Something that is so far out of reach

Oh my goodness. Jumping back on the trying to get someone’s attention band wagon is bloody intense, and nerve wracking, and I feel really bad about myself??

I can’t do it. I can’t be this excited about love prospects that I make up entirely in my mind. I can’t do it because then, when they come over to study with my flat mate I act weird,  and possibly showy?? And I don’t act like my cool and funny self, I act too interested, too much. I am too much when I am not myself. I feel sick. I want so much for someone, but I want so little to lose myself  in the process.

It’s such a little girl thing to like someone for how they look instead of what they are actually like as a person. Maybe it is desperation, I would like to think not. But I can’t be sure. I feel so panicked that I acted so unlike myself. I am now resolving to be single forever because it will spare me the internal turmoil that I can absolutely live without.

I can’t describe properly this feeling other than to say that it feels like a constant yearning for something that is completely out of reach. It’s not a good feeling at all.

Responsibility vs being drunk 90% of the time

I don’t want to write my essay. I’m doing everything right, I got a good night of sleep, and I woke up slowly, and I got my coffee. I’m back in bed with my laptop all ready to write, but I just don’t want to. I was on a roll with this assignment, I had done all of the the parts, I had done them well. Then, my good-for-nothing class started complaining and wanting more time for the assignment. Long story short: more time for the assignments was not given, but a revised and severely culled assignment sheet was posted. I was livid. The parts that they took away I had already spent hours writing, I had done everything right, I was being an awesome “self-manager”, a role model to my students, perhaps. But as soon as they fucked me (and quite a few other class members) over, I lost interest. It’s bullshit because those class members who did this bullshit will be rejoicing and will have already written their fantastic assignments. There is not a bone in my body that has any tolerance for injustice.

So what have I done this weekend in place of being responsible and doing my work? I got drunk with my friend, walked into town to find her friend, got picked up by two guys from Dubai, went to their apartment which was thirteen floors up and had an amazing view of Auckland city, smoked weed and shisha, had a dance, and made out with my friend’s friend. We then walked home, only to find my flat mate back from the cook islands, high as fuck,  cooking some food with his friends. It was four am by this point. When everyone else was gone I stayed up to talk to my flat mate, we usually have great yarns, we have a lot in common. But this night was different, and it made me really sad, we could not talk. I went to bed at five am. I woke up sad the next day and stayed sad. I went to work. I video called my ex-girlfriend. I binged on Burger King and peanut butter toast, and I failed to purge. I cleaned the whole house in tears, lonely and un-pretty. I went to bed.

Sometimes I just want someone. Not someone to fuck, someone to love, and someone to ground me. But I guess I wouldn’t be doing such crazy, story-creating things if I had that someone. It’s just a nice thought. I know I am better off alone. At the same time though I am starting to carry an extraordinary amount of guilt, because I am not just an English major anymore, I am a training teacher, it feels wrong that I am so not right and yet am going to be qualified to teach little souls. I am only nineteen though, why should I not do these things?

Love, Personified

They may not be your love. Not now, maybe soon. Not ever, or in the past. They may not be your love, but they look like love and and everything that comes with it. Like hope when you think you will never burn for someone again, when you feel that only shrinking like an unused sponge in a six person flat is left.

You will burn for more than a desire to be understood. They look like love and they will come along and you will forget how you look, and they will forget how you look, and all they will look like is love. And when you get to Facebook stalking like all the lonely girls you see they look good even with their old love, and you know that you don’t want them to be yours, the important thing is that you have seen them again, what a privilege it is to see love a third time.

It’s the feeling of someone seeing the good in you when you can’t, laughing at the words that came out wrong, staying up later to talk properly, asking if you are okay as you walk away in silence. The point is not falling in love just because you found them again, the point is that it hasn’t disappeared, it is still following you. Like death, love is still inevitable.