i am at a point in my life where a relationship with someone means a lot more than drinks at a lounge, or excellent conversation over dinner. it’s more than a few adult sleepovers, and someone to pass the time with.
i’m young. i have a life ahead of me… one full of possibilities and opportunities and escapades. i’m not naive in that respect. i know i have so much to learn, and incredible people i have yet to meet.
but i also know what i want.
and i know i’m not about to start dating someone i can’t picture a future with- and i know that a lot of that can only be determined when you start a relationship with someone and get to know each other. really know each other…
so let’s go ahead and get this shit out of the way :
i’m obsessive, i’m compulsive, and i wear my heart on my sleeve. i like routine, romanticism, and relaxing nights in. i could watch movies for six hours and not get bored. i’ll clean up after you while you’re still in the kitchen. i’ll get really irritated over little thing- not changing the toilet paper roll, or leaving dirty dishes in the living room. i hate clutter, i like clean lines, and i think it matters whether or not someone will put a poster in a frame. i fold blankets after i use them, i wash my towels regularly, and i don’t make my bed. i hate negativity, it hurts my feelings when someone won’t take as much interest in my hobbies, as i do theirs. i gag every time i brush my teeth, i need to shower every single morning, and i’m almost 100% sure i snore when i’m drunk. i smoke weed in bed, i’m horrible at mornings, and i need coffee a few times a day to function. i like holding hands, i think kissing is important, and i need to have a lot of sex. i think having similar diets and a love for food are important. i’m extremely close to my family, i talk to my parents every day, and i constantly feel like i’m making up for lost time with them. i want to get married, i want to have kids, and i want to be the best at both of those. i am hyper-sensitive, i cry easily, and i think it’s as important to say how you feel as it is to show it. i hate holding back, i can’t stand second-guessing myself, and i don’t like feeling weak. i have baggage – a fuckload of it. i need to be with someone who isn’t so fucking terrified of the feelings inside of my heart. i need to stop being afraid to say what i mean. i need to stop settling on relationships that hold me back- emotionally and physically. i’m trying desperately to heal (on my own terms, without using bandaids), and every time i feel like i’m almost there, the person i am dating knocks me back down five steps because they get scared of something real. they worry too goddamn much.
people obsess over the little things- the things we hate, the things that drive us completely bat-shit crazy. fuck, i could write a novel about all the irritating, selfish things michael would do that made my skin crawl : chewing with his mouth open, the way he would look at me when he didn’t find my jokes funny, every time he texted ‘mhmmm’, if he didn’t agree with something. christ man, funny is all i’ve got- cut me some slack.
we meet people and fall head over heels stupid for each other until we find enough reasons to hate them and leave. it’s a fucking cop-out and we’re all guilty of it. two (of the many) reasons michael and i broke up, according to him : pressure (what if i moved five hours away from home to be with him, and it didn’t work out), and love (he honestly didn’t think anyone was capable of loving him).
we’re back here? quantum mechanics again, really?
you guys. schrödinger’s cat. there is a cat, in a fucking box, and the cat can be thought of both alive and dead, but you will never know the answer until you lift that fucking lid, look inside of the box, and find out for your fucking self if the cat is breathing, or not.
and for the record, 95 percent of the time, the cat will be dead as shit. but everyone is so goddamn scared to open the lid and find out, so we all quit before we even give it a chance. we’d rather avoid the heartache, and the effort, and the potential misery all because we are scared.
OF A HYPOTHETICAL DEAD CAT.
(if i’ve lost you, the cat is a metaphor for a relationship).
so that’s my piece. i’ve said it. i’m angry, and i’m irritated that i keep putting so much love, effort and faith in people so quick to throw it all away when things become real.