I liked the idea of keeping a journal and writing crazy things down in it. Thatís probably part of the reason why I keep journals today. I like going around and noticing funny things and writing them down and then laughing about them later. It makes my life more interesting. You really never know what you might see or learn if you just watch.
I Will Protect You
God will protect me, and that is all I need right now. I do not want the protection of some sex-crazed virgin boys, I donít want the protection of someone who canít even protect himself Ė I just want God. As for me, I cannot protect anyone. Thatís why Iím asking God for strength right now; because I canít even protect myself. Lawyers protect you, to some degree, although they charge you an arm and a leg for it. Godís protection is free and always there Ė all you have to do is ask and you shall receive.
I Wonít Hurt You
I want to write a poem to you, one of those artsy-fartsy poems that doesnít rhyme. I donít want to hurt you, but this is going to hurt Ė like a shot in the doctorís office; this is for your own good. I canít do this anymore. I canít be with someone anymore. It doesnít fit for whatís going to happen in the rest of our lives. This gets more and more strange, and we grow further and further apart. I need my space, you need to cling. I want to fling this clinging vine from me.
I Wonít Say Iím In Love
Iíll never be in love again. Love is not for me anymore. My life is meant to be spent by myself, on my own, in reclusive solitude (if thatís not being redundant). I believe thatís what God is telling me. I canít find a Catholic guy Ė I cannot find the person for me. Religion is on the decline, and I am growing closer to it. I am never in the trends. I donít have a Facebook, donít have a cell phone, I have only ten friends on MySpaceÖ I WONíT SAY IíM IN LOVE.
Iíll Be Back
Kill the prompt.
He wiped the tears from my eyes
Before I cried.
He was warm, new
Heíd been wanting me
For longer than I knew
But I canít do this with him.
I canít do this with him.
I canít do this again,
When I thought I could
I ask the Lord to take control
I ask the Lord to grab ahold
Pull me away from these temptations
And let me be Ė
The person everyone thinks
I can be.
My Lord -
He wiped the tears from my eyes
Before I cried.
Iím A Survivor
I think I can deal with this prompt. I realize that I learned a lot more from Language and Gender (that bullshit class) than I ever thought I would. I learned that I do talk like a woman. I mitigate a lot of the more offensive things I say, I use filler words when I get nervous, and I do try to seek solidarity with those Iím speaking to. But I am a survivor. I may be a weak little woman, but Iím a survivor and I can pull through this difficult time. I can do this.
Iíve Got a Theory
Iíve always got a theory and they never work. I am the most wishy-washy person I know, and I can never settle my mind on anything. Right now, Iím leaping back and forth between two choices and I donít know which one is the best for me, so Iím praying. I want to be by myself and have time to think. I donít want to be swayed one way or the other by anyone but God. My theory for now is to trust in God and believe in the power of the dreams he sends me.
I am as cold as ice sometimes. I am not a warm, cuddly, or open person. When I meet you, I will warn you about my shortcomings so there are no surprises later. I am jealous. I am a tease. I am impatient. I am Catholic, and devoutly so. It is up to you if you still want to hang out with me, after I tell you these things. I will not be affectionate. I will not be clingy. I will let you free, but if you cross me, I will lose the trust I do not gain easily.
I was reading a journal entry from two years ago, and it was about me riding in the truck with my boyfriend and his dad and we had gotten ice cream from McDonaldís. I remember eating the ice cream too fast and getting nauseated. I really thought I was going to puke in the brand new truck, and I remember that I just pressed my face into my boyfriendís shoulder until the feeling passed. So I didnít get sick, but I rarely have ice cream from Mickey Dís anymore. I think itís too sweet for me or something.
That translates to ďone chance in a lifetime,Ē which is actually perfect. Today I am getting a new boyfriend. I am dispensing with the old one and getting another. His name is Daniel. I like that name. This is the once in a life time chance to get away from my old boyfriend who I have grown very iffy about in the past two weeks. He hasnít been treating me particularly well or anything, and I just hope that we end this relationship well. I think he knows heís on his way out the door, sad to say.
My identity is heartless. I am cold. I am feeling no emotion about my ex-boyfriend, my new boyfriend, or anything of that sort. Itís like I knew it was coming all along. I am not crying, Iím not really laughing, Iím just going through the motions. I was unable to love him last night. I was unable to show him any affection. I feel bad about that, but I shouldnít. We wonít last. I want to last with him, but I canít let myself. I am not ready for a real relationship. My cold identity wonít allow for it.
To quote directly from the great and powerful Wikipedia, iemoto is defined as ďa system of familial generations in traditional Japanese arts.Ē I know that the Asian countries put a big emphasis on family ties and other things like that Ė I donít think thereís anywhere near that much respect for the family in the United States. Being a young, heartless conservative, I see a decline in the family. There are all these divorced couples, single-parent households and children born out of wedlock. Itís a disgrace to the way God intended for it to be. The world is truly backwards.
If You Loved Me
How appropriate. If you loved me, you would have made more of an attempt to understand me. Itís so ironic how immature you were through the entire relationship, yet when weíre breaking up, you became magically aged 10 years. Save it for the next girl. I know you have your pick of them. I donít want to be friends because it would hurt us both too much. I donít want to be on the same list as those big-tit no-brain bitches. Now you can get laid. Now you can get a tattoo. You are set free.
I have a slight cold right now and Iím hoping it wonít impact my presentation on Monday. I cannot wait to get that over with; itís been hanging over me like the threat of illness for the entire weekend and basically ever since I signed up to do it Monday. Once I get that over with, itíll feel like the whole year is over. No more oral presentations, no more until probably next semester. If I can get another semester free of oral presentations, Iíll be so luckyÖ but thatís so rare. Good thing Iím done with Public Speaking.
Maybe he was all an illusion, just like C/krystal. Maybe he never really wanted me at all. Maybe he was into the thrill of the chase, or just looking to get laid. Well, the chase is over and heís with a girl who wonít fuck him until sheís married to him. I doubt Iíll get married to him, anyway. He is a beautiful illusion Ė all his lovely words, his caresses, his kisses on my neck and my collarbone. Yes, he is beautiful, but if heís not real, I want no part of him. What I desire most is reality.
Imagine the perfect guy. Does he have the right smile, the right attitude, the right eye color? Would you want chivalry, long hair, short hair, military background? Is he short, fat, tall, thin, muscular? Does he listen to good music? Does he play video games? Will he teach you? Will he hold you when you cry? Will he make you cry? Now throw your expectations out the door. Take the first guy who comes to you. Accept his dirty fingernails, the way he cuts himself shaving, his obsession with Mario, his hot lust. Heís yours. Accept all of him.
Iíll never be a second-rate version of someone else ever again. I am going to be myself and take whatever consequences come. I know I am shy, jealous, and very insecure at times, but I would rather be myself than try to imitate and be like someone else. I am getting more comfortable with my own quirky personality, and am actually kind of like it and see it as unique. I meet so many people who are trying to be just like someone else and it makes me feel sad for them. Know who you are, and appreciate it.
I really think itís going to be impossible to see him again. I would like to, but itís stressing me out that I havenít seen him since the 17th. Maybe I freaked him out with all my talk of no sex before marriage. But if he canít handle that, heís not a real man. I know Iíll get used to it when this summer of solitude starts. Half of me still feels like Iím in a relationship, and I know Iím not. I guess itís something that will be impossible to get used to, at least for awhile, anyway.
In The Storm
I got out from the eye of the storm. Iím no longer expected to be at his beck and call. Iím no longer his girlfriend and the freedom is still so new to me. Itís going to be funny spending my summer completely alone with no friends to hang out with except Adam, but thatís fine. I never wanted friends anyway. All of my other ďfriendsĒ were closer to my ex-boyfriendís side anyway. Iím just happy I wonít have to put up with phone calls lasting until the wee hours of the morning. I finally have guts.
I feel so independent now! I feel like I can do what I want whenever I want and Iím not at someoneís beck and call! Itís so awesome! Itís not just college making me feel this way, itís the fact that Iíve got my self esteem back and my grades and my pep and I feel so bubbly and un-apathetic right now! I havenít felt this amazing in literally about five years and itís just great. Itís like a trip back to high school, without all the silly girls creating drama. I can only thank God for this feeling!
Letís just call it purple. Indigo is a useless word in my vocabulary. I donít feel like typing. I donít have anything poetic to say, except that Iíd rather write about the green of his eyes. They change color in the light, and how when he looks at me, his eyes go dark. He does not love me. I donít love him either. Heís like a car that I can only push up to 50 miles an hour before he starts shaking, before he wants to fall apart. My old boyfriend was like a Ferrari, heís a í93 Cavalier.
Right now, this relationship stands in the ďhoneymoonĒ stage. Itís purely infatuation, with no real love yet. I also call this the ďcomparisonĒ stage, where I compare this one to my three exes and see how heís better and worse. Heís not clingy, but he gives great one-on-one attention. Heís not demanding, heís considerate, but heís not terribly affectionate. Heís got somewhat of a problem with listening, but heís funny and knows how to break the ice. His touch is a caress, not a hurried grope. We donít kiss the same way, but I can train him. Heís good.
One of my best friends is going through inner turmoil right now, and all I can do is pray for him and hope he survives his memories. I want him to get through and be strong and find the right girl for him, and I want him happy without depending on me to back him up so much. Heís been such a good friend, especially in these past few weeks when Iíve really needed it, and I want to be there for him too, but I donít want to be overbearing. I know he can survive this turmoil.
On Monday, I realized that I will never be in an innocent relationship ever again. There will always be the threat of sex, whether I want it or not. That is not innocence to me, and I doubt it ever will be. My first three relationships started innocently, and my fourth relationship is anything but. He wants to get in my pants. I will not let him. Iím hanging on to whatever thread of innocence I have left, even though I am slowly coming to realize that it has disappeared. I would give my heart to get innocence back.
I talk to myself, not because I am insane, but because some words just sound better said out loud. I think I want people to hear me. I think I want them to think I am insane, because at least theyíll be thinking about me and acknowledging that, yes, I do exist, thank you very much. I am shoving my ďinsanityĒ under lock and key, but this semester I have had less interaction with people than any other semester of my college career. Well, maybe not. At community college, I got a small bit of interaction. Itís all good.
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