Moshi Moshi

Ambivalent to Valentine's Day, except it gives

me an excuse to drink lots of wine

and watch Blue Valentine with 909 tonight

(THE GOSLING!!!) and rain down

h8 on couples everywhere hahahahahhahah jk.

Decided to just go with the "theme" of the day
(what was it, love, money, bullshit?)

so I wore my heart tights

& fuck my socks off socks

from the NYC museum of sex!
Anyway, I made this mixtape for my lovely roommates,

but you guys should be able to listen to

good music too, so here you go xoxo

I think I'm crazy baby, let you off the hook too easy.

I don't even know which boy

is frustrating me right now.

I won't treat you like you're oh so typical.

I was really hurt because I thought we were friends and it was the way you took a few moments to think, after the initial "god, no", and reiterated your wish not to live with me next year. Other people got a pass, or a drawn out maybe, but I was a strict no.

I assumed, of course, that you were tired of me being drunk and sad and a mess all the time, because you were the one who would have to hold me, or put me to bed, or let me cry on your t-shirt. I got that, but what I didn't get was why you'd let it go on for so long without complaint, only to allow yourself to hate me and not want to be around me. I thought you cared, and I thought we were beyond not telling each other the truth. Or maybe this was a delayed truth. I don't fucking know. I was angry at you.

So I cried like a dumb fool and rejected the chocolate you got for me and put my arms up in fight stance when you tried to hug me. After awhile, I made myself suck it up and asked if I could talk to you.

I sat on my bed cross-legged, facing the door, when you bounded in, and flung yourself haphazardly on my left, with your legs V-ed out around me.

"So what's up?"

I was steeling myself for seeing all my embarrassing behavior through your words, which I knew you never bothered to mince ever.
"I think I know why you don't want to live with me, but could you just tell me specifically?"

"I am scared I would fuck you."
A beat. I kind of stopped crying because I was reeling from ...just...
"Wait, what?"
"I'm scared I would end up fucking you."
"Oh. Okay. I thought you hated me for being a mess and was wondering why you didn't just tell me to shut the fuck up and go the fuck away."
"Yeah...no. There's this weird sexual tension and I'm scared we'd fuck and it would create problems in our friendship."

I raise my hand slowly like I'm in class and admit my guilt too.

A letter I wrote to Brett in class when I was trying not to cry, but didn't give to him because it was too revealing.

I want to say I'm sorry. I'm getting tired of myself too. I don't know how I got here. I really hate how it sneaks up on me. I fucking hate not knowing what to do. I don't think I'm a helpless person but it kind of looks like that right now. It's a fucking joke too. If we can fucking laugh about it, because it happens so often, then I think it has gone way too far. If I could leave, I would. I want to sleep forever. I'm sorry I'm so stupid and such a bother. I'm sorry I hijacked your day/week/time to be sad. I'm sorry I insisted on drinking. I honestly thought I was okay. I'm sorry I'm making this all about myself. I guess sadness makes you a selfish person. I just really am sorry. I'm so lost and I just want to go home.

While they be sleepin' I be onto that new shit

 I just want to wear all black outfits always

and give #deadface

and have it be my job.

thnx.

Nothing Like The First Time.

Guys I found this in my drafts and can I just

say that I am FUCKING SMOOTH:

You were a stumbling mess,

grease in your hair and a button up shirt

and I probably wasn't in any better state.
The longer I looked at you though, the more

glad I was that my friends and I had returned

to the bar where an older guy had been plying

us with drinks, and then taken to

watching us dance on the small revolving platform.
We ran away but had nowhere else to go,

all the other places were closing or

winding down to their last customers,

and our drunken logic took us back

to the weirdness we had just fled from.

I took my place back on the moving floor

and you turned me around

as gently as a drunk person could, by the shoulder.

So we were grinding a little bit, not in a get-a-room way,

but in a hesitant, slightly restrained and polite way,
testing each other's limits.
Your palm grazed my ass.
I leaned into you.
Your friends were leaving so I asked,
"are you leaving with them?"
You said no.
"But do you want to leave with me?"
I told my friends I was going home with you,
you took my hand
and we ran giggling out of the bar.