To the boy I used to fuck once every 1-2 weeks for six months who messaged me this monday and told me he needed to take a break to distance himself because he was getting too jealous seeing me flirt with other guys

Today, I’m angry. I didn’t think I would be. I didn’t think I would still be thinking about your stupid message. But I’m also not surprised that I am. 

Yesterday I was relieved. Yesterday I was almost grateful, grateful that you did what I tried to do but was too weak to follow through with. 

I knew we were bad news. I knew it from the beginning, that trying to arrange an intimate ‘relationship’ between two people who weren’t allowed to care about each other was never going to work. I knew that day we sat side by side on the wooden bench in fort mason, you trying to convince me this was a good idea, your arm around me as we looked out simultaneously into the shimmering san francisco bay. I knew in the elevator coming down from your hotel room that new york city morning after a drug-induced night of reverie, when you met my smile by averting your eyes. I knew that night as I crossed the street to greet you in north beach, when seeing you standing there, tall and handsome, made my heart leap in a way that scared me somewhere deep in my bones. I knew after we fucked on my creaky twin bed after going to the strip club, when you left for the night with a slice of golden boy pizza in your stomach and my dignity in your hands. I knew when we talked about life over naan and paneer post the nox yoga bootcamp, our bodies 5 millimeters away from each other, so careful not to make actual contact. And I knew when I invited you over on sunday, a last ditch attempt at repairing our shaky non-relationship comprised of weeklong silences strung together by drunken nights. 

But still, I wish I was the one who eventually ended it, not you. And that’s my pride speaking, whatever of it I have left. I tried so hard to keep my distance. I told myself all the rational things, all the truths. That we had nothing in common, that you were too young, that you were so not my type, that I had come to san francisco to find a razor sharp, devastatingly worldly, handsome-as-hell entrepreneur with burning ambition, not a guy from new jersey who wasn’t sure what he wanted in life and was completely closed off to anything remotely resembling commitment.

You made me cave twice, after defiantly announcing I was done with you only to come crawling back into your arms. Don’t give yourself too much credit for it though. This was mainly due to my weakness, and not your charm. I couldn’t walk away from the idea of having someone there, of physical intimacy but also affection, validation, affirmation that I was hot, that I was an object of desire. Finding other people was hard, and that one time I thought I had found someone else, the whole thing crashed and burned in a blaze of glory. But that wasn’t just it. I need to be honest. In the beginning, I was so sure I didn’t want to have anything to do with you, that you bore no resemblance to anyone I could actually have feelings for. But somehow, life threw me a curveball. And yes, I admit it, I had been catching those pesky little feelings in my butterfly net for a while. 

I’m really not sure what it is, but I think it is something like this. You are authentic, down to earth and unapologetic about who you are. There is not a pretentious bone in your body. You are flawed and you understand that, and you are continuously trying to better yourself, however that ideal person in your mind might be and whether I agree with those ideals or not. You are honest to a fault, honest with your past scars, your present feelings, your future intentions. You are strong– arguably stronger than I am, with the conviction and self control to stick to what you believe is right for you. You are kind and genuinely trying to be a good person, despite constantly saying things that strike me as insensitive and ignorant, despite often coming off as a dick. But I know that’s a facade. I’ve gotten to know you, despite your consistent efforts to push me away, and I can see the person that you are inside. You’re not Drake. You’re not Connor McGregor. You’re just a normal person. But somehow you made it outside the window of my heart. You looked in. And I saw you. 

And now we are at the ending. A wise man once said, things don’t end unless they end badly. I don’t believe in month-long breaks. The truth is you knew we were getting too close, and you got scared. Despite the fact that we barely see each other already, that we never do anything remotely date-y, that nearly all our encounters are insured by the excuse of group hangouts and alcohol, it still happened. And so you want me out of your life, so you can be you again. Aloof, always in control, chasing the one thing you presumably want more than anything out of life. Power. 

Do you know what I think is powerful? Someone who isn’t afraid to confront their feelings, who is willing to take the ultimate risk, who can just take things as they go and let the universe do its work. Do I think we were meant to be together, or that we even should date? No, and that’s not necessarily what I want either. But I also take whatever life throws at me, and when I feel things develop I’m open to see where they go. I’m not afraid of getting hurt. I’ve been hurt many, many times. And yet still every time, I throw myself into the fire because I think, maybe, just maybe it could be worth it this time. 

And this brings me back to why I’m angry. I’m angry because you are so guarded and so fast to bolt the second you think things could be getting “serious,” despite the fact that there is no predictor for what could happen in the future, and everybody is different. I’m angry because this is a classic case of me wanting what I can’t have, chasing after the “challenge" of possibly swaying you. I’m angry because I should have seen this coming, because I did see this coming, actually, and didn’t jump out of the way fast enough. I’m angry because I hate endings, especially when I’m not the one initiating them. I’m angry because you’re leaving me high and dry, and how come I don’t get to ask for “closure" like you did when I tried to cut you off last month? I’m angry because “You know what- How dare you! How dare you reject me!“ I’m angry and my anger is completely irrational.   

Maybe I’m mostly angry at me, for not being able to stick to my guns the first time. But I’m also not going to be too hard on myself. The flesh is weak. We had a good time. You made me write something. 

Goodbye. I will miss getting fucked by you. 

I said, does she have good taste in music? He said, not as good as yours. I said, that's good.

What I really wanted to ask was, do you like her? What a stupid question, of course he does. Do you like her a lot? Do you like her now more than you liked me then? Is she the one? Do you feel sure with her, sure in a way you never did with me? 

But of course, I didn't ask any of those things. I smiled and said, I'm happy for you. What I really meant was, I'm unhappy for myself. But I didn't say that.

And how've you been doing? He asked me. Well, I said. Except... 

Except what? He asked. 

Remember when I used to freak out about dying? I said. I've been doing that a lot these days. I just think of how I have to die and I get so afraid. Is that normal? 

He laughed and said, stop doing that, you're crazy. 

I laughed back and said, maybe. 

But I don't think I'm crazy. I guess I should have been more clear. I guess I should have said, I'm not really afraid of dying. I'm really afraid of dying alone. I'm so afraid of being alone. 

Is that crazy? 

Sometimes I just feel this crushing loneliness that I don't know how to escape from. I thought it would stop when I moved out of New York City. But it's followed me here. It keeps following me and it won't leave.  And I've really tried so hard to leave it behind. 

Sometimes I wonder, am I alone in this world? And if I am, am I strong enough to live through it? Because I don't think I am. 

But I didn't say any of these things.

Don't fuck it up this time, I said to him. He laughed. I won't, he said. You take care of yourself, ok?

So into you-
so swept by
your burning intelligence,
with a speed that calls into question
the legitimacy of any
feeling.

I doubt this
and unapologetically, I doubt you,
You in all your
dazzling charm
and the subliminal passion you inspire
in me, when you speak to me as if I
could be someone.

I want for myself only
not what I had before.
I want for myself only
something a little better,
and you are too good,
too good to not be bad.

But the evening and the morning comes
and I can’t let go of hanging on
to the reverie
of you
because I’m so into
you,

and I only hope
with bitten bottom lip,
that you will last longer,
prove rarer,
more refreshing,
reverberating
and real,
than the words we played to win
each other over

on text and echoing in
the halls of the
great museum,
where we first debuted
our game
to the world.

your dream girl don't exist

Like jeff mangum once said, "at the age of five she slit her wrists."

The global male population's endless search for the manic pixie dream girl will never cease.
news flash: stop searching. she ain't alive. she dead.

I think I was supposed to be flattered and honored when you showered me with compliments and told me you you were "really picky." Instead, I was just confused. Since when was this about you choosing me? I raised the pink flag too late.

You were searching for the perfect girl. You thought you might've found her in me. You wanted someone who didn't work in the same industry and thus could take you away from work and indulge with you in your more artistic, cultural pursuits; someone who could wax poetic with you on life and literature, someone who shared your taste in music (it's funny how the way i worded it was "we have the same taste," while the way you worded it was "holy shit, you have good taste"), who could engage with you in textual banter at 10pm on weekdays after work when you were lounging in bed and bored, whom was presentable enough to be paraded around in front of your friends and at work events, someone sexually liberated and carefree who would fulfill all your wildest bedroom fantasies, someone who existed to give you a new perspective on life and infuse your time outside of work with joy and wonder.

When you realized that she was not me-- or, more specifically, that I did not fit your criteria to a T and that there was infinitely more to me than that, you balked. and you don't even have the guts to meet me and say it to my face. Because you can't explain it. The sudden 180 that came out of nowhere. It doesn't make sense. Or at least, you can't explain it without sounding like a huge asshole.
I'm insulted that you became infatuated with someone who bears little resemblance to the person i am. I am infinitely more complex than that. and i deserve somebody who appreciates that and thinks that that's beautiful and worth it, not some social construct, some idealized version of femininity that you hold in high regard. I'm proud of the fact that I like you for who you are, and not for where you work, or what you look like, or what 'type' you are.

And if you don't agree with my assessment of what you're thinking, then tell me to my face. 'cause i'm not afraid to call bullshit when i see it. and i will.

when we first broke up, there were two questions I couldn't stop asking myself; probably the two most cliche questions in the whole wide world. but they were also two questions I couldn't let go of, no matter how much thinking of them hurt. With time, I told myself to stop. I started to move on, to understand and to accept. I started to actually be happy again. My friends taught me there were other things out there, and i learned there were other guys out there. we met and talked it out and i felt like we achieved an understanding, albeit a sad one. I felt like I could start again. But I didn't know that post breakup depression came in waves. the second wave hit when you didn't text me back. I thought I wouldn't care- i mean, you had no obligation to. we're not dating anymore, we're supposedly "friends," and you have no obligation to care about me anymore. but it started to bother me more than anything else. i thought it was so rude and inconsiderate. I didn't understand how you could go from caring so much to not caring at all in an instant. is this really all i meant to you? do i really mean so little that you can just forget to text me back now, even though just two weeks ago you were texting me every day telling me you missed me, kissing me on the forehead, holding me in your arms? and the second wave of shittiness came, and i'm sitting here feeling like shit, having to take a sick day on the day we were supposed to leave for Bermuda together. in one night, you changed my whole life. you ripped everything i had worked on, everything i had invested in, away from me. you fucked me over so hard, and only now am i starting to feel the resentment-- overdue, i guess. when a girl asks you if you're falling for her, how could your first reaction be to break up with her? how could all of those things, everything we built and everything we shared, just suddenly cease to exist, suddenly become meaningless? I wished I would never get to this point, but I'm beginning to question everything we had now, even though I know that will only bring me pain. I know it was a stupid idea to expect to be friends so quickly, and I also know that I had been in denial when I told myself I had moved on. I didn't want you out of my life just like that. Five fucking months of you meaning everything to me, of investing in and nurturing what we had, and you threw it all away in a one night epiphany. I don't want to be the victim of your fucking journey of self-discovery. I don't want you to learn and grow at my expense. sorry, but can i be selfish for once? can i, for one second, not always care and look out for you and give you the benefit of the doubt, as I did time and time again? I built you up in my head to be this person who could do no wrong, you were just flawed, you were great, it was me who fucked up everything. but it's not true. you didn't appreciate me. you didn't value me. you were inconsiderate, rude, and you were a fucking asshole. why oh why did i give you 100% when you wouldn't even give me 50?? and why oh why was I okay with having that continue? I was prepared to throw all of my self worth away as long as you would take me back. but of course, the cruel joke is you won't. no matter how much I offer. Because I'm not the product you came to buy. when you don't want something, you don't want it even if it's given to you for free. and really, this time did I have to be that girl? But how can i so easily forget all the great times we shared together, how happy i felt when i was with you, all those things you did that i thought proved you really did like me, how could i just erase all that we had? and even after all this time, those two questions won't leave me alone, the two most cliche questions in the world. Two questions with answers I can't find, or perhaps answers I just can't and don't want to swallow.

How could you do this to me? How could you hurt me like this?

On the Q train back home, I saw somebody who reminded me of you. Grey pants, battered vans, soft worn sweater, plaid shirt collars stiffly raised. He wore black rimmed glasses, a hair cut kind of awkward, and he had your determined look on his face: a look that held all the ambition in the world. It was a look of quiet confidence, stubborn discipline, lucid reason driven by a brilliant intellect. It spoke of the determination— no, the need- to do things above and beyond, to go places, to create something, to be extraordinary. It was a look that I thought belonged only to you. He got off at my stop, and I hurried out to see where he would go. But he surged ahead, took a turn, disappeared, and i remembered all the things that made me sad. because your look, the look that i fell for, the world that it spoke of— is yours and yours alone. and I will always be on the fringes looking in, trying to catch up, wishing you could hear me say, honey, come home.

Day 6

Day 6.
This morning I woke up and thought I was gonna be ok. didn't feel as shitty as yesterday, had many productive activities lined up for the day ahead, the weekend was coming.. and i thought i was gonna be fine. i even kind of had breakfast by washing down some cinnamon toast crunch with soy milk. Got to the office and I got started on work. Everything was good until I had a moment of weakness and started editing that document of stuff I wanted to say to you again. When 11pm rolled around I could feel the despair kind of creeping up again, so I went outside for a cigarette. came back in and re-centered myself. Did more work. heated up my lunch and actually ate most of it. Then 2pm came and man, it got hard. I started to miss you again. That feeling is an unsettling ache at the bottom of my stomach. Thought about work stuff and things I wanted to do and I really wanted to text you and tell you about them. Thought about the weeks ahead and not being able to spend them with you and felt supremely shitty. I chatted up Zach on Gchat because when I talk to him I usually feel a little better. He told me to come with him and Ernie etc to a party in Brooklyn on Friday night. I thought about going but couldn't help thinking that I would rather be holed up with you in bed. Remembered all those times you used to kiss me on the forehead and we would laugh together over stupid words like "randy" or "papaya." felt a big rock rising in my throat and had to push it down. feel like shit again and the hour from 2 to 3 seemed unbearably long. It's 3pm now and I'm counting down the hours till I'm off work, but after that, what? wondering if you're also missing me. thinking you are and thinking again about how stupid and pointless it is for us to suffer like this when we could be together. whole body is sore and aching and feeling like this break up is sucking the life blood out of me. thought i would be better today but i guess the process is slower than i thought it would be. almost feel too tired to type even though god knows i've slept enough. thinking about you, babe. miss you so much.

number of iterations of the "begging you to take me back" letter i've written so far: 3.
number of ones i've actually sent: 0.
number of my friends who think i need to move on and we should never ever ever get back together: 3
number of my friends who've told me "boys just don't get it" and i should try again: 2
number of epiphanies i've had in the past few days: 1.
number of hot yoga classes bought in an attempt to fill my days with productive activities: 1.
number of tissues drowned in pool of tears: many
number of times i've said "how could you do this to me?!": 10.
number of times i've said: "May, you're strong and you're going to be ok!": 11.
number of outlines i've written for a post break up conversation: 1.
number of empowering songs on my "lucy liu water boiled fish is a warrior' playlist: 22.
number of unexplained social game notifications you have sent me: 2.
number of times i've wanted to call you: 5.
number of self improvement initiatives i've put down in my notes to make myself a better person: 13
number of people i want to focus on right now: 1, me.
number of weeks i'm going to give myself and you before the possibility of giving it another shot: 2.
number of shots i'm going to give it: 1.
number of times i will let myself be rejected: less than 2.
number of days i still have ahead of me, which will be amazing no matter what: infinite.

this is the first time i've belonged to someone

it's a funny feeling, going back and reading old blog posts. If we humans existed soley in the fragmented timeline of the blogosphere, the verdict on me would surely be that of someone mentally unsound. Let's see...It goes something like this: post #25 screams "I love you." post #26 says "you're fucking playing games with me. post #27 is pretty determined to kick your sorry ass to the curb. But here we are in post #28, and hey, i'm your girlfriend. yup, she's crazy.

Only when I read back through the slew of posts does it become apparent again how much of an utter rollercoaster this relationship has been. And to think, not to be cheesy, but we've come this far. Or I have, at least, in my head. Maybe I've only mistaken denial for acceptance. It's funny how people often get those two very opposite things mixed up. But I guess if a "honeymoon period" existed in all relationships, I must be living in it right now.

I really do like you a lot. That doesn't mean that all those things that pissed me off about you before have ceased to exist. I've just chosen to ignore them. Of course, they still pop up time to time, in moments like last night, when, in what I thought was a blazing, good moment to crystalize forever in loving ecstacy, you mumbled the name of that blonde bitch you used to sleep with. After picking myself up out of the debris of my shattered dreams, i sincerely questioned what the fuck I was doing there. I considered leaving in a huff, but you were already passed out on the bed snoring and probably wouldn't have noticed.

so there are sucky times. but then I think, maybe it's time to stop unrealistically wishing for a perfect romance. Maybe all my life I've been looking for someone to walk in and fit perfectly into the "you" character in Bright Eyes' haunting "First Day Of My Life." But then I also realized a while ago that believing in love at first sight has probably been one of the greatest tragedies of my existence. Maybe you exist to remind me that life isn't about constantly hurtling oneself at destruction mistaken for romance. Even when I find you extremely condescending, I have to admit that you ground me, somewhat. you've come along and told me, not in so many words, that I have to act and live like an adult.

And it's nice to look at someone with admiration and see them looking down at you with something of the same sort in their eyes. I know you still can't believe that i ranked intelligence as my number one thing when looking for somebody to be with. But the truth is, above all, it's your brilliance that draws me to you. It's the fire that keeps the slow burn going and is what keeps me, despite all complaints, by your side and in this for the long haul.

sorry i can't be your manic pixie dream girl

this time i wanted to try. i really did. i didn't like you all that much at first, but i told myself to wait. i told myself not to be stupid, like i have so many times in the past. i asked myself: do you want to be desperate and alone forever? i told myself, you need to stop pushing people away. you need to stop wishing for love at first sight. you need to stop fantasizing about unrealistic, passionate, destructive relationships. you need to grow up. so i opened my heart to you. i learned to like you, and i truly came to. i learned to appreciate the things about you that made you amazing. i truly and honestly wanted to make it work. with every red flag, i told myself i was overreacting, that i was back to my old habits again, that i needed to be more feminine and forgiving. with every shitty thing you did, i told myself it was because you had no experience, it was because i had no experience, it was because of circumstance. i firmly believed that it could work. i didn't want to let you go. but you've left me with no choice.

you. treat. me. like. shit. and the funny thing is i don't think you even know it. and i've finally woken up. it's taken me way too long to find this clarity. because every time i'd get really angry, really determined to put an end to all this, you'd do something small that made me question my resolve. and everyone knows all girls are suckers for the little things. i forgave you way too many times, found too many excuses for you. the truth is, you treat me like this because you don't like me enough. because evidently, i'm not the girl of your dreams. perhaps you've decided to settle for me because you got burned once by your manic pixie dream girl who changed your life, but sorry, i still have too much respect for myself and i don't like you enough to accept life as a girl someone's settled for. what a laughable insult.

you once asked me what i thought of commitment. i was worried you were implying that you didn't want to commit. now it's so clear that that's not what i should have been worried about. you aren't noncomittal. you're just noncommital to me. because you don't like me enough to want to keep me around. you don't feel for me enough to want to commit to me. you don't care enough. about me. would you drive 13 hours down to new york city to throw stones at my window and shout from the rooftops that you want to be mine? absolutely not. you won't even take a subway ride to brooklyn to see me. and that's what hurts so much, really. the rejection. the rejection that you never expressed explicitly but is everywhere in the way you act. the "why am i not good enough?" "what have i did wrong?" "why can't i compare?" all those questions chipping away at my insecurities like little scratchy knives.

but i honestly believe that i deserve somebody who loves me for everything i am. someone who loves me for how i'm different from other girls, someone who loves me for my silly sense of humor, someone who loves me for who i am, wholly and completely, so i can also wholly and completely give myself to this person. I have enough self-confidence in myself to believe that i deserve that. it is funny when all your friends tell you that you're seeing someone who's not good enough for you, who has way less game than you do, yet you've actually given this person all the power. luckily for me, i'm not in deep enough to lose all self-respect and let myself be played like a fiddle, like i've done in the past. trust me, you really aren't that good of a catch.

but i was willing to try. i was willing to give it a shot. i really did genuinely like you, i really did genuinely feel that i could have fallen for you if we really took it and went. but you're not in this at all. and even though i know you would love for the status quo to go on forever because you're in such a great place right now, because you're so complacent ( and isn't it so funny that that's the one thing you said you never wanted to be) and so sure that you already have me in your pocket, that a few pecks on the forehead and paying for dinner once three weeks will tide me over with no intention to ever commit, or with intention to commit in who knows how long only if something better doesn't come up in the meantime, well then i'm telling you that's not going to happen. you've already lost me. and you never, ever, even once told me that you liked me. or that you even thought i was pretty.

i just wanted to be a loving, caring girlfriend. i just wanted to be your girl. but it's fucking over. and you bet it fucking sucks.

i don't feel like i've ever been this frustrated

if you don't like me, tell me. don't play games with me. I can't do this anymore. I really can't take this shit anymore. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't care. But I do. you know I do. I don't believe you can't see it, that you can't feel it. and if you were sure, wouldn't you want to walk down this road together? because we can work around anything, everything, if the feelings are there. but if they're not, then nothing in hell could ever make this work. I want so much for this to be something great, something beautiful. and I feel like I'm all in. But I don't know where the fuck you are. I don't know what the fuck you're doing. I don't think you know what you're doing and honestly, I don't know if you even care.

This is no longer about any stupid game.
This isn't about playing anyone hot and cold.
This is about you and me and what's gonna happen.
Someone told me not to fuck this up.
But I'm so scared it already has been.
and I have no idea where your heart's at anymore. 

here's the thing about romance

here's the thing about romance:
you always want more.

at first you want signs.
a brush of knuckles, a casual arm over your shoulder.
a different way of saying your name.
a smiley face in a text
or a look.

and then you want touches.
an arm around you, keeping you warm.
laced together fingers.
and really most of all
a kiss.

but when your lips touch it's not enough.
though you drink it in, desperately, like a drug
the beauty's eclipsed by want of more.

because now you want words.
a grand sweeping gesture
a declaration of love
a promise.

after that you can't stop wanting.
you want the world, more time, more life.
you want forever.

and maybe that's where romance lives: in the wanting.
in the inflated expectations
and even the inevitable disappointments.

because there's something so hopelessly romantic, don't you think?
about always getting closer and closer
but never quite getting there

.

imagine you're drowning

and from under the surface of the water very vaguely you can see a hand reaching down to pull you up from above. and you know that survival is imminent and you feel this rush of hope but there's also this deep sinking feeling inside you and this gush of despair at the same time because you have no idea whether you're going to reach that hand or not. because there's an equal 50/50 chance that you won't reach it.

usually we don't take notice of moments like these ( ok, well, maybe moments a little less dramatic) because they pass by so quickly-- they really only happen for a second, and then either you're saved or you're drowned and you really don't have much time to dwell on the matter. but now imagine that that isn't the case. imagine that you're inhabiting that second indefinitely. that that second of both hope and exhaustion and despair extend until what seems like the end of time.

this is how a college senior feels between completing the final round interview for a job she really wants and finding out the employer's eventual decision. that period of time that seems to stretch on forever that leaves a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach so you keep swallowing and swallowing and trying not to think and it's making you nauseous.

it's no use to keep telling yourself not to think about it and what can i do about it and it's their decision now and whatever happens, happens. that's the rational mind speaking. but we all know our brains aren't ruled by reason. instead the question that keeps coming up is what if i don't get it? i mean if i don't get it i can always look at other options and apply to other things and i have a plan and it's all laid out and it'll be all right and i'll probably get it anyway i mean i think i did well didn't i do well i mean she seemed to like me and by gosh three rounds of interviews to not get it after investing so much time and emotion into it so i definitely i mean i should get it i tried so hard but what if i dont get it what if i dont get it? and god no dont think about it the pain and the exhaustion and the despair and the injury to my pride and having to tell mom and dad and my friends that i'm still indefinitely unemployed for now and the humiliation. oh the humiliation.

the feeling that i'm reaching out for that hand and i'll try to grab it but maybe i'll miss it by an inch. that i might still be waiting in this dark pool indefinitely. and maybe i really will drown.

it sucks the life blood out of you. to have this feeling occupy your every moment but still have to be a student and attend to homework and lectures and internships and part-time jobs. all the while still being dead broke, even though you have no free time to even brush your hair or download a song, because everything you're doing is unpaid, in the hopes of-- at least in the past you were convinced of-- preparing yourself and suffering now, not later, so now you can get a decent degree and draft a great resume and get a killer job and come to live comfortably in the future. but now the future is imminent and you're beginning to feel desperate like you won't actually get a job, you begin to wonder what was all that suffering for then? for nothing? then what are you putting 24/7 of yourself and your time into right now? a huge scam? you half expect some people to pop up from the bleachers and start laughing at you because you've been such an idiot.

to be broke and jobless and a college senior waiting for an employment decision. waiting for the whole world to either come crashing down or for the sun to rise and for everything to be ok and over.

there are other jobs out there, you tell yourself. but the point isn't that. it's not this job. it's what it represents.

the last spring break

life slows down for a millisecond, and now i actually have time to bat an eyelash, to take a deep breath and think,and it's all kind of scary, really, the revelation. it starts to sink in that my youth is really, really, almost over. i'm actually turning a new page, beginning a new chapter in my life. looking past all the panicking and freaking out about the job search and everything, i ask myself to wait a second-- while you're in such a mindless hurry to get a job, you've forgotten that this is also your youth slipping away from you soundlessly, without warning. this is a BIG life decision that you haven't thought about at all! the normal, rational thing is to think i need a job right away-- right this instant. but man it's scary to actually let what that signifies sink in.

is it worth it?? is it really?? i always have another option: apply for a one-year volunteer program in bangladesh, and try to wring the tiny bit of what's left of my youth out for all it's worth. hmm. maybe. possibly. i've never been one to shy away from spontaneous decisions. blow this all off and go abroad and live a little more, experience a little more before i need to settle into that dreadful routine and work to pay the bills and grow old and wrinkled and worst of all, jaded and apathetic.

ugh. my head is always fucking with me. sometimes i just want to crawl under the covers and close my eyes and wish the world away, pretend that i'm living in a faulkner novel.

JAMAICA JAMAICA JUST COME. my head is playing weird games. i need you. moment of clarity please!!!

life continues to slap me in the face.

I'm exhausted. I really am. Emotionally.

Discouraged. Ego bruised. Generally down. Tired of recruiting. Tired of networking. Tired of filling out application after application, only to be answered with rejection after rejection. Tired of waiting for nothing to come into fruition. Most of all, tired of what growing up entails, if what it entails is the gradual coming into belief that nobody will take me, that nobody will want me, that I'm actually not good enough.

It's funny. I used to freak out about things like boys. Now those things couldn't be pushed further to the fringes of my mind. I think I'd sell my soul for a job offer right now. Maybe. Probably.

I feel like I'm living in a parallel universe to my friends and the people around me; a universe of job applications and corporate presentations and general panic attacks. I feel like I've long since gone to another planet, in fact. I'm in an astronaut suit looking down at the earth, at my roommates eating pinkberry and my friends partying in meatpacking and my mom watering the garden. I'm in lalaland by myself, having absolutely no fun at all.

Yep. The days of my youth truly are over. I'm no longer young enough to beg my mama for money to buy myself frivolous clothing and accessory items and elaborate socially-obligated meals. Yep. I'm a senior in college. And the next stop on this line is unemployment.

Optimistic, right? I wish I could be more optimistic. I used to be. Clutching my resume, smart blazer round my shoulders, black patent heels, my mascara on perfect, I was confident. I knew my resume was baller. I knew I had good references. I knew I had awesome experience. And most of all, I knew I could do well at the job I was applying to. But now I'm starting to realize that maybe all that wasn't enough. That maybe I had overestimated myself.

I don't have any connections. I don't have any backdoor contacts. My undergraduate degree is not business-related. I don't go to stern and I don't know how to network. What if this is my downfall?

I'm terrified, horrified, appalled. Mostly terrified. I don't want to be that girl my mom's friends will gossip about, so-and-so's daughter who insisted on majoring in something useless like English and as expected, graduated without a job. I don't want to be that embarrassment. I want to be a proves-you-wrong. Not a well-we-all-saw-that-coming.

I never was a perfectionist. I never was an overachiever. I never wanted to be extraordinary. I just want to be good, and I was always good enough.

But I'm just not so sure anymore.

wrote this on the plane from shanghai to ewr. here it is in its full glory.

So this is it. It’s all over. No more nights out, no more dinners, no more days, no more classes, no more shanghai. No more being reckless, sleepless nights, abusing our youth. This is it. Back to reality.

I’ve given some thought to what I want to write about in this blog post, and no form seems adequate to express the entirety of what I felt about this experience. So I think, instead of doing anything super official or more narrative-like, I would like to shout out to some of my favorite/ not so favorite memories and the people here who really made my semester. Think of it as a series of vignettes that piece together somewhat of a whole. The theme of the semester was definitely “insanity,” so here are my top insane moments (in no particular order):

1.Beijing- spark all night, getting 2 hours of sleep, then climbing the great wall
2.Getting high as a kite and singing “hello” with everyone in 1003
3.Everything about w-gate
4.Finding out about the passing of ilya ☹
5.Last night- falling down the stairs and bleeding
6.Everything that happened on those crazy orientation nights... making irresponsible decisions
7.Hungover at my internship multiple times, one time to the extent that I had to call in and pretend to be sick. then spent the next day eating at canto place and laying around in bed complaining
8.Shot for shot.. and what shouldn't have happened after
9.Doing nails and gossiping, balcony smoke sessions
10.Finding a live bug while stir-frying vegetables
11. Drinking a whole bottle of wine myself while whining to everyone in my vicinity about you-know-who

And many, many more that I can’t even remember. I met so many special people here, had so much fun, made so many stupid decisions and so many amazing ones. I love everyone who made this semester awesome—even the people who hurt me, because you’re only hurt by the ones you love—and I loved you all. Specifically:

S&M (haha):
There may have been drama and we can’t all love each other at 100% 100% of the time, but I’m confident that in you guys I’ve found lifelong friends. The days and nights we’ve been through together—nothing can replace that. Gonna love you guys forever, my yin and yang 902 twins.

W:
The biggest theme of my semester—I’m sure to everyone else, I must have looked pretty fucking retarded, but I don’t regret anything. I’m not going to lie, you hurt me, and when I told you how I felt, your joking reaction was really less than appropriate, but I don’t hate you and never will. It’s impossible. There’s a reason why I liked you so much, though I can’t even tell you what it is myself, but that is also the reason why I will always remember you as someone who made my time here awesome—not miserable. I’m so glad that now we’re friends.

E&A:
I’ve honestly always lacked actual, platonic guy friends in my life, and this semester you guys were there for me—through everything. You were patient with me, listened to me blab about shit that you really shouldn’t be subjected to the misery to hear about, and always had my back. For that, I really love you guys.

And all my other amazing friends here. Too many to name.

We had the best group of people in Shanghai this Fall. This is an experience I’m going to retain in my heart forever—even when I’m old and wrinkled, and staying up past 11 is unthought of, let alone staying out all night then chugging noodle man—and thinking that this is goodbye is incredibly hard.

A part of me is so exhausted in every single way and can’t wait to touch down on American soil, but a part of me knows so well that I’ve just left one of the best experiences of a lifetime.

Listening to my shanghai experience and I’m smiling at all those memories that are still so fresh in my mind. Shanghai, if I can’t keep you forever, I’m going to lock you in a song.

And what else could it be?

finale

This is it. The final stretch. And I’m not talking about my studies or anything.

Tonight I’m going to follow my heart. Let myself go. Not care what anyone thinks about anything I do. Because I sure as hell am not about to leave Shanghai with any regrets.

Shanghai, you’ve treated me well. You’ve taught me to grow up, taught me just how much fun I can have being young, taught me that there are no limits to the night. Shanghai, you’ve also taught me what it feels like to get hurt, to be betrayed, and to cry. But all of that is going to be worth it in the end. I want to leave this city feeling like I’ve went through the experience of a lifetime. And I have a feeling that I will.

Here’s to Shanghai, and here’s to you.


Beautiful

You had me
From the very first time
I laid my eyes on you
And decided that
That was what I wanted.

That night
For the first time in my life
I was allowed the luxury
of not just admiring from afar.

Thank you for sharing
A bit of your dazzling beauty with me.
Even though it was short lived,
Even though
To you
It may have meant nothing at all

To me
It was everything.

And this whole time
I could have given my heart
To anybody here
But I chose you.

I know you didn’t
Choose me,
But that’s okay.

I’m not ashamed of
Wanting something beautiful.
Don’t we all want the same?

And I’m not going to be ashamed,
Tonight,
Of anything I do.

Because I know I’m better than
A fleeting hookup
A regret you want buried
In the recesses of your mind.

I know I’m better than
Hiding my feelings
Just because I don’t want
Others to judge,
Because I’m scared of what you’d think
When you know.

I think you already know
And if you don’t,
I want you to.

Tonight I want to let you know
That I cared about you.

Tonight I want to let you know
No matter how irrational this may sound
That you meant a lot to me.

Tonight I want to let you know
That you’re beautiful, one-of-a-kind,
Even everything I hate about you.

Tonight I want to let you know
You kind of broke my heart.
But you made my semester.

Thank you for making me feel, for a moment, special.
Thank you for giving me your attention, thank you
For remembering my name.
And most of all
Thank you for being beautiful.

Here’s a secret
only for you:
I’d rather swim in dirty water
Than get lost
in any deep blue sea.

almost ending credits

currently listening: pyramid- nightbox

revisiting music i listened to the past to, as cheesy as it sounds, rediscover who i am. this semester, i feel like i've turned into a completely different person. that's always been one of my flaws-- adapting a little too seamlessly into new environments, to the extent that sometimes i even lose sight of who i really am, who i should be, and the values i should hold on to.

i don't want to say i feel like i've become a despicable person, or that i completely reject the way my time at NYU in Shanghai has changed me. that wouldn't be true. i think i've also seen many good changes in myself. but i've also become meaner, more dramatic, and definitely more naiive.

i need to kick myself in the butt and realize-- i'm 21 years old. i'm a graduating senior. i'm not young and uninhibited anymore. unfortunately.

a little earlier in the semester, a friend i met here asked me if, because i was graduating soon, i was"looking for something serious." at the time, i said no-- not really, i can't find something serious anyway so now i'm just having fun. now, i've pretty much realized i was straight up lying/ in denial. of course i'm looking for something serious. i'm so sick and tired of being alone. but my sky-high standards and ridiculous tendency to run after everything i can't have has consistently blocked me from finding anything close to love.

i refuse to give anybody i'm not attracted to immediately a chance. and i'm starting to think maybe i should change that. i'm thinking about all the non-things i've had with people in the past, especially you, i guess, and the pretty much heartless way i rejected you right before i came to shanghai. i found you suddenly annoying and even repulsive, just because you had the nerve to tell me that you liked me. i have no idea why i reacted like that. i know as well as you did that there was something between us. that that wasn't just friendship. something seemed to be building up to happen-- but I feel like we missed taking hold of it when it was still possible. and then it kind of fizzled out, and when you finally made a move it was too late. which really sucks, because we could have had something so beautiful. and i'm so sorry for the way i treated you.

it's funny because sometimes i'm the bitch, sometimes i'm the heartbreaker, but i still think most of the time i'm the fool. most of the time i'm the loser who gets her heart trampled on all over. case in point- this semester. i think i probably should be massively embarrassed right now because pretty much everyone in the program at this point ( speculation) probably knows who I had a thing for, and if i were them i would be laughing at me hard right now, because he is pretty much one of the only people in the whole program who a girl should NOT be having feelings for.

I set myself up to be hurt and I set myself up to be a fool. there's no use clarifying to everyone now that those feelings are over, that I'm done with that, because honestly what's important is that it's over in my own mind-- not that everyone knows it, that's irrelevant. and i'm sick and tired of everyone knowing my shit and making their own speculations. honestly, in the past there was only one thing i really wanted to know, and that was what you thought about the whole shebang. i suppose in my heart there was always this pathetic little hope that maybe you thought differently of me, that maybe you saw how nice i was to you and how much i cared about you, that maybe you could see me as more than just a semi-attractive girl you hooked up with. that maybe i could make you like me. i really threw away my pride and i tried. and you don't know me-- i'm NEVER, EVER proactive.

but now, i don't want to do any of those things anymore. i'm fed up with you. i'm even fed up with the fantasy i made of you, disregarding your personality and focusing on your looks. i don't even care what you think anymore, because these days, everything has become clearer and clearer to me, and the situation is pretty much hopeless. you are not to be changed. you're selfish, inconsiderate, and you've built up a wall so thick and tall around your real emotions and around your heart that no one in hell is going to get in-- at least not now. who knows, maybe you're insecure and vulnerable and just kind of socially awkward inside. or maybe you're just as much of an ignorant asshole as the image you project.

either way, the situation that's happening right now is pretty much the worst case scenario i could ever imagine-- not only are you not out of my life, you're flaunting in my face every day the fallacy of the retarded feelings I had. you and her, in front of me-- the situation could not be more ironic. but you guys suit each other, in a way. you have things to say to each other. i honestly have nothing to say to you, nothing except-- "what's the drink you're drinking there?" because we have nothing in common. and honestly, that's probably a good thing. i still would rather not see you and her. it upsets me more than anything. but that's another story, i guess. one that i don't really want to get into.

there are only a few more weeks to the semester. i think i'm going to pull through. i'm going to miss shanghai and all the amazing people i've met here, the amazing time i had. but i'm probably not going to miss this crazy emotional roller coaster and the dramatic little bitch i've become. oh god. i wonder what's going to happen tomorrow.

goodbye.

I feel like I don’t deserve to be typing this, because I really barely knew you. But there are so many things I want to say. You were an extraordinary person. “Extraordinary” is the best word I can think of to describe you, because you embody everything that word implies. There was always something about you that was different from everybody else- whether it was those colorful shirts and pants you wore, that goofy grin, or the almost crazed look in your eyes that suggested the mind behind them was going a million miles a minute, dreaming up some wacky invention or other.

I remember the nights you would come down to our room and play drinking games with us—whether it would be cranium or kings or any other variation of college-kid tomfoolery. You were flirty with girls and didn’t hide it—I remember all three of us, Jane, Erin, and I, competing to flirt with you because you were the only good-looking dude in the room full of our geeky friends. We played kings and you drew the truth or dare card that we appointed during a previous “make-a-rule” round, and you had to say who you would fuck in that room, and in which position. You chose Erin, doggy style, which I would never admit at the time but kind of injured my pride. From that minute on I resolved I would catch your attention.

I remember that silly note that Ken wrote and slid threw our door, pretending to be you, because he was jealous of all the attention we gave you. It was a dumb thing, but I freaked out about it for a full two days wondering if possibly it could have been meant for me. Then, of course, we found out the truth, but that didn’t dampen my fascination for you. The next weekend, my friends came down from Princeton and I got really, really drunk pregaming with them. When they left I went up to your room and after a while we were conveniently left alone. You showed me some Russian animation videos of a bear called Cheburaska, which you adored, and a crazy screen you invented which would display in neon lights whatever message you input into it on the computer.

I remember standing next to you and smiling down at you, thinking, this guy is so brilliant, as you told me about the schools you transferred from and drew me that goofy world map of the places you went to all your life, with penned-in lines bouncing from country to country like those maps you read in en-route airplane magazines. We looked at each other and next thing I knew we were kissing, and you picked me up by my shoulders and threw me on your bed, against your wall, you climbed on top of me and I could feel the little prickly hairs on your chin and around your mouth. We did this for a while, you on top of me, sliding your hands under my shirt, and then I had to pull away and I had to stop. I climbed off your bed and smiled sheepishly and said I had to go. You didn’t push me. You said I could come back whenever I wanted. And I left.

I remember thinking after that that was one of the hottest makeouts of my life. All this was before you became famous.

Shortly after that I knew it was me who made it awkward. I felt strange when I would go up to your room for whatever reason, and you would be standing there with your shirt stained red from whatever crazy experiment you had just conducted, and you looked at me and winked at me. I looked away because I didn’t know how to conduct myself, and we never really did hook up again, but you didn’t blame me for being weird.

You even came down to my room once, after, to talk to me about privacy. I still remember how passionate you were about these causes that you knew so much about. I was blown away by your energy and your intelligence, once again, even though I was too young and naiive to fully appreciate what you stood for. I remember you saying “If we don’t fight for our privacy now, we’re going to lose our chance.” You had so many ideas. You wanted to save the world. I believed that you had the power to.

After that I told Jane about our conversation. She said, “I really don’t see what you guys see in him, I really don’t think he’s that smart.” Boy, did you prove those haters wrong. After that semester, I went to London, so I didn’t see you again, but when I heard about you next it was already in the newspapers. When I read that New York Times article, I smiled from ear to ear because I knew you were finally making a name for yourself for what you believed in. You took your dream and you actually made it happen—how many people have that kind of drive, nevermind ability, at the age of 20?

I know Diaspora was a four-person project, but there is no doubt in my mind that most of the vision behind it was yours and yours only. I know that from the conversations we had, from the look in your eye, from the conviction and passion that guided everything you did. Even when we were hooking up or before that, when I was interested in you, I was always firmly aware of how much girls were a secondary priority to you compared to the things you were passionate about. You were such a man, in that way.

I remember boasting like an idiot to all my friends: “I hooked up with someone who is now famous!” I was so proud for sticking my tongue into your mouth that one drunken night. I was so proud that I knew you—even though barely—because that article confirmed to the world how extraordinary and talented you were. I think I thought maybe some of your shine would rub off on me too. You inspired me to think that maybe I could actually be somebody. I remember how reading about you made me so happy to be at NYU- getting to know people who could actually be, somebody, who could actually change the world in the future. I felt so confident in the youth of our generation and so proud to be young that day.

And now you’re gone. It’s hard to imagine, impossible to accept. I still remember your look, your laugh, the way you talked and walked and acted. I was far from your close friend—maybe not even close enough to you to be an acquaintance, but you can be sure that you made a big impact on my life. I wish you could see that. I wish, before you made the decision to die, that you could see how many people were touched by you and inspired by you, who were cheering for you to succeed. I had been imagining the day when you would become the next Mark Zuckerberg, albeit an ethical, even more brilliant Mark Zuckerberg, and I could pat myself on the back and say, I knew that guy. We even had a little thing. But now, that day will never come. You had so much potential. You were so one of a kind. Why, why did you have to cut everything short? You could have made the world a better place. You were already in the process of doing so. 22 years old. You had the whole world in front of you, Ilya.

I know I will never understand why you did it, but even to an unassuming almost-stranger like me, you will always live in my memory—all the snippets of moments I can string together in my head of fall semester sophomore year, of which you were a definite highlight. Ilya, you were brilliant, kind, funny, one of a kind, extraordinary. And definitely one of the best kissers I have ever known.

The world is going to miss you.

I'm not being retarded for once!

I'm definitely getting better and better at this "getting over" thing. now when i think about you, i hardly blink an eyelid.

I'm still pretty fascinated by the person you are though. i just can't figure you out. do you really have no feelings at all/ are you completely oblivious to everything? you can't possibly be as big of a jackass as your image projects. You can't have NO emotions at all. Is that even possible? Maybe I'm giving you too much credit, but I like to think you're human at least. Honestly, those things you say don't hurt me much because I expected them. I'm more than clued in on where every girl here sits on the hotness spectrum, and I have no delusions. I have to admit, though, that saying stuff like that is probably not the wisest idea on your part because you're in danger of ruining your game hard when you're drunk.

I just can't figure out if you're either A) really, really dumb or B) really, really smart. There's no possibility of anything in between. I don't know which option would be better, though, from my point of view.

I know you're really into sucking those other kids' dicks, which I can't really understand except for the fact that they do have a lot in common with you, albeit not in a good way. I really hope you're not just social climbing/ trying to look cool because that would be pretty lame and high school of you. Hopefully the rest of this semester you can prove to me than you're more than that, 'cause even though now I really hold no more delusional hopes, I'd still like to think I wasn't wasting my time and energy all this while being so nice to you.

P.S you're definitely 9/ 10 looks wise-- no need to fake being humble.It's really the inside that counts, though. you can attract someone's attention with your looks, but to really keep it you've got to stop acting like an ignorant asshole all the time. I do have to thank you though, because that's tremendously helped me in terms of getting over you.