I am doing a lot of things that I said I wouldn’t do. I am doing things that would make my family unhappy. I am doing things that I didn’t think I would do…
Why am I doing them then?
I am doing them because I am naturally curious.
I am doing them to get the mystery taken away.
I am doing them to get rid of my poorly built wall.
I am doing them because I feel unhappy about the way my family has been treating me.
I am doing them to fit in and that seems weird but it makes me feel like I belong.
I am doing them because I want to have an opinion on them.
I am doing them so that I can get over the shame early on.
I am doing them because I really have no one to stop me…
There are some things that I haven’t been the most proud of… Like I still feel sad about them. There are some things that I cannot undo. There are things that I might keep doing after doing it once. There are some things that I hated the first time. They say that experimenting should be in college, but that wasn’t an option for me. I wasn’t that comfortable in college to experiment. But I am glad I am doing something now. I can always have a story for this later…
I recently had an amazing experience with a guy. My first relationship ever. We had just gone on our third date together… and then he told me that he loved me…
Do I love him as much as he loves me? I repeated that I loved him back but I wonder if this is all going too fast… I have strong feelings for him, for sure, but I am wondering if I am just too insecure to tell him that I feel a little different.
I mean, I am the type that GROWS love for a person instead of just feel it right away.
- too inexperienced
- too naive
- too weak
- too blind
- too scared
- too different
- too worried
- too scandalous
- too confused
- too nervous
- too greedy
- too selfish
- too sensitive
- too curious
- too second-guessing
- too horrible
- too… loved… Is that a bad thing?
I am a wreck of emotions right now. I take time to think things over and I have thought it all over about what happened last night. What if we are different people hidden in a mask of googly-eyed love? He has already talked about marriage… I don’t want him proposing to me after a month… I need to take hold of the reigns here before it is too late…
-The Human Girl
P.S. What is it about me that makes him so into me?
A new day and a new feeling. I don’t know what to make of it and I don’t know how to make it go away. I am nervous and worried about myself. I am scatter-brained and tearful. I don’t know what to do or say. I just see the eyes pointing at me.
There are parts that make me happy. And there are parts that seem to rip my emotional core in two. I write this passage while droplets fall from my eyes.
They come and they communicate. It seems nonstop. I can’t relax. My mind is telling me that it is crashing. My eyes see a blurry past – a sad past with no future.
How can someone stand this? Is it lying if you want to tell someone something, but you don’t know how to tell them? How to convince them that they think you are something else?
I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what to do.
He had the skin of a light blue sky. Ritual tattoos that were all over his arms. His fingers were thin and graceful. His upper body was muscular and dimensional. His eyes were large, black and gleaming. His nose was sharp, small and had an air of quiet reign.
She had the skin color of sheer lava. Her arms were graceful and strong. Her figure was of an hourglass, with large hips. She had ears that peaked and almost were the height of the top of her head. Her silver eyes danced in their sockets. Her smile had small white fangs that only expressed her kindness.
Two different species.
One kind of love.
His world full of Cerus and hers dominated by Rubis. They were not supposed to meet that one day at the military trade port but they bumped into one another after she dropped the sharp end of her shield on his shoe by accident. He was in pain but when he looked up at her they eyes met.
He was a highly-ranked military commanders son and she was her world’s first pacifistic president’s daughter. Their views were not the same. Father against son. Mother against daughter. But they couple believed in balance in power among their two worlds.
They worried about their love growing stronger. They worried about the mixed species children that they would have. They worried about not finding someone to match the other before they fell in love to deeply.
They had to engage a hard face to the world every day. Showing their beliefs and sharing stories of past failures. They tried to negotiate a treaty to merge the two planets in to more friendly agreements.
What will happen to their love? What kind of fights do each lover have to battle? Are they too different? Will they be together? Can they be together?
It’s the surface,
It gleams and shines,
It doesn’t explain quality,
It’s just words that you know,
Feeling that you felt,
A place you’ve been,
A thought you processed.
You know that you are capable,
That you are a good enough person,
But the world just wants you to be bold,
So bold that you are almost a different person.
You succeed, you worry, you sweat, you love,
But you fail sometimes.
That’s life. It doesn’t mean you are done,
It means that you need more strength,
More practice, more support, more love.
It is superficial that the world cannot tell you otherwise.
That if it was easy versus if it was given to you.
The kindest people are often the most talented.
In what field, I do not know.
Little kids are so fascinating. Adults just seem boring to hang out with when you are at social functions, but look at those kids! They run around, mispronounce things and try to make you smile. How can you not love them? (At least when they are not making you mad by pulling your hair or crying because you tried to teach them a new way to high five) Kids can be exhausting too. Especially if there are a lot of them.
One day, I would like to have kids. I just have a need to impart some of my wisdom. To be able to teach my kid(s) the value of something. To teach them self-worth and hard work. To teach them the difference between rules and gut-feelings. I want to be truthful to them. I want to be sincere and also fun. I want them to be able to come to me for advice and actually take it sometimes. I want a close relationship when they get older that fall under them wanting to spend time with me rather than having to spend time with me.
But I am skipping ahead. Kids. They are unruly, messy and sometimes, attracted to danger. I am a worry-wart. I can be overprotective. I try to trust people, only to have it backfire on me. I can’t imagine the moment my kid will first have to shower on their own. How does that even happen? (Do people think about this or is it just me?) How will they walk to school by themselves? They are only a baby! What about the first time they will hold a knife on their own and not cut themselves? I remember what it was like to do all those things. The first time I was in any danger and then got over it. I remember being overly confident and rolled my eyes on how my mother got so over protective.
When I look at kids, I feel an overwhelming feeling to educate them. Like I want them to learn something from me and only me. Selfish, but awesome thought. I try to teach them a high-five/fist pound/ pretend cutting/tickling hand game that my brother taught all our little cousins. It’s so adorable to watch them laugh and want to do it again and again. I never want to stop playing with them. It’s a fun feeling. Even the smallest babies catch on. (In fact, the kids who don’t like this game tend to not really like me. It weeds out the less fun kids. Mean but true.) I remember walking my little cousin in the hospital while his mom was tending to his little sister in the NICU. I started saying my name over and over again until this one-year old started to repeat it. I taught this baby my name! It was a proud moment in my teenage life.
Then there are the moments that just happen and make you feel happy. Like one time I got my little cousin (same cousin) to sleep in my arms while his mom was out running errands. It was an interesting feeling to have such a small child fall asleep in your arms. One that calms you and aches you at the same time. Your arm is tired from gently swinging the baby side to side and you also feel happy that it happened because of you. (Baby that has the stomach flu and falls asleep in your arms is a relief/terrifying feeling)
It’s fun to read to kids too. They ask a million questions and make a bunch of observant comments about the book. Who is that? Is that his mommy? Look at his funny shirt! Wait, go back, I didn’t see it. What word are you on? Ribbit, ribbit! What is that? Oh! It’s like the one we have!
There are the not so great moments. Like the time I held one of my little cousins into a candy store and he totally scratched up my face because he wanted to go down and grab some candy. Or the time I had to time-out another one of my cousins who kept yelling “RAWR!” every thirty seconds when I was trying to get her stomach flu burdened, baby brother to fall asleep. She and her older brother thought it was funny. I did not. I explained why I did it and thought that I did a good job. But it shook me up because I didn’t want to do it. We can’t always be the good guy…
I won’t say anything about tantrums. It’s just the WORST.
Cleaning with little kids is a nightmare. They make messes like it’s their job. Is that chocolate all over my brand new chair? You better believe it. Did that sticky lollipop fall into my hair? Yep. What did you do with the cheerios?! Yeeeeah, all over the carpet. Did you need to go potty? It wasn’t pretty what happened to that kid. I don’t think I would want a second kid until the first one knows how to clean up their toys and who also is potty-trained. Totally reasonable.
The logic that kids sometimes have is magical. They can be so incredibly ignorant that all you want to do is give them a lesson. Why is this blue? Why is a fiya engine wed? What does a wemote contwol do? What is a fwuit? Kids can also be extremely racist and not know that that’s what they are doing. One of my little cousins wanted to “buy” a kid one time. He was an only child when he said it. He wanted to play with a friend and since you go to the store to buy things, why not a friend too? The kid he pointed to was around his age and he was black. (I will say that we are not black, because that’s where the racism applies) I was so shocked. Oh God! What did this little child just say to me?! I gave this little kid a lecture about why you can’t buy people. He was sad because he just wanted a friend. (Also, does this make him not racist because he wanted a black friend? Who the hell knows… all I know was that if he walked up to the kid himself and said, “Can I buy you?” the kid’s parents would be quite upset)
I’m looking forward to the hugs. I’m look forward to the nightly tuck ins. I’m looking forward to making their favorite dishes and their least favorite dishes. I’m looking forward to the play dates and the stuffed animals. I’m looking forward to the baths, potty-training and eating etiquette. I’m looking forward to a little human calling me mommy and saying that they love me.
P.S. Have you ever seen a kid with access to a chocolate fountain and strawberries? No? Then prepare for that awesome experience.
There is a song in me. It plays over and over again. It doesn’t drive me to insanity and actually keeps me from it. It hums over and over. It is like my theme song. I walk around town and it plays. I go to work and it keeps me company. I come home and it relaxes me. It’s a song that takes the bad and makes it good. It’s a song that heals a heart that mourns away from home. When it plays in my physical space, my ears perk up and my mouth starts moving. The song is almost deafened by my version of it. The way I sing a verse or add a longer note is what makes it mine. I keep it close to me. I rewind the bridge so that I can sing it once more- possibly with more passion. Sometimes I sing it until my voice crackles distantly from the original out-of-tune way my voice has come to develop. I don’t care as much because it is my song. I can sing in my car for hours until the song loses it’s original fervor. This song that I have come to love can only stay with me until I forget the words, but never the melody. The rhythm that it paces in my heart replaces what was there before. Faster or slower- my heart mimics the feeling. It completes the bass and the treble in fluid perfection between heartbeats. The song is as alive as I am. I am it and it is me.
It will always be the song I sing.
Talk to me.
Tell me something worth my time. Tell me that you know what love is. Say something that I can laugh at. Tell me that you know a different language. Tell me how to curse in that language. Tell me about your day. Tell me what bothered you. Say how you worry about me. Tell me what you think is right. Tell me what you think is wrong. Tell me that you are up for hypothetical situations. Tell me intimate details about your love life. Say that you like cuddling with me. Tell me details about your family. Tell me what you love and hate about the people you love. Tell me the last time you spoke to your mother. Tell me about the last book you read. Tell me about your sick pet. Tell me about what you think death is. Tell me about the last time you really cried. Tell me about your favorite fragrance. Tell me that you hate it when people are stupid. Say what you think of me. Tell me what kind of weather you enjoy. Tell me about your favorite foods. Say what you hate about me. Tell me about your opinions about being an adult. Tell me about your ambitions. Tell me about your secrets. Tell me about your bad habits. Say what makes you attracted to me. Tell me what kind of activities you do in your spare time. Say that you want to be with me. Say that you love me.
Now tell me that you are sick of talking to me.
If I were to share my life with you, things wouldn’t go well. (more…)