Hate You/Love You

These are things I can't manage to say to you in person, because if I do, I can't take them back. I'm not sure if I mean them, if I'm venting, if I just need to get it out so I can hear how it sounds and see if I recoil or if I grow. Some are things I wish I could say and others I wish you'd just fess up to. Some I wouldn't ever dare say. Some I'm afraid of.

Sometimes I hate you. Since June I have said that many times a week, usually crying in traffic. Sometimes it's a deep, anguished yell, sometimes it's a whisper or a punch to the steering wheel.

No one has EVER hurt me the way you have. Not even first:girl. I loved her deeply, but I hadn't planned my life with her. I hadn't put her ring on my finger and worn it for nearly two years. I hadn't started to plan our wedding together, hadn't set a date, started a pintrest board, started picking out the style of my wedding dress.

I hadn't had a real plan of growing old with her. I hadn't lived with her for two years and created a family with three baby cats with her. When she hurt me, she hurt a girl who still had a place to live, friends to lean on, family nearby.

I have none of that. My home was with you, my family was with you, my friends were your friends. And you cut me out of all of that.

And now you're gone and you say you don't want to be responsible for my emotions and I get that but also, fuck you. What are we doing here if I can't come to you when I'm upset, ESPECIALLY when you're the cause of it? Or when you can't tell me about your day because you don't think I'll be happy for you? Of course I'll be happy that you're having a good time! My goal is not to make you miserable and depressed and I think it's really awful that you think of me that way.

Our conversation last night left me angry and upset, unable to talk to you any further about it because you don't care to know about my emotions, because you're too drained from dealing with them. You should have thought of that before you started having a relationship with your ex, before you put me through shit of "I need you both in my life romantically," before putting yourself first over and over again every week since May. Obviously I'm going to be really emotional when you do that.

You say you've sacrificed, you say you've tried to make me trust you again. You've told me you love me. You've planned my birthday. You took a sick day to drive me to the ER after I almost died the night before, I actually really do appreciate it. But how does that rebuild trust? Then when it comes to the ex in question, you flip flop on your plans over and over again depending on her plans, proving that she is still so important to you, but you still decide to go see her a week AFTER I go to the ER and coming home two days BEFORE my birthday.

You refuse to stop talking to her. You refuse to cut her out even though I hate having her as a part of our lives. You asked me to include her in OUR lives ROMANTICALLY. I DON'T WANT HER AROUND. PERIOD. I don't think that's ever going to change.

So you're not willing to cut her out, and you're not interested in being there for me emotionally, and you're afraid of how much we're fighting and now you're "guarded" (give me a fucking break, if anyone should be guarded it should be me.)

And yes, I was mean, and I said things I shouldn't have said because I was hurt, and I tried to apologize but I shouldn't have said it in the first place. But I am also just learning that I don't know if I see a future with you. I can't be with someone who can promise to marry me and then throw our monogamy away. I can't be with someone who can hurt me so deeply and then only think about themselves and what they need. I can't be with someone who doesn't want to visit my family, who says their friends are a "package deal" and I can't talk about it with them. Who asks me not to leave but then pushes me away.

I wish we could have been better to each other, but we just weren't. I wish I hadn't been so awful this spring and maybe you wouldn't have reached out to her and started this whole mess. I wish I'd handled this better and you'd handled this better and maybe we could have gotten through it together.

I hope you can come back and we can spend my birthday together and make happy memories so that we don't end it like this. I hope we can share the boys and it won't be so painful to see each other. I hope we both get to live happily ever after. Maybe by some act of grace it will be together, but more likely it will be apart, and I'm learning to accept that. I look back at when we were first dating and it makes me smile so wide and I ache because I miss that. Oh, I miss you so. But that's not who we are anymore.

You wanted me to be more independent and autonomous, so here we go.

I will always love you,
XO

Orgasms/Twitter

For an account which started out so anonymously, you all know much about me. We've talked about this before, and recently. I spoke how I wanted to take some of that "anonymous" feeling back - feeling more bold, daring, fun.

I must admit, Twitter got the better of me tonight - has gotten the better of me over the last week or so - has had me posting like all those years ago when I was truly anonymous. And here we're going to get back to what I was posting about so long ago: Sex/Orgasms. Since I've come back to this blog, a few months ago, I've avoided the overtly sexual topics which I used to thrive on in the past.

For whatever reason, this week was bad. I mean constantly aching, edge of your seat, hair's breadth away from climaxing, bad. All week. I couldn't make it go away. I'd have an orgasm and the feeling would come back five minutes later. It was heaven the first day, hell the rest. It was distracting, it drove me crazy. My dreams were erotic, my every thought somehow twisted and turned because my body was so close. A hand on my hip could make me whimper, a look could make me tremble.

This week's stories on Rainbow Sprinkles were all driven by this week's dreams -by my constant state of whatever-it-was and you can tell. Well, not with Maroon just yet, but you wait and see ;) Finally, by some Christmas miracle, I was able to have a shaking, wrenching orgasm in the early morning hours and it eased. It was just my normal always-ready-for-sex and not the extremely-sensitive-going-crazy sensations. The peace lasted a few hours, and then I was back to watching porn Christmas afternoon and talking about my bedroom preferences on Twitter.

My sex drive has been higher than normal the past few days and Twitter took full advantage of that tonight. What started off as playful banter eased into sexual banter, actual productive sexual conversation (which I love!), flirting, and outrageous behavior on my part.

Am I embarrassed with my behavior? A little. I have to remind myself that twitter is not private and these people who feel like friends are actually virtual strangers (the term "catfished" comes to mind) but I also enjoy giving people the benefit of the doubt and they all seem very lesbian to me. Am I turned on? Yes. Because, let's be honest, I don't have a girlfriend right now, and talking about sex is beautiful and glorious and something I desperately need.

I'm not ashamed to talk about what I like or what I need. I'm not ashamed to talk about how I like to be touched or what turns me on. And hopefully you can find comfort, confidence, glory enough in your sexual self that you aren't ashamed either.

Day 13 Forgiveness

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you

I guess we're back to midnight posts. Who the hell came up with these? I feel like I'm in therapy.

Okay, so remember that roommate I was half in love with my first year of college? Right before the summer everything I knew came crashing down? I was a bitch to her. On her birthday. Not my finest moment.

She'd been chasing after this guy and I didn't want them to get together (I really liked her) so after a few rounds of some drinking game involving vodka, our close friend from out of town called and this really hilarious, loud, drunk guy put her on speakerphone. She was talking to everyone and saying happy birthday, and the guy my roommate was crushing on said something. That prompted loud drunk guy to introduce him as my roommate's new boyfriend as of the last few weeks.

I was drunk - I was hurt. It was her birthday, so I tried not to make a scene and let myself out the front door and walked around the block. I slid down the side of a car and began to cry. One of our friends, Mike - this really sweet, quiet guy, had followed me outside and sat down next to me.  I bawled, cursing my roommate, calling her horrible things because she hadn't even had the decency to tell me. She was sneaking around with him because she didn't trust me, didn't consider me a friend. The ultimate betrayal.

Yeah, I can over dramatic when I'm trashed.

Anyway, she had followed me out to apologize and heard all the awful things I said about her on her birthday, so when I tried to make amends she was having none of it. We've never spoken again.

She's getting married now, to some other guy. I'm sad that I lost a great friend over something so idiotic. I wish I would've kept my mouth shut. I wish she could forgive me.

Day 8 Redux kcnightfire

30 Day Letter Challenge

Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend

I'm going to direct this to kcnightfire, considering she comments on my blog more than anyone else lately. Go check out her blog!

Admittedly, I probably have really bad taste in art. I dated someone with a Salvador Dali in her living room but the beauty of it was totally lost on me. What does a pig in a tree have to do with Alice in Wonderland? I guess I should probably read the story and not base my opinion off the Disney movie :D But, if you asked me to name the most wonderful painter of all time I would say Vincent van Gogh. Starry Night has to be one of my favorites, but the other? I love his entire Wheat Fields series- not so much the haystacks or the reaper and sower, but the Plain at Auvers, Harvest in Provence, Wheat Field with Cypresses.

They all bring me comfort, fill me with wonder. When I look at any of his paintings, it's like looking in a window, except the world inside is richer and more beautiful than the one around me. They make me wish I could see the world the way he must have, and they all remind me of home. Sounds weird, I know, considering he lived thousands of miles away, but if you stood on a hilltop across the river from my house, you would see his environment. Everything he knew, down to the windmills and gold fields, the sky so blue, the clouds bright and crisp, all rippling through my backyard.

I don't have any talent in the painting arena - I've tried. I took exactly one art class in high school and realized I can draw a pretty decent duck and paint a sunset well enough that you'll figure out what it is eventually :) I also took ceramics for a semester before I failed out because I was too much of a perfectionist to get anything in on time. I can pick apart a sonnet and discover the undertones and symbolism in a heartbeat, but interpreting art is so different. I love reading your posts about certain pieces and galleries because I'm so in the dark about most of it and it's kind of like you're handing me a flashlight.

I love reading your blog. We must have some similarities in our thought process because it's easy to follow where you lead. You're smart, informative, funny, and dnt spel lke thIs. All things I enjoy in a blog :)

I could say this is a day late going up because I was asleep/hallucinating all day from my spider bite yesterday, which is half true, but also because I was avoiding this letter, the other half truth. This letter series isn't really meant to be read by the people they're addressed to, so I wanted to share something where you wouldn't be obligated to write back - I didn't want to drag you into it.

Sorry I'm such an-!

-Avoider

Stopgaps

Crap.  I went away for two years- just stopped writing.  I'm so sorry.  I don't think that I can do anything or say anything that would make you understand.  When I started this blog *gulp* three long years ago, I was still so broken.  Every time I tried to write about what was truly eating at me, I couldn't.  I put it off and put it off because I was still in love with, still heartbroken over, the first girl to bring down all my barriers.

By starting this blog, I tried to give myself a space to explore all the other things that were going on inside me.  All of my daily gender struggles, my issues with my sexuality- I turned to you as a community for strength, guidance and compassion, and I'm thankful for all you've given me.

When I left, I had just had surgery.  It was hard for me to eat, physically, and I could feel the old habits of my anorexia creeping back up on me.  While I've never been diagnosed or hospitalized, anorexia is never very far from my mind.  The opportunity handed to me on a silver platter, to relapse with a perfectly good and unquestionable excuse, was too hard to pass up.  I lost forty pounds.  I felt amazing.  As with all things, it was a cycle.  I had to eat eventually and am now back up to my former weight.  It's been an interesting two years.  I've dated, I've learned, I've grown, I've started to heal, and I think I've become more comfortable with myself.

All those thoughts that were constantly plaguing me about who I was, about labeling myself, have faded into the background.  I am who I am and I enjoy the person I've become, for the most part.  There are always things I'm going to want to change about myself, but for now I'm not so focused on how I want to be labeled in a relationship or should be labeled.  I just act, and let things go from there.

When I started the blog I said I was going to write about being gay, because it was so new and overwhelming that I felt obsessed with it.  I feel like it overshadowed all else that I was, and sometimes it still does, but more and more sides of me are stepping into the spotlight, and that's the way I want it to be.


If you'd read my initial post from last night, you know that I had a relationship end.  She was a sweet, charming, raunchy girl that made me laugh constantly.  I don't know why I let her go, but I think that part of it was that I'm not quite healed.  So I've started something that I ached to do a long time ago, but never had the courage or conviction.

I've started writing about first:girl.  I feel like I've referred to her enough that I owe you my story, and maybe I owe it to myself to tell it.  It doesn't hurt me anymore to think about it.  I still occasionally get shivers when I think about her, or feel a warm glow when I remember her smile, but it was four years ago- long enough to feel like it happened to another person.  I'm so different now than I was then.

I hope, in telling it, the remnant of longing will disappear, and I can finally shut that door.  And perhaps all of you will finally feel like you know me as more than just words on a backlit screen, because every part of who I used to be was wrapped up in her.  I want you to know me.  I'm so sorry I disappeared, but I'm back and baring my soul for the world.