All That I Want

Romance has fleeted past us and reality sinks in more and more as the days trek on by. Things haven't felt right for weeks now and I am a coward sitting in my room, quivering in my skin, with my mouth glued shut from what I fear. 

I met him in April of last year, kissed him for the first time at the end of May, called him my own in the concluding days of June. We welcome our first Spring as a pair and I am miserable. So much uncertainty about life in general, but I focus on a boy who will be a bartender for the rest of his life. This might mean I could be a bartender for the rest of my life if I stay. There is this weird pattern in my brain that keeps me from being an individual while having a man plague my life romantically. The dopamine rush in the beginning causes me to stay for way longer than I ever should. I know this. Yet, I can't show myself the level of care to leave.

I have been waking up everyday this week in a panic, uncomfortable in my own skin, scared for the day. There is something wrong with me and I have been working towards this state of unbalanced homeostasis because I can't lead myself down a path of letting go.

Last night he entered my dreams, before I fell asleep he texted my phone telling me he saw his last long term lover out at a concert. This was followed by more "I love you's" than normal which made me more sick than he could fathom. There is something so strange about a personally formed possessiveness that causes someone's mind to be jealous and enter a power trip simultaneously in hopes to balance out. This has just made me not eat since I found out the news. News that is not worth being sick over.

Such a poor problem to have. A problem that seemingly will not change my life by any amount. A masachistic problem for women who enjoy conflict. There are so many other factors in my life, a life that I live on my own that I could be focused on. 

For example:

I want to write a book.

I want to start modeling again.

I want to move out of Los Angeles, change cities.

I want to travel the world because America is beginning to fall.

I want to take a dance class.

I want to make real friends, those who are women and confident in themselves; those who will inspire me to be better.

I want to be there for my mom through this divorce.

I need to call my dad.

I want to wake up and not cry while deciding if today is the day that I make my bed and brush my teeth.

All of these things are things that I am capable of but just refuse to apply myself out of fear that everything might change. But, I want change. Playing on a seesaw alone, running back and forth not realizing that the cycle is endless and exhausting.

Women who are older and have a repertoire of life experiences dealing with all that is thrown in front of us next to all that we create are the people I want to hold hands with as they tell me how stupid I have become. Normally, when people think of women in their twenties or see us walking down the street, thoughts of "how beautiful is she" appear, but so do thoughts of "how naive". Being young and naive is being inadequate in terms of intelligence. When women are young and intelligent they are normally called bitches and for some reason I strive, now, to be a bitch.