The Middle (It Just Takes Some Time)

Everything right now is spinning. Literally and figuratively.

Prepare yourselves for a classic Drunk Rant.

A lot of changes have been happening in my life and I feel that I need a space to process it.

First, there’s the absence of a significant other. One that I am okay with on many levels – and one that reminds me why I was comfortable.

Joel and I wouldn’t have worked out in the end. It’s something I’ve known for a long time now, but denied it because damnit I wanted it to work out. I was so comfortable with him in so many ways. It was so easy in so many ways. It was so dissatisfying in so many ways. It was so difficult in so many ways.

I knew he made me happy in the present. I knew that splitting up with him would mean I would be unhappy for at least a short while. I was too cowardly to accept that brief amount of pain for the potential of something better.

There’s so much potential out there. I’m finding that as of right now, I’m not the most obvious of explorers. Either that, or my expeditions are moot.

Or maybe both.

Something… doesn’t feel right to me. Of course I have some friends that want me to go for the “obvious rebound”. I’ve never been much of a rebound kind of person, though. The idea seems nice, but the execution is awkward and not my style.

I don’t just go for people for the short game. I definitely will try things and come to my own conclusions that a short game is all there is to be had, but it’s never my goal. I find it to be inauthentic to myself. I don’t enjoy it. If there’s no risk, why pursue it?

The risk is in being vulnerable.

The risk is in trusting someone.

The risk is in investment.

There is no pleasure in a short game for me. I think there’s interest or simplicity in it that makes it appealing, but it isn’t fulfilling.

Second, there’s work.

Work, work, work, work, work.

It’s also the weekend and I made a promise to myself to not think about work on the weekends. It’s a boundary of sorts.

The gist is that I was quite productive at work this week, but also not productive. I am taking control, but I’m not as professional as I feel I should be. Imposter syndrome never goes away, but I have more freedom and power than I have since beginning this position.

I’m in the middle. Work is both rewarding and frustrating. Being single is both liberating and lonely.

And I’m still spinning.


Nothing Substantial

Whose words have you been listening to?

What portrayal is more accurate?

Whose portrayal was more accurate?

To whom do those words belong to?

I read an interesting article. Then I read another interesting article. One was of a student of Biola University in California and the other was of a liberal-leaning publisher. At least, the student shared one side and another article I read on the topic showed another side.

Both made me feel something akin to anger. Both made me frustrated.

Both showed one side as discriminating against the other. One side showed SB1146 as a bill that will infringe upon the 1st amendment. Another on how these universities were discriminating against the LGBT community.

Honestly, all of this just makes me hate religion.

I don’t feel that having a moral compass is that difficult. It’s just that every person has an individual compass. I think we can all believe that some acts are wrong and against nature, but even that line is debatable. Killing isn’t a foreign thing. Killing ones’ own species is not that hard to believe. It’s not like other species don’t do it.

What makes us think we’re better than someone else to make that kind of decision? Is it all just a part of this cycle of life or is it something beyond our comprehension? I feel as though I’m grasping at thin threads. Nothing substantial.

Nothing substantial.

On a side note: Calvin messaged me. He was in town this weekend. He let me know. I said okay. There was nothing malicious intended by it, no anger, sadness – just nothing. I shrugged my shoulders. Did I want to see him? No and yes. Would seeing him benefit me? No. Would seeing him cause emotional distress and pain? Yes. So… Not sure what he was going for there. Did he want to see me? Maybe. Was that selfish of him? Yes, but when has that ever stopped him?

Was he upset with my response? He wasn’t satisfied with it at least. Was it maybe more of a “heads-up-in-case-if-you-see-me-randomly” thing? Maybe. I don’t know why he told me, but he did. I don’t care too much why he did either.

This has been all over the place.

Tonight was my going-away shindig.

It was really sad to think that this was the last time I’ll be seeing lots of these people for a long time.

California is going to be amazing and difficult.

One Day

Some people say, “love isn’t always enough.”

I think that’s bullshit.

When you truly love someone, any amount of pain or heart ache or inconvenience becomes negligible. Things that may annoy you or cause you discomfort don’t bother you as much. You may recognize how undesirable may be, but that person and your love for that person make it all worth it without a second thought.

I think you did love me. There was a point where I could ask and you would have answered. I could have said and you would have sung. I could be horrible and you would be wonderful.

That was short-lived, though. It wouldn’t have been fair. I’m not sure if I was ever that horrible to you, but I’m sure you could think of something. No one is perfect. But sometimes our imperfections make us more perfect. If not more. More human. More real.

You weren’t horrible constantly, but you weren’t great either.

In fact, I can say that I’ve had better boyfriends.

Sean still tops the list of good boyfriends.

He was always kind to me. He gave me shit, but when it was well deserved. He always made me a priority. It was a selfish relationship because he was far too good to me. He was far too good for me. I wasn’t good for him, though.

I need someone compassionate, but screwed up as well. Someone who won’t hide from me. Someone who isn’t afraid of what I think. Someone who is kind but will call me out. Someone who enjoys being in and out of touch with reality. Someone who will accept me in all my nerd-ness and be goofy with me. Someone I will have fun with. Someone who will make me feel the range of emotions humans are supposed to feel.

I want to experience life and all it has to offer. And I don’t wish to do it alone.

I’m certainly not waiting for it to come.

I’m here and ready to take it.

So I’m still bothered by that stupid saying. When love is all you have, maybe it isn’t what you need. But when love is all you are, the statement is real and you are real. When you consume yourself in this, you create a bond that when severed can have catastrophic repercussions but will also give you the person of a lifetime.

My dad had that kind of bond with my mother.

My mother was abandoned unexpectedly by a man she was engaged to. She met my dad a year later and the rest is history. I know love was all my dad was when he was with my mom. I wonder if my mom felt the same. I think she did.

I can only hope that one day I’ll find that love too.


Now, you get to see proof of my claim of days that start bad then end good thing.

This is also one of my rants under the influence.

I grew up in a home where no one really drank noticeably. My dad usually had a beer with a meal, but stopped doing that once I was an adolescent because it gave him migraines. My mom never really drank when I was young and my stepmom can barely tolerate the taste of any alcohol. I can’t say I really minded. If anything, it’s given me a wonderful world to explore.

My dad gave my sister and I that freedom to explore. He made it very clear when we were growing up, that doing things we shouldn’t do could get us in trouble. If we got in trouble, we had to be able to get ourselves out of trouble. We had to take full responsibility for our actions. Our friends never really drank or did drugs. We were the weird kids in a small, private, Catholic high school. We were the honor roll kids. We were the music nerds that participated in all the arts. We were smart and knew how to take care of ourselves. That was only partially true.

But we came from parents that bonded over a joint. A mother who enjoyed her beer especially while watching baseball. A father whose every home improvement project was fueled by weed.

We didn’t do things in high school because we had been told at a young age that doing those things is bad when you’re young. I think that we knew we weren’t smart enough to do it and not get caught and the consequences of getting caught were more hassle than just not doing it. We didn’t know how to go about procuring such things that were so illegal for our age or in general nor did we care to know. We had our friends, our books, our movies, our music, and other things to rely on for entertainment. Nothing really needed to be added to the mix to enhance things.

When we came to college, we were new to these experiences. I personally had a wonderful experience with drinking and smoking. I had people I trusted to be around when I was under the influence. Friends I trusted. I knew that people would take care of me if need be. I also (usually) knew my limits enough to not over-do it too much. Although, there definitely were occasions that I did over-do it. But I always had people I trusted that took care of me. I was never pressured into it. I was welcomed to it when I was ready. It was a social thing – something I so desperately needed in my new environment. I was always offered things, but never felt degraded for declining. People in my life were genuine and didn’t care enough about your “faults”. You were their friend and as such you were respected.

I joined a society in doing such. I did not offer that same gift to you. I think it would have been beneficial.

I believe that everyone should experience the sensation of being intoxicated and/or high at some point in their lives unless it breaks a serious moral code for them. I mostly believe this because I think we should try to experience all life has to offer us naturally. Alcohol may not be all that natural, but I believe the bud is a beautiful thing of nature. Some of my best memories with the people I love involved occasions when we drank together while playing games. I was often most kind to myself in these moments. I could see how my green eyes really were beautiful. I could see how my smile lightened my whole face. I learned to accept my body little by little. I wasn’t tortured by my usual consciousness. I simply saw me for me and that me is beautiful. But in my foolish and clouded judgment, I judged you for not feeling the same. I pressured you into something you were not ready to do. I realize that now, reflecting on our relationship.

I honestly had no idea how incredibly low your emotional IQ and how dumb I was until we broke up.

The cowardice of the break-up like waiting until it was 7:00 in the morning and I was completely ready to leave. Giving half-assed excuses of not wanting to work on something that was completely fixable. His poor communication skills. Looking back, a lot of the things feel like things I dealt with in boys in high school. And how he would become completely aggressively defensive when I would mention something that had been bothering me. I had been consistently told that he would never be able to communicate to the level I could. People blame him for that. I’m not sure. I think it’s more of a personal/partially cultural thing. We see that as prideful and immature.

I don’t know what I honestly think. I’m angry and I’m sad and I don’t care because I am actually happy. I’m happy that I have the life I have here and that I know I am moving on.

I’m excited for what’s coming. There’s only something better waiting for me to come.

Ugh…. (A Drunken Post of Nothing.)

Drunken post #… something.


I’ve been drinking.

Probably not the best thing. Especially because I’ve had quite a lot.

3 cups of champagne. At 36 oz. or some bacardi thing at a bar. 2 shots. 2 Angry Orchards. Some beer. Proably more. Yeah. Very drunk.

But drinking water currently as Leo flings my socks across my apartment. Great.

I need to work hard tomorrow.



Reasons why I don’t go to the bars.

Because I blew $20 on what would have cost me half if I had just drunk at home.


Not a fan of “the bars”.

Not my thing.

Too many people.

Too expensive.


Rather get drunk alone.

And I don’t have to walk anywhere. That’s a real pain.

Also, had to see a guy from high school that I dated. Pretty sure some of my friends heard me saying that I dated him. Because I’m drunk. And he was working. God.

I’d rather drink at a party.

Much rather.

But this week has been interesting.

I went back to the Newman Center (catholic student center on campus.) Of course, had an anxiety attack while there. And other anxiety-producing issues, like first music therapy practicum session, 2 school exams, etc. and Lisa cancels.

And I’m dumb enough to not have another appointment schedules until March because I didn’t call in January.

My neighbor just got home. He’s nice. Pushed me out of the snow once.

I know if I go to bed now, I’ll be hung over as fuck tomorrow and regret it. But I’m so tired and have been for a while.

I shouldn’t have drank tonight.

I will post tomorrow about several things.

Sorry this post isn’t very informative/relevant. I will be more so in my next post.

Especially concerning jealously.

Not Legal

And people question why I don’t drink as much anymore.

I have a week until I’m 21 and already I regret my drinking experiences.

I act foolishly. That’s what drunk people do.

Alcohol enhances feelings. It amplifies emotions. Maybe you don’t get this because you’ve never been drunk.

I’ve had my share of drunken shenanigans. I’ve had my share of drunken tears.

I don’t want to fight again. We’ve already had a big fight this week. It’s fair to say now that we are well over the “honeymoon phase”.

Maybe it’s because you’re stressed. Maybe it’s because I’m sensitive. We are lacking our usual cautiousness and paying dearly for our inattentiveness.

I’m just tired of doing the same damn thing. I need variety. I wanted to get a little drunk tonight and I did. Now I feel bad for it.

I always end up regretting it no matter what I do. I usually regret it because of you.

What’s it going to be like next year when I’m 21 and you’re not here? Am I going to be dissatisfied because I’ll feel guilty for enjoying myself? This is a question that has been on my mind since we started dating. I’ve never dated a guy who I felt would be comfortable going out to the bars with me or just having a drink just because they enjoyed it and I’ve come to realize that’s important to me. I enjoy alcohol. I do. It’s not a crime (well, technically it is…) but I feel like you judge me.

Ugh. We’ve had this talk before. Whyyyyyy????

The Sound Of Settling: “You”

Here is yet another drunken update.

I sit in my apartment – a good amount of intoxicated – yet very easily swayed in any emotion presented correctly.

Whether that be elation or anger, I can flip very easily. Yet, I still think fairly rationally.

I’m just a lot quicker to mood swings and am feeling pretty good overall.

That’s how I know I’m good.

This is good.


I want to pick up my alcohol from the party I was at. I was outside having a smoke with one of the freshman bassoonists when the cops came and busted it. I took him to my place just to chill out, but very quickly he said he was gonna catch up with some friends which was good because…


I’m just…. UGH.

I don’t go out anymore.

I’m pretty okay with this. I mean, I go out every once and a while. I drink with good friends. I usually text/message Calvin at some point through out the night. I haven’t gained back the weight I lost due to quitting drinking for a while. The number of times I’ve gone out this year… I could count them on one hand. The number of times I’ve been drunk this year I could count on one hand. Last year… that same number would be the number of times I went out on one month.

I went out a lot last year. I got drunk a lot. I have a lot of great memories, stories, and bonding times with friends I barely see anymore. I also remember thinking the whole time that I should date someone who could come with me and be my equal at these kind of events and such.

Calvin has proven himself as such.

He went to Saxmas with me. I was so proud and happy and… I can’t even explain the emotions. My alcohol that I won there is still at his place. I haven’t touched it since that night.

It still sucks though going to parties alone and then calling/texting him later while I’m drunk and he’s doing work and I can only think, ‘Is this the way it’s gonna be next year?’

I sure as hell hope not.

Because I won’t be in marching band. I probably won’t be in SAI. I don’t know what events I’ll get invited to. Probably none. I’ll just be going to the bars. Getting hit on by men that I’m attracted to but not interested in. Also remaining fiercely loyal to a relationship.

I can tell anyone right now that Calvin is the best thing that has happened to me.

Him and Leo.

Leo has motivated me to take responsibility for my life.

Calvin has made me accountable.

Lots of people have noticed the difference. I take more time and care in my personal appearance (partially due to me just knowing how to do my make-up, part of it being last semester being a dark hole full of “I can’t even shower I’m so depressed how am I out of bed”.) I’m getting my act together. It’s a good thing. It’s a really good thing.

I still cling to my vices, though.

I still smoke. In fact, I’ve started smoking more regularly. I need to stop. I need to quit now before I become addicted. It’s a vicious cycle that starts and ends now. I just need to be strong enough to realize that I can and will be okay without tobacco.

I think about sex. A lot. A lot more than the average person might expect. Probably not. For the first time, I’m not on birth control and I have an active sex drive and I want to use it. Reasons why I’m terrified of Calvin going some where other than Iowa for his Master’s Degree….

I know he will though. An almost full ride scholarship to Indiana and Rousseau at Minnesota…

Granted, we still have Tse. But Calvin is thinking of coming back for his Doctorate.

It’s hard! I have yet to feel successful at a long-distance relationship. Every single time I have tried one, I haven’t really been invested in it from the beginning. But this one I am. I’m so invested in it, it seriously terrifies me.

I don’t know what to do. I take one look at this guy and realize I am so in over my head and he probably isn’t and I realize that one of these days when he goes away for whatever degree it is, he’s going to find some prettier, more talented girl and he’ll realize that he can do so much better than me. I’ve even said this to our friends and they have yet to say anything. I shouldn’t say that they agree, but they don’t disagree. Not openly at least.

He can.

He probably will.

I’m just scared for how that’s going to leave me.

It’s hard for me to not think long term. I’m just not that kind of girl. Sure, I don’t know what’s going to happen and I don’t have expectations. Expectations are different from hopes and dreams though.

And I’m a dreamer.

Of course, I haven’t thought more than a few years down the road with us, but I see myself traveling to Hong Kong next winter. I want that to be a surprise Christmas gift to him, but we’ll see how long I can keep up that scheme.

But I think long term. You know, one of the reasons why he didn’t want to date me was because he thought I was thinking more long term with this. I told him that I didn’t know what I was thinking because honestly, I didn’t know. I hoped though.

I am a lot more invested in this than he is.


He’s met, talked to, openly showed himself to my friends and family. Even close ones. Like Christian. He has yet to meet Diego, but that’s in the works and once he meets Diego… I don’t know if I can turn back.

I’ve talked to him mom. For about… 2 minutes. It was awkward. It didn’t go over well. He brushed over it like it was nothing, saying I was “shy”.

Every other conversation he’s had with a close friend or family member since we’ve been dating: I’m invisible. I’m not to talk unless I’m being directly addressed.

It’s not like it really matters, though. He talks almost strictly in Cantonese with them. Not a language I am familiar with or that I can at least butcher my way through.

Most of them know a good bit of English though, so he says. But I get it. The precious time he has to spend with them, he doesn’t want to waste everyones’ time blundering our way through some English. He wants to tell them what he wants to tell them, have them do the same, then everyone leave and go about their business. Sure.

I want to share him with my friends and family because he’s so important to me.

He keeps me on the side as this thing that is in his life now, but doesn’t want to go about sharing me because it makes life difficult.



He almost ruined my night tonight. The constant jokes about me being drunk and if I was going to text him or not. It made me not want to have my phone on me at all. Even when I did text him, all he said was, “here it goes,” and just waited for me to be a silly, stupid drunk girl texting him. I’M A LOT MORE THAN THAT DAMN IT. I DESERVE SOME FUCKING RESPECT.

He was pissy when I picked him up today. He was upset that I didn’t give him enough notice on our double-date that had just been planned 2 hours before then. I let him know as soon as I knew. Like it was my fault.

He makes me feel guilty for wanting to go out and drink. He makes me feel guilty for being some drunken white girl. He makes me feel like I’m acting like sorority chicks every time I get drunk. It’s not fair. It makes me feel stupid and like I don’t have a brain. It makes me feel like I’m of a lower class or something stupid like that. So what if I like to get drunk?! I don’t do it that often any more, and if I do want to, do you really have to be so condescending to me about it?! You’ve barely ever been drunk, let alone gotten drunk on a regular basis to socialize and have good stories and memories with your friends.

I’m sorry, but I’m not sorry at all.

I’m sorry that even in my drunken stupor, I still want to be with you.

You, who has made me feel stupid for saying that I would walk to your place right now. Of course I would walk, I can’t drive. It’s not safe for me to drive. I would walk. By myself. In the cold. For you. Because I always will want to be with you. I’m okay by myself. Really, I am. Ultimately, I want to be with you though. I choose that. Why? Because I fucking love you, you dipshit.


It’s always been you.

I just know that I haven’t always been “you” for you.

I know that.

I know that I probably will never will be.


You’ve always had me, even when you didn’t intend to.

Now I wish that I was smarter. Now I wish I had been more of a closed book to you. Now I wish I could take some of the beginning.

That beginning ruined me.

You’ve always had me.

And I’ve never felt like I’ve had you.

I feel like after now, I would have had some of you.

I still don’t feel that way.

Sure, I know things. I know things that you said you’ve never shared with anyone.

I still don’t feel like I have you though.

This is the sound of settling. Except I’m not settling. You are.

And it drives me insane every day.

Unprepared: A Drunken Rant

Everything I wish I could say but can’t and why I can’t:

1. A: I’m very drunk right now.

1. B: You don’t approve. I have yet to know why.

2. A: I miss you

2. B: I miss you all the time. It’d probably freak you out if you knew that, but I really do. A song comes on my stereo: I think of you. I open up the tin of origami flowers you gave me for Christmas that now holds my earrings: I think of you (obviously.) I write about my life: constant missing you. I honestly am trying to think of a time where I don’t miss you. I don’t believe it exists.

3. A: I am a mess.

3. B: I am taking steps to clean my mess. I have goals for 2014. One of those: stay clear of the hospital. I’ll go if need be, but I know I’m strong. I can keep clear. I can keep myself clean.

4. A: You’re amazing.

4. B: Seriously. Why are you dating me? I still don’t see what you see in me.

5. A: My cat’s loud.


6. A: If I told you I wasn’t counting down the days until you’re home, I’d be lying.

6. B: Nothing else need be said.

7. A: My dad’s a jerk.

7. B: Seriously. I told my therapist about the fight. It’s ridiculous. I don’t feel like I’m in the wrong. I’m also not feeling too forgiving, which is rare. I’m usually very “quick to anger, quicker to forgive and/or forget.” Not this time. I’ve had enough. All I get is a text today reminding me that “he’s still here.” As if I could ever forget that.

8. A: Why am I still breathing?

8. B: I’ve found my future career. I’ve got a good bunch of friends. I have my sister. She happily engaged. And I’m very happy with you. I mean, I’m not saying everything depends on you here (so no pressure), but you have been a saving grace. For that, I am eternally indebted to you. I just don’t have the courage to tell you that.

9. A: Why can’t I tell you that?

9. B: I feel like if you knew this stuff – knew the true thoughts I had about myself, knew my true feelings, knew how long I had longed for you, knew how much I cared about you, knew how desperately I had wanted to kill myself, knew how many times I took that blade and placed it upon my skin, knew how much pleasure cutting myself really brought me, knew how messed up I was – you would leave.

10. A: You think of me as a charity case. Something you can fix.

10. B: This is my worst nightmare. And 99% of the time, I believe it’s the only reason why you “want” to be with me. You said it yourself. You were “attracted” to me because you wanted to help. You wanted to fix me.

Let me tell you – I’m not a basket case.

I’m not a charity case.

I’m shattered.

I’m broken beyond repair.

I’m in pieces.

If you think I’m a “charity case”, you’re wrong.

I’m worse.

And you’re horribly unprepared if you think you can fix me.

Constant Blame

Well, that was fast.

I was tipsy for a while there. Had a wonderful conversation with my good friend Dennis. I held a pretty decently amusing one-sided conversation with my friend Calvin. Then Calvin finally got online only to tell me to calm down.

Way to be a buzz kill Calvin.

So I basically said fuck you I’m “going to bed”.


Well, I was having an awesome night.

I still am.

Fuck him for that. He did not ruin my night.

Daaammmmn straight.

Well, this update will be about my friendship with Dennis and how that guy continues to amaze me in ways I did not think possible.

The best way to describe Dennis and Calvin… it’s hard. Both of them are amazing musicians. Both of them are extremely smart. Both of them are incredibly nice and considerate people.

Calvin… I would say is much more traditional. Love is for love. It is not a word to be used lightly. He works hard, has a very positive outlook on life, and is always bright and smiling. I’m not sure if I’ve ever really gotten him to open up to me in some of his darker moments. He is free to share his happy emotions, but I can’t help but question the depth of our friendship based on the fact that he has hardly opened up to me on times when I know he was hurting. When he and his most recent girlfriend broke up, he opened up to me for about a period of a week. That was it. Even then, the times he was completely open to me were brief and sparse. Granted, he was much more open to being social with me at first, but I still don’t feel like I have a good grasp on his entire… self? I’m not quite sure how to word it.

Dennis… was and is still a hard shell to crack. It took him at least a year to even really start talking to me. But now that he has, I’m so thankful for it. He’s very quiet, but has a similar outlook to me. While he isn’t entirely negative, he’s realistic, which I appreciate. He’s also an incredibly hard worker. He’s extremely good at what he does and devotes himself to that completely which I admire greatly. He has a good sense of humor and is much more open to some more “radical” ideas. I feel like I can tell him things about my life and not be ashamed. He’ll accept me for who I am, not make me feel like a fool for being drunk or enjoying some things that are generally frowned upon in society. While our friendship is still a budding one, I’m excited for what’s to come and how close of friends we can become.

I know things with Calvin have been rocky. It was worse when I had feelings for him. That, of course, complicated things to an exponential level. I was sincerely hoping that with his departure for Hong Kong this summer that I’d be able to get over that. For now, I believe I have. Who knows what will happen when school starts up again though. I hope I can keep this up. Feelings complicate things, especially when you have a pretty good feeling that things between you won’t end up as a “happily ever after”.

I admire Calvin. I admire his work ethic, his personality, his demeanor, and he’s very easy on the eyes. I know we wouldn’t be a good match though. I can just feel it when I try to push the boundaries sometimes.

I’ll send him some goofy Youtube video that I think is funny or weird or something. He appreciates it, but not in the same way I do. I’m not saying that every guy I date has to have the exact same kind of humor, but they have to be accepting of my goofiness. I am incredibly goofy and dorky, and I need someone that can make me feel like I’m not a freak for being that way. Sometimes, Calvin does make me feel this way, whether that was his intention or not.

Like I said earlier, he hasn’t really been an open book with me. Granted, I talk enough for 3 people, but I would hope that at this point I would have a better sense of his person. I think it was only when I was drunk around my birthday weekend that I finally got him to talk about himself.

That was only after I’d talked about myself for twice that time.

For instance, I found out his favorite color was green and his favorite holiday was Christmas.

I feel like that’s pretty basic stuff.

I still don’t know when his birthday is.

And it isn’t on Facebook.

It’s sometime in April. That’s all I know.

At least I think it is…

It’s just frustrating.

I hate it that I’ve told him so much about me and I still don’t know him. I feel like I have to hit it out of him sometimes. Beat him over the head with a stick…

I don’t like that.

I really don’t like that.

Granted, I don’t know that about a lot of my friends. Hell, I don’t even know that shit about Diego who is, by far, my best friend in the whole entire god damned world.

But, I know Diego doesn’t know that shit about me but it doesn’t really matter.

He’s the person I call when I’m about to have panic attacks. He’s the person I call when I’m bored and want to talk to someone. Damn it, I never want to just talk to people, but he’s the only person I do that with. He’s my go-to and he always will be. I trust him more than I trust my sister. That’s saying a lot.

I feel like Calvin could have been that, but he won’t ever be.

Granted, there isn’t really a spot open for that position in my heart right now. That’s Diego’s spot and will be even after I find the man I’m going to marry. Well, it’ll probably be a shared post, but I will always have Diego.

But, with as much as I’ve told Calvin, I’m hurt by the fact that he hasn’t really opened up to me.

Fuck, I told him some very serious stuff when I was drunk on my birthday. I told him about my mom and Sara, the girl who celebrated my 10th birthday with me 10 years ago only to have killed herself over a year ago.

I’m not sure how much Calvin knows about my depression. I don’t think I’ve ever told him about my cutting experience. He vaguely knows about how I’ve almost put myself in the hospital for… things. I mean, I don’t think I’ve gone into specifics with him just because he’s so optimistic and it makes me feel like I’ve disappointed him somehow.

Brooke once asked me if I ever thought of Calvin in a romantic way. She told me when she once did. I was drunk. It was when Calvin was still dating Alisha. I basically told her yes, but I knew it would never work out. Calvin’s too nice for me. He’s too happy. I’ve got too many problems to riddle him with.

I would never want to let him see my darkness.

I mean, I could if we were just friends. I probably could. But I’d feel like I was taking something away from him. I still have scars on my shoulders from my own razor blades. Damn it, I’m ashamed by the fact that I’ve bought pencil sharpeners just to take the blades off and use them against my own skin.

How could I look him in the eyes properly after telling him something like that? He, who is so incredibly good by nature and kind. How could I taint that? How could I possibly bring him down with me to my hell and still be able to accept myself as a friend to him? He’s too good to be true, and it is true. He’s far too good for me that it seems like an impossible dream for me to be able to be with him more than how we exist now. Even our friendship seems to need to remain as shallow as it is. I can’t accept him taking me any deeper.

I think one time, he told me about his mom’s job. I think she’s a social worker. It was when I first told him that I had depression. I remember crying during and after that conversation. He told me that I couldn’t be. He had seen people that had it worse than me and I couldn’t be like them. I cried. I cried for hours after that. I think he was just in shock and trying to understand how someone close to him that he had a relationship with could be like this and he not notice. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.

But he did. His words cut deep and have run with me ever since.

I blame myself constantly for the way I am.

But I can’t change that.