Saturday, November 28, 2009

I bought the new Relient K album.

I don't really have time to write lately and I can feel the words building up inside of me. They might run out of room and die. Like little plants with no room to root. Terminal rot.

I'm tired of going to my second job. I don't want to do it anymore. I'm so, so tired. I don't know if I'll keep going the next four weeks. I'm going to do it one day at a time. One day. Like today.

And I wish I could stop worrying so much. Worry doesn't fix a thing. Doesn't change the outcome. Its hard to remember that.

Time for work. I hate this so much. It is all my fault I have to do this. Stupid, stupid me.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

I think I can finally speak.

I remember how it feels to feel good about me. And how it feels to put up that safety wall around my heart. And how it feels to realize that I've gotten way too involved and attached to another person. And how it feels to take that first step back.

Apparently I'm initially too trusting. Too willing to go all in. And then, once hurt or disappointed, I am difficult to coax closer again. I think this is true. I don't want to get hurt, but I hope I'm not hurting you either. But I'm not willing to let you make me feel the way you made me feel ever again. Even if you didn't do it on purpose. Even if you didn't know you did it.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Someone make it feel better. Please?

Thursday, November 19, 2009

My mouth is all full of the words I’m not saying. I think I keep accidently swallowing them. That’s probably why I feel so sick to my stomach. Thats probably why I keep biting my tongue. But it will be okay. They will just fall into the hole inside my chest and freeze into ice crystals in the coldness there and no one will ever know what I never, ever said.

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

I put frozen spoons on my eyes. It was a good kind of pain.

I've moved away from the "there is something horribly wrong with me" theory. I have a new one: there is something really important missing. I don't even know what shape the piece would be or what color it is or where it goes to begin looking for it.

And how many times in my life are you going to say, "Sarah Jo, this is not going to end well. Be careful. Just take a step back. Pay attention. Wait a minute. Slow down. You're going to get hurt." And then I merrily ignore you and it all comes true? And you never say, "I TOLD you this was going to happen." It's more like, "I'm so sorry, Sarah Jo. This is what you need to do to make it feel better. This is how long its going to take to heal. This is how you make sure you don't do this again."

I don't know what magic there is that after 11 years now you are still here. That we are completely different people than we were when we met and still we love each other.

I am thoroughly convinced that most people I know don't ever actually see me as a real, live human being with feelings and bad days and character flaws and needs. They don't see it when I'm not okay and they don't know what to do when they do see it. But you see. Since that very first phone call you've driven right past the bubbly outside to the real person underneath. Sometimes it's uncomfortable and frustrating that I can't just gloss over my feelings and move on when talking you to. You won't let me. But you're teaching me that ignoring all the bad things won't make them go away. And pretending I'm not hurt won't make it true. And I'm truly, truly grateful for you.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

I write poetry sometimes. Its never very good, but it sure makes me feel better.

One Breath

One breath at a time. Concentrate on the rhythm of the inhale and exhale against the thrumming of my heart. It’s a sound I recognize. Reassurance that I’m still alive.

It doesn’t matter about the change of pace. From a slow walk to a death race. My breath, in time with my heart, kicks up a pace. We work together.

My mind isn’t needed for this dance. My lungs and heart have their own romance. Like a couple matching stride. Reassurance that I’m still, still alive.

But oh, what is this that steals my breath? Stops my heart right in my chest? It puts a dizzy spin to my vision. Black stars and weak knees. And oh please please please

One breath. And then another. I don’t know how many moments like this I can survive. But the kick-start of my broken heart is reassurance that I’m still, still, still alive.

Stupid feelings.

I have a lot of things going on in my heart right now. Or my mind. Maybe they are the same thing and we just use two different words to describe the rational and irrational parts of ourselves. The part that makes sense and the part that doesn't care about what is logical and just goes flying off in whatever direction feels best. I think I have a lot of things going on in both parts.

I dreamed about going to the tattoo shop and just getting a tattoo. One I never even planned. Just stopping by one night on my way home from work and talking with an artist I had never met. And in my dream this artist got more and more worrisome. I told him I wanted a square tattooed on the inside of my left arm and I wanted it turned so that it looked like a diamond. He drew up a picture of a gravestone with strawberries growing up over it. The dream continued with me saying clearly exactly what I wanted and him trying to give me something completely different.

And my waking self realizes that I keep saying exactly what I want and I keep getting something completely different.

I hate it that sometimes my mind knows exactly how I should feel and my heart just doesn't care. I've already decided that everything is okay. Just fine. Just like everything has always been. Nothing is different than before. Just my perspective. But I still feel like someone put a rock in my lungs and I can't quite breathe right around its sharp edges and heavy weight.

Stupid feelings.

But now I've got bigger things to worry about. Worry. Worry. Worry.
Talking usually makes me feel better. I don't feel all that much better. I feel better about some things. But its like both my feet are bruised and I can't decide which one to lean on. Because the things it might seem that I am upset about don't upset me at all. And I don't want people to think that. But how do I explain what really hurts? They won't believe me. They just wont.

Monday, November 16, 2009

I don't know if my writing clearly reflects just how happy I usually am.

So I know I've talked about crying quite a bit recently, but this is my blog and I'll cry if I want to! Ha.

Normally when I say crying I mean that tears were coming out of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. But today it was the kind with not only the tears, but those awful noises and the red face and the runny nose and the curling in on myself until I couldn't anymore.

Johnna came over and we talked about stuff. Feelings. You know. And eventually we got to a point that I write about but I never actually talk about to anyone. I'll write about it again today.

I feel like there is something terribly wrong with me. Something everyone else can see and I can't see it. This thing makes it easy for people to just completely stop talking to me and spending time with me and generally caring about me in any way whatsoever. They just disappear. And it's so easy for them because there is something about me that makes me not worth anything. And this thing that is wrong with me is also the reason no one wants to date me. No one. Not one person yet.

And people don't want to hurt my feelings and let me know what this horrible thing is, so they say things like: No, you're a great person Sarah Jo, they are all just stupid. One day it will happen and you'll see it was worth the wait. I don't know what's wrong with the boys, you are amazing and beautiful.
They say nice, nice things.

But experience has taught me the truth. There is something terribly, terribly wrong with me and no one will tell me what it is. I keep trying to fix things. What else can I do? I changed my whole life! I'm a stranger to myself sometimes and I keep working on being better. I want to be the best version of Sarah Jo I can possibly be. But it isn't good enough. I'm missing something. I'm broken. I'm flawed. I'm not worth loving.

Where is this one that is supposed to see the good in me? Where is he that will want me and only me forever? Where is the one that is strong and kind and smart and bold and silly enough to make me happy?

I said all of this with tissues pressed against my eyes, sitting with my legs folded on my bed, trying my best to bend into myself until I disappeared and it stopped hurting so much.

And I think it's ridiculous that I can survive living with drug addicts. I can handle not having electricity or running water. I've heard the violent screaming and things crashing against the walls. I once lived in a motel. I bailed my dad out of jail. I've seen my mother taken away in handcuffs. They steal from me. I got bolt locks on my bedroom door. I was morbidly obese and I lost over a hundred pounds by myself. I've lived with empty cabinets and roaches and mice and lice and trailers with no carpet. I know all the different people my parents can be depending on which drug they are on or what they are going without. I've hidden in my room in fear. I've screamed into my pillows in anger. All of it I did with a real and honest joy for life, everyday. So real that I felt it must seep out my pores in tangible waves and infect other people. So real that it felt like another presence inside my chest nearly lifting me from the ground.

And I think it's ridiculous that after all of that, loneliness is going to be the thing that finally breaks me.

Warning! This post contains no point whatsoever!

I woke up feeling really hungry and I was dreaming about chili so I had chili for breakfast. I've learned that working 12 hours three days in a row just standing still and packing boxes in a gray, loud, dry, windowless factory makes me not care about going to the gym or whether or not I should eat this homemade chocolate chip cookie or cleaning my room or going to the grocery store. When I get really, really tired, I cry. Did I already post that before? Maybe I did. So there I was, tears streaming down my face as I packed boxes yesterday afternoon. And then in the lunch room too. No noise or sobbing or anything, just little tears trickling down under the rim of my glasses and falling onto the sandwich bag containing my uneaten peanut butter sandwich.

I don't like not talking to anyone for hours at a time and then the only people around being the kind of people that think working in a warehouse for years on end would be a really good job. The best kind of job. They don't use the word "career" or think about what it would be like to retire after god-knows-how-many-years packing boxes and scanning merchandise.

Its time to go to work now.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

The difference:

Amber: You look tired.
Me: I am. I'm very tired.
Amber: Yeah, you have bags under your eyes. Like, they are puffy right here. You still look tired even with your make-up on.
Me: Thanks so much.

Jeremy: You look tired.
Me: I am.
Jeremy: Your eyes have that watery, trying-not-to-cry look. Are you okay?
Me: *nod*
Jeremy: Do you want some caffeine?

I don't know if you can see it, but to me, there is a world of difference in those two conversations from tonight. She pointed out what was wrong with me even after I did my best to fix it. She made me feel even worse. He noticed the details (I cry when I get really tired), was concerned, and then offered a solution (that worked.)

But I really am tired. So goodnight.

When I get really, really tired, I just cry.

So instead of going to the grocery and doing my laundry yesterday, I just laid on my bed and cried. Then I put my pajamas on and went to sleep. My mother took pity on me and did my laundry for me.

This sucks.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

People have started adding "And you can bring whoever you want!" to invitations. I wonder what that means?

So the trained us for 3 hours on how to pack a box.

I would write about my new job, except that I don't have time. If I go to bed at 10 I get about 6 hours sleep. I need to do my laundry. I need to go to the grocery. I need to spend some time where when I close my eyes I don't see conveyor belts and cardboard boxes. I dreamed of tape guns and scanners and stupid, stupid people. Okay, I guess I told you about my new job.

Monday, November 09, 2009

I've said this before but, I wish life was a book that I could just flip to the last page. If I could just find out that in the end, everything turns out okay, it would be much easier to handle the confusing parts.

Sunday, November 08, 2009

So anyway...

I republished those posts I drafted. I may not have said it in so many words, but everyone already knows anyway. Mostly.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Other happy stuff happened too, but who wants to read about that?

My brother just told me I look tired. I said, "I'm tired all the time! Like, every night!" It wasn't until he laughed at me that I realized just how stupid that statement was.

But I am tired. My ears are ringing from the concert I went to tonight and my hair smells like cigar smoke and other parts of me are uncomfortable. So physically, I'm uncomfortable in general. I'm telling you this so you know where I am coming from.

Someone left a comment on my blog about my drafted posts and I have to say I am continuously surprised when someone actually takes the time to read what I write. Who am I that anyone should listen? I say the same things over and over and barely make any progress. I whine and worry quite a bit and my life is completely lacking in any kind of adventure or, you know, specialness. And yet someone listens. It makes me feel good to know that.

In the car ride home Jeremy asked if I was okay. I said I was. He didn't believe me. I said I was okay. He said I could just say I didn't want to talk about it. I said I didn't want to talk about it. That was, I think, the first time I ever said that to him.

My brain doesn't always work in a pattern that makes immediate sense to the outside observer, but the following thoughts are connected and make sense to me.

Drafted posts and the car ride home.

I drafted those posts because I felt like I had things to say and then, having said them, worried about how people would respond if they read them. Even people I'm almost entirely sure don't actually read this anyway. Just in case. But part of me did want to be heard and by those same people or I wouldn't have written and posted those things in the first place.

And in the car ride home from the concert I was trying to make sure Jeremy didn't notice that anything was wrong with me but my hands gave me away as I worried my jacket belt between my fingers. I've managed to hide being not-okay around him a couple of times before but I don't know if that was because we were in a group setting and he had more to focus on, or if maybe this time I wasn't trying hard enough in the first place. Because part of me did want to talk about it, but I knew we didn't have enough time. I don't want there to be things I can't talk about with him, but it wasn't stuff that could be covered in the distance between the coffee shop and my house. And he was going to Billy's house afterwards and now I worry that he thinks I'm upset with him for going to Billy's house afterwards. I worry too damn much.

I'll tell you some of the things that were on my mind in the car. If you don't want to know, um, you could always stop reading?

The main thing was that I actually usually hate concerts and shows. (Jeremy says in surprised tone, "I didn't know you don't like concerts.") I don't like being places that require me to be around other people but not actually talk to them. You have to do the awkward yell-into-each-others-ears thing. I hate that. I can't read lips. And I always want to talk. And also, my favorite part about music is the lyrics and in concerts I just don't understand the words if I don't already know the music. And even then I like the more intimate, quite settings. I don't like shows. So nearly the whole time I felt this general pull to walk out of the concert part and into the coffee shop part and talk to people. I wanted to leave, leave, leave.

And then there were all these people there that I barely know and they are the kind of people that say "Hi!" really enthusiastically when they see me but don't actually know anything about who I am and don't really want to talk to me long enough to find out at all. It seems like a waste to me. Its like fake-nice.

And Travis was there and I actually did want to talk to him but I couldn't and that made me a little sad.

And three other things I don't want to write about because then I would probably draft the post later.

Part of it was feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Part of it was feeling worried and jealous. Part of it was feeling unsure and hesitant. I don't think I can say more.

And I don't want to get too personal but I hurt and just wanted to sit down somewhere and hug a pillow. But I was standing still in a crowd.

And I felt pretty today and it was dark and loud and hot and I couldn't talk to anyone so they could see too.

And then there was at least part of that I had already decided that I should never, ever talk to Jeremy about and that I must hide it from my face and my person as much as I could.

All of these things were going through my head in the car ride home. And maybe more that I've already forgotten. Jeremy says you can only hold 7 things in your mind at a time. And if we add the cigar and the jacket-belt and the music and the moon and the ever-shorting distance and the worry over upsetting Jeremy by accidentally making him think I was upset with him, well, that is A LOT more than 7 things to think about. They just circled around my head like a carousel on fast forward until I could barely keep up with the conversation we were having.

I am tired. Thanks for listening.

One of those days when three little things make one big, upsetting thing.

I like plans. Not detailed plans, but at least a general idea of what I will be doing over the next several days. It can be as vague as Friday = work, gym, Johnna. Which was what the plan was for yesterday. Not too specific. I didn't know how long the gym part would take me or what I would do with Johnna, but I knew that I wasn't going to be spending the night at home watching Netflix and wondering where everyone was.

Things did not go according to plan. I really liked that they didn't.

It started off with a grumpy morning that was really a continuation of a grumpy night before. But by the time lunch was over, the grumpy morning had turned into a full-blown horrible, horrible day.

I won't really talk about that very much here, but I do want to say something. Since I've become friends with Jeremy, I have had several friendships either dissolve completely or turn into something less than what they were. But I've only gotten closer to him during that time. I spend at least a couple nights a week hanging out with him. He has become an important part of my life. He is my friend.

But I feel like I can't talk about him with my other friends and it frustrates me to no end. And for each friend there is a different reason. But it really sucks feeling uncomfortable talking about a part of my life that I enjoy. A part that is healthy and safe and stable when everything else feels so scary sometimes. And on those days when I'm upset about something he might have said or done or maybe I'm worried about something having to do with him or I just want to tell someone else how much fun we had doing this or that or how awesome I think he is or muse over what it meant when he said this or did that, who do I call? I can tell them about work. I can tell them about my family. I can tell them about weight loss and loneliness and debt and other friendships. But not this.

I realize that its frustrating and confusing when I seem so attached to someone I've known for so little time. I realize some of my friends are worried because they don't understand his character or they think I might get hurt. And some of my friends are upset that I turn to him for things when they would be there for me too except that I never ask them. I can't say I'm being logical. I can't say I'm being fair.

I am an emotional being. It usually takes me a long, long time to trust people. To let them in. To even let them see who I am when I'm not happy. And then even when I get there, I am repulsed by the idea of needing people. The people in my life that I am supposed to be able to need, my parents, have hurt me more than anyone. It has taught me that it is better not to need anyone. I can do this on my own. I'm strong. I can make it. So I tell people what is going on sometimes, but usually it is just so they understand the change in my behavior. I don't want anything from them. I don't need anything.

But Jeremy snuck up on me somehow. It happened in slow degrees I can't measure. Even in the beginning, he seemed to know that I was upset when no one else in the room noticed. He was persistent enough to pull it out of me. Slowly I learned that he would always listen, even if it was him I was upset with. I started to trust him for reasons I can't figure out. It has become a trust that scares me because it is more than I give to most people. The safe distance I keep between myself and other people is getting shorter between Jeremy and I.

But he does make me feel safe. And heard. And understood.

So when the electricity got shut off, I learned through a text message while at work. I immediately put on my fake smile and went back out to wait on customers. The slow panic started to build as I planned out the next few steps. Find a place to stay. Find out how long this is gong to be. Find out how much this is going to cost me. Can I make it home before I cry? Will it be dark when I get there? Do I have to be anywhere tonight? All of this running through my head while I ask people questions and issue vehicle registrations. I didn't make it home before I cried. That was awful.

I just realized this is way more detail that I meant to share. Anyway, over the course of the five days our electricity was shut off, I realized that I couldn't do this alone this time. I spent my free time Wednesday and Thursday with Jeremy. And Friday with Jeremy and Johnna. I didn't need anything from him that he doesn't already give freely. I mean, I had to take a shower at his house which, unfortunately, is not something I haven't had to ask before. I absolutely hated asking for that, but I could have done it at the gym if I had to. What I needed from him was a safe, stable, calm place to be. A comforting presence. He is always those things for me. I don't know if it is because he seems so strong to me or because I know I couldn't pretend to be okay around him even if I wanted to.

Wow. This has gone completely in a way I didn't plan. Just like yesterday.

So anyway. Yesterday turned into complete, full-blown horrible day. Jeremy texted me to see if I wanted to come over for dinner. He remembered Johnna and I had plans. He said she should come too. And Billy would join us too. At this point, I was more than willing to cancel the gym because of the horrible, horrible day. I got to Jeremy's house before Johnna and he let me tell him about all my worries and frustrations and anger. I cried. He gave me a tissue and made me feel better. When Johnna got there we started making dinner that eventually evolved into stuffed peppers, minus a recipe.

It was so much fun cooking together. I don't know why I love doing that so very, very much. And I even like doing the dishes too. We talked and shared stories and made fun of each other and caught up and remembered and ate. Then we moved down to the basement for more of the same minus the eating. After that we went to the movies. I didn't like the movie and fell asleep on Johnna during that part of the evening.

But its strange how little words and touches and time heal. There wasn't a specific thing that made me feel better. Just being with people I care about. Little moments. Like Billy picking on me for being grumpy, even though that made me grumpier for a moment. Or Jeremy comparing me to Billy's mom, which also made me grumpier, but then he followed me to my car to make sure I wasn't actually upset. Or Johnna letting me hold her hand on the car ride home because I always wake up wanting to touch someone.

I've written things I can't post, but I think maybe I could tell someone in person now.

I'm sensitive and most people don't notice because I hide it. I'm forgiving and oblivious to many things in a relationship because I look for the good in people and keep expecting them to be better next time. But when I get to the point where I realize that they really do hurt me, it's hard for me to move on after that.

I'm going to have to re-resolve to tell people when something is upsetting me so they at least have a little warning before I completely give up. Maybe, unlike my parents, other people care about hurting me.

For now I feel much, much better.

Women who grow sleepy while staring at the men who stare at goats.

I realized something amazing tonight.

You know that feeling you get when you are about to fall asleep but you aren't allowed to because you are at work or driving or in church or some such other situation that strictly prohibits sleep? Your eyelids suddenly become boulders that require incredible strength to lift and your mind cannot possibly focus on any other task besides keeping your chin from hitting your chest. Its terrible.

But, if that feeling happens at the movies with friends, you can totally let it happen. You paid for the movie, right? And your sleeping is not going to detract from their movie-going-experience unless perhaps one of them becomes a pillow and you happen to drool. If you aren't enjoying the movie, then you probably wouldn't be participating in the post-movie re-quote and laugh session anyway. So figure out which friend has the squishiest shoulders (and would be okay with being leaned on) and just take advantage of the non-verbal friend agreement that you can lean on one another. Literally.

Friday, November 06, 2009

Tell me something good:

First of all, I keep writing posts, posting them, and then saving them as drafts when I change my mind. Its awful. Its like I have things to say but then I decide not to. All these words are floating around inside my head.

I'm having a needy morning. I just wish I could talk to someone about all the things that are making me less happy and then it would feel better. Just to have someone listen and know.

But I'm alone this morning and I think everyone is still asleep or at work already.

I got a second job. Soon I'll work seven days a week. Orientation is tomorrow. I'll have a lot less free time but then maybe the burden of my debt will be proportionally lighter?

I'm going to go find something happy to watch.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Things I didn't say to anyone today:

Yesterday Jeremy and I drank for the police academy. I was really nervous when we walked in and there were all those guys stranding around in their uniform things, but they quickly took us to a classroom and closed the door. I was drinking 7-up and whiskey and eventually I lost count. I got to the point where it was hard to walk right and I was sending incomprehensible texts to Johnna. Then they led us into a big room full of those guys (and one girl that I noticed) and separated us one drunk for every three cadets. I was tested over and over and over again. I almost fell down a lot. People kept catching me though. After a few walk and turn and standing on one foot tests, they decided that I should just stay in a chair and follow the light with my eyes. It was fun but I'm sure they were more amused at me than I realized. I get even friendlier and happier when I drink.

After all the testing Billy took us back to Jeremy's house. By that point I had a headache and the feeling that I would throw up very, very soon. I discovered that it stopped hurting if I stopped moving so Jeremy watched a couple movies while I sat next to him on the couch hiding my face in his shoulder and clinging to his arm. I kept having the impulse to say things I knew I shouldn't so I focused on breathing and twitching my fingers instead. I was so cold. I felt like if I could just sit close enough, Jeremy's body heat would chase away the cold. I felt terrible every time I moved even the slightest bit, but I was perfectly content where I was anyway.

At some point the nausea subsided enough for us to eat dinner. While the stew warmed up in the microwave, Jeremy grabbed me and started dancing with me there in the middle of the kitchen. I've never danced like that before and I'm sure I was still at least mildly intoxicated as I nearly fell over a few times, but it was nice. He spun me and dipped me and I can't believe he didn't let me fall over. He picked me up when he hugged me but I think that was earlier and at some point we fake-fought very briefly before he had me in a position I had no hope of escaping.

So by the time we finished eating our stew later, I thought I had reached a new level of comfortable with touching. It took a lot for me to lean over and lay my head on his shoulder. It took even more courage to claim his arm. But I did that. I was happy with myself for not getting all weird about touching my friend. Progress. But then he touched my face.

I don't remember the words that came out of my mouth or exactly what I did with my hands but I think the general message was that he should stop. Right now.

What I do remember is that it felt very much like a moment from a dream I had and I didn't like the similarity at all because I was afraid somehow the hands on my face would absorb the memory of the dream and he would know. My heart started racing immediately because those hands were warmer and closer and more real than the dream hands and I liked that too much. So I wanted it to stop. Because it hurts too much to want something I can't have. I mean, it sucks.

I can feel friend feelings when I lean on his shoulder. I can feel friend feelings when we dance in the kitchen and when we hug and when he knocks me to the ground. But I lose the battle when he puts it hands on my face. When he is so close I can feel the warmth from his breath. When his hand is suddenly on my knee. Maybe he likes giving me palpitations. Maybe he can feel my heart racing through his fingertips.

But this is harder than I thought it would be. And who do I talk to about it? He is the one I tell things to when I have things to tell. The one that makes it better when I'm upset and the one that offers a new perspective when I can't see it right. But I stutter and get inarticulate and unclear when I try to talk about how I feel about him with him.

And I feel like so many other relationships are going wrong right now. And I'm horrible at dealing with disharmony. It makes me want to withdraw instead of fix it.

So I'll tell you all the things I didn't tell anyone else today:

I got the second job I was trying to get. Now I'll have two of them. Every day of the week. And my biggest worry is that I won't see Jeremy enough.

I don't really feel like a supervisor very much at work. Its like I'm only a supervisor when everyone else is busy or unavailable. I'm sure it will just take time for people to start thinking of me that way.

Jeremy and Johnna shared heartbreak stories last night. They talked about how much it hurts. I didn't have a story to tell and I wanted so much to tell them how awful it is knowing that no one ever wanted me, not even long enough to break my heart. How awful it is to wonder if I'll ever get to experience what it is to date. I wanted to tell them how willing I was to experience the tears if only I could feel the high that comes first. I would have cried too.

They think they can tell me which is better: being alone or risking heartbreak. They think they know both feelings. But how can they know the deep, deep assurance that after 23 years no one has ever loved me like that. They know what it is to be loved and dismissed, but no one ever gave me the opportunity in the first place. No one ever gave me the time and attention.

But I didn't tell them. I didn't cry. I didn't let them see what it's doing to me. And they told me I didn't want it. Told me not to fall in love.

I honestly, honestly am running out of patience. I wasn't made to be alone.

And sometimes, for brief moments of time, I can step outside of myself and see a person worth loving. Why hasn't anyone else seen this girl yet?

I'm getting sleepy and leaving out words. I think I'm grumpy because I slept terribly and woke up with a headache from the drinking and haven't had enough social interaction today. Maybe I'll write something happy tomorrow.

I hope I don't dream about touching anymore.

Sunday, November 01, 2009

It was me, and I remember every detail.

Last night I dreamed that someone kissed me.

I dream often. Ridiculous things like the other day I dreamed I had a baby and I was taking care of it. I dream about being in another dimension or running from one thing or another or exploring a new environment or being someone different. Ridiculous things.

But last night I dreamed that someone kissed me. And nearly everything else was normal. And I suppose it bothers me so much because it was me being kissed when normally I'm some other person in my dreams and the world I'm in is so vastly different that I'm not reminded of my dreams later, in the waking world.

It was me and I remember every detail except I cannot possibly know how it would feel for a mans lips to touch mine because I only kiss children on the mouth and they are usually covered in snot, spit, or some kind of food. Its usually pretty gross.

I don't have much else to say about it except that I keep thinking about it. I wanted to be kissed before in a vague, unknowing kind of way. Now it feels different. I'm so tired of the waiting. I sure hope it's worth it.

All those years I heard your name, I never knew you were going to be my best friend.

I heard stories about you. Countless stories. Sometimes about things that made her happy and other times about things that made her mad. She was sad when you went away. She always compared the rest of them to you. But you were just a face I had seen a couple times with a trail of stories pinned up around the face in my mind. Not enough to make a whole person. Not enough to understand anything at all. My friends boyfriend.

And then towards the end it was always more irritation than happiness when she spoke of you. Miscommunication. Wrong reactions. Disagreements. And then a rocky friendship. She invited me along to a bar, a bonfire, a comedy club,a road trip with you and your best friend. Still in my mind it was she and I, her ex-boyfriend and his best friend. I always saw you through the filter of her. It was like a show watching you two misunderstand one another and have conflict after conflict. It was a mess.

All those years I heard your name, I never knew you were going to be my best friend.

In my mind it began the day you went with me to get my tattoo. The first time I was ever alone with you. And I was so nervous because I didn't understand you then. So much more unknown compared to the known.

Last night we decided it has been six months. Six whole months. Or only six. I understand you much better now and instead of nervous I feel safe and excited to be around you. Even when you are sick and we watch movies all day. Even when we fall asleep in front of the space heater. I can't wait to find out a little more about what makes you you. And you seem to be the first person I think of when I have stories to tell.

This week I couldn't go home. Before, I might have cried on the phone about it to one of my friends one time and then pretended to be okay until it was over. I would have spent as much time alone as possible because pretending to be okay is hard work. But this time my first thought was that I could tell you about it. And then seeing you, I couldn't pretend to be anything else. And that upset me more.

Because I worry that people won't like me if I'm anything other than the bubbly, happy Sarah Jo I normally am. I am afraid they can't handle it or don't want to see it or don't know what to do with me.

So I cried and you comforted me and then made me laugh.

It is not just the fun, exciting days that made you matter so much to me. The roller coasters and bonfires and silly activities will always be beautiful things in my mind. But I cherish the days when you were sick and still wanted me around. When I cried and you made me feel better. When you were upset about something and wanted to tell me. When I was upset and you noticed and listened too.

I don't just love the silly, happy, fun, smart, playful, exciting parts of you. I love the parts that are quieter and slower to show too.