“Strange as it may seem, I still hope for the best, even though the best, like an interesting piece of mail, so rarely arrives, and even when it does it can be lost so easily.”—Lemony Snicket (via kari-shma) (via quote-book)
“I understand feelings as small and insignificantly as humanly possible and how it can actually ache in places you didn’t know you had inside you. And it doesn’t matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or new clothes you get. you still go to bed every night going over every detail and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the heck for that brief moment you could think you were happy. And sometimes you even convince yourself that he’ll see the light and show up at the door. And after that, however long all that maybe, you’ll go somewhere new and you’ll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff.”—
How can two words— “not” and “reciprocated”— stupefy you so thoroughly?
He apologized, and was gentlemanly even to the end. He told me that he admired my “maturity and graciousness”. He said that he wished that he had spoken to me about it earlier, and that he didn’t want me to have unrealistic expectations, or to hurt me, or to make this anymore difficult or awkward for the both of us. He apologized for his awkward behavior over the last few weeks. He told me he appreciated how I’ve never been untoward or inappropriate. He bid me good night. He smiled,walked away and left me in pieces.
Seeing him today was exhausting. He greeted me warmly. I crossed my arms and mumbled “good morning” and looked down at my shoes. I bid him a good day preaching and went to the bathroom and put a cold compress on my eyes. I was the last person to get in the car and the first person to go home. I slept the rest of the day, and I feel like I can sleep for a million more years.
Allyson told me “I love how strong you’re being.” Johnathon told me that he hoped I “felt better and whatever it is, could smile again soon.” Rula told me that she “was praying for” me. Jerri told me she was “not going to ask questions but keep you in mind”. Brianna made me Gevalia coffee and gave me soup (because I don’t think I could hold down anything else). My mother told me that “he’s great, but not for you, I’m so sorry.” Iris told me that she “was there to listen”. It all feels like a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.
A part of me died yesterday. I’m not sure what it is, but I think it’s at least some of my idealism, and hope for the future. Something inside me has hardened between yesterday and today. I think that’s the part that hurts the worst. People always tell me I’m positive and kind. It’s hard to remain that way when everything that could have possibly gone wrong has this year.
I’ve settled in to combining my life and ambitions with B in a way; I want us to live our lives together and happily. It’s more about creating a foundation from our common beliefs than longing/vulnerability. The intimacy remains, but is different.
I like how you describe love here. I think that combining two lives to make one great big happy one is what it’s all about.
I’m getting out of dodge in January. I’m thinking of going to either Mexico or Costa Rica for the winter, to preach and to escape from Michigan’s long winters.
I’m going back to school for the 2011-2012 at Eastern Michigan University with a double major in pre-med and Spanish. I will live in a smoke/drug free dorm on campus OR an apartment in town, whatever is cheaper. My best friend is coming with me.
There is a possibility that I’m moving to Texas within the next year with Brianna.
Living at home is causing me to be perpetually exasperated and so I’m not interested in continuing with this further. The next argument will be the last one.
Today, a bunch of boys were calling a guy in my class gay, because he had just finished his hair dressing apprenticeship. The teacher looks over at them, and says ‘While you boys are working on a construction site with lots of sweaty, shirtless, buff men, he’s going to be playing with women’s hair, touching them and calling them beautiful…and you’re calling him gay?’ Best. Teacher. Ever. MLIA.
Today, I felt imbued in nervousness as I sat near you. Every time I see you, I find an uneasy muteness settles in.
I can’t stop thinking about you. In my mind, you are already mine. I have already imagined every little detail of you up-close. My fingertips already have an idea of what the texture of your skin must feel like, of the softness of your scalp, of the black silk that is your hair. My tongue has an idea of the taste of yours, a conjecture about the warmth of your mouth. In your lilted, melodious tenor, I’ve already estimated the vocalese of your passion.
I see that dark-haired girl has you plastered all over her Facebook. She’s wearing your sunglasses, has her arm around you in more than one photo and clearly invites you to almost every party she hosts. Not that I’m jealous or anything. Just curious. Are you dating her? Or are you just friends? Because if you are dating her, I’m going to begin to begrudge the dinners you eat here.
I wish that you wouldn’t call me only when you needed something. I love you so much and I want you to be well and happy, but your demands on my time are making me constantly irritable.
Go to college. Seriously. You’re intelligent and you’re an excellent student. It takes a lot more effort for me to focus the way you do. Don’t live in the dorm (it’ll drive you mad) but do go to school.
Thank you for being a quiet woman. I appreciate you’re not one of those old people that tell pointless stories.
Please, please, please, Dear God, don’t be in trouble. I really like you and we’re just getting to know each other.
I used to feel such bitter anger towards you for rejecting me, but now I feel nothing at all except a strong desire for you to have peace. I only want good things to happen to and for you.
Forgive me if I seem at a loss for words around you. I’m not used to older men being genuinely fond of me instead of having a pervy interest in me.
You never brought that violin to me. I wish you had; I’d love to spend some time learning how to play it.
I’m so happy that we’re back in touch again. I missed you, my sister.
I have such a hard time finding the words I want, but I really hope you don’t take that as disinterest. Far from it, dear. I only wish I could express the tenderness I feel in my heart for you. I think what I like the most is even though you live a vivacious life, there is yet a stillness about you. You still think deeply, and only talk when you’ve got something to say. It’s so beautiful. I’m afraid to take another step towards you, though. Give me a sign that it’s okay to have faith in your interest in me.
Looking for a job. Paying for my gym membership for this month and then that’s absolutely it. I’ll have .45 cents in the bank. No, literally. This is awful.
Went to the gym early, early, early with my friend Jo. Jo’s model-thin and really fit, but I wore her out Monday. I feel good about where this whole working out thing is going, even if I can’t buy fruits and vegetables right now.
I’ve been eating cheeseburgers and tacos because it’s what I can afford. Juice has been a god-send because at least juice is derived from food that actually grew out of the ground at one time. I’m tired of junk food. If I could just have a ripe yellow pepper or a mango or a bunch of grapes or some strawberries, that’d be great.
I’ve been out preaching like mad. It’s been rather nice. Most of the people I’ve talked to over the week have been quite nice.
I want the new iPod nano. I need suggestions on how to raise 150 dollars?
Yesterday, my friend Marie and I went preaching for a couple of hours before watching Bollywood films and eating White Castle. She’s going to Germany for 10 months for school, so I figure we should hang out as much as we can until she’s gone.
I came home, exhausted, and slept from 5 pm until about half an hour ago. I woke up to the unpleasant surprise of my period.
I’ve been out preaching pretty much all week and who do you think has been there almost every day? I wish it wasn’t so hard to focus in his presence.
I’ve applied to FedEx, the hospital and the airport around here. Hopefully, someone calls me back Monday.
“(he moans when he eats, oh God)” and “I sambaed until the house was clean” are WINS. ILU woman!
Aw, thanks love!
He does moan when he eats, loudly. It was all I could do. And he has good taste in food. The jam we ate was some organic cherry spread someone left in the kitchen at the Hall. It was thoroughly delicious— not too sweet, not too sour, just the right texture.
This morning—after taking Iris to school about 7:25— was spent doing Pilates and preaching. When I got to the Hall, Bro Z. placed me on the Italian’s team. We did telephone witnessing. A married guy and my friend Barbara and her two kids were the other members of our team. The Italian and I spent the morning talking on the phone, eating crackers and jam (he moans when he eats, oh God), cracking jokes, playing with Barbara’s kids and trying desperately not to stare at each other.
My mother called me home to clean the house. At first, I was really annoyed, but I felt better about it after turning on dance music on my iPod. I sambaed until the house was clean.
My parents had their Bible studies. Bro and Sis Z came over. Bro Z sambaed with Nina and then sat down with my dad to talk about the Lord. I cooked dinner.
The Blond came over to study the Bible with Thom, and my aunt came over to hang out with my mom. The Blond stayed for dinner, and him and I chatted (and he flirted… interesting!).
I went to the gym for about 2 hours and lifted weights on almost every machine. I’m able to lift 20 pounds more than I was the last time I was there (a couple of weeks ago, admittedly, but I’ve been walking miles and dancing). I also ran on the treadmill for the first time in years. I feel pretty awesome.
Today was a day of taking care of myself spiritually and physically. I hope tomorrow will be just as great.
“Now he was in pain about her, and he understood that he would continue in his pain unless he did something about it. It was up to him. It took courage and made him feel ill, this un-asked for thing. It was too hard. He shut his eyes.
“I like you,” he confessed with his eyes still shut. “Do you know what I mean? I’ve always liked you, Hatsue.”—Snow Falling on Cedars