Wow. I haven't done this in a while.
A friend once told me that blogging is theraputic. I didn't really doubt her, but I doubted it counseling powers for me. I didn't really see how typing something in a consistant rough draft for the world to see could help me out. Then I felt like I didn't deserve to be a Psychology major.
I mean, come on. I should've understood that before she even said it.
But like Mario said, "Here I Go Again".
It's the end of my junior year. God continues to read me riddles and haikus in the form of women, academics and family. I would've thought, a year ago, that I could handle it, that I knew enough to NOT make a bad decision. God proves to me again that I never know enough.
The roster:
Georgia Peach-y? - I think its done for real now. I've been dancing the same tango with this girl for two years, since her freshman year, my sophomore year. At first, the attraction was solely physical. As time went on, and we spent more time with each other, I think we elevated to a level past tolerable. She's a cool kid, with her own little quirks that showed me who she was. I genuinely liked her, our conversations, our late-movie walks, et cetera.
For a while, I hoped for a relationship between us. The problem was, I couldn't understand her to save my life. As a poet, analyzation is a way of life, but there will always be a woman to screw those thoughts up. The signals she threw me, while legitimate, still confused the crap out of me. Does she like me? Are we still friends? More than friends? Should I make a move? Non-stop questions.
One night, it became clear that we should keep it simple, and keep it on a friendship level. Yet, when I follow the protocol of "just friends" and pursue nothing more, she expected me to actually try harder. Didn't someone say something before about saying what you mean?
As of right now, I think she despises my existance. The lack of communication, or desire for, has both of our views of the other screwed up. She doesn't seem to be willing to talk to me. All I ever wanted was for her to be straight up and come direct to me. I just want(ed?) her to talk to me. Even if she hates me. Even if I'm just "another guy" to her. Even after we weren't trying to date each other, I still want(ed?) to be a friend.
Ah well. I miss her.
M. Jones - How in the world did she end up becoming one of my closest friends? I met this kid on the basis of a mutual friend. Subtract the mutual friend, and somehow we went together just fine.
In the beginning, I hoped for more than a friendship with her. Thankfully, I didn't try it/she didn't let me. And we still have a strong friendship. I care for her in so many ways, and I honestly try to be the best friend I know how to be. Her ear, her shoulder, her late-night-run-to-Walmart buddy, whatever. She doesn't still have to talk to me. But she's still here. As am I.
Point being? She's a cool kid. Cuz we rock out with our glocks out.
Love's Love - This girl. The longest source of confusion in my life. Without thinking, I say that she might've been one of the major factors of angst during my early teenage years. At the same time, I don't know if I'll love any other female as much as I love her.
I fell hard for her. I didn't know why. I still don't know why. But she's grown to be such a part of my life, I can't imagine not having her. Since knee-highs, we've been friends, with countless memories to boot. I loved her in ways that no 12-year-old should.
Alas, time walks in the door. Almost like a beacon of light, I saw that something had to change. We were both growing up, becoming different people, yet the same souls.
I love her. I will love her. For reasons that are no clearer to me now than they were at age 12. While I may not be head-over-heels in love with her any more, we've come too far to drop it.
Stupidoodle - Oh wow. The magic and mysticism of Spting Break knows no boundaries. What started out as a simple evasion of boredom ended up being a very sensitive "like" affair.
I like her. I really like her. I like the way she feels in my arms. I like how I don't feel pressured to be something else around her. I like her corniness. I like her gay nicknames. I like how she looks in my eyes. I like how she says, "I like you".
I don't even know how it happened. Somewhere, I started saying to myself, "Man. This feels good."
My fear is that I'll fack it up. Like I usually do. I'll be graduating in a year. Will that year be enough? Will it be in vain? Is this even real? What if we're just in a hypersensualized state of infatuation? I hope not.
In any case, she's also my friend. I hope she sticks around.
Jedi.Wordsmith. - If you could type a smile without looking wack, then insert that here ___________________.
If I ever had a reason to thank Myspace, this is it. I thank God for her. There are many people that I get along with. There are a few people who I can righteously vibe with spiritually, vocationally and spiritually vocationally. She's one of them. In a world of Dipset admirers and Chicken Noodle Soup dancers, she's the one person who wholeheartedly despises them on the same level I do, if not more. It's not even just that. This woman is a writer. A WRITER. If you don't belive me, just check her myspace moniker.
When we started talking to each other via Myspace last summer, I guess you can say that I was excited. Actually looking forward to the new semester. Just to meet her in person.
She proved to be a great friend. Always willing to listen and give unbiased advice. Nice, I thought to myself.
Imagine my surprise/joy/confusion/ecstacy when she ended up reiterating those same feelings towards me. Almost to the T. Except it was a P. (Get it? P for Poetry?)
And I was definately attracted to her. Physically and mentally.
(Un)fortunately, I said nothing. Yet we were still friends. United by the pen, stronger with time, I appreciated it.
Now? Questions. Not that she's grown more cryptic, but I have the feeling that there's a lot more behind her words. Me? Unsure how to read it. Do I automatically assume that behind her words are messages tainted with admiration? Common sense tells me no, but hope pushes me to look for more.
Either way, here's what I sound like approaching the finale: our love remains on paper until forgotten. If I'm right.
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