it's funny, all the things you start remembering as you get older. stuff i know i didn't remember before. like how i used to wear cross colours and bonjour and chic jeans. or how i've always had a thing for blonds or black dudes that were friends with me.

there's things like how me and lenore were the bestest of best friends in elementary school and she was an idiot wearing a tank top on a field trip downtown in late fall, so i lent her my sweater and i was standing around in a silk shirt, but it was still awesome. or how the line between hero worship and love is really non-existent in my head, especially after that one student teacher.

there's how hallways stretched long and frightening without a book to read while walking against a crowd of people. or how my mom's current room was the scariest in my house because it was the only one without a light fixture in it. and how, when we shared the room, my brother always took the top bunk. there's how i've always been on the bottom bunk and how, when i was sick, my brother would turn on the tape player to our favorite tape, tuck me in and give me peace and quiet while everyone else ate dinner. how sometimes i think we were closer friends than me and my sister because at least he looked out for me when we were at brandeis together.

but i guess it's less of that and how just yesterday i realized that i've always skated that line. i wore buttondowns over t-shirts and a guy reached up between the two and was trying to feel me up and i didn't even realize it until he'd touched my boob. and it'd been weeks of him laying on me, doing that. he got to second base before ever touching first and i feel... somewhat jilted.

and there's other things too--how i kinda miss high school now like a tangible thing, where i would change what i did for what i know now. because, yes, i would've taken jones' molesting further and my girls would've had to put up with PDAs because i would've let him do almost anything. shameless, yes, but true. i still have a curiosity about a certain piercing. (it didn't even take me getting drunk to tell him that i wish we'd met in some other time, where i wasn't who i was. it took a long ride to cincinnati, i think, and my feet against the car window and nostalgia. and i told him "i wish we'd met in some other time. i think we would've been fantastic." and how he texted back that he was sorry. and how it was sad but made sense, how i still think it passes through us from time to time and how i want to heal that boy's wounds, but know i'm not for him. how he promised me that he'd leave me what he made when he went to the army, and the drunken phone call at 1 in the morning where he promised me he'd be back. and how i haven't seen him since black friday.) or maybe i would've stopped repressing so hard and maybe have told one or two girls that maybe i wasn't so loving of them platonically. (granted, i'm still working that out right now, trying to decide if this is me being lonely, impressionable, or if it really has been there all along. and then whether i should act on it at all, considering the objects of my affection are all straight.)

or i wish i could go back to middle school and actually understand what max was saying to me, instead of just hearing the words and being glad he was talking to me still. savoring sharing eighth grade graduation with the two boys i'd adored as opposed to the girls i called my friends. but, more importantly, going back and actually working out my life's course properly.

these memories are all the paths i've taken, the ones that lead me to today and make me who i am. they're all the paths i wish i could've changed, the ones i wish i'd stayed on longer. if i could turn time backwards, i would go back and fix it. maybe i would've never become solidly insane but loved without high school. smart and honest without the brilliant minds i met in middle school. blunt and careful without the stability of family and faith in elementary school.

i just wish that now didn't seem so pale and lackluster in comparison.

god save me from myself and well-meaning english boys.


ok, so i've picked up with this really decent guy i've talked to for... uh... a time? but only met in person once. (oh jeez, i'm in a fucking internet relationship.) and only briefly at that, in that i rode in the same car as him, but we didn't really, ya know, chat.

at any rate. his cousin's a rat bastard that i happened to like for a while. miami. yeah. him. and he's friends with my juanboy, who keeps fucking avoiding me online. *keyboard smash of disapproval*

so. i've kinda picked up with him. and he's really nice. like my age or thereabouts. he's pretty skilled (a carpenter, which takes actual talent, buddy). and we talk. small talk, but we talk. for long periods of time which kills me. but i worry. because he's on the rebound. he's like fresh out of a long-term relationship and I DON'T WANNA BE THAT GIRL. but, like, he's asking me if i'm seeing anyone. and if i like where i live. and like.. i dunno. dude. this is .... and i say bye like i do to *everyone* (night, darling. because pet names get me out of using real names get me some pseudo affection get me talking to everyone on the same fucking level no matter the sex). and he says "night. take care. xx."

xx. like, kisses. like... seriously? and basing that on my england experience period, that's like... wayyyy left field. like juanboy affectionate (a hug at two weeks. taking care of me for a weekend. "love ya, sis" which means everything and nothing). so is that like his goodbye to girls, period? or is that his... goodbye? or...


i could tear my hair out right now. because i haven't done anything but be myself. and this is still confusing the hell outta me. because... ok. so asking me about my home life and my dating life and telling me your personal life and talking to me for two hours? shouldn't that mean something? or am i reading too much into this again?

( so here's my problem )

nothing i know can prepare me for knowing if this is a first move from the new boy. if september was a move from my juanboy. i've been told i'm too fat to be loved like... oh. i just dunno. i may possibly be what the new boy wants. i may possibly be dating my juanboy. but i'm so ill-prepared for the dating scene...


i don't know what i'm gonna do. whether i'll reciprocate with the new boy. whether that would be unfaithful to my juanboy. or if i'm just taking it all way too seriously. maybe the boys are just being friendly. maybe i'm just their opening to what hot americans they can catch (maybe not the new boy so much, as he's been to NY once, and florida 5 times... thank god for a traveling type...), or i'm the girl they can hang with and have no worries. a way to rebel against their parents (because america's a den of iniquity and sin and sodom and gomorrah just moved here instead of getting destroyed) by hanging with an american girl.....

i don't know what i'm gonna do. i fail utterly at the game. at recognizing the difference between moves and friendly overtures. because if i really am picking up with the new boy, i'm gonna become THAT GIRL, that rebound girl, that desperate loser who the guy settles for.


jesus fuck, it's too early in the morning to be having a crisis of relationships.

damn. i don't like tomas.

but, then again, i also don't like this side of nix. non-confrontational, zero backbone, fear fear fear.

so does he tell liam the ugly truth? or does he hide and couch names and pain in generalisms and lies?



is my bobby-the-plot-shark nice or mean?


what happens to nix and liam?