PUBLISHED October 25, 2011

October 25th, Monday: Love is/and Work

I’ve decided I can’t ever work. I refuse to be an element propelling this patriarchal, capitalist, racist society forward and any job that involves my name on a time sheet is just that. I will not pay the man. Its bad enough I use His bank at all. I should just keep my shit in a shoe box and start making all my own clothes and slaughtering my own food so I don’t ever have to participate in all this. But… who am I kidding?

I miss my friends from home. This goes back to my rant on Betchiness and how I need doses of it in my daily life to get through. Life becomes too over bearing if you don’t make fun it. I feel like I’m one of the most sensitive people I know. Everything breaks my heart, every little damn thing. I feel bad for everyone. I see through so much that I can’t even have hard feelings for douche bag idiots that definitely deserve shitty feelings shot in their direction.

I miss my boyfriend. I think. My life makes more sense when my mind has less of him in it. That came out confusing. The less mental space he’s given the more sane of a person I become. Or…boyfriend = me crazy. That’s how I know I’m in love. I’ve spent a lot of time chasing him around the country and twisting my life to fit his schedule/lifestyle because I didn’t know I had any other choice. I was afraid that the second I let go everything would slip out from between my fingers and be nothing but memories of warm fuzzy feelings. I keep thinking eventually I’m going to have to make this major decision where its basically him or me. Does that make sense? I’ll have to decide whether I want to spend my life with him, embracing his lifestyle and everything that comes with it or planting myself some where in country and starting a career of my own. I don’t think most 20 year olds consider these issue. Its hard for me to write about. Just like how I can’t write about my dad, I can’t write about Malcolm. Words aren’t right here. At least not the ones that are within my capabilities of creating. He was always so perfect at describing how he felt about me. In fact, he was perfect at describing how I felt about him more than I was. Its like he’s one step ahead of me. He has this intuition about us that eventually I’ll give in to. I just need some wonderful author to climb inside my head and heart, collect the info and put it onto paper. Johnathan Safran Foer, of course. The way he writes is the way I think, or at least close enough.

I didn’t mean to say that I don’t miss him and want him around. I want that more than anything. But I know I can’t have it so I have to make myself shake the idea. Its like living in the desert and everyday hoping for rain. Eventually, you look at all the sand and think, “hey, this ain’t so bad.”

Who am I kidding….it is that bad. It sucks. Everyone and their mom wants a piece of the love of my life. Whether they’re making money off him, paying him or grabbing for his clothes everyone wants him. But no one gets him and thats what kills me. He’s an incredibly open person and pours his heart into everything he does but still…I’m afraid the world is going to disappoint him. I’m afraid he’ll reach his dream and be under-whelmed. I’m afraid he’ll miss so much of world living in this bubble. Actually, the latter makes me annoyed. Pick up a damn book! Read the fucking newspaper! There’s a whole world turning out here and you have no clue about any of it!

Anger, fear, frustration. Love.

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