hopeless romantic

At times, I’m pretty sure this blog is just an archive of people I’ve loved and mistakes I learned from. That’s not intentional, I don’t think. More… idk.

Official explanation – therapy costs money I don’t have. Blogging is free and cathartic and occasionally gives people the opportunity to see how much they mean to me without any awkward convos and therefore fills the void perfectly.

Other official explanation – I draw from my life for my writing and my cosplaying, and I can’t recycle anything I haven’t analyzed to hell and back.

I’ve been thinking about connections and the cyclical nature of them for the last couple days, ever since I re-found someone I genuinely thought was dead. That one, I haven’t written about before because it happened at a very strange time in my life and… well, turns out he’s not dead and that door is open again.

And yes, I know my life just turned into a bad fanfic plot. AGAIN. Because if there’s one predictable thing in my existence, it’s that any romantic disaster I have tends to play like a romcom they would’ve made ten years ago.

(Sidenote – do they even MAKE big fun romcoms anymore?? I’m pretty sure they don’t, and that’s so darn annoying. I like explosions and superheroes as much as the next girl, but I also wanna watch two pretty people fall in love without the background noise of secret identities or terminal cancer.)

Seriously. I’ve been freaking out about this for three whole days ’cause wow, that was NOT the plotline I thought was gonna recur. Ooohboy.

I’m such a GIRL sometimes.

But yeah. For those of you who are wondering if I do literally anything other than pine after bad ideas and then brood about them for years after the dust settles… okay, yeah, that’s a huge part of my life. But I’m trying to turn that into something super-awesome and bigger than myself. So screw it.

(Also, this blog is gonna be WAY more fun for my future tinies to find than a journal.)

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love is…

… “she’s FINE, she’s one of the toughest people I know” followed a minute later by “what do you mean she might’ve spontaneously taken a trip to Australia?!?”

… being very, very thrilled when I do not find any arrest records for the above-mentioned person (who is still not accounted for, but probably off on some wild adventure. or somebody’s kid broke her phone. or both).

… friendships that feel like warm blankets and coming home.

… borderline compulsive worrying that usually ends up being TOTALLY NECESSARY because why oh why do I attract so many people with no self-preservation abilities.

… reminding my people that they mean a lot to me and that I am way easier to deal with when they tell me what’s going on instead of making me wonder. (and that in turn minimizes the above compulsive worrying.)

… making squishy knitted things because if I can’t hug you as often as I want to (or like ever because you’re on the other side of the freaking continent), that’s the next best thing.

… knowing that I’m 23 and I’ve got a really solid list of people I am honored to be friends with and be connected to.

… accepting that all forms of human kindness are beautiful, not just the kind that actually means “I want you”.

stressed out and full of love

It’s been one of those weekends. (Yeah, I know it’s Monday, but consider this a recap.) Person I’ve been talking to // have a major crush on continues to absolutely fail at texting, one of my close friends got his heart broken dramatically, it’s the five-year anniversary of a particular event I wish hadn’t happened the way it did, and hell, I’m stressed out. I have a con this coming weekend, I’m up to my ears in family drama, and I’m stressed out.

But as per usual, stress brings out the best in me. In this case, a few musings about how I show love and how the strangeness of my brain makes that better.

One of my main things is I worry about people. A lot. Like, if I care about someone, I probably obsessively worry about them on so many levels. I blame this on the fact that most of my people need to be worried about… and on my anxiety. Girl who gets worried about everything, meet cast of beautiful idiot friends who fail at finding other people to panic about them. I’ve tried to explain this to one of my darlings on several occasions – the main person who brings out this trait in me, and he knows damn well he’s special like that – and poor boy just does not get it. And funny thing is, this has actually gotten worse since I went back on meds. Like, I didn’t notice this trait was a thing and then antidepressant number two got added to my daily routine and all of a sudden…

Well…

Again, it kinda helps that most of my friends kinda need someone to panic about some of their questionable life choices. Sometimes I do point out that it’s their own fault. At least partially. But another equally significant part is all me.

In my brain, love means caring too much and getting clingy as hell and wanting to wrap my darlings up in blankets and bubble-wrap.

I’m protective and territorial sometimes. Back a few months ago, when I had a thing with a particular friend, I learned that the only situation in which I can flirt (or at least am aware that’s what I’m doing)… is when I’m trying to make sure another person doesn’t sink their claws into my person. Oooohboy. Didn’t know I did that either; still one of the funniest moments of the last year or so because the other person involved still has no clue what was going on. Nor does the innocent bystander who got to watch usually-quiet-and/or-extremely-bitchy me blossom into… someone I’m usually not. Freaking beautiful. I’m gonna write a story about that at some point, I think.

I make stuff for people. Literally my first thought after checking off some firsts with the ex-ish-creature I’m still friends with (I need to codename these people but the context of what I usually call them would be totally MIA here) was “I am going to make pretty fingerless gloves for this boy”. Yeah, you read that right – that is how my brain responded to discovering that I have a bit of a hand kink. Fast-forward six months to a similar situation with a different person and the main thought running through my head as I drove home afterwards was “if this blossoms, I’m knitting a sweater for this one”. I shower people in handmade squishies because if I can’t hug them as often as I’d like, I will give them the next best thing.

I need to find someone new to squish on asap. Guh. Hopefully I’ll be able to get a temporary fix at con this Saturday – I’m gonna get to see a super-badass girl I met at that particular event last year and hopefully tackle-hug her if she lets me and she’s not getting swarmed by other people admiring whatever costume she’s got on. And sometimes random people are affectionate if one says the right sweet things about their cosplay. So fingers crossed.

(I’ve basically ruled out cons as a dating pool – all I ever seem to crush on from that world are straight married girls, sigh – but let a girl dream here. Maybe someone of appropriate orientation will be super into what I’m running for this one. Maaaybe.)

Ah well. If nothing else, I’ve got a cat who likes to massage my thighs, nuzzle me for like a minute, and then do a flying leap off me in a way that makes me very thankful my reproductive organs are internal. That’s gotta count for something, right??

happier.

There are a lot of things I wanna say about relationships right now, but it’s late and I’m tired so for now…

To everyone who ever said that I would never be good enough for anyone…

To everyone who ever said that I would be lucky if someone saw light in me…

To everyone who ever told me I wasn’t pretty enough or domestic enough or fake-smiley enough…

I am happier right now than I have ever been and I have everything I ever wanted. Have fun living vicariously through me.

dance of the butterflies

It’s summer, it’s sneak-peak-at-hell hot in Cinci, and I’m all fluttery again. Some things really do not change.

I’m gonna keep details off here for now, because there are a few conversations that have not been had, but what y’all need to know is that there’s a boy. Or at least there might be. He’s scarred and beautiful and kind, we’re trying to figure out how to do things like normal people, and he makes me feel safe. We’ve got some strange history, and hopefully someday I’ll be able to tell that story here but now is really not the time, but we’re better people now. Or at least trying to be. Idk.

Naturally, because this is me and I don’t do anything easy or halfway, this has led to a few realizations about myself.

The first thing is it’s completely possible for me to like somebody and not be a mess around or about them. I’ve been texting the boy pretty-much constantly for about a week now, and I haven’t gotten blushy or panicky at all. Convinced that I am doing this maybe-relationship thing terribly, yes, but he’s calm about it. Very patient, this one, at least with me. Very willing to let me do things at my pace and comfort level, very supportive.

(Given the circumstances, it’s kinda hilarious, but again – not telling that story here yet. Or maybe ever.)

The second thing is that I legitimately have no idea what I’m doing. I know that’s been well established, given that I’m a former Bubble kid who got the majority of her sex-ed from fanfic in high school and somehow came through both of those things with a realistic and appropriate view of romantic love and sexuality, but it’s never hit me how complicated that can make things. Maybe even more so when the other person’s background is decidedly different. Nothing’s really happened, but things have been talked and… I have no idea how normal people do any of this. I know they probably do not do about half the things I’ve done in the last few days, but whatever. I’m trying.

And the third thing, perhaps the most important thing, is that I love exactly the way I thought I did. I just, y’know, now have a little practical experience to back that up.

I worry as a sign of affection (and because some people just need another person to give a  damn about their existence and weaknesses and experiences).

I see beauty where no one else does (and it’s absolutely tragic, seeing light in someone who’s convinced they’re a monster, but I’m trying).

I say what I mean, try to be sweet and supportive, and try to anchor (and I am lucky enough that all of that is mutual).

Somehow, everything makes sense.

So, we’ll see what happens tomorrow and going forward from there. We’ll see where this new adventure leads me, attempting to build something real with someone good.

But until then, me and the butterflies in my heart are signing off. xoxo.