My sleep schedule is fucked but that's okay. Being tired seems inconsequential when it comes to everything I have to do anyways.
I'm really in love with Ryland.
I said I was in love with him before- and I thought I was. I still think I might have been. But I'm really in love now. I don't have any doubt in my mind. I don't remember what changed it, if there even was anything. But last night (4/28/18) when we were together in his bed something shifted and I knew it for sure.
I mean, I knew before. I thought I knew. But now I really know I know.
It's like when I hold him and look at him and read what he's saying and learn his thoughts and see his eyes and touch his hair and spread my hand on his back and know what music he's listening to and
Yeah. I want to make it work. I want to make it work a long time.
I have this thing about not meeting expectations. I want to be my own person. People each value their own things, whatever they may be.
I think my top four are individuality, authenticity, passion, and love.
The problem is that the things I want to do as an individual it seems other people who value that as well also do them.
I have a few temporary tattoos I stole and there's a smiley face one I want to put on my hand. I also want to paint my nails black, but I don't have any black nail polish. I want to wear the 3D glasses laying on the ground.
I suppose not doing things because of the influence of others in inherently not individualistic. So even though it comes across as pretentious and douchey and mainstream I really should do those things if I want to fulfill individualism.
Really, my whole problem with the issue of whether to be or not to be an individual exposes my essence of incapability to act without the influence of others.. (Not individualistic). To do what it is I value, I have to stop caring. A daring feat.
Sometimes I feel the urge to slam my head and hands and body into a wall and scream and cry and punch and rip myself apart.
Today when I was bike riding with Scott he wanted to take a picture of me up on this tall ivy covered cement block wall. So I found my way up and sat on it but it was really sketchy. I only had a square foot area to sit and to my back was a splintering fence with nails ripping away from it. On the place I was sitting was trash- a cigarette carton, wrappers, lots of stuff. I was afraid of bugs crawling into my vagina. Especially spiders. I check the toilet when I go to the bathroom before sitting down to make sure there are no spiders. Even worse than spiders, I thought for a second there was a leech in my vagina. I don't know why I have this fear.
The pictures didn't even turn out good.
I keep yawning, which means I should probably make myself go to bed, but I don't like sleeping without Ryland next to me.
Tomorrow I should talk to Blair about
- Gender
- Grief
- Gucci slides
The 3 G's.
Okay but really,
- Gender
- Grief
- How everything feels overwhelming
- Sleeping issues
- Hallucinatory sensations on my skin
Yeah, by the way Ryland, I should probably explain that last one. Sometimes I just feel things on my skin that aren't there. It feels incredibly real. I thought a spider fell on me the other day so I shot out of bed but nothing was there. It often feels like bugs crawling on my skin.
I keep wanting to play the guitar, but I end up not. I've been drawing more, though.
Time for bed. I wish I set out my clothes earlier, I feel better when I wake up and they're already set out. I'll just have to dig through the dryer tomorrow morning.
Ryland, I love you. I don't want it to lose it's meaning.
When I say I love you I mean you make me question things I thought I knew to be sure.
When I say I love you I mean you give me hope.
When I say I love you I mean I sing every time I leave your house, thinking of you.
When I say I love you I mean there's a permanent spot next to me reserved for you.
When I say I love you I mean-
I remember when. I remember when I realized. Or when the love evolved. It was when you were resting on me, I thought about how I'd be if we were in the episode of Black Mirror, and you kept giving me your nails to rip off instead of yours.
-my hands are yours to hold.
When I say I love you I mean a novenonagintanongentillion things I can never fully express to you but will never stop trying to.
