"Sunflower" by Rex Orange County
Tryna keep my mind at bay
Sunflowers still grows at night
Waiting for a minute till the sun's seen through my eyes
Make it down down, do-do-down
Diggy dig down, du du du
Waiting for a minute till the sun's seen through my eyes
And so she sat me down and told me that I didn't have to cry
Said I didn't need to get down and feel empty inside
And told me that she love me for as long as she's alive
And well, maybe she's right, 'cause I hate it when I feel like I'm not me
See, I honestly, don't even know why
I, I honestly don't even know why
May 28, 2018 Monday 4:23 PM
What has occurred within the week: on Wednesday, I went on another date with Charlie. Did you forget about Charlie? Haha! Me too. Over Spring Break, we hung out twice and then we kept texting. He planned on visiting me at Brown but then I got sick and I kind of didn't want him to come anyway. We kept texting for some reason. I don't know, I wasn't actively paying him any attention—it was all him. I mostly hung out with him because I felt kind of like I owed it to him? But then I ended up actually having fun, which was a little concerning. And then I had the feelings I have when I like someone, in which I am simultaneously attracted and repulsed by them. Like, when I think of his face and his body, I'm just like—gross. But I still want to be close to it. It's disgusting and confusing and I just want to be alone for eternity. I forgot how confusing this is.
At the same time, I am so relieved. This crush may be going nowhere (I would actually prefer it goes nowhere), but at least it is there. At least I am capable of recognizing it now. The next step is figuring out how to not feel disgusted by the idea of intimacy. I just want to have sex. That is my goal this summer. It is a source of anxiety and the only way to get rid of it is to expose myself to it.
First, I have to go to Planned Parenthood so I can get tested, get birth control, get everything in order, you know. I have in mind this one guy with which I can have sex. Not Charlie—I like him, but it would feel to vulnerable for him to be my first. He'd be hyperaware of it, and he'd make observations (as he is wont to do) that run the risk of acting as projectiles. In other words, I might get seriously hurt, emotionally speaking. With these kinds of situations, I lack the usual armor. So no. It would just be weird.
The guy I'm thinking of is a kid I went on a date with in April. We made out in the back of a movie theater. He wasn't attractive, but I don't think that really mattered to me. He was entertaining enough. I'm not gonna force it or anything, but I'm saying—if we hang out and it starts to go that direction, I kind of want to let it happen.
Sex will still be scary after that, the same way I am sometimes scared of kissing or scared of cuddling or scared of anything related to closeness. But it won't be as scary. It's potential to hurt me will be diluted by the memory of past experience.
Okay, so, yeah. This is what I've been considering as I masturbate every night. I find myself vaguely surprised that I am able to cum just from my fingers and minimal stimulation of my clitoris (sometimes it's kind of sensitive so I leave it alone), but also pleased because it assuages a fear I had years ago that I was one of those girls who could only have an orgasm via the clit. Also, you know what's great! Sometimes I masturbate and I don't feel ashamed afterwards. It is amazing. Other times I feel deeply ashamed. Other times it is in between those two extremes.
So I am definitely going through A Thing right now, and I am hyperaware of its progress. It's like: growing up or whatever. I feel like I grew a little through high school but then suddenly my emotional growth halted because I just—had no direction in which to grow except academically? And I felt restless. But now I have the room to experiment again, to become someone else, and it's kind of nice. It's painful as hell—but nice.
Lancelot said something to the effect of, "You are extremely aware." I was describing my more violent tendencies in middle school, and how I didn't feel that my decision to punch my dad was impulsive because it didn't feel like I couldn't control myself. I literally could pinpoint the second in which I made the decision. I wasn't sure exactly why I did it until afterwards (it was, I now realize, a plea for attention/cry for help, that kind of thing), but I know I weighed the risks versus benefits in my head and the results showed that Punching My Dad would never really have that detrimental of an effect on either of us. Lancelot said I am overly aware of my thought process at all times, and that is maybe why it didn't feel impulsive; because I knew exactly what was pushing me over the edge. I don't know, we had this conversation over a week ago and now I can't remember exactly what he was saying.
Charlie said something similar when I described my doomed friendship with Eli. He said it was funny how I could treat a friendship with such, I don't know... objectivity? He found it genuinely funny; not concerning or anything, which was nice. Sometimes people (Liv) think I am cold when I talk about a relationship as if it were something following a script, as if it wasn't unique and special or whatever.
Charlie likes to say he is very apathetic. My personal opinion is that he doesn't know himself as well as he thinks he does, but that is my assessment of nearly all people so it means very little. He's very smart; but I just worry we are too different. I'm worried he won't understand that I am very nervous, especially as you get to know me. He's been depressed, he's had anxiety (I don't say that lightly either, I mean he's had it to the point where it's fucked with his daily life). But it still feels like he experiences it differently. He's wading through—instead of like me, where I am in it and drinking it up and tasting the molecules all the time. Like that will help. Sometimes it does help.
I don't know if I'm making sense. I know part of this worrying is just me trying to create a distance between us, the same way I worry about his looks and I worry about whether or not my friends will like him and I worry about what I will tell them when they ask where he goes to school (he doesn't go to school, he works in a freezer at a grocery story. I am resisting from making excuses on his behalf even though I've already got them lined up and ready to go, haha).
I want to break myself in half sometimes. I tried to play piano and my fingertips—they were invaded, moving on their own and I floated away. I swear to god my thoughts, my memories, came up so fast and so high that I couldn't see the keyboard in front of me for a good minute before I realized I had been sucked out of the present. This is how it is sometimes: every memory comes up tasting sour and it just fucking rises above my head before I even notice. I have to pull myself out of them like I pull myself out of bad dreams.
I don't know. I feel kind of bad today. I'm going to go take a shower and hope I don't think too much while I'm in there, unprotected by music or laptops or books or games or whatever I usually use to occupy the space that will otherwise be overtaken by memories. C ya.
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