I don’t wanna give a fuck

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Eh, I’m tired of being used as a bridge to my best friend. Of people befriending me to get to my best friend. So let 2016 be the year I focus on my actual friends and not gaining these so-called friends.

Let 2016 be the year where I just don’t give a fuck. Please. Pretty please. I thought it was 2015 but obviously it wasn’t. Let it be this coming year.

I’m tired of pretending to be the nicest person ever. Of entertaining people, wishing and hoping they want MY company, and belatedly realizing I’m just a step toward a goal.

Let 2016 be the year where I just don’t care about the impertinent.

/rant

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Accompanying Tweets to The Lover’s Dictionary by David Levithan: L

label, n.:  I know you think of me as The Quiet One or The Weaker One or The Overthinking One, but all I want is to be The One.

labor, n.:  I know you think the sentences come easily, but they don’t.  It takes strength to lift words and put them in the right place.

labyrinth, n.: We’ll never get out of it, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our time inside. A maze as big as the world is enough space.

lackadaisical, adj.:  You’re so charming as you put things off, but I can’t help but be put off by it nonetheless.

lackey, n.:  I will ask you to fetch something not because I’m lazy, but because I want to correct the laziness imbalance in our household.

lackluster, adj.:  All shines fade over time, but I don’t mind seeing the real surface beneath. There is a less illusory beauty there.

laconic, adj.:  Decaffeinated.

lacuna, n.:

ladder, n.:  I don’t need you at the top – I need you holding it steady.


lag, v.:  I spend so much time catching up with my own life that I need your help in catching up with yours.

lair, n.: First time I saw the mysterious, narrow door. “That’s where I keep my old wives,” you said. “They look a lot like coats.”

lakeside, adj.: Being next to a body of water allows us to feel that we are bodies of water, allowed to expand into the moment, undammed.

lambast, v.: We say we’re only allowed to mean about mean people, but sometimes we forget, and need to stop.

lambent, adj.: The light of a single lamp, gathering around you as you make your way to bed, to me in the shadows.

lamebrained, adj.: If I have to ask “Do you love me?” I am never going to trust the answer I want to hear.

lament, v.: The sound that rises from the earth after a burial.

lamination, n.: Any attempt to preserve this feeling will leave it at a remove, unable to be seen as it once was to us.

lampoon, v.: Every time you make fun of old people, I picture you older. Every time you make fun of fat people, I picture you fatter.

land, v.: Even in the fog of our fear, I will make it home to you.

landline, n.: We are so old-fashioned, wanting to lay our wires in the ground instead of always trusting the air.

landlord, n.:  The man who times his dog-walking for whenever you happen to be stumbling home in an embarrassing manner.

landmark, n.:  When you’re lost, I will build as many lighthouses as it takes to lead you home.

landslide, n.: I hear the song in this word. And as time makes us older, is it possible to hear the song without thinking of you?

language, n.:  Love’s willing accomplice; we start with our names, and build from there.

languid, adj.:  When language turns liquid, and our vowels grow as long as our pauses.

languor, n.:  After the impassioned crux, after the crescendo, we lay there, and I swear, we have reduced ourselves to heartbeats.

lanky, adj.:  To buy skinny jeans without any self-consciousness.

lantern, n.:  I keep reminding myself to live with the flicker, because it’s an inevitable part of the light.

lanyard, n.:  Even in childhood, we mark the territory of our friendships.  If I could convince you to wear one now, I would.

lap, v.:  Yes, it means you’re ahead of me, but you’re still stuck on the same track.

lapidary, adj.:  I could feel you becoming engraved on my life, and as the years go by, the engravement grows deeper.

lapse, n.:  I looked away, and didn’t see you looking away.

laptop, n.:   The portable vessel of all my obligations.

larceny, n.:  We think that which is given cannot be stolen, but when your heart pulls away from mine, all I’ve given feels taken anyway.

large, adj.: Forget to the moon and back; I love you as much as everything in the sky that isn’t the moon.

largesse, n.:  Did you refrain from using that last bit of toilet paper so I would have some, or so I’d have to change the roll?

lark, n.:  We are the uncaged birds, singing for the song of it.

laryngitis, n.:  We learn firsthand that love does, in fact, need words to work smoothly. Or maybe our eye contact hasn’t gotten there yet.

lascivious, adj.: I love it when you find that spot, especially since that spot lives to jump around.

last, v./adj.:  I have to believe that what we have is not the end, but will make it to the end.

latch, v.: Loce is the clasp at the back on your neck that you cannot fasten yourself.

late, adj.:  I find myself wishing I’d met you earlier, before so many things about me solidified.

latecomer, n.:  I stand across the street, take an extra ten seconds to feel what it’s like to be the unseen, awaited one.

lately, adv.:  The imprecise, nagging sense that now is different from then, even though the border between the two can’t be pinpointed.

latent, adj.:  I didn’t know I would be able to be there for you, until there I was, for you. Love is not born as much as it is awakened.

later, adv.:  We will be stronger, we will recover, we will think clearer, we will understand more and worry about less.

lateral, adj.:  As we walk, I always turn to check that you’re beside me. You tell me to trust that you’ll keep step, that you are there.

lather, n.:  Accessorizing the rub-a-dub.

laughter, n.: I feel like I’ve done something right, to cause this momentary alleviation, this bright spot we share.

launch, v.:  We were never given a countdown, just ignition. But we didn’t burn all fuel in the ascent, so we can still lift to new heights.

laundry, n.:  Our clothes wrestle in the hamper over which will be liberated first.

laurel, n.: As you unpacked your stuff, I asked if the fifth-grade math prize was necessary; you said it gave you something to live up to.

lavish, v.:  I would leave a single pearl on your bedside table each and every morning, to keep in your pocket each and every day.

lawless, adj.: Stop stealing sugar packets from Starbucks. We now have enough to sandbag the entire kitchen drawer.

lawn, n.:  “I’d never take pride in it; it would only be a chore,” you tell me, and we agree we’ll never live outside the city.

layer, v.: I am not like this by desire, but by design. When we hit what lies underneath, I am often as surprised as you.

laze, v.:  The buttery posture of a springtime Saturday, uncommunicative bliss.

lazy, adj.:  “If you stay there any longer,” you say to me, “I’m going to have to start calling you a cushion.”

lead, v.: When I’m so lost in darkness that I can’t see my own hands or even remember what hands are for, I need you to pick up the lantern.

leaden, adj.:  Why would you want to carry me when my thoughts weigh so much?

leaf, n.:  I find hope as much in their intricacy as in their arrival.  Messengers of our renewal, the springtime of our complexity.

leak, v.: I could tell you I want the explosive burst, but in truth I would stay in the slow deflation for much longer than I should.

lean, v.:  My center of gravity shifts; you are essential, momentarily, for my equilibrium.

leap, n.:  Sometimes, loving you, I have to focus on the ground ahead, and ignore the ground that’s not beneath my feet.

learnable, adj.:  You think, ‘I’ve never felt this way before.’ But you get used to it, and it becomes something else.

lease, v.:  It doesn’t need to be yearly, but every now and then, you and I need to renew.

leash, n.:  At the end of the workday, I want home to be the dog run.

leave, v.:  From here on in, all of my vanishings are temporary, all of my destinations will fall short of never and gone.

lecture, v.:  You are not an authority on any of your favorite topics, including yourself, but you proceed to talk as if you were.

ledger, n.: At first you count the dates, until you stop counting. Later, you stop and count the days, and are amazed at how many there are.

leeway, n.: You can’t only make room for me in your life. You also have to make room for my mistakes.

leftover, adj.: The ghost of you remains in our apartment; I like to think of it as an extra part of your love, meant to keep me company.

legacy, n.: Even if the kindness ultimately dissolves rather than spreads, I will be glad we lived within it.

legal, adj.:  It will not mean that you belong to me or that I belong to you, only that we belong together.

legendary, adj.:  The way you sing along to Whitney, it’s like you’ve forgotten you’re you, and it’s her own desire breaking through.

legible, adj.:  To know your hand as I know your voice; to recognize what you leave behind as well as what you say.

legitimize, v.:  I rely upon every “I love you” to let me know my feet are not off the ground.

legroom, n.:  We are both willing to take the middle seat even if neither of us particularly wants it.

legwork, n.:  It takes miles of conversation for the wandering to feel like it has a direction, for us to realize we are companions.

leisure, n.:  Let’s wrap some books, some cheese, and some wine in a beach towel, and escape our lives for a few hours or days.

leitmotif, n.: The frustration of the unknowable. The prevalence of words not said, feelings not expressed. The confusion of our navigation.

lemonade, n.:  In this scenario, I think it’s safe to say that we’re the lemons.

lend, v.:  After a few months, we made it to the stage where I had to tell you which things I actually needed back.

lengthen, v.: How much time do I spend wanting more time? The only way to get more time is to get free of these thoughts.

lenient, adj.:  Treating a trespass as a stumble off course, not a new path.

lens, n.: I look for excuses to capture you, to take a moment from you that I can keep for much longer than memory would last.

leonine, adj.:  To be known more for attack than repose.

leper, n.:  When I feel harmful because of who I am, you will not let me isolate myself.

less, det.:  It’s okay to cut back on the sugar, but not to the point that all sweetness disappears.

lesser, adj.:  The only way to solve the perpetual competition is to understand there will be a near balance of categories we each win.

lesson, n.:  All Mona manages to teach us is how bad we are at knitting. You say as long as mittens are $5 at H&M, we’ll be fine.

let, v.:  To rent out your permission, hopefully at no cost.

letdown, n.:  That moment you realize that love hasn’t cured anything – it’s only eased some of the side effects.

lethargic, adj.:  Yes, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but it requires so much effort to get to it.

letter, n.:  I would love to read your life story in installments, as it happens. I’d even wait a few days for it to be delivered.

level, v./n.: In our relationship, there’s no way to smooth the terrain; instead we need to build our own layers upon it.

levelheaded, adj.: We fall into the pattern of swing and ballast; you see me about to launch and try to push into the reservoir of calm.

leverage, n.:  You hold so much more power for keeping my secrets. The minute you threaten to use them, you’ll disintegrate. 

leviathan, n.: I tell you I had a whale-shaped birthday cake when I was nine and you spend hours trying to replicate it, decades later.

levitate, v.: The best that love can offer is that feeling of floating, but your feet don’t have to leave the ground.

levity, n.: I love you with the intensity of seriousness when you bring the opposite of seriousness into my closed room.

lewd, adj.: The tongue is the epicenter of all lewdness, in word, gesture, or action. You use yours well.

lexicography, n.: We work so hard to find our definitions.

lexicon, n.: “It’s an actual con,” you say. “You dress as your favorite word, and hit up collectors for words that’ve fallen out of use.”

leyline, n.: Wherever we are, no matter how we swerve, there is always a straight line between us. 

liability, n.: It is not your ability to lie, more your compulsive desire to do so, that has the potention to doom us.

liaison, n.: There are times I want you to love me as if you don’t already know who I am.

liar, n.: After all this time, you cannot look at me and say you feel nothing.

libation, n.: A substance designed to free the tongue and vacate the mind.

libelous, adj.: After all this time, you cannot look at me and say I feel nothing.

liberal, adj.: “The way I see it,” you said on date two, “sometimes you have to vote for something better than your best interests.”

liberty, n.: I do not need to set you free. You have always been free. There is no room in our love for cages of any kind.

library, n.: We improvise our memoirs as we walk the aisles, pulling out books we’ve read and telling the stories that go beside them. 

license, n.: The one I grant you is largely poetic, capable of accepting the improbable in the course of the hoped for.

licentious, adj.: You say you’re a trainwreck, but I think you know exactly where the rails are laid.

lick, v.: Indeed, somehow it seems that this is what common sense does to us – we’re very aware of it for a moment, then it evaporates.

lie, v.: The little ones don’t bother me so much, except for my fear that bigger ones lurk behind them, laughing at my ignorance.

lifeboat, n.: In those moments or days when all I need to do is survive to the next, we jettison the rest and focus on staying above water.

lifelike, adj.: Days when we go through the motions so much that the motions feel fake; we’re bad actors who aren’t supposed to be acting.

lifetime, n.: The longest amount of time any love can possibly promise.

liftoff, n.: Hold my hand for sudden accelerations, if you see I’m about to take flight.

ligature, n.: This cord was woven from our happiest days, and must be used to stitch us better when we do unseamly things to one another.

light, n.: I am grateful to you for staying awake a little longer so I can read a little longer. 

lightbulb, n.: One to screw it in, and one to wonder why it’s the lightbulb that gets to be screwed.

lighten, v.: It’s not just the burdens. It’s all the other things you help me lift, so they won’t teeter over and become burdens.

lightheaded, adj.: When I am too tired to know my own name, you give it back to me gently.

lighthearted, adj.:  When we laugh at the same time, at the same thing, and I don’t need anything more from the moment than that.

lightning, n.: There is no sense in chasing after the things that only last for a few seconds. Better, you say, to enjoy the full storm.

lightsome, adj.: I watch you dance through the crowd in a crowded bar, conversational choreography, while I sit and oak.

ligneous, adj.:  Whenever you seem too sturdy, I start to suspect your heart is made of wood.

likable, adj.:  It’s much better to be liked.

liker, n.: The reason we say lover: While you must like the one you make a life with, you can’t make a life with someone you merely like.

likelihood, n.:  No love has ever started as a probability; it can only become one over time.

likeminded, adj.:  It doesn’t matter if we both like peanut butter or Fallon, only that we both want to do good in this world.

lilt, v.:  We rise and we fall, but it’s all a part of the music, all a part of the words being said.

limber, adj.: The ability to get out of bed without waking the other person up.

limbo, n.: When I have no idea what you want, and you give no indication of considering what I want.

lime-green, adj.: The preferred color of couches, we agree.

limen, n.: I know that my preoccupations can be a full-time job, leaving me little time to notice the things that go effortlessly well.

limit, n.: Love is the knowledge that there is an end to everything, coupled with the choice to disregard it.

limpid, adj.: When the storm clouds clear from my head, I want to open my eyes and see what you look like.

linchpin, n.: I need you to be one of the certainties that holds me together.

line, n.: Our connection will never be the shortest distance between points. It twists and digresses, but as long as it connects we’re okay.

lineage, n.: The weight of responsibilities you didn’t in any way create.

linger, v.: After we’ve outlasted the last guests, we contentedly compare our notes and bring the orphaned glasses home to the kitchen.

lingo, n.: The idiosyncratic vocabulary your lover has picked up over years, which you find to be the bee’s knees, or the cat’s pajamas.

link, n.: Click on too many and you end up part of the chain.

lionize, v.: In any relationship, excessive admiration can be a beast that bites.

lip, n.: I trace yours with my fingertips, as if I can feel the topography of all the words kept inside.

lipogrammatic, adj.: I’m an alphabet with you, but I’ll use some letters much more often, to the point you may forget I have a q or a z.

lissome, adj.: The lies to watch out for are the slender ones, that seem so attractive until they start to eat away.

list, v.: Trying to account for all of my failings will only set you on the wrong course, leaning too heavily on your fears.

listen, v.: To appreciate the sanctity of that which is spoken, and to undertake the translation of words to thought.

listless, adj.: The inner and outer emptiness connect; your world is asleep and your mind is not.

literally, adj.: Literally, the most redundant word you use on a daily basis, which figuratively drives me out of my mind.

literary, adj.: I prefer to be bookish, because that feels like a less exclusive club.

literate, adj.: It takes a child four or five years to get the hang of words, and it will take me just as long to learn how to read you.

lithosphere, n.: Your anger solidifies you into crags and caves, and I, who am always looking for softness, turn away.

litigious, adj.: I want such a thing as a lovesuit, where a court can redress the questions not answered, the clothes left on the floor.

litter, n.: You spell yourself out over the apartment in unread mail and pocket change, coffee cups and discarded receipts.

little, adj.: When you talk down to me, I shrink.

littoral, adj.: We gaze at the water, unsure but satisfied. It is pointless to try to count the waves. Quietly, we widen.

livable, adj.: When pain dulls to hurt; when ecstasy calms to appreciation; when we can see everything that exists outside disappointment.

live, v.: To want to be here, even when you don’t want to be here.

livelihood, n.: The trick is to find that job that actually brings you liveliness. 

loan, v.: What’s mine will be yours, and what was once borrowed will now be kept in common.

loathe, v.: When a thing offends not just your view of the situation but your view of the universe.

lobby, n.:  I see you, sentry of my sentiments, unguarded as the guard tells you I’ll be right down, not knowing I’m already there.

local, adj.: We each worked hard to have the barista remember our daily order; you won, because you aren’t afraid to introduce yourself.

locate, v.:  I call and text and keep sending out my sonar to no great effect, because clearly I am out of my depth.

lock, n./v.:  It’s never as simple as a key with me. You have to know the combination.

locomotion, n.: Cruel as it may seem, I love the way you hug-hop-hover to keep warm as I look for my keys.

lodestar, n.: I often need to measure my own coordinates against something so distant from me that it’s only meaning can be what I give it.

lodging, n.: Your complaint is the unwanted houseguest of our evening; every time I start to relax, I hear it break a lamp in the next room.

lofty, adj.: I don’t need a private jet or even to take cabs; I’d just like, for fun, to rent out a ballroom and invite all our friends.

logarithm, n.: I would love there to be a predictability to our ups and downs, but there is no convenience in our math.

logic, n.: I find no consolation in the way things are supposed to go.

logistics, n.: Understand it this way — on a basic level, I just want to get there on time. That’s all.

logorrhea, n.: Love is hardly an articulate beast; in the heat of the moment, it tends to sweat torrents of words.

loiter, v.: I grant you easy trespass; never grow self-conscious when you linger for me.

loll, v.: The only reason we’re still awake is we’ve forgotten how to go to sleep.

lollygag, v.: It’s not as much a waste of time when I’m wasting it with you.

loneliness, n.: Not the feeling of being in an empty room, but the feeling of being locked in an empty room.

loner, n.: I worry that I will never find anyone else’s company as compelling as my own.

longevity, n.: “The secret,” my grandfather told me, “is to never fight.” Which I took as a form of useful denial.

longing, n.:  To be sure that the thing that will make you better is the thing you don’t yet have.

look, v./n.:  Moments when I don’t have to say “I’m over here,” because I can tell you already know, without having to turn.

loop, n.:  I don’t mind having the same conversation over and over again if I feel we’re getting a little tighter each time.

loophole, n.:  I felt I could do better and maybe wouldn’t find better, then you snuck in before I closed the contemplation.

loopy, adj.:  What do you mean, not every pair can amuse themselves for hours on end by speaking in exaggerated thespian accents?

loose, adj.:  In bed we don’t need to cling or cluster, but instead unfold, appreciating the overlap, but also the space.

lopsided, adj.:  It’s only when we kiss that I remember who’s taller, or who wants the kiss more.

lord, v.: Neither of us wears divinity well, so it’s better we knock ourselves off our self-made alters before opening our mouths to speak.

lore, n.: The further the family stories get from our generation, the more they feel like personal mythologies, with time as the only god.

lose, v.: My hair. My vanity. My favorite sweater. My apartment. My books. Every day, there are more things I’d rather lose than lose you.

loser, n.:  Every time I speak the truth without knowing how to articulate it, I feel I haven’t lived up to the moment I wanted to create.

lost, adj.: Some days I wake up to wilderness; I need you to sing me to the edge of the forest, since I cannot trust my eyes.

lot, n.: I am jealous of your ability to look at the emptiness and imagine it as a place to build a home.

lottery, n.: I never wanted to be someone who felt the more tickets I bought, the more likely I’d be to win, especially with love.

loud, adj.: We rarely scream, but when we do, it’s fear that fuels the volume, whiplash twist of love.

lounge, v.:  Changing the tempo and find the music that lies outside the dancing. Kick up your heels and laze next to me.

lousy, adj.: I wish I could fix all the things I break.

lovable, adj.: I don’t know if you can be loved if you don’t first allow yourself to be loved, which can be a hard step for some of us.

lovely, adj.: Take the deepest shine of your affections and turn it into an adjective. Then note when it reflects back at you.

lovesick, adj.: Feverish ache; chilblain despond; the cough that won’t release itself; irregular heartbeat; hardness of breath.

low, adj.: I will crawl.

loyalty, n.:  I remain as devoted to your mistakes as I am to your victories, because I know you and I know what you mean to do.

lucent, adj.:  My love for you is both a particle and a motion, more powerful in its effect than in its being.

lucidity, n..: The intense wakefulness that comes from stripping away the clutter and calmly considering the core.

lucky, adj.: Be grateful for all the things that have nothing to do with you when they end up having everything to do with you.

ludology, n.:  Every lover has an idiosyncratic set of moves. The moves dictate the game so much more than the rules do.

lug, v.: All your books up all the stairs; if this isn’t a loving act, I don’t know what is.

lugubrious, adj.: I can hear the Eeyore infusing my tones, and no matter how much you Tigger, I can’t quite find my dancing feet.

lukewarm, adj.: I fear the tepid more than the scald, because I know I am so much less likely to jump away from a bland form of drowning.

lull, v.:  You stroke my hair, give my breathing a new pace, and I can feel the wild horses in my head begin to calm.

lullaby, n.:  We sing the gentlest moments of our childhood to each other, with no intention of ever putting them to rest.

luminary, n.:  You saw a rich and famous guy at a party and wanted to go up and ask point blank, “What’s it like to be so rich and famous?”

luminescence, adj.: when the shimmer on the water isn’t a trick of the light but is something living, intrinsic.

lunacy, n.: We keep throwing rocks in the water and thinking we can make a tide.

lunch, n.: In the war between leaving the apartment on a Sunday and falling into the arms of PB & J, the sandwich always wins.

lunge, v.:  Love circles many times before it finds the drain; still, you should grab it as soon as you see it sliding.

lurch, v.: There is nothing graceful about my reaction to your pull on me; it is a tumble, it is a leap, it is genuine.

lure, n.: One of the things that attracted me most was the open, well-worn affection with which you talked about your best friends.

lurk, v.: The resentment stays two steps behind you, but when you turn to face it, it ducks away.

lush, n.: When alcohol is the couch you can’t get off of.

lust, n.: The perpetual wanting of you slips from the mind to the rest of the body, and the yearning falls out of my control.

luxuriate, v.:  To allow your time to be less than filled in order to feel the fullness of a pause.

lyric, n.: Because I want my music to say something, and maybe teach me how to say things better.

‘Cause there’s still too long to the weekend

At least it’s Thursday now.

It’s Your Thing

So WALK THE MOON (AKA my favorite band) released their Different Colors EP this December and I’ve been planning on sharing it for the longest time but hello, memory, you fail me. Anyway, here’s my favorite track out of the two ~new~ songs they released (HA!) and it’s more rock-sounding than their other songs. Gah Nick you slaaaaaaayyyyy me.

Anyway, have a listen at IT’S YOUR THING! (It’s a cover of The Isley Brothers’ song. Their Burning Down the House cover was more rock-sounding too. I guess it’s their pattern?)

The Tricky Thing about BFFs

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Do you have a best friend?

Well, I do. But I don’t know if I’m her best friend as well. I could never ask her that. My self-esteem is that low. I’d rather not know. I mean, of course I have an idea. I think I’m not her only best friend. If she actually thinks of me as a best friend. I’d like to think yes to that but I’m in no grand delusion that I’m the only one. *~I know I’m not the only one~* But I could never ask her for a definitive answer. I mean, what are we, in grade school? Do we need to have best friend necklaces as proof?

We’ve been friends for more than nine years, since sophomore year of high school where we were roomies. You could say I went to boarding school since we had dorms inside the campus grounds. My best friend and I immediately clicked and she was the one who pushed me to audition and join our high school’s theatre group, which was one of the highlights of that time period for me. I didn’t think of her as my best friend back then. Every year, I had a different ~best friend~ AKA the classmate I spend all day with.

In our school, students were grouped into sections randomly every school year. We never became classmates but being a dormer and a theater kid, we were together A LOT. We sleep on each other’s beds, we stay up until the wee hours of the morning just talking, we did and decided about things together. But aside from being a dormer and a theater kid, we had our own circles too. Given, most of our circles converge, but I have my astronomy society friends, and she has her Christian group (which I also joined later).

Summer before senior year, we had a 21-day biology summer camp. Which is still one of the best things about high school for me. Twenty teens and a few super cool teachers in the wild. We did birdwatching, trekked Mt. Pinatubo and froze our asses off, swam and swam and swam in oceans to snorkel and see clams, fishes, and all sorts of marine life. We also spent five days in a forest and BFF and I even dumped together, around the same tree. We got so tight, as we did with everyone in camp.

Senior year was the same. We had different interests (’twas the time of my Korean and Japanese addiction) but it was always us. Still, I don’t think I ever thought of her as my best friend.

Fast-forward to college. We kind of drifted apart and moved in different circles, even though we were in the same course. There was a point I was so immature and got angry at her for not spending time with me. Haha! I don’t share well. I still didn’t realize that she was my best friend.

During our junior year, she ran for the student council and I didn’t do much to help her. Here she got lots of new friends.

I’d like to think I repaid my due debt to her by helping her out during senior year when she was the head of the election committee of her political party. I turned into a housekeeper and I did all sorts of errands. I was losing sleep and failing school but I was happy with what I’m doing so I didn’t really mind.

We got so close again, maybe our tightest ever. We were also renting the same room, along with our other high school dormer friends. We were now almost always together. She dragged me to places and I met people I otherwise would have never met because I’m an introvert, even if it doesn’t look like it.

We sat together during graduation and her dress got ripped so I spent the whole ceremony covering her ass every time we were supposed to stand. Still one of our funniest moments together.

After graduation, here we are, working the same job. Teammates. We even lived together. It’s like high school/college again. Only now did I realize that my best friend is my best friend. And she is also the best out of all my friends. She pushes me to try out new things and move out of my comfort zone. I seriously think she has shaped me so much without her even knowing. I’m like her shadow. We still don’t have the same interests (aside from One Direction and the few shows we both watch) but I feel like that’s even better. Interests fade but since our friendship was never grounded in an interest, we’re stronger.

Now I worry about proximity. What will happen when we go abroad and get our PhD degrees? I don’t know how I’d deal if we’d just drift apart somewhere down the line. So much of our histories and memories are entwined, it’d break me.

But I guess my real fear is what if I’m just one of her best friends because I’m the one near? And here? I’ve seen her drift away from a lot of her friends so WHAT IF? Sure, even if our interests are different, most of our life views are the same. I want to think we’re best friends not just because of geography and timing. Not because of fate or circumstance. But because we chose each other. Because we get each other.

I guess, we’ll just see. It’s quite cruel though that I only realized how much I love my best friend and that I only saw her as such after so many years of being friends. And now I’m being overdramatic when technology makes communication not a problem.

You’re allowed to be what you could | Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy

So with Wolf Alice’s Grammy nomination, I got into listening to them again and DUH, I listened to one of my favorite tracks from them. And then I realized that the lyrics fucking suits what I feel these days, especially coming from that rough patch. So here, go listen to BLUSH by Wolf Alice! (And not only do I love this song so much, I fucking love the video as well. DESTROY GENDER NORMS AND STEREOTYPES!)

Curse the things that made me sad for so long
Yeah it hurts to think that they can still go on
I’m happy now
Are you happy now?

Spoke out the things that you’ve worked out to be wrong
You got two hands to take all you can, but don’t take too long
To be happy somehow
Are you happy now?

Figured out I’m good
Turn me down like I knew I should
Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy

Don’t chicken out, it’s all good
You’re allowed to be what you could

Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy
Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy
Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy

Figured out I’m good
Turn me down like I knew I should
Happy now
Punch drunk, dumb struck, pot luck happy happy

Don’t chicken out, it’s all good
You’re allowed to be what you could
I feel good
I feel good
I feel good
I feel good

Curse the things that made me sad for so long
Yeah it hurts to think that they can still go on
I’m happy now
Are you happy now?

On being selectively social

I admit to being selectively social. Many of my ~friends~ wouldn’t believe me because they know me as THAT person who’s so talkative, noisy, fun, and game to whatever.

But see, that is a side of myself I switch on. When I go to bookish events, I turn that switch on. I become the jolly person I’m expected/known to be and I do feel happy with bookish people because they’re my people! But when I get home, I would need a break and be antisocial for a while.

When I’m with friends I made during high school, they’re never able to believe how the Dianne they know isn’t the Dianne of now. I drink (A LOT), I cuss (A LOT), and I am not the 24/7 effervescent person they know. They’re shocked to see me being a bitch or being mean or being dirty-minded. Sure, I’m still funny and fun to be with, but I’ve changed. And it’s kinda sad how I’m boxed into these expectations they have but I guess that’s normal. I changed a lot since high school and they just have to deal with it!

Getting back on topic…

More often than not, I love being alone, with my own company. I am that person who’d invent excuses just to get out of events I wanted to go to at some point in time but ultimately didn’t feel like going to. (I know! I’m bad!) My best friend have to drag me to social calls because I always flake on her. It’s just so tiring to have to be THAT person people know of because I’m not always like that. I guess it just goes to show that my ~true friends~ are the ones who know that I’m not THAT person. Nothing bad about being that kind of person but it’s just not me. Well, the real me.

I mean, I’d like to think I’m fun and funny and witty when I’m with my friends but my friends also know I’m grumpy, irritated easily, kinda mean, very judgmental in private, anxious, an overthinker, actually shy, and an introvert. And me deciding to spend my time with a person is a big deal because it means I actually prefer being in that person’s company than being alone.

When I hound you (either by texting or chatting or tweeting), it means I actually enjoy talking to you because I’d rather read a book, watch a movie/TV show, or browse the Internet than talk to people I don’t really enjoy talking to.

I guess I just wish people know all these meanings to even the littlest interactions I have with them so they can appreciate it.

So yes, I am social, but only to a select number of people. I kinda relate to these posts on being selectively social, although I think I might have been off-tangent at some parts of this post. WHATEVER, ‘TIS MY BLOG.

Well, I’m back.

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There has been much drama in my life since my last post. I originally intended to use this blog as an outlet (emotional or otherwise AKA fangirling) for everything I bottle up inside but it’s hard to break habits. I bottle up my emotions inside and you’ll just know about it when I break. Which I know is unhealthy but hey, I’ve been surviving.

Until it became too much. A week before my birthday, the week of my birthday, and a week after my birthday were trying times for me. I was depressed, which I initially denied because I thought I might have been using the word incorrectly or something. But fuck it if I’m not truly depressed because I felt depressed. I didn’t wanna go to work and get out of bed. I just didn’t have any energy to deal with anything. Coupled with a lot of emotional drama I had, I just broke down and cried my heart out during a seminar I was attending. (I was at the back but still, yikes.) Thank God for my friend who’s an introvert as well and who completely understands me and accepts me for who I am (my dramas were centered on self-doubt, low self-esteem, and feeling unwanted [fyi: not in any romantic sense, just that feeling of not being wanted even by my own friends and my own self]), I was able to let it all out AKA I was crying in McDonald’s until 3AM while gouging myself with fries and burgerS.

I felt a bit lighter after that but I knew I had to detach myself from all the triggers so my three-week work getaway to Japan was quite perfect in timing. And it was indeed perfect. I got away from reality and had a super fun three weeks. I didn’t talk to the ~friends~ who made me feel unwanted and it has been great. I am a very clingy person to people I really really like AKA I enjoy their company so much but they’re not a part of my elite circle of close/real friends and I needed to detach from these people because they were fucking depressing me. Mission accomplished!

I do feel very sorry for all the book blogging duties I wasn’t able to attend to due to said depression and my three weeks of being away. I seriously thought I wouldn’t be busy in Japan and that I’d have time to read and blog but NADA. Nothing was accomplished there in terms of blogging and honestly? I’ve never felt any lighter. I didn’t miss book blogging AT ALL. I had nothing to think about. No deadlines, no whatever. It was glorious. Now, it has led me to think about the future of my book blog AKA is there any future to it. #introspectivedecember

Now, I am in a new predicament where I just fucking miss Japan so much. I didn’t go to work today because aside from arriving in the Philippines at 12MN (1AM Japan time!), I just couldn’t face reality right away. I’d be sitting at my office chair, facing the mountain of paperwork that accumulated in three weeks, facing my computer and preparing all these reports, staying in the laboratory for my experiments, and blegh. I thought my three weeks away would remove the burnout feeling I had prior to going to Japan (partly due to my depression too) but it seems like it just aggravated it because my heart is still in “vacation” mode.

I’m just holding out hope that this feeling would go away soon and that I’d get that motivation. Maybe the upcoming Christmas vacation would be my motivation?

WHY DO I JUST WANT AN ETERNAL VACATION AT THIS POINT