keys to the ivy league

this is not a chronological account of my life.
don't expect it to be.
things happen.
i can't update.
i don't want to feel obligated to recount each minute detail.
no one reads this anyways.
if i'm writing for myself, why should it matter what i leave out?

i'm "home" now. first semester is behind me. i got really sick with an infection the day i came home. went to the ER and almost needed to be admitted on the 23rd. so i've been sick for christmas. it's been pretty miserable. i haven't been able to see any of my friends from back "home".

why is it "home"?
it doesn't feel like home. home is college. home is my dorm. home is that little single of mine that exemplifies my freedom and independence. this place? it's nothing more than memories of everything i was never allowed to do.

there's a boy. there's been a boy for awhile. he wasn't a good boy. of course, i fell for him. back in high school, we were so young. he was my first love, my first everything. he hurt me countless times with his lying and cheating and going behind my back and victimizing himself. i always came back to him. he broke up with me back in thanksgiving. i was happy. it was a weight removed off of my shoulders.

he's begged for me back ever since. he has slightly matured, i'll give him that. he's not a bad boy anymore. he hangs out with like 4 people. he doesn't do anything. he goes to work, college, and the same kid's house every night. he still lives with his parents. he's still in that high school mentality.
i didn't take him back.
the single life was mine to be had, finally. the puma was free.
but we still talked. i found myself still caving into him, unable to be harsh or mean. I knew that once i returned home, i would not be able to resist returning to him. i'm sure you know how that is. the feelings would just come bubbling up all over again. 

he stopped by on christmas eve as a surprise. he gave me earrings. it's not a very personal gift. i didn't get him anything. he asked me out again. he was wearing aeropostle, which if you knew him in high school, you would understand how unbelievably odd that was. he looked good. and then there was that smile again. that crinkly eyed grin of his that i fell for over a year ago. that grin that my poor little high school self had wanted to marry. i said yes.

some feelings never really go away. they just hide and burrow, deep within your mind. you push them and their inconveniences aside. but when you are once again face to face with that object of your affection? i couldn't help it. what am i going to do?

i don't regret it now. i want to be with him. once again, i am following my pleasure principle, not caring about my consequences. i miss the good times we had. he promises he's changed and he even seems like he has a bit. he wants to be romantic. he was never romantic. i was always a little sad about his lack in that area.

what about college? i'll go away again. there are bound to be other guys. and i'm gone for so long. i don't like feeling attached, feeling locked down, feeling like a caged bird, or perhaps more fitting, a caged tiger. i like sex. i like boys. i have needs. 1500 miles away, you can't provide me with those needs. not only that, i need contact. not even talking about sex. i need hugs, compassion, cuddling, hand holding. i think i missed holding hands the most. i'm not this hyper-sexual nymphomaniac that i sound like. i used to be a hopeless romantic and i still am. i need a person, not a text message or a video call.

i won't be able to tell him any of this when the time comes. i know i won't. i'm a coward of the worst kind. and i'm a cheat and a liar too. i used to be so pure and angelic and perfect and moral and i don't know what's become of me. but i'm not going to change. i maximize my happiness on behalf of everyone else's. i'm selfish.

there are other guys here that want me. i've got them calling me, texting me, asking me how i am feeling, when i'm well so we can hang out.

what am i going to do?

i read through a blog today. through many years of daily blogging. i hate this girl. she was my boyfriend's (?) first. that gives me every right to hate her. but she also hooked up with him many times during the time i knew him, and perhaps even once while we were dating. she's a cunt for various reasons.


but she's a cunt that he brought roses and cherries to outside her window in the middle of the night on her birthday.






he never once bought me flowers.

with monkey slippers and pjs.


in 4 inches of snow...


interesting.
i'm so beat.

there’s two types of dancing when you’re dancing with someone. there probably are more, but only two matter right now. type one: the platonic dance. you dance, grind, whatnot, but it’s not all very sexual. it’s just…high school dancing. basically. then there’s type two. air fucking would be a good term for it. it’s like sex. but without the satisfaction. you’re undulating, feeling up on each other, bodies pressed close, moving as one, feeling his manlihood against you, and it’s fucking steamy. it is normally the type that leads to other steamy adventures.