moment

So Rob is out of the picture. Apparantly, like most guys, he found it fun to cheat on me cuz I'm not a skank. Yeah sorry. But it's no great loss. He stole $30 of pot from Mike and $50 from me...and basically treats everyone like crap. Whatever. He wasn't intelligent either.

But...now I may have a new guy on the horizon. His name is Tristan and he's in my Women & Politics seminar. Yesterday during class, we ended up sitting together and grabbed coffee afterwards, before his Psych lecture. And then he ended up calling me after that let out and we ended up talking for like two hours...just talking. About everything. And...he kissed me.

It was raining... and I was being a stupid little kid and jumping into puddles. I got totally soaked, but I was loving it. Tristan was walking with me and just grabbed my back and told me that I looked really cute in the rain. And...he kissed me. In the rain.

And then, he called me this morning and we talked about classical Greek philosophy. Seriously...who does that? We're such nerds. And we ended up talking for like an hour...about the most random things--- coffee, windstorms, Crime and Punishment. And...this conversation shall be continued this evening when he comes over. Yay.

I love how I can go from person to person.... I think cuz I refuse to become emotionally attached to people. Meh. Whatever.

way too good at this...

Boo. Boys soccer got their asses handed to them today by Mary Washington. 0-4. Ouch. It was the first game I'd been to this season too and I've got to say...I almost forgot why I don't usually go to those things. Not that I didn't have fun, mind you. It's just that the people who go are not the kind of people I usually hang out with. For the first 15 minutes, I pretty much felt like I was still in high school-- the awkward kid sitting and watching and not really saying much. But at least it got better when my friend showed up to watch her boyfriend.

Speaking of boyfriends... I'm really confused about Rob. I mean, we're together. Everyone knows it... people ask me how he is when he's not with me (which really isn't that often) and when he's with me, he's doing boyfriendy things like holding my hand and rubbing my back and snogging me and opening doors and such. I've spent the past two nights in his room and we're having actual conversations. It's nice. Really, it is. I just don't know what he expects to come out of it. I think...when it comes down to it...I'm going to end up hurting him (as per the Lilith norm). It almost makes me think that I should end it now...before either of us become so emotionally invested in it. But I don't want to end it.... I really dont.

He makes my heart go flutter.

Sparkles

Oh my goodness. I've been in the most amazing mood over the past few days. Rob and I have been fantastic. He and I are just so great together. Laying next to each other, in bed, just cuddling and listening to music...I just feel so safe. So perfect. So amazing.

I almost don't know how to deal with him. I mean, God forbid some guy actually treat me right.

Tonight I saw Merchant of Venice done by a theater company at school. Two hours later...I still need to decompress. I want to go back to Elizabethan England and live amoungst Shakespeare.

...if only.

talent

Why I am disgustingly proud of myself right now:
---Last night was composed of 3 shots of whiskey, 3 shots of rum and about 8 or 9 shots of vodka. Not only did I not throw up, but I am not hungover. Heck yes!
---My much older crush from grades 9 to 12 Facebooked me yesterday and I didn't revert into crazy "oh my gosh I want you so bad and I miss you and you are my everything" Lilith. Just a simple "hey you! you're alive! what's been going on?". Perfectly respectable.
---I went to Bible Study last night. Even though I haven't exactly read the thing, it was amusing. And quite interesting actually.
---I managed not to get really mad at Rob when he left yesterday for the weekend. I mean, ok...it's his last weekend with his parents not being at home so he obviously wants to go have fun. And he did invite me down, but I already said I was going home with another friend for the weekend. So I really shouldn't be making a big deal over this. I trust him, he trusts me. It just sucks not seeing him. Majourly.
---While hanging out with two of my favourite people yesterday, I found the two shot glasses I was missing! Not a big deal, but these are my really classy doubleshot ones that are perfect for lemondrops and doing body shots. Mmhmm yum.

So basically I rock. =D

runaway symphony

I'm now officially not going to be a member of the knocked-up college students club. Let's just rejoice in this for a moment. Cuz honestly, how bad would it be if I reproduced. Yeah. I don't even want to think about that. All that matters is that I'm not preggers!!! Woot!!!

...alright. Moment over.

The Renn poetry class wasn't working out for me so I'm in the process of dropping it. When it comes down to it, I don't need the credits and I was basically taking it to kill time and to say that I took a class with Sandona. Whatever. I have nothing to prove. I really need to focus on my Latin and other classes... And I want to be able to enjoy myself and not be stressed 24/7 like I was last semester. I mean, I'm still gonna stress myself out regardless but at least it will be self-contrived. For once.

I had a Creative Writing workshop last night... maybe I shouldn't have tried to quit smoking right before that class. Apparently they liked my offering but I don't know if they we're just being nice or what....because usually, even if the piece is exceptionally well-written, we tear it apart. But no, not with mine. This one girl, AJC, made a comment that it sounded...when she was reading it on her own...like it was written in my own voice-- not the "Lilith reading aloud in front of 15 people she doesn't know that well" voice. I don't quite know how to take that....or anything presented to me in workshop. I mean, this one is so different from the master class over the summer. Here, we've eliminated the strive for publication and are just focusing on the craft. It's just a totally different dynamic I guess. I know I need to work on my word choice-- I have an inclination to use the "five dollar words" way too much and it kind of muddles what I'm really trying to say. I know I need to work on showing not telling. I know I need to have more focus in my pieces....and basically just tighten everything overall.

I told Mike (Maryland Mike) that I want to have a talk with him. I really don't want there to be any animosity between us. It's not right. I know I messed that one up irreparably but he's a really decent person to hang out with and I think I'd like to salvage something for it...if that's at all possible. I don't know. Maybe because of Rosh Hashana I'm in a repenting mood...I don't know. But it's time for a change.

.meh.

So I'm home for Rosh Hashana right now. Suprisingly enough, I haven't tried to or thought about cutting yet. And it's been more than 24 hours! I think, no lie, this is a new record.

Except I feel really fat and bloated and I have to see my extended family tomorow evening...which always just adds a whole new big ball of stressors into the mix. I think I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I am most likley never going to have the goddesses back. I am not ok with that, but frankly, it is what it is. Except, with that, I know I am going to have to deal with eternal repulsion of my body. Even now, looking in the mirror on my wall, the only thing I like is my eyes. I used to like my collorbones and neck, but now that I can't see the veins and the musculature isnt as perfect as it used to be...nothing but my eyes.

I am just a big ball of disgustingness. I honistly wouldnt be suprised right now if Rob is sleeping with someone else....because I am just that gross.

malcontent on the deathbead

To all who I have lost over the past six months:

I do not hate you. I could never hate you. I resent you, yes...but never hate. I resent you for leaving me here alone. I resent you for recognizing the way out and following it. I resent you for leaving me here to pick up the pieces. And as much as you want me to come join you, I cannot. I am not done here. I still have too much to do.

Forever yours-
Lilith

time to be real

Do you want to hear something funny? Well, here goes. I fully recognize my situation...the situation that I have created for myself...but I still continue to do what I do.

In the two weeks that I've been back at school, I have only been sober one night. I haven't had a fun night of drinking since I've been here, but that's yet to stop me. I keep telling myself, if I only get plastered one more night, then maybe I'll have fun. The law of averages, you know? In my mind, at least one of these nights has to end up in fun, not me rushing off to the stairwell to cut myself or passing out on my bed.

Yesterday I dropped acid for the first time too. It was beautiful. You know how Kurt Vonnegut says (or said now, seeing as he's quite dead but probably not rotted beyond recognition...yet) "everything was beautiful and nothing hurt"? That is exactly how I felt. I was happy and giggily and funny...and for the four or five hour peak, I almost liked who I am. Almost. And coming down wasn't that bad either. I felt reallyreallyreally smart. And extremely sensory. I don't know if that's the right word...sensory...but every single sense was epically magnified. And, probably the most pathetic thing of all, is that the acid made me feel skinny.

I also determined...either yesterday or the day before...that I don't really like Rob. I'm only really with him till I can find someone better. It's mean, I know, but it's true. I have no emotional attachment to him. Which is, when I think about it, really weird because it doesn't take much for me to become emotionally attached. I basically become attached to anyone who shows me attention.

I know that I want to marry Michael. Florida Michael. Army Michael. The Michael who has never doubted me nor used me nor judged me. I think Michael and I would be good together. He's stable, I mean... sure, he's a bit reckless. But not like me reckless...good reckless. I think you have to be a little bit to serve in the Army then work as a firefighter. He calls me beautiful...and I am such a sucker for that. I really love Michael, on a multifaceted level. His intelligence, his body, his eyes. The way we can talk for hours about absolutely nothing. How he'll text message me randomly during the day with the most cutesy things. The way he wont give up on me.

I know I push people away. I should probably stop that. I should probably stop being such a bitch too. I mean...ok...here's the deal...I want to change.

I'm just too scared.

fuckedy fuck fuck

Why my day was shit...

- I think I'm getting mono again. I'm extremly lethargic, I have migranes like no other and it hurts to move. Like actually hurts. Not to mention that i CANT BREATHE!!!!!!!1

- Wasteland was supposed to put up my piece....but they didnt. Jerks.

-Drunkemailed my prof from last semester. Whoops.

-Left my Renn poetry class today to throw up.

-Have to go home next friday for rosh hashana.








I hate my life.

non debeo errare

Let me start with how much I love my Latin class. Seriously, I do. There's this guy in it, Bern, who is by far the most arrogant POS I have ever met in my entire life, but on him, it is completely endearing. Anyways, last night I decided I was going to quit smoking cold turkey. Sounds like a good idea in theory, right? Wrong. I flushed the remainder of my pack immediately after and was cigaretteless so I went to bed. I wake up this morning with the worst craving ever but decided to tough it out. I do fairly well, until I sit down in Latin and my professor walks by REEKING of tobacco smoke. On came the biggest nic-fit ever.... I'm talking the whole nine yards...headache, restlessness...
I don't know how I made it through that class, but the second it was over, I ran outside and started looking frantically for a cigarette... and Bern came up behind me with one. Sigh. I love cigarettes.

Mei amoris Latinus.

weapon of change

I'm working on this piece right now for my creative writing workshop. I don't know what happened, but I just woke up this morning feeling ready to write... more so than I have felt in quite some time. I think maybe it was just the drama of this week that added water to my creative well. Anyways, the assignment is to create a piece focusing on an incident that the character avoids remembering or cannot clearly remember, working on making the scene as immediate as possible, not a memory or a flashback, but a depiction of actual moments shared by the characters. I don't know how to end it... but as of now, I think I have something semi-decent. Some parts are a bit loquacious, but I'm not too concerned. I think that should iron itself out as I workshop it.

Whatever. Here it is:

"Pathetic, no?"

She walks outside for a cigarette. It is just after four in the morning but time is irrelevant, as she has now been awake for the past three days. She is exhausted, though more emotionally than physically. And she hurts all over.

The cigarette reaches her lips, disturbing the delicate dichotomy in her mouth. It is composed purely of vomit’s bitter taste caused by entirely too much alcohol on an empty stomach and 2Cute Cherry lip gloss—incessantly applied to her cracked lips in a vain attempt to appear more attractive. The contrast between the juvenility of the lip gloss’ sweet, flirtatious shimmer and the nonsensical view of her, just minutes prior, being anything but innocent is rather striking. But it pales next to the disconcerting fact that she actually still cares enough to make an effort.

With a quick snap of her lighter, the tip of the cigarette begins to glow. She inhales the deadly salvation and at once feels somewhat content.

“What the fuck did I do?”

She tries to recount the past seventy-two hours, but it is all an incoherent mess (much like her life). She is so dissociated that even if she was cognizant of her actions, she finds herself unable to remember them as such. Her wrecked form folds onto the steps, blending in with the cold grey granite. Her skin is paled almost beyond recognition and shaking from the cold. It really is no great surprise that even on this sub-zero midwinter evening (or is it morning now?) the steps feel uncomfortably warm. She is tragically unique—the epitome of late teenage imperfection, which is inherently ordinary.

From her designer jeans, perfectly destroyed in sweatshops by workers paid next to nothing, she takes out her cigarettes and lights another.

It was never good. It was never fine. She was never happy, but neither was he. Two broken. Too broken. Two broken spines on a winding road, out past Hell. Her cigarette ashes fall to her arm, leaving a white cone of broken flakes on the unclothed and faintly scarred skin. The ash is still smothering, but she is so numb that whatever discomfort it is causing, it is completely inconsequential. She feels no pain.

She decides to be over what happened. Things happen. Mistakes are made. We are all young and reckless…and too goddamned stupid to recognize the difference. Whatever happened, it does not matter. But no, it really does matter because for her to now say that it didn’t would imply that something did matter to begin with. And no, she wouldn’t admit that now. Because everything matters.

“How did things get so bad?”

Saturday night, everything seemed fine. She thought he was somewhat impertinent—and coming from an intelligentsia fiend is a pretty decent compliment and just made him all that more attractive in her eyes. And his EYES…just his eyes…until they’ve gone and done dimmed out….

The way he played the guy she wanted him to be. He didn’t try to jump into bed with her right away. She thought he actually cared. No, cared is once again the wrong word because he did not. It was all a farce. She knows not why, but that is once again insignificant. All that matters is that she let it happen again. She fell for him and then screwed it up, as per her norm.

“What is so wrong with me? Why am I so broken?”

A third cigarette is lit, the smoke tendrils spiraling delicately towards her eyes. Vacant, they were, almost dead, her eyes still maintained the inherent ability to produce tears. And that they did, the sharp droplets dance down and caress her prominent cheekbones and are instantly dried by the constant smoke spewing from her lungs. She thinks about the scores of spiteful words thrust upon her.

“Yeah. It really is all my fault. Damn.”

She remembers a table and two refrigerators filled with Natty Ice, cheap rum and Mike’s Hard…the libations of choice for those on a budget and trying to get inebriated beyond recognition. She remembers begging for another shot to be poured in her glass and barely tasting the alcohol. The empty cans crushed and lined up next to the overflowing trash bins. Screaming along to the likes of Sugarcult’s “Pretty Girl” and having a major musical meltdown when the lyrics started speaking to her…”And that’s what you get for falling again. You can never get him out of your head. It’s the way that he makes you feel. It’s the way that he kisses you. It’s the way that he makes you fall in love.”

She remembers going out for a cigarette with someone other than the guy she was seeing and coming back an hour later, sans bra and looking extremely disheveled. She remembers meeting yet another guy in the hallway on her way back from emptying her stomach contents onto the floor of the common restroom. And how the sweat pooled off his sinuous frame, almost steaming as it snaked down towards the filthy beer stained carpet.

“Oh my God. Please tell me I didn’t…”

She remembers how she stared at the ceiling, consciously attempting to advert every fiber of her being away from the moment. She remembers waiting for it just to be over and regretting everything the second it happened. She hates the way she constantly does it…the girl thing…and instantly jumps into bed with anyone who will have her. As she pulls out another cigarette, she realizes the one truth in her pathetic life…

"I am the one your mother warned you about..."