New Day

I don't want to open my eyes. If I open my eyes it means the night is over and it's a new day. If I open my eyes I have to admit to myself that I'm awake, which is not what I want to do. I don't want to wake up right now.

Why is it that the most tired moments of my life happen right after I have spent literally hours sleeping? How does that make any sense? I am not my hungriest right after I finished eating. Nor am I my dirtiest right after a shower.

I wish I could wake up and throw my covers off, jump out of bed like a kangaroo. I'm awake, I'm up, I'm ready!

Instead I'm sitting in class an hour later, a yawning sloth, because I am so tired.

[[today I have coffee and spend my first class feeling anxious for no apparent reason. That's some sort of psychological problem right? Unexplained anxiety?

Reasons to be stressed:

1. I am writing a novel (just finished)
2. I have a term paper to write and research for (hopefully not in that order)
3. I have a take home final exam
4. My room is a mess (how many pairs of underwear do I have anyway. And why do people call them pairs of underwear. They don't come in pairs. They are singular)
5. It is almost Christmas
6. I had a presentation in Italian during my first class (so yeah, maybe warranted anxiety after all)

There I said all the things I am stressed about.

Oh, also I'm single.

I think I mentioned that in my last post.

Yup. Single. And loving it.

Anyway moving on.]]

Don't open your eyes. If you open your eyes you have to admit consciousness.

Flashback:

I'm in Italy. It's night and my professor is going to sing us some Italian folk songs.

We just spent the day driving around southern Italy to end up at an empty beach resort where we spent the afternoon cavorting in the sea. Not the ocean, mind you. The sea.

I've had too much sun, too much good food, too many laughs with friends.

And my professor, my sweet professor, who is too kind even for his own good, is singing Italian folk songs and strumming the guitar.

All my friends, all these Italian students sitting around me with their sun kissed cheeks and their full bellies and their laughs, they are all listening.

I start to cry. I can't help it. I don't even understand half of the lyrics because some of them are in Italian but I am listening to the guitar and the sound of my professor's voice and I am looking at the other happy students and it is a warm spring night in southern Italy.

I am crying and I don't want to be. I want to be filled with joy but now I'm over full and it's overflowing from my eyes and down my cheeks.

I am crying and wiping away big salty tears as covertly as I can. I have no idea who knows, and I desperately want them to ignore it if they do know.

I am crying and my eyes have once again betrayed me.

Don't open your eyes. It's not morning yet.

Cold

The cold is sobering. Three glasses of wine later and I'm not drunk, just sad, but the cold helps.

I started this blog little over two years ago after my high school ex drunk dialed me on Halloween. I was drunk too, enjoying life as a Freshman in college, and I spent 20 minutes on the phone with him bitching him out. Later that night I went into a hot tub with my halloween costume on and played would you rather with a bunch of people, one of which is one of my best friends in Seattle today.

Tonight I was the one drunk dialing my ex. Oops. After almost four weeks of being broken up I called him cuz I missed him. And my phone died while I was saying goodbye.

Both times I ended up outside in the cold Seattle air, and I realized, Seattle is frigid.

And it makes me feel frigid.

I know I'm less beautiful when I frown so I always walk home with a scowl. Girls don't get raped if they look unhappy, right?

But I still get hit on.

Tonight: "Hey, you're really beautiful." from out of a car window. Then once he noticed I was unimpressed "Do you like girls? I have a really hot cousin."

Seattle freezes you until you are worried your heart will just stop. And when you cry the tears freeze to your face.

Icicles hang from the edges of my soul and frost nips at the corners of my mind.

In balmy Bay Area my friends called me the ice queen. But a thousand miles north my breath comes out in steamy wisps. I watch them curl up and away.

I feel like a passenger of the Titanic. Jack is gone, and I've got to wait until someone rescues me with a blanket and a cup of tea. But what if no one comes? What if I float away into the Atlantic forever?

I feel like Frankenstein's monster. Ripped apart and put back together. Wanting some one like me to share a life with until I find myself in the Arctic alone, freezing to death.

I thrive on companionship. I'm not someone who can maintain lots of little friendships. I've always had one person to confide in. Matt, Laura Jean, Antonio, Lauren, Tina, Maddy, Sarah, Haley, Claire, Caitlin, Meghan, Kristina, Bridget, Kellyn. Half of these people I don't even talk to anymore.

I don't know if I am prone to be lonely but I feel lonely right now.

I need someone I know will be there.

I need someone who wants to be there.

My mom told me if I felt really sad after the break up I should think about seeing someone about it. Like a therapist or something. A professional. But I don't want a professional. I want a friend. I want a best friend.

I'm really good at putting people first.

I've gotten better at putting myself first.

But I want someone else to put me first.

I've been my best friend longer than I've known you, and yet we keep talking like we don't know ourselves. I've never had a problem knowing who I was. I've had a problem finding anyone else who does. And still wants to be around after they find out.

I know I'm beautiful. I get hit on even when I scowl. Thinking about it later, I don't understand what that guy meant. I was wearing four layers of jacket. What, does he have X-ray vision?

And I know I'm funny. And I know I'm smart. And I know I can be too blunt but I hate liars. I like diplomacy but I don't like two faced bitches. I take showers every day and I am clean. I have straight teeth and shiny hair and small feet. I am loving and kind and ambitious. I don't drink too much or smoke or do drugs. I like children and kittens and books. I like nerdy things and movies and writing.

And I keep waiting for someone to drop everything and say, "Hey you're really beautiful."