Love?

I am 15, and terrified of the idea of loving people, because people have generally proven at this point in my life to be cruel, and often my undoing. Still, when I really begin to heighten in terms of sexual want, and find someone who wants me to, and doesn't act like I'm disgusting for it, I find myself loving him. I also find myself falling for a girl-when I find they're dating each other and have lied to me, I am completely fucking heartbroken, for feeling like I am undesirable. I spend those two weeks post discovery so angry I can't think.

I am 16, and have been dating this boy for less than 6 months, but he knows me inside out as my best friend. At 17, I stop putting an expiration date on us and fall into love with him. When he takes my virginity it is one of the few times I can refer to it as making love, and I am happier in some ways then I have ever been. He acts as my partner and confidante and I can tell him anything.

I am 18, and my lover has left me out of inconvenience of distance. Two years have passed, and I have struggled with depression long and hard, and while this makes me disinclined to trust anyone who says they love me, I do not turn to suicide as a comfort, but sex, of which I spend most of my senior year chasing after, and disregarding my own safety at times.

I am 19, and have been with this curly haired masochist for almost 4 months. As my introduction to someone else who likes kink, who likes to fuck, where we started out at a high, we end at a low when I open the relationship up, as he refuses to touch me, tells me he loves me, but comes home every night and tells me about the girl at work he's trying to sleep with. I am angry and bitter, and sleep with someone I meet out trying to sleep with someone I've been okayed with. This instigates our breakup, which leads me to spending nights on the couch with someone with a girlfriend, not fucking, but falling asleep to Lord of the Rings.

Halfway through the year I realize I am in love with the headfucked former Marine, and find myself torn between my head-held-high- requirements for pride, his girlfriend, and my overwhelming desire to be held by him, for once, wanting sex out of it because it seems to just complicate things. Eventually he leaves, giving me his service issue knife. He comes back, but we are not the same.

I meet a broken Army boy, with PTSD. This suits me, as I am also broken and in love with someone whom (it seems) does not love me. We date. The curly haired masochist returns, and I learn the hard way that polyamory is sometimes more about talking then it is anything else. They do not. The relationships with the two of them cost me almost everything I like about myself, and in the process of figuring things out, the memories of my rape resurface.

I turn 20. I still love the Marine, and while I sleep at night with the Army Boy, this weighs heavily in my mind and moreso on our relationship. I do not sleep with him the night of my birthday, but instead choose to go home with my partner, who I am determined to build up with, not lose out because of someone who can't say they love me.

I move to Chicago, where I start to stand on my own feet, slowly. The Army Boy dumps me, at the time telling me he just wanted to be friends and long distance was a hassle, but admitting later he simply didn't trust me to stay with him. I am lonely and hurt by this, and the Marine and I lose contact in one of our fights.

I live my life. I go on. I fuck, and I become more apt in kink and communication. A friend takes me under his wing and teaches me the hard lessons about communication, especially while poly, and helps me learn to cope with my now what would be called triggers.

My best friend boy-from-firsts, my first love and I, we fall in together again, and despite our best efforts, fall in love and give each other keys. We find a girlfriend, and we three, we two, get more and more complicated, until we learn to hate each other. Within a week, they've both left me, and I've moved home.

I, and this punk-ass old school man, with child, and primary, we dance around each other for the better part of six months. We never use the words "love" and even more rarely "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" and eventually move from a relationship to "just fucking friends."
I never talk about how I feel like he abandoned me because of distance.

I, and this new punk, this gutterpunk, grown up rough and hurting, we fall in love between bourbon, emo music and candlelit basements. We fall in deeply, and make future plans, and for once, I plan to stay only...only we fight constantly. Only he stops hearing anything I have to say. Only he turns to lighting my fuel, over and over again until everyone around us notices how often I'm crying. He dumps me..and immediately tries to take it back. The months after, he sends me passive aggressive messages implying everything was my fault, and telling me he loves me.

I, and my best friend of six long, hard-won years, we fall in love. We fall in, we make plans, we talk about the future, and most of all, we tell each other everything. Only, I am damaged. Only, I am failing to be a good person. Only he withdraws from me and denies it when I ask over, and over again if he wants to leave, if he needs to leave, I tell him I'd understand.
When he's finally convinced me he'll stay, that he wants to be with me, to talk about my issues openly.
Then he leaves.

I'm tired of love. I'm tired of falling in love, I'm tired of vulnerability, and I'm just plain tired.
Over and over again, the mistake seems to be mine, repeatedly.
Over and over, I'm not worth anything, my feelings don't count, either to me or to them.
Over.
and over.
and over.

I think, for now, I'm done.

KneeJerk

I'm having a kneejerk reaction.

I don't feel like my feelings count, or that it matters less when I am hurting or scared or angry.
I know that's not what was meant. I know that it's more that I handle myself well in the face of whatever and she does not.

But I am not happy.
Actually, I'm fucking furious, and raging and screaming and crying internally.

But y'know. My feelings don't count. Don't matter. Doesn't need to be heard. I'm fine.
I'll be fine.

I know my first instinct is to run away. I know that I take care of myself and why and how that ended up happening.
But I am so goddamn tired of hiding and running.

I'm tired of feeling like I don't count. I'm just tired. I feel worn out and done to a turn and I want the world to take a pause for a year or two, for me to sleep off feeling so backed into a corner.
Even in Chicago, it wasn't like this.

It was never like this.
I may start writing here regularly again. I need a space I can be honest on. I don't think t'other is one I can anymore.

And gods, I am so fucking tired. I'm tired of intrusive thoughts of throwing myself in front of trains or cars. I'm tired of feeling sick to my stomach when I'm vulnerable, and worried if this is the time I'm made to regret it.

I'm just...tired

Love Me Not

Sometimes I wonder if I'm not meant to be loved.
Not to be someone's love, not to be a lover.

Just friends, just compatriot, and comrade. Just have folks' backs as they need it. That's what I'm good at. But I'm dysfunctional and a mess, and I continue to fail at these things.

And I want to travel and do things. I want to join the military and fight, and travel, and leap from airplanes, and I want to do more then long for love or lovers in my life.

But here I am again, being aware that I haven't felt loved in that silly amorous way in a long time, if ever anymore.

Because I haven't ever had the ability to start settling in to make long term plans with people. Because I'm bitter and mad and I hurt in ways I'm not sure I comprehend.
Because I got raised with this story that you'll be awesome and successful and loved.

And while my friends love me, while I make sure that I am available to the people in my life as necessary.

I know what I want feels out of my reach. And it's silly. Here I am, just 21 years on the stupidass planet and I'm mooncalfing over that feeling that everyone never shuts the fuck up about. And I know it's not the most important thing or the end of the world, really, to love or not.

But sometimes, some days, it gets awfully lonely. And while I have fun playing and screwing around with people, I know there's no longterm with my psuedoromantic partners, nor would there be even if they weren't pseudo partners.

And I know there wasn't any long term with Joe, no matter how much I could daydream or hope because he doesn't want to live now, he wants to live back then where he was and he can't.

I just hate this hollowed out feeling, like I can be tugged along by my heartstrings, like I'm just going to sidestep emotions or relationships or whatever else.

Because it's easier, and simpler and I'm busy.
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it.

Whining Loose Ends

I'm having a goddamn sulk right now.

I'm having a goddamn sulk because not getting laid for my birthday is turning into a thing.
I'm having a goddamn sulk because I have nowhere to go out to that I want, and no one I want to go out with.

I'm having a sulk because I'm still hooked on nicotine and am craving hookah and denying myself cravings and I really don't fucking like denying myself things.

I'm pissy because I can already see yet another, emotionally detatched, carefully distant relationship, coming right up, where I'm gonna be good for them, and for me it'll be just another "are we there yet?" and moments of vulnerability.

I'm sulking because I want someone to fuck me until I scream and can't stand, and I feel like I'm guilting people so they might feel obligated.
I'm sulking because I can't sleep.

Because I don't have my own space back right now.

Because I really, really, really want to get laid to satisfaction as opposed to "fucked and?"

Because I'm really fucking sick of feeling selfish for expressing my wants and moreso when it feels like things are about anyone but me.

Because I have all this stuff I want to do to prep for the semester but oh wait, I had barely any time, and certainly not enough money for that and groceries.

So yes. I'm whining about all the loose ends in my life. And I know, I'll put on my big girl panties and deal with it tomorrow.
But right now it's my goddamn birthday.

So I get to sulk if I want to. So there.
Harumph.

Privacy, Piracy and Pain

So, as may of been noted around here, I'm a bit neurotic and a space case. But then again, this is my quiet space. It's online meditation, it's contemplative and I post infrequently enough here that I'm careful that when I post it's something I actually have to say.

So here it is.
I have a running joke with people that "I'm from the internet!"
This goes on from anything like "Oh have you seen that youtube video/meme/picture" and the answer is probably going to be yes. Yes I have. I spend a large amount of time (to the point of procrastination extremes) on the intertubez as I am so fond of calling them.

I mean, really, to the point of which I'm kicking my ass off the 'net because it can be an anxiety and depression trigger from me.

That said, I don't think the internet itself is bad. It gave me the awareness that options like "bisexual" existed for me, where I thought the rules (at a very early age) were established that you could like boys or girls and liking both wasn't allowed.

It wasn't until a friend of mine very gently asked "Anna, are you straight?" that I actually considered that hey, maybe I'm not quite the arrow that I thought I was, and when searching, you guessed it, on the 'net, i figured it out.

I found the most wonderful GLBTQ community online where I spent many teenage years with people who just listened no matter what you said, you could go to them with literally anything from "Hey I have this drywall problem.." to "Hey, I think I'm losing my virginity tomorrow, what can I do to make it enjoyable for both of us?"

I've found stories upon stories that have inspired me, I've found pictures and attitudes from people that give me some form of hope for humanity, I've found terrible stories that depressed me, I've found pictures and more porn then I hope anyone ever knows that can gross just about anyone up (and given the internet veteran that I am, seriously, ew guys. What the hell)

So the thing about the internet is in this day and age, it creates a lack of privacy depending on how much information gets put up on here. And as it's a useful tool, with my response to people at this point of being anxious they might not like me, or if they do, what if they're not good, especially after the last few explosions, I've found it's a very easy way to "vet" people on the who and what they might be.

Because much as the good they can post is up there-if someone isn't doing moral things, somewhere on the internet, someone is kvetching about them.

So, I'm from the internet. And it has it's uses from pirating music, videos, and stories (which I do not do, because I try to support the artist) to stalking people to the extremes.

I suppose the one thing that bothers me is the lack of consent that can be given to who can look at your things. But, then again, you can choose who you lead to the water, now can't you?

DOMA, Prop 8 and Texas

More important than my own petty angsting.
DOMA was overthrown by the Supreme Court today! *happy dance* and what's more, they refused to hear Prop 8, so that was overthrown!

Mwahahaahahaha!

And Michigan's own equality marriage laws are being reviewed!

Now then. As well as all this wonderful things, a woman named Wendy Davis filibustered a law that would of closed many clinics, disabling primary care givers based on the fact their clinics also performed abortion.

This helluva woman was unable to sit down, piss, take a sip, lean on the goddamn podium in accordance with Texas' laws about filibustering (which all the men opposing her broke, goddamn repeatedly)

She stayed standing. She fought for women's rights, for 13 hours, AND WHEN THEY TRIED TO CHEAT, the crowd set up such a roar that they could not try to vote around it.
I'm worried they'll come back around with a separate session to try to vote the bill in, but at the moment, I'm proud to see things in this country moving forward.

Because not everything sucks. So fuck yeah!
Tonight I will be donning my gayest attire and dancing for sheer joy, because sometimes? Sometimes you gotta love the little victories, and this isn't so little.

I am more than this. I am better than this. I can be better than this. I know the work I need to put in, know how much I want it, and I know how to do it.
I know why, too.

I am more than this hole in my chest which seeks to devour me inside out.
I am more than my fears.

I can be more than this.