A digital journal
Holy shit, I took a half scoop and I was straight up TWEAKING. On my bike ride over, I was amped up so hard I was yanking my bike’s handlebars so hard the front tire kept coming off the ground. I’m so fucking happy I bought it I’ve missed my 400mg caffeine and god knows all the other random shit in it. I’m so excited it take it again tomorrow!
We had about a month, and she proposed it again. I would be lying out of my ass if I didn't say it wasn't hoping for this. I think there's a risk of this going bad, but I also don't think it's such an excessive risk to make it arguably not worth it. If nothing else this can serve as a lesson to understand this experience for the future. I'm excited.
It's 16 minutes later and she said she'd be late, but not this late. A small voice in my head says she's doing this intentionally to me, but I don't think that's true. But it's also a nice reminder how the real world doesn't work like I wish it does. I genuinely think that's a good thing.
She's late grabbing food, and so I have a little bit more time to collect myself. I couldn't sleep last night, my brain just kept thinking not always about her but just thinking. When I would start to feel myself drift off I would recognize it and plead for it to come, but it never did. I stayed in bed awake from 2:00 a.m. until sometime past 6:00.
I woke up thinking about eventually by tame Impala. The lyrics hit in a different way now. I really don't want to hurt her, that's my biggest priority. And I'm a little bit worried that I might. But I feel like that's love, it's a little bit concerning to me because I don't want to delude myself and tell myself that it's romantic love. But I also do think that I can have love for someone and care about their self-interest in a different way. In an extreme example, I guess I love my mom. I don't want her to be in my life at all and I am actively ensuring that's happening, but at the same time I don't want harm to come to her. I don't know when that changed.
I spent a lot of the night thinking about what was going to happen today and my brain while falling asleep, losing its reigns, kept going down different paths. I try to tell myself I just don't have enough information, and so I'm just going to take it as it comes.
I went to bed late because I played an extra game with friends. And then I decided to make a steak. And then I decided to watch an episode of TV. And then one more episode. And then I opened up my phone on tiktok for 20 minutes, which I normally don't do. And then I read my chapter. And then I decided to read another chapter, and because of that I heard my phone buzzing on the table and I decided to get up and check it. And because of that I saw that she was calling me.
She sounded somewhat drunk and giggly, and asked me if I wanted to see her art gallery show tomorrow because it was the last day it was there. I told her that I wanted to, but at the same time I'm not sure if this is something that would hurt her when she woke up and when the alcohol went away. She said no she wanted this, and I told her if she wakes up and for any reason doesn't want to do this just send me a text no worries. She kept giggling.
C taught me an incredibly important lesson. We have gotten in so many fights, and we have both done things and said things that we regret – both in our own different ways. We have vices and we aren't perfect. He also has a big temper and a traumatic upbringing that doesn't make it any easier for him. But also that was what let him understand what I needed and vice versa at our lowest.
Often we would get in fights, and we would either have to talk for several hours until we calmed down and we could realize what we were fighting over, or sometimes things would heat up too much and we would take some space apart in a pretty violent way. Usually someone would leave the call and ghost for a little bit. But then we come back and it's like it never happened. That friendship taught me how easy it is to forgive. And also how that can go both ways. Sometimes he will do things that hurt me and that he wouldn't want to do, and sometimes I would be a huge bitch or annoying. By the next day we are still friends. Sometimes it took more than a day. But I have faith that this storm is not enough to break the bond we have.
Maybe it's because it's late and I'm tired, but I'm really thankful for that experience. I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow, but I at least feel confident in my ability to leave the past in the past. At least for the things that she did that hurt me, I'm still aware of them, but it doesn't hurt. And so I can act like it did not happen. At least in the sense of not needing an apology or a remediation for it. Sometimes a quiet embarrassment is enough of an acknowledgment to understand that people are flawed and make mistakes.
I thought about being a landlord the other day, and how I would want to be a kind one even though you really don't get any recognition for being kind – you only get recognition when something is bad. And I thought about why I would want to do that and how I could even justify that. And at the end of the day, all I could come up with is saying “I can sleep at night”. But that didn't really capture it, because I feel like that comes from a place of shame. And I still don't know if I can find words to capture it, but the closest thing I can find is wanting to be kind, for just the sake of making another person's experience better. It doesn't help me at all to make someone else's experience better, and arguably it sometimes hurts me. But it doesn't hurt me much, and I somehow feel good about that. It's probably some hardwired, pack animal behavior in my brain – and I can try to intellectualize it by saying that it's a reflection of hoping that someone else is kinder to me, if we all share this value of kindness. But I guess I don't really think about that. I just enjoy the thought of making someone else's life a little bit easier. And so I'm really thankful that I'm able to let go of things. It's not like something super amazing or wonderful or anything like that, but it's something that I could not have, and so I'm grateful that I do.
Near my chest, I could feel his shame, burning a hole. I get up to comfort him. In that my own shame grows. I endure this because I know that after comes the apology. And in that moment, I will feel the most loved I ever will. He says he will never do it again, until it happens the next time, and he says it again. I stay in the cycle for the apology.
Yesterday I decided to make a Tinder account again. I have been thinking about it for a bit with the intention of making a stupid profile, but I ended up just making a normal one with some help from friends. I still miss some of the parts from my relationship with A, but at the same time, my memory is pretty hazy and so I don’t have anything concrete to hold. I think missing things is not necessarily a bad thing, but as my therapist said, a reminder of something you want in the future. And some sort of incentive to push yourself to get something like that again. I hope she’s doing well. I wanted to reach out to her just to talk and I guess convince myself that we are on good terms, but my therapist talked about several other things I didn’t consider and how it may not be a good idea. Eventually, I settled on the thought that it would ultimately hurt her, since I don’t think she’s been able to take the time to really process it or work through things; now it becomes selfish for me to reach out to her again since I know that it would likely hurt her and so I don’t want to do that. I think I can comfortably say that I still love her now, but in the sense that I want good things to happen to her, just not involving me.
I randomly had a fear, and so I checked my grades from last quarter. I got a 93% in one optional class I was worried about, and the professor set that as an A- which is a 3.85 GPA. This ruined my 4.0, making it a 3.98. But all I see is a failure. This was my last chance to get a 4.0, and it’s gone all because of a group project class that I begged my teammates to work for. And they continued to tell me that it doesn’t matter and that it would be fine, and how they don’t care about their grade. I did 95% of the work, and they did the 5% so badly that it was enough to lose my 4.0.
I put in so much work, sacrificed so much all for just the power to say I had a 4.0. Something that I never had before, but my sister did. Something that was held against me. There it goes. I know this changes nothing else in my life, but it does matter to the younger me, constantly compared to my sister and to others around me. This was finally going to be my chance to show that I wasn’t just the bottom of the barrel, but rather I was normal. And I’ll never get that chance now. I want to cry.
Enough immediate fires were put out to allow me to talk with my therapist about what happened with my mom about a month ago. If nothing else I remember the bitterness I hold so close to my heart. She asked me what sort of mother figure/father figure I had growing up, and my answer was none. No coaches, no teachers, no adults, no nothing. And I don’t know what else to taste other than this bitterness that sits in my mouth with a metallic taste. It simply is. There is nothing I can do to change that. It could have been worse, but it sure as hell could have been better. I think I have two responses to people when they talk about interacting with their families. One is a violent envy that sits just behind my tongue, like a mute on everything else until it passes. And the other is ignorance. It’s easy for me to not even register talk about family since I didn’t get to have one. When someone talks about grandparents or cousins, those are just words. I have no memories tied to them, and so if things are well, I don’t notice the absence of experience there. When people say they call their mom or talk with their dad, it’s like reading about magic in a book. I know of it because I’ve read or heard about it, but I know it’s not real. Until I remember it is. Just not for me. And then I feel like there is a chasm between us, of an experience neither of us could comprehend. I cannot imagine what it is like to have that, and they cannot imagine what it is like to not.
I fucking hate the question of if my family still lives in San Diego for when I move back for my new job. I hate lying but I hate the pity of explaining my situation more. I feel nothing but anger hearing those stupid fucking comments about “oh I’m so sorry” when I mention how I didn’t go home for break, or for summer. You can just go ahead and rot in whatever your hell is for that. I don’t know what you would even expect me to say in response. Do you want me to break down and cry and just wallow in the misery of not having the shit you do? From the bottom of my heart, fuck you. It’s an ugly thought that I don’t want to write down, but I feel a gross satisfaction of the things I have better than them and I hold that close to my heart in those moments. I have no other option than to look down on them. Because I have a stacked resume. Because I got a high paying job. Because I am at the top of my classes. Because I’m physically strong. I have to look down on them because they have a family to go home to. They have someone to call. They got to be raised. And I fucking hate them for it. I hate them because what did they do to deserve it, and why did I not.
And as is always, anger takes off it’s trenchcoat to reveal grief underneath. And all I can do is try to cry.
I finished charging my car completely, but I stayed for an extra hour just to finish the beta squad hotel YouTube video. I don't remember the last time I've laughed so hysterically. I'm happy I'm alive.