and yet

Wednesday, March 1st, 2017 02:53 am
nekrateholic: (Default)
And yet I write and rewrite and delete and rephrase and write again, because this is one of those times where the desire to tell you is getting impossibly harder to control. The desire to tell you I want to curl up in your heart and stay there, that I want to breathe in your presence and I think your soul is beautiful and it leaves me breathless, and you leave me breathless and I want to hug you and possibly kiss you and listen to you play or talk or watch you do things you love or just exist and to telI you I want to shower you with all my unnecessary love because it is, in one way or another, love - and that I have to constantly fight myself because I crave your presence in my life in whatever way possible more than I crave all those things. Right now, I think I might drown without it.
I know, I know, I know I did what I was supposed to do but it was so freaking hard not to send that one line message that would've doomed everything.
I know and yet the disappointment was there when I didn't.

...the irony

Friday, January 27th, 2017 01:19 pm
nekrateholic: (Default)
It's so ironic, really - my last post was about how stupid I am for always falling for younger girls and now here I am, talking about my brand new, annoying, internet crush on a younger person far, far away. At least it's a boy this time. (And at least we're on the same continent.)

It's so - I don't even know how this happened. I'm still not sure whether or not I'm overthinking it and trying to make myself like the person, just because I haven't felt anything for anyone in a relatively long time - not anyone I can actually talk to, anyway. And there he is, all funny and talented and musical and - and I'm done. I'm that easy. (I'm trying very hard to not add too-good-for-me to those qualities, but - the thought is there.) I never even expected, I didn't - I don't know. I'm not sure I want this. I'm used to being open and spammy to new people and - when the person on the other side isn't. It's not doing my anxiety any favors. And now boom! Crush! Ten times worse conversation skills on my part.

It doesn't work, for some reason. Talking to him. I keep trying to think about what I should say. Which should be normal, but it's not for me. I always just - dump all my overexcitedness, excess rambling and compliments and fangirling at random things and people - and the person on the other side should just take it or leave it. I don't know. And now, I think - whether I'm too much, whether I'm trying too hard, whether I'm annoying, whether my dumb, illogical crush is showing - and it's stilting my already bad social skills. I'm trying keep myslef in check - trying to not be myself. It sucks. The thing is, fuck the crush, I actually like this person as a person, as a soul, if I let my inner emo show. We're so alike in so many ways - and different in others and I'm. I'm in awe.

And then there is the music - I've never met someone who can actually play the piano so well. And music is - how do I explain, sometimes I want to live and breathe music, to let myself drown in the sound and to feel my heart beating to the rhythm. To wrap it around my soul and let it sit there and - and breathe. He makes me feel these things. Which should be very stupid, we haven't even talked that long, that much, that. I don't know. It's too early, what am I doing here trying to get myself out of the crush dump? How did this happen?

And the worst is, he isn't. He isn't unresponsive, he's not ignoring me, he's not cold or rude or negative in any way. And yet here I am, coming up with ten million reasons and justifications about how much he would hypothetically like to just stop talking to me. Hey, me. Get yourself together. Even if it was true - and I have absolutely no reason to believe it is, and no way to know, as well - why should it matter? Why do I always place the brightness of my entire world on some one else? And then feel bad when I do - what I do. This is like having a crush on Bo all over again, thinking I know her and I understand her and - I didn't. I didn't but look how we ended up. 

I'm being hopeful again. I'm having expectations. Not cool, me. Not cool.

I wish I could just go and be myself, without conditions and limits and - without me trying to hide parts of me that I think are not "cool enough". I want to. I want to - I want to breathe his music. I want us to become close enough for me to feel okay telling him I had to get myself piss drunk to get the courage to restart the conversation. I want to be able to joke and be dumb and be myself. I want to not have to hype myself up for half an hour before I can answer a simple message and I want to not be anxious about what I said for an hour after that. I want him to stop being a reason for me to lose sleep and I want to not have this hurricane of emotions inside me on a daily basis. I want to talk.

I want to.

I want.

I want to stop being the reason I can't.

(no subject)

Monday, September 5th, 2016 07:52 pm
nekrateholic: (Default)
 Sometimes I want to take out Max from Lola and the Boy Next Door out for a beer so we can commiserate over younger girls breaking our hearts. (because as much as Stephanie Perkins tried to make him really, really bad when it was convenient for the story, i am still not convinced.)

Anyway. I was looking through the endless maze of folders on my laptop and found... things. See, me falling in love was always one-sided and when it wasn't...  turned out it still was. I kinda feel pathetic even as I type this but. Well. Where else will I be pathetic if not here.

Sad part is, I tend to go in so hard that when the person drops off the face of social media (long distance crushes. ha) in the middle of a conversation (and then you proceed to find out that no, they didn't. they just dropped off the face of your social media.) I feel just... lost. At first. Then comes the Big Bad Depression thing. To this day I'm not sure if what I go through in these moments qualifies as depression but. It hurts enough to lay awake at 3am trying to choke quietly so I won't wake anybody. (Hey, am I even allowed to be this pathetic on a public blog? whatever). I keep telling myself I'm over it, I convince myself I'm mad instead of hurt but then I go and play Changed by You on repeat and I know even after all these years I'd be back with open arms at the slightest hint of apology. Or contact, to be honest. (pathetic.) Of course, that would require for a certain someone to actually want to do any of the above. (even more pathetic.) (i can't believe i wrote you a poem. ...then again, i really, really can.)

I should have learned. But I didn't. (because what? pathetic. or naïve. who knows) Then again when exhibit no.2 decided overnight that she can't bear the thought of dating a girl (three fucking months and it took you a night? sigh) I wasn't too bothered. (it still hit me a few weeks later.) Then again (x2) the end of this began when I went home, wrote you a fucking essay about how happy you make me and how important you are and how much I loved you and all that jazz, your reaction was " won't actually tell anyone, right?!" Talk about anticlimactic. I'll admit though, it did hurt a few months (weeks?) later when you were blogging about your ~first~ love. How you didn't know what it was to be loved before that or sth. Yo, I existed. I wrote you love struck letters. (is this why nobody ever takes me seriously? am i too nice? should i reconsider my hate for dumb good charlotte lyrics?) I suppose this is what I would've said if we had kept in contact afterwards. Oh well.

In the end, I suppose it is my fault I trust my heart with sixteen-year-old girls. (let me hear you! p to the a to the thetic.)
I should've known something was up when each of them tried to woo me with that one the xx song. Man, I hate the xx. (though to be honest i hated them before they (apparently) became the Official Partner Anthem For People That Fuck Me Over, so really. i should have known better.) (one last time! pathetic.)

(no subject)

Wednesday, November 4th, 2015 10:40 pm
nekrateholic: (Default)
Dear person from a few nights ago,
We had a thing. It wasn't anything special, it lasted mere monents but it was there. I saw it in your eyes and I felt it in my bones. Does this sound cheesy? It's okay, I don't mind the cheese. Anyway. We might not meet again, hell, we most likely won't ever meet again but thank you. Thank you. For noticing me, for doing something about it. For making me see myself as a person that other people can have a thing for. Thank you for being a step up on my journey to liking myself.
I hope you have a great life.


Thursday, November 13th, 2014 08:40 pm
nekrateholic: (Default)
These days it seems one of my favorite things to do is to hate on 14-18 years old me for its general existence.
I mean it was stupid. Me, I mean. I will refer to me as 'it'. It was so... ordinary. And not ordinary enough. And being aufully dramatic and depressed for no apparent reason. And with a bad haircut and bad clothes and bad everything (except for music. my taste in music might have been limited but it was fucking cool). 
However, in the spirit of my never ending battle with self hatred I tried to think of the reasons why 14-18 years old me was so emo in the worst possible way. It was really fucking lonely.
See, I've always been an extremely awkward person. I realized that in high school simply because I grew up in a small society where everyone knew me and I didn't get the chance to be awkward. I was also the teacher's kid and everybody knew who I was. I was not popular - our school didn't work like that but they knew me and they were good to me.
Now, imagine putting this extremely awkward person in an entirely new environment where it literally knows no one. Granted, I had a few distant relatives and two childhood friends in town but I was never really close to them and it just didn't work. It was bad. It was worse than bad. 14-year-olds can be quite cruel. I had (and still have) my best friend of course and I love her to pieces for it. She was a lot of help to - I don't know - not kill myself (although that's unlikely for I have been blessed with a level of responsibility to the people around me). I had her but she was a good 2 hours away and even if we talked every day she was not there. Eventually I started hanging out with one of the childhood friends but she is 4 or 5 years older and while I understand her now I really didn't back then. I remember asking one of my classmates (when I got around to actually talking to them) if they would cry if I was to die. It was a YA book worthy period of internet friends, crushes gone bad and overly dramatical and unreasonable depression.
Fast forward to meeting you. I think it was after the forum thing which is important because they were the first people to show me I am actually capable of making someone like me. Now if only I could do it not hiding behind an username. You happened and while I still hid behind an username to some extent you were there. It took me time - a lot of fucking time - to realize that you were there and you were not going anywhere and hey, 'it' didn't suck that bad. Remember those years I told you about? Those levels of friendship or whatever I called them back then. It wasn't because I didn't care for you or because I had trust issues (I did, but trust works weird for me) or I didn't believe in you. It was because I did all of those things and a lot and it took me years to convince myself it's all actually reciprocated. I'm shit at explaining but it's late and I'm this close to not knowing what I am saying (then again when am I not). To say it this way - you were the first real, big and important thing that made me start believing in myself. Take this as one of the millions of love letters you deserve.

This all, however, does not excuse my general idiocy during my teenage years. But then again who isn't an idiot during high school.
It took me a lot of time be as okay with myself as I am now and it was hard but there were - no - there are people worth trying for. 
Yes, Mikey Way, life gets better when you get better.

PS 'Best I Can' is a positive song no matter how much you deny it. It's about fighting, about not giving up. And it also makes me feel okay. And it makes me feel me. And this is the dumbest ending in the history of endings.
nekrateholic: (Default)
So, I've been thinking. About people. And loss. And beauty.
And the size of a human's heart - well, not literally. Should I say soul? I think I like soul better. Anyway.
I am thinking about the size of it because it's really amazing, if you think about it. (let's count the times I say think in this post.) Let's say you lose someone - someone very important, someone that's a very big part of your life. And by lose I mean death. There is this big, black, empty, painful hole that remains where the person's place in your soul is. And time passes. Time doesn't heal, that's bullshit - time either shows you you never really hurt or teaches you to live with the pain. So, time passes and it seems the big, black, painful hole is getting smaller, little by litte. You learn to smile again - and to laugh, and to not fake it too. And the hole is getting smaller and it helps you fill the empty place with new people. But does it really? Does it really get smaller? I thought so, but now I'm not so sure. In fact, I'm sure it's not like that at all. That's how I imagine it: a hole in the floor. But instead of filling it up - you can't really fill it up - so you cover it. And you start to build your life again - you walk on it - carefully at first. You put rugs and chairs over it or whatever there is to put on the floor of a house, really. But the hole is still there. It's not gone. And someday the coverage crashes and the whole is out in the open again just as big and just as black and just as empty as before. But no one likes holes on the floor, right? So you cover it again, only this time it's easier, because you know exactly how to do it. And the cycle repeats. So I guess I am calling my soul a house floor. It makes sense, in my head at least. But about the size - my point was, even if you lose someone very important, their place in your soul isn't vacated. Their place is theirs, whether they are able to claim it or not. But that doesn't mean you stop meeting people, stop loving people, stop making place in your soul about them. It just grows and grows and grows - the soul, I mean. I'm thinking about all the things I love - be it friends, family, music, kittens, books - whatever it is, it has it's place in my heart, no matter how big or small it is. And I keep loving new things, as well as the old ones and it just keeps growing. It amazes me.
There are a million things running through my head right now. Beauty being one of them, along with holes in the floor. It's all connected, really. Beauty - the way I see it (or try to see it, at least) has to be the soul, right? And this is so cliché, I know, everyone says it but I can't fucking see it happening. And it's sad. There were so much more words in my head about this, but it all went away. I blame the time.

I wish I fell in love with a hole on the floor.

March 2017



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