The Visit

 Beck stayed at my house for three days. It was wonderful. It was absolutely wonderful.

I got to hold their hand a lot, it was wonderful. Their hair is very soft. I wish I had gotten to cuddle them more. I now miss the blessings of high school when I could just hold someone for an hour straight. That was great. I want to be able to do that with Beck. None of the kisses lasted long enough. They were all very sweet. Everything about Beck is very soft. I promised mom I wouldn't sleep next to Beck but she never checked the last night, I should have done it anyway. I miss them. I miss them a lot. Being next to them was a special kind of warm and it'll be hard to not have it anymore.

Five hours before we had to wake up for the airport, I couldn't sleep. I kept looking up above me at Beck's bunk and thinking that they would have to leave soon. I looked up and whispered, asking if they were awake. They were. I climbed up and we just touched foreheads and laid next to each other, and said "I'll miss you",  "I'm glad you came", and "I love you." I don't think I said anything but those three phrases that night, and I am happy with the three I chose.

Then I went back to bed.

I miss them. I miss them a lot. I keep remembering what it felt like to hold them. I keep remembering their smile and the way they held their hands. I keep remembering their laugh, and the way they'd duck down in embarrassment after kissing me. It was adorable. They are adorable. Way too adorable.

We left for the airport at 5:25 AM.  It was dark; I took them to the middle of the hill and showed them how Minneapolis sparkled in the distance, a flurry of lights. They kissed me and grabbed my hand. In the car all I wanted was to hold them tight tight tight but the seatbelt wouldn't let me. I kissed them before they went inside and mom laughed at me. I was not the least bit embarrassed.

I miss them. I miss them so so so so so so much. It will take a while for me to get used to just texts and video calls again. The real thing is so much better. I can't wait until I get to see them again.

I am so tired and all I want to do is dream of them beside me.

Life is good.

I Finally Told Someone

 I wonder if it will stop bothering me now.

Can simply telling secrets help me free myself of the ghouls that keep them company?
I have so very many secrets to tell.
I wonder.
I wonder.
I wonder.

(I wonder if it's too late.)


Life is good.

The First Snow

 The first snow of winter arrive today, apparently a whopping 4 inches (maybe even 6?). I never realized it before, but there are so many thoughts of mine connected to winter. Or maybe just because of the eventful depression of last year do I find any meaning of it. But today, I had a lot of thoughts running around in my mind.

Winter makes me think really romantic thoughts. But it's also dangerous. I can't decide between the two.

Winter was when I started dating Rachel.We held hands outside after going to a musical together, even though our hands were numb as hell. I was still wearing ribbons back then. It seems like so long ago.

I later wrote her a song about how she made my winter a happy one. The melody sounded too much like Justin Beiber's "Baby" by accident, so I never sang it to her. It wasn't even a good song, but sometimes I still recall the words and hum it to myself.

Winter makes me think of cuddling. What better time is there to cuddle than winter? It also makes me think of thick blankets on the couch in front of the fireplace. I wish the fireplace still worked at the house. I'd love to cuddle up with someone, letting them lay between my knees with their head on my shoulder. Like a bunk bed. A fluffy, slightly limb-tangled bunkbed. Beck is coming this Thanksgiving, if the fireplace worked I'd add that to the list of things we'll do together. Though I doubt I'd have the nerve to pull it off in front of my family. I doubt I have the nerve to pull off half the things I promise them.

Standing in the cold, hugging my scarf to my face and seeing my lace sleeves poke out from the ends of my coat, I think I look very cute. When I feel cute, there's a swelling of pride that Beck gets a cute girlfriend. I don't know why it matters so much that I belong to someone else, but it feels even better to know that I am worthy to stand by their side and make them proud and happy. I guess I like being a trophy wife. I feel like a trophy wife. I am very cute and I get to be loved by an amazing person, and that makes me feel even cuter.

I want to cuddle them. I want to hold their hands until our fingers are uncomfortably numb. I want them to see me with my cheeks flushed red from the cold and think, "wow, this is a side of her I haven't seen." I just want. To be romantic. With them. I want to cuddle.

Beck is so strong. So incredibly, incredibly strong. I can't believe the things they go through, live through. Most people couldn't even imagine it. And they get through it. Beck is the strongest person I know, they are so strong, amazingly strong, dangerously strong. I worry. I love them a lot. (Have I already talked about this?)

I see a lot of posts circulating Tumblr about abused queers with poisonous environments running from home and asking for temporary housing, money to move out, etc etc. It makes me heart hurt. What if Beck had to do that? It makes me scared. I wish they had someplace safer. But at the least they trust me and let me know what's happening, so my heart can rest a bit easier knowing they will allow me to support them. I hope they lean on me a bit more in the future, too. I want to grow up really fast and become independent, so we can live together, and be happy and safe, and spend our days smiling.








Winter reminds me of last year. That's when I started my fixation with burning, which was the peak of the worst time I ever had with depression (discounting 7th grade). It is probably good the fireplace broke. I don't think I want it fixed. I'm scared of fire, even though I used to love it so much. It made me feel calm, and really safe. I wonder where that safety went off too?

I remember sticking my hands into the snow. I left the house without a coat, my shirt thin. It was -20 degrees. I went outside, felt the frozen sidewalk beneath my feet. The cold felt good. I plunged my hand in the snow piles, leaving it there until my fingers began to burn, then become numb. It was satisfying. I ran back inside, but within a few minutes I craved it again, even stronger. I ran back out, rolled up my sleeves, and burrowed both my arms into the snow, burying them to my elbows. It was nice. Opening the door to get back inside was hard. The family never noticed my abscences or my bright red arms.

Sometimes I still feel how hot my tea mugs are and remember how nice it felt to press to scalding cup to my skin, along my scars. It was really nice. Sometimes, when I burn myself while pouring the hot water, I get bits of that experience back. It still feels good, but it drives me inside. Makes my cravings go wild. I hate burns. I hate burns. I hate burns.

The cigarette smoke around campus makes my stomach burrow into myself so bad. I want smoke. I crave it. It's an eternal hunger, it never goes away, and damn I want it so badly. I'm going to visit Rachel soon--I told her if I tried smoking, it'd probably start with her, using the cigarettes she makes herself. Now I wonder, whether maybe I should start with Beck instead? I may feel too ashamed though. I don't want to start smoking, I don't. I don't want to start a habit I surely cannot ever hope to break, I don't need a new one to add to my list. And it would probably feed my burning addiction, and I'd want to burn myself with the cigarette butts. It only takes one time for me to get hooked. I don't want to do that to myself.

Seeing the winter and feeling the unpleasant chill in my toes, it brings back some of the urges again. I imagine the scarf around my neck being a noose. I pull it tighter around my neck. I love having my neck compressed--it feels really nice. I tried choking myself and I actually moaned. That's bad. That's really bad. I'm starting to think I have a pain fetish. I also used to moan when I bit myself. And everything felt better and I realized I had started to bleed. Amber gave me that sort of idea during our play, she said I hurt her. It felt good to me. I don't know. I don't want that. I don't want to like pain.

I started reading a lot of shoujou manga again. I like it, it's cute. But I forgot how bad it makes my emotions act up. I get overwhelmed too easy. I start kissing my arms, and then I start biting them, and leaving marks just to have some way to vent out my overwhelmed feelings. I get urges to hurt myself. It's not worth it, I know, but I get addicted to the emotional rush it gives me. And i like cute stories. I want to keep reading them, find a bunch of cute ones. But that's what I did last year. That's what made me start biting. I shouldn't go back to that. The fact that I restarted reaidng some old BL comics already was picking up a bad habit that hurt me, but shoujou's are far worse. It's dumb. I hate how I can't do simple things like read romance stories without wanting to kill myself. It's ridiculous. No one else has to worry about this. But I can't.

I like horror but it makes me panic. I like romance but it makes me want to hurt myself. I like happiness but it makes me suicidal. I like sadness but it makes me suicidal.



Winter is full of strange things. I like the sound of my footsteps against the packed snow, how it sounds like the little squished sounds in Animal Crossing. I played that a lot as a kid, and loved how the footsteps sounded different in snow. Now I notice it in real life.

Maybe I should just focus on my footsteps instead of winter. A lot less thinking.

My lips are too numb for me to sing, now I can't use it to distract myself. Maybe that's the only reason I'm thinking more than usual.


I hate being alone with my mind.

Life is good.

Overthinking the Future

 I always joked about how glad I was that Minnesota had legalized gay marriage. That was because it would almost force Beck to move here, since Louisiana still has a way to go. I've always known where my roots were stuck--I've never dreamed of leaving Minnesota. My dream job is my old elementary school; I've vocalized how I want to move into what is currently my mother's house and keep it in the family. I love Minnesota. It's my home, with its Savage Sunsets and Minnesota nice. All the cold winters and blazing summers in the world couldn't change that.

And Beck is okay with that. I love to bring up the future with them (I think about our future far too much, far in advance), and we've talked about how I want to always live here. And we have also talked about how Louisiana is not so great. At all. In the least. I mean, great food, but trash people (from a racial and sexual orientation-openness point of view). So I always thought, no problems! Everything works out perfectly.

But recently I've been wondering whether it's quite so simple. Beck is 20 now, and honestly, I'd love the idea of them moving out (though I realize it isn't my decision to make. But I am, as always, overthinking everything). The environment they live in is not exactly the most healthy. Luckily they live mostly with their mother, since their father is pretty toxic at times. Their mother is a lovely, wonderful woman from what I know of her (I dream of meeting her someday and giving her a hug), but recently things haven't been so good for her. Problems with alcohol have been coming up more and more frequently and she's been sent to the hospital a few times. It's getting so bad that Camille and Beck once mentioned possibly going to live with their father again, which is a no-no. And the stress and guilt from beck, their mother, and at times Camille seems to feed off into each other and cause all these break downs.

I cannot say I can understand it fully, being so removed from it all, but I know life is hard there. Super hard. And I am repeatedly amazed at how Beck continues to push through and keep moving forward. I am so proud of them. I am so incredibly proud. Few people are as strong as my partner.

But I wish they didn't have to go through that. Again, I like the idea of Beck moving out from their parents, and living somewhere a bit more removed from the near-constant string of hardships and struggles. But Beck isn't dependent yet, and neither am I. I urge myself to get a little more world-savvy each day, but I won't be at that level for quite some time. It will be years before we are living out the oft discussed fantasy of a cat-filled apartment together.

But now, even if that apartment becomes a reality, I wonder. I wonder if I should really rip them from their family and their home. They've voiced acceptance, but now I wonder if I do.... The family has a lot of problems, and it makes the atmosphere unhealthy, but it also means they have to be supported. I want to support Beck's mother. And I know Beck absolutely adores their sister. If we were to remove ourselves from their lives, it wouldn't make the bad thongs happening there stop--but it would mean that Beck would be getting phone calls, time and time again, of the new struggles their family is going through. And I think Beck would probably feel bad not being there, unable to help. Unable to look out for them. I know I would take it hard, and Beck usually feels sympathy far more strongly than I do (which I love even when it worries me).

So if we were to leave Louisiana, it would almost be like leaving the rest of the Moutons for dead. Or at least, being too far to come running to their aid. And that makes me nervous. But at the same time, I don't think I could live in Louisiana. And I want to support my parents into old age--and no way in hell would either of them come to Louisiana.

I know these are Beck's decisions to make, not mine. It's pretty damn impertinent of me to even think about it. But I am just so serious about them. I want to spend the rest of my life with them. So I can't help but think far ahead into the future. What's the right choice? Is it better to stay in Lousiana, or get away from there as fast as possible? Would it be healthier, or worse? I know these are ultimately Beck's decisions to make, and I don't care to bring up the topic yet. It's far, far too early to be worrying about this.

Maybe things will be clearer once they stay in my house for a few days and lives a while in my life. Will they be happy? Will they start wanting a life like that? Beck has already mentioned living with Jordan in Minnesota once before, I believe, so maybe I'm worrying about nothing?

One day, when it becomes more realistic, I'll bring it up with them and talk about it. Until then, I should put it away for a while and enjoy the relationship we have now. There's no need to rush. After all, for now at least, we aren't going anywhere.

Life is good.

Exhuastion

 I've been tired for weeks now. Maybe even months--I don't know, I don't know. I've felt dead for days. It keeps getting worse. I want to close my eyes and never wake up. Getting out of bed is hard. And while I've been giving myself 8 hours of sleep for years (mostly because I know that tiredness hits me hard and brutally), it no longer helps. I am constantly tired. And it's been messing with my head. Really badly.

I think that's why I keep willing cars to hit me. It's been bad since college started.

I've been taken naps--I never was good at it before. Now it's becoming second nature. I fall into them effortlessly. But I never feel any more refreshed. I wake up from one nap only to desperately crave another. Night can never come fast enough.

I haven't fallen asleep in public yet, but once I've been close. It's worse when I stay up, even if the amount of sleep I get stays the same. And my head. My thoughts. Are so messed up. My belt looks more like a noose every day. My skin feels more and more appetizing. I'm hungry, I'm so hungry for flesh. Gloves make me sleep better. So much better. I need my wrists constrained to feel normal.

It's deranged.

I desperately want it to go away, but everything I've done so far hasn't helped.I've been trying to look it up, but mostly I just get results for depression and anxiety. My depression has never been better, and while I do have anxiety, I feel like if I hadn't had these problems before, there's no reason for it to appear now. Other things that have come up is allergies (Deeh's perfume?), anemia (don't think so), and being woken in my sleep. The last one seems most plausible to me, since I often wake up with my gloves strewn across my room. And that never happened before college. Deeh hasn't mentioned anything about it, and I don't know how to bring it up. Maybe I should, though.

I'm worried about her own college habits, too. She has scary posters on her wall. Pictures that have haunting resemblance to all those anorexia examples I saw during my research on eating disorders. I want to help her, but I have no idea whether I'm in a position too. I'm not even certain if I'm right. I don't know. I don't know.

I'm thinking I should visit the Boyton Health Center, ask some questions. Maybe about Deeh, but mostly about myself. I wouldn't even be opposed to getting a prescription. At this point, I just really, really want to rid myself of my fatigue. I want to remove this exhaustion.

I want to die, but we'll get through that. Because I want to live so, so much more.

(I can't wait for Rebbie to visit. I can't wait to fall asleep in their arms. I can't wait, I feel like maybe once I'm cuddle up in bed with them pressed into my arms, I'll finally feel rested. Or, at the very least, I won't mind being tired.)

Life is good.