feeling

only when i see someone in the throes of heartbreak do i realize i am no longer there.

it does, however, make me want to feed F cookies and read him poetry.

sometimes i think in a different life, we could have been best friends.

invective

i should've known.

back when that picture of him and mia surfaced and i felt numb and didn't think about him for a week after, i should've known.

all it takes to get over him is the knowledge that he's over me.

and the knowledge that he is going to start the cycle all over again--

oh, how dull. the way he approaches all his romantic entanglements is so very dull and predictable. i could write out the story of it before it even begins, because you can't be happy with someone until you are happy with yourself, and i don't think i've ever met someone quite so unhappy.

whether they stay together or whether they fall apart eventually, wherever you go, there you are. and yes, that is indeed a very large dose of bitterness and a very decent sized dose of contempt.

but that's what you get for trying to cover up a gangrenous limb with band aids.

have fun! see you in a couple months to a year or so.

year of the dragon

you might think i'm overly superstitious. i tell people around me not to point at the moon, i sleep with the red envelopes under my bed, and always check the lunar calendar before making a big decision like taking a job, going on a trip, and eventually buying a car or house.

but i was in a rut last year, and i still am, except i finally have a direction now. i'm starting from scratch while everyone's miles ahead, but i know what i want to do with my life, and all that really means is that i'll never not have something to learn. also it' s going to take a couple years to come into fruition. but i'm going to start now and i think it's going to be really, really good.

tl;dr i know what i want to do with my life.

and i know how i'm going to get there.

so i'm not saying year of the dragon was 100% bad luck or anything. but it's not my year of bad luck anymore, and i think i can do this.

catharsis

so this is dumb to rehash, but you know, whatever.

i'm sorry, but i remember the first meal i ever cooked for you. and the last. and, actually all those in between. painstakingly deveining the shrimp, pan frying the eggs. hehe, the first time i made curry for you, i fucked it up (you took it in stride). i hate cooking for myself these days. it's not bad, i just don't put as much thought or love into it. oh well. one day i'll cook for someone again and i suppose the cycle will repeat. i just miss you, probably. you always wished i'd be more vocal about wanting you to stay over, instead of "sure, you can if you want." but expressed that in every lunch i packed for you.

i have a hard time getting over a lot of guys, for different reasons. with you, no matter how obnoxious you'd get, or all your freaking issues, it's because i would marvel at the fact that we were together.

the first time i met you, i was immediately infatuated for weeks. you were in my chemistry class during 2nd year, and for some reason i thought you were the cutest boy i'd ever seen. no idea who you were. (dark blue shirt, by the way. 7 rows down. you don't remember. i know that's kind of creepy but i'm not lying when i say i remember everything.) all i did was sit sort of close to the front and hope that you'd at least notice me a little. i remember being introduced to you a short while later, and it was the first and last time i'd talk to you for a few years.

when i ran into you again, i was completely drunk from pregaming and you were sitting with thomas across from us at rocky mountain. and i was interested in james, the dude sitting next to me i'd also just met (he was wearing a blue xkcd sweater. you were wearing a black tie.) and i didn't like you then; 6 more months would pass before i'd even start feeling the seeds of any sort of feeling.

but i remembered you.

and ours is not some epic notebook love story or some asian drama bullshit like that. maybe this sort of thing is actually incredibly common. but when we were together, i'd think about how i'd steal glances at you when i was 19. how i'd started to care for you out of literally nothing. how i'd picked you out of a crowd of 100 on a random day, and kissed you years later.

this tiny part of me always kind of thought we'd end up together.
and a part of me will always think it would have been nice to.

maybe not nice. maybe... natural. way back last year in january i wrote here that i didn't have any feelings for you at all. and yet i kept writing because it felt like drawing to a conclusion, like a shaky foal learning how to stand.

so i wish our conclusion had been different, that's all.

autoimmune

when i read about your unhappiness, i become unhappy too. not because i feel bad for you, or because i want to fix you, but because your malcontent genuinely infects my heart like an insidious malady.

but i can't stay away.

because i still care for you. and it's still killing me.

i'm so sorry.









god, this shit's angsty as fuck

vulnerability

there's quite a bit riding on tomorrow. but if grad school's exposed me to anything, it's the idea of putting all your last hopes into a variable factor and then having them summarily dashed.

so if tomorrow pulls through, great. if not, it's nothing i haven't seen before.

but i'm still gonna hope. because we must.

oh i guess relationships too, i was still putting hope in that one til it flickered out.

but we must.

on star provisions

i dont think it's possible want to love star provisions more than i do. despite that my chocolate croissant was a little crispy today, and the people sitting next to me make me feel rat race-y with their Senior Consultant jobs and Expensed Bacchanalia Dinners and Working At Scoutmob, i love the rows and rows of mexican wedding cookies and chocolate crinkles. the tray of brightly colored cupcakes, and fridge full of lemon meringue tarts and valrhona chocolate cakes. the ham and gruyere croissants, and house made sausage, and the wall in the back of crispy baguettes and olive bread, this beautiful brown golden color just like in paris.

i love the guy who recognizes me already, and who saves a chocolate croissant for the girl who comes in every saturday, and all the regulars, and the friendly cute guy who comes in after 12.

you get your breakfast pastry, and just sit there daydreaming for a bit, taking in the ambience. the tiny birdcages with gold birds inside the size of your thumb. the rows of premium steak lined up, next to the charcuterie and stack after stack of beautifully formed pate. the old people who get it, who get that if you can afford the bougie schtick we're in, then life is about the subtle enhancement of the everyday quality of life. the 4pm lemon cookie. the buttery croissant. the wooden spinning top the size of a quarter.

and then you realize there is no need to buy your meat at publix and freeze it. you can buy a fresh cut here, and drive two minutes to your house. there is no excuse to forgo the wine/bread/fruit/pate picnic when the weather warms up, because these are the things that make your life subtly better.

sure, new job. bigger car. nicer house. date up. do the big things.

but do the small things too, and love every second of the art of becoming familiar.