Snorkel

I got accepted to my first choice school: St. John's University.  Queens Campus.  It's going to be exciting the next couple of weeks as I wait to hear about my financial packages and scholarships.  I think I'm really going to do it.  I think I'm ready for my grand adventure.
The last three years since graduating high school has been amazing.  I've learned so much and have grown in so many directions.  I feel less like a tree and more like ivy.  I can feel all parts of me taking up giant walls and engulfing as much of everything as I can.  New York seems like it's too much for me-- too big of a city, too many people, too little familiar things, etc.  It also seems like the perfect fit.  It's close enough to home that I can be back with just one 2-hour bus ride.  It's close enough that I can still teach dance, and volunteer.  I can visit the people I'll miss with the freedom to come and go as I please.
I think what I'm looking for most is space to grow.  Staying with my parents until getting my undergrad had been the plan, but ever since I got that acceptance call from St. John's I feel like the sky's the limit.  If I can get into St. John's, I can do anything.  I can stand in crowded New York trains, over come my social anxieties.  I can go to school, move out, and grow up now.
I can do all of this now.
Right now.
I don't think I'm ready.
It's like diving into a pool knowing I can't swim.
Now.

In hindsight

It's always funny to look back on the things you're unwilling to admit happened.  I always believed that love was supposed to be tumultuous.  Love was supposed to hurt you, and burn you so good you craved it.  In reality, in the moment of love I am living now, I've learned that love is supposed to enlighten you.  Love is supposed to make you smile and it should never burn you.  It should make you warm.

But I will never denied that I loved him.  I will never deny that the pain of loving someone you cannot have is addicting, and that I am a recovering addict.  He was in my past, and he is as apart of me as he was those years ago.  I have learned my lesson, and I have found something worth holding onto.

“Be mine again?” He asked, arms circled around my waist. I had to crane my neck to look him straight in the eyes. My hands clasped lightly around his neck. I could feel the dark skin on my palm, the curls on my fingertips. Heat, engulfing me everywhere we touched. Ice formed in my chest.
“Let me love you.”
His fingers played at my sides, skimming my sweater, the fabric barely brushing my skin. His knees knocked with mine as we swayed to the music we had composed together during our time. His foot brushed mine, and his knee parted mine. I started letting go, moving my hands from his neck and my feet back. I rested my arms on his biceps, the muscles moving where I touched. I could see the uncertainty in his movements. The sharp intake of breath giving him away.
“I choose you.”
I laughed. Questioned him, joked about our situation, and rolled my eyes. Inside I was melting into him, giving pieces of my heart to him. Outside, I was pushing him away and breaking his heart. I wanted it, couldn’t handle it, didn’t need it, wasn’t ready. The cons outweighed the pros. He was more dangerous than he was safe. In his arms, I would break myself. I would burn and melt. I would suffocate by engulfing myself in him.
“I want you.”
Words every girl wants to hear. I’m just like every girl, but the difference is I walked away. I broke both of our hearts. I made us into lost loves. He will always be someone I care deeply for, but being together would never work out. We could never be one. I wouldn’t allow it.

Princess

Life has gotten so busy and I worry about the future more.  What will real college be like?  Will I be able to be surrounded by so many people?  Or will I drop out again and run to salvation with the rejected?

Too much time spent worrying over things that by the time I'm riled up, someone else comes home or it's time to go to work.  We struggle with sneaking time in together.  Being intimate, I knew already, is difficult.  Especially in a house with such thin walls and open doors.  Where are the locks?  Hidden to keep things out.

I guy I almost dated used to call me a princess.  This is probably the only reason we never dated.  I hate the word and what it connotes.  Things are not simply handed to me.  There is no one to tie my corset up or to give me my schedule each morning.  I am a hardworking individual who deserves to be spoil, and spoil others in return.  I still struggle with how people perceive me.
Yes, my family lives in a rich neighborhood.  Yes, we go to the best doctors.  Yes, we code switch so gracefully no one notices.  Yes, we are brown leaders in our community.  No, we are not better than you.  We also work factory jobs, under the table work on weekends.  Paying the electricity bill hurts my pocket as much as it does yours.  If not more so.

Oh.

Lopsided and imperfect.  Such is life.

Pout

"I think I have a new thing for celeberties that wear dark lipstick.  Its because of you.  How you wear dark red lipstick.  I like it."
I wonder if this is one of the things that will haunt him when our fairy tale is over.  I can't imagine us being this good forever.  I can't imagine deserving so much happiness.  I am not meant to be happy or content in life.  The struggles I have witnessed, been associated with,  were the cause of, been victim to.  They have all taught me that everyone leaves and no one forgets.
Dear God, I pray he doesn't leave for a while yet.

I would do it for you.

"You're my backbone,  you're my cornerstone."

Taxes done.  I get less for my return this year.  Unsurprised.  Lunch with my mother's best friend.  I successfully restrained myself from telling her about her daughter's little dark secrets.  It was strange.  I feel like a failure whenever I tell anyone I'm still at the community college.  I will transfer,  yes.  I'll be an art history major.  No,  I know I'm smart and capable of doing other things.  I just don't want to.  I'm going to do something I'm good at.  Something that keeps be interested and happy.  I don't know what I want to be later.  I just want to be happy.  A cat mom with a dude friend who will make out with me whenever I want.
So, basically, I'm happy now.  Just like this.  Going to school, cooking, baking, working, cuddling my cats, and making out with my boyfriend.  What more does a 20 year old girl need?

First Friday

We didn't even stop to pretend to be interested in any of the art.  Two dinners, dessert at Franklin Fountain. A long and winding walk through four different neighborhoods.  Philadelphia is so much smaller than other cities but holds so much character.  Disparities.  Wanderers.

Chess

I've been watching a lot of anime recently.  It feels like I'm reverting back to the person I was before anything happened.  I hide in my room, I guiltily watch anime, and I mope around wondering what I'm doing with my life.
I guess I'm in the midst of an argument with my boyfriend.  I hate that we text, a lot.  It doesn't feel productive.  But does every aspect of my life need to be productive?  I'm not sure.  I'm not sure of anything. I didn't agree to be in this relationship for us to only ignore each other when we're upset at ourselves.  I would much rather us not bother than continue like this.
But I can't imagine life without him.  Before he was my boyfriend, he was my boy friend.  He was one of my most cherished friends.  There's no going back to whatever we were before.  It's either we continue moving ahead towards something unknown, or become unknown to one another.

City

"You are my happiness."

"I'm going to leave in a couple minutes.  Come here," he mumbled, always mumbled.  He always mumbles, pressing his lips together and keeping his words linked tightly.  Large hands stretched forward, he fell backwards onto the floor.  I fell into him, my back hitting his chest.
"I forgot you had to go."
"That's a good thing."

Inhaler

I had a small anxiety attack about an hour ago.  I don't know.  Things happen and I get a tight feeling in my chest, then suddenly I'm face down on my bed, breathing into my comforter.  I was supposed to on a train into the city, but life is hard and I just need to focus on breathing.
I have a friend who is far too comfortable with me, and it feels like he's trying to fill some void in his relationship with me.  I'm not grout.  I can't fill in the cracks your girlfriend leaves for you.  I am too focused on myself, and my own ball-and-chain.  My ball-and-chain, though, does not weigh me down.
"I know you don't think things last forever, but I really don't see how we could mess this up."
Our life is so easy.  We wake up with good mornings, drink coffee, get brunch at our favorite place, and talk about anything.  People, places we've been, vacations we want to take, how we're not looking forward to school.
You'd think my anxiety and unhappiness would dissipate.

Let me be yours,

With each passing day he becomes more and more attractive.  I never thought it was possible.  When we first met, I never imagined that I would have these feelings towards him.  With him, it feels like I should have known from the start that we'd end up like that.  Lips fused together, hands griping each other.  There is so much passion in the way he looks at me-- the way he just is with me.
It fulfills the sense of longing when I'm with him.  His presence.  His acceptance of me and what I am, who I am.  All of the troubles I have, all of the worries and doubt.  He takes all of it and he uses cliche words to make me feel better.  And that is what I appreciate most.
It's hearing him recite the cliches that makes me strive to break them.  I don't want our lives-- the life we share-- to be cliche.  I want, for us, a grand adventure.  I want to give to him more than his words could ever offer me.
He told me last night, almost exactly twenty-four hours ago, that I was the greatest thing to happen to him.  He told me that he couldn't imagine life without me.  In the beginning he always gave me an out.  "Even if what we have doesn't last, I still want us to be friends.  You mean too much to me."  Now, I don't get an out.  Now it's all "30 more year, right?  30 years, you get 5 years for your mid-life crisis, and then 30 more."
I've never been the kind of girl to be stuck with one person for too long.  I used to go out on dates with different boys, men, weekly.  I would text one and talk on the phone with the other.  I would email boys I'd never meet in real life words I'm too embarrassed to actually whisper into ears.
But I'm okay with 30 more years.  If anything, I don't even want that five-year break in-between.  Right now, I just want to make life for us better.  I want to embrace tragedy, happiness, anticipation, bliss, and 4-AM-sex with him.
He's growing out his hair, and now I can't help but stare at him.  He's changed so much from when we first met.  His attitude, his confidence, and his charisma.  I'm watching him transform into this man, and somewhere in my chest I swell with pride.  I'm a part of this good change in him.  I'm a part of his growth into true adulthood.  I'm a part of what he wants in the future.