Time passes

What is weird is that often times, time passes and I feel like I just lose track of it. One minute I know exactly what I am doing, and the next I feel like a whole decade passed and I am stuck in time while others are advancing their lives. This is weird because there is not really a time frame for anything. I am still young and still have the whole world ahead of me. Yet, I feel like I am not making progress in the way that I should?

I am not quite sure if I am expressing that properly. I see people getting into serious relationships, travelling, making memories. Couples, individuals... anyone really.

I feel like whatever they are doing, whether solo or in pairs, it is happening at a speed that is faster than mine. I feel like for some reason I am in the same place I was three years ago... the only difference being is that those years have passed and I am now three years older.

Simultaneously, I feel like things are always happening and I never get a break. This is not a complaint by any means, but I am still always doing things. I guess what is weird is that I put a goal in my head at the beginning of the year and with every day that passes, I am realizing that I am constantly at a disadvantage and don't focus on that goal half as much as I should.

But then again, I guess that's what adult life is. One minute you feel like you're doing fuck all, and then the next, you feel like there's not enough hours in a day to even stop and take a breath.

I wonder if that is normal... I wonder if time passes differently for everyone.

Can I keep you forever?

November 18, 2020

It's been a while since I felt this comfortable with someone. A really long time actually. I used to think that maybe complicated is just the way this is supposed to be. Eight or so months ago, I started the journey to slowly believing that maybe it doesn't have to be complicated. It took a while to really believe it and at first I thought that maybe the uncomplicated part was exactly what would turn out to be complicated about it. I still have my doubts that perhaps I am just living in what will turn out to be a "honeymoon" type phase in the process of complication.

A phone call a few weeks ago proved to be what would set the mood for the uncomplicated phase... or perhaps it doesn't have to be a phase but I'm still figuring that out. I guess I never quite had something so pure in my life and it stay that way. It scares me to think that there is the potential that this might end someday. I don't ever want it to.

Two nights ago, I got to hold you for the first time. It was a feeling unlike any other. To have you, to hold you, to kiss you. I am not entirely sure I even took it in enough. It feels like although I will probably cherish that memory for the rest of my life, I am already forgetting it and how special it was.

You're sitting across from me right now and we are both supposed to be working. I feel like you might actually be working, but me, not so much. Instead, I am trying to capture on paper what I feel right in this moment. But what do I feel? Love? Lust? Fear? Perhaps all of the above. I have been feeling love for a while but I would never quite admit it. I feel like the confession of love is often so convoluted and carries so much weight that the mere thought that the other person might not feel the same yet, could very well ruin absolutely everything.

Oh but if the feeling is the same, this could be everything. This would no longer be me or be you, this would be us. Love. What a scary and beautiful word.

Could it very well also be lust? Very likely. The high of finally being together physically amplifying the feeling of comfort and a sort of a safety shield. Wanting you because I never quite had you, yet not entirely sure if it is a now thing or a forever thing. I am leaning towards forever.

I guess that strikes the possibility of lust from my end. But what about you? Is it what you want? Are you just as ecstatic now as you were on that first night? Do you still want a forever with me? I suppose only time can tell.

I guess that's where the fear factor kicks in. It sucks to think that so many wrongs have led my thinking to where it is now. I used to be pure and hopeful too. I used to think that perhaps an easy love was possible. And don't get me wrong, perhaps it is. I just never grew around it. Nothing was ever easy where I come from. It's always a lot harder than I would like it to be.

I guess I digress. I can't help but think that something must go wrong before it can ever be right. Maybe that doesn't have to be the case. I could just be hopeful that you are everything I seem to think that you are. I could just have faith that perhaps one can just fall in love without the lies and the cheats. Perhaps one can just be pure and kind and everything I dreamt about having, yet never quite got... until now.

I feel an incredible thrill around you that is wrapped up in the serenity of comfort. I don't feel butterflies of excitement, I just feel safe.. home-like. I feel like I have known you for a lifetime and perhaps that is because you make it feel that way. I guess now I understand why they say home in not a place, but a feeling, a person. It is not stationary but rather ever-fluid. It is you, you are home.

Written November 18, 2020

From then to now.

It is now January 15, 2021. I remember when I first wrote that first part, I was not writing it to post it, rather, I wanted to document how I was feeling in the moment and see if the day will ever come when I post it, or if it will become a distant memory of a feeling of pure elation.

I often wonder if there is such thing as manifestation and talking a good thing into existence because I did just that. Somehow, you're mine now and everything I wrote up there has become a reality of a feeling of love that was only just developing when I wrote it. I knew I loved you then but I held back on saying it because I felt it was too soon. I did not yet know that you love me too. You now remind me everyday and I swear a part of me melts every single time.

I suppose there isn't much fear or element of surprise anymore if I allow you and the world to read this. It changes nothing. I love you and you love me and that's good enough for me.

I bite my nails

I have probably been biting my nails for over fifteen years. I do not know why but I have this memory of a cousin of mine who came over to my grandma's house when I was about seven or eight and I remember her getting yelled at for biting her nails. I remember that at the time I was like a sponge taking in any sort of information and applying it to my life depending on whether or not I thought it made me "cool". I remember that my cousin was pretty cool so I started biting my nails because I thought that would make me cool too.

Soon after, I started biting my nails out of habit and it then turned into a habit that helped me deal with whatever stresses I was going through. Towards the beginning of my adult life, I started to look more into it. I realized that whenever I was stressed or was in a situation that put me under pressure, I would resort to biting my nails only to cope with the tingles of stress I felt in my body. It helped during my time of uneasiness but I would hate looking at the aftermath. I was a mess. My hands were a mess.

About five years ago I put on fake nails for the first time. My ex-boyfriend complimented the nails and for the first time brought to my attention that this was the first time that my hands had looked feminine. He did not mean to hurt me by saying that but it felt like a jab. I got relatively insecure about that which in turn made me stressed and I picked those nails off. He did not say much about it after.

Three years ago, upon realizing that I wanted to have more "feminine hands", I started getting acrylic fills on my nails every three weeks religiously. I tried every colour on the colour scheme. I felt good. This went on for about two years. I think I took them off permanently about a year ago.

The point of the fills was that it kept me from biting my nails. I did not think about it much when I had fake nails. But then, I took them off and went right back to it. I realized that while I had my fake nails on, I started growing white hair because the stress had nowhere else to go. It was weird but oh well, not much I could have done.

In between a year ago and about six months ago, I have been on and off about painting my own nails, chipping the nail polish off, biting my nails, and then doing it all over again. Almost a year ago, someone close to me pointed out that my nails look gross. It is true, my nails were kind of gross. I had polish on my nails but it was half chipped because I had a really stressful and frustrating day. At the beginning of that day, my nails had been freshly painted. Something happened and I was under a lot of pressure so, without noticing, I had picked at the polish on my nails until they ended up looking what he called to be "gross".

I did not say anything. I just looked at my hands and took in what I had done.

The next day I took a picture in the mirror and you could see my "gross" nails in it. My best friend saw the picture and instead of complimenting my outfit, she asked what was wrong. I said nothing was.

She asked what had happened the day before because she had noticed my nails.

The point of this post has actually nothing to do with nails. It is about mental health and checking up on your friends. I do not call out for help and within my friend group I am always known to be the "strong" friend. However, if you know me, and if you truly know me, look at my nails. They will tell you everything you need to know about whatever I am going through. If there is anything wrong with them, ask me what is wrong. You'd be surprised what I can hide behind a coat of nail polish.

(except I guess this doesn't always apply to my life given that I have had acrylic fills on my nails again for a few months but I am now in the process of eliminating that again hehe)