Wait & See

I think it is when I have the most to say that I cannot say it. My pen just lays limp in my hand. I roughhouse my journal a bit in sheer frustration. The keyboard will seem foreign. My fingers will hit random keys but it will mean nothing. All it really becomes is a bunch of letters pushing and shoving their way around the screen. One fighting with another to mean more, but they all mean nothing.
I have so much to say, yet I do not even know where to start. I do not even know if I want to recognize that it is real, that this is really occurring. Almost like an imaginary friend, if I can believe hard enough I can feel like I have an actual real breathing living friend.
As tough as everything seems to me right now, I know life is still going on. This is where I think of the song "Without You" from Rent. The gist of the song is that this girl's life goes on even without the man she loves, but though everything is still going on as life does, she is dying without him.. In less than a month I will be nineteen. I know I have time ahead of me, being optimistic. Will I honestly die from this? No, most likely not. I just wish it did not feel like I was losing my everything. My, oh shit this will be cliche but it is how I feel, reason for living.
I wish I had been a better girlfriend. I wish I could have communicated with him. I wish I would have made him the most important thing in my life. I did not. I made nothing important. I did not really communicate with anyone except my closest friend Alisha. I hid in my anger because I am comfortable with anger. I always want to hurt myself before another person can hurt me. This typically becomes me pushing the person to destroy me when said person never really wanted to hurt me at all. I can be pretty goddamn persuasive when I want to be.
It is now monday. Everything happened early (like around four am) friday morning. I have barely had anything to eat, yet I have smoked two and a half packs of cigarettes, a new record. I have cried so hard I was choking. Starting last night, I am weak. I cannot stand up on my own. I need assistance to go to the bathroom, otherwise I end up falling and having to crawl the rest of the way. I drank too much friday morning (around seven am) that I puked six times, another new record.
The only bright side is: me and Jon have been talking. I stopped being completely angry after I puked. I realized that it was due to our problems that she was able to come into the picture. He just wanted someone to talk to. Now, she likes him. I dumped him because he was afraid he was starting to harvest feelings for her.
Here is the ironic part (because I saw our demise coming. duh, we never talked and I was always angry.) We made love for the first time friday night/saturday morning. He came into the room, and just sat on the ground while smoking. I tried to ignore him and continue watching Garden State. Crawling into bed, he ask if he can hold me. I struggle at first, but I see tears in his eyes, so I relent. Our faces are too close for comfort. We have never been this close without kissing. I try to pull away because I am confused, and then he grabs my face and kisses me. Surges went through my body I had not felt from him for a long time. We are heavily kissing now. Our breathes have quicken. I feel a tear slide down his cheek. I burst into tears. "Why is this happening? Why? We are not together." He looks at me. "I was sitting at the computer trying to look at porn. Every face was not their own. I saw your face. I heard your voice telling me this is wrong. So I went back to bed. I tried to lay there. My mind told me to stay in bed. My penis wanted me to touch it. My heart told me to go into the other room. Now here I am." He starts wiping my tears. I push him off of me. I wanted a clean break. I knew it would be hard, but I knew this would make it harder. I know he did too. He was now unabashedly bawling his eyes out.
We are sitting up right now, staring at each other. My brain was screaming at me, telling me to make him leave. My heart wanted him in this room, hence why I always leave the door cracked open. It happens.
In nineteen months, I have never had sex like that. We were crying, and kissing, and touching each other in ways we had never before. It felt so beautiful and unreal that I would have to look past him to realize we where still in this place. It felt honest, safe, and right. I felt connected to him. He kissed my scars, my cuts, my insecurities.
Afterwards, we talked for three hours. We were both truthful and open. I knew I would wait to see if things could get better, after that happened. I finally got a real taste of what our relationship could be like.


This is what is going on with me. Why I haven't been writing. It took me fifteen minutes to get from the bed in the other room to the computer in Jon's room. I guess I know that this is wrong. That I should not involve myself in physical activity with a man I am not dating. That if he can harvest feelings for another woman I should not give him another chance. It is so much easier to evaluate a situation when you are not in it. It is easy for me to tell Alisha that I will not talk to him when he gets home. Well, then he comes home and goes into my room and we talk for hours. Maybe this time I will not write myself off before he does. In the end, I know I will learn something from this. I will grow as a person, and will have a valuable lesson to help me for the rest of my life. Be it that we get back together and can have a better relationship or we do not and I now know how to treat the future men in my life. Regardless, I am less angry than I have ever been in my life. I am just confused, and ready to be vulnerable and ready for whatever is thrown at me. Not shooting something down before it shoots me.