Somebody suggested in a thread, or at least I think they might have, that I should leave a journal entry. And while it seems like an ultimately futile gesture on a website full of people that I'll never meet, I think I might give it a try, for inexorably, I've found myself in a situtation that I have no one to bitch to about!
Maybe some of you understand, maybe some of you don't: This ridiculous idea of a long distance relationship. Lost somewhere between hopeless romanticism and frantic high-school ideals, you get the long distance relationship. This highly strange and inevitably intellectually contradictory idea states that despite the fact that you live anywhere from 40 to 1200 miles away from your chosen one at any given point, you will under any circumstances stay faithful to that one person. What's even crazier than this idea is when you are so direly in love with this ephemeral entity that you hang on to this miles-long trailing thread with the grip of a drowning man on a life-preserver. This is not the contents of my rant.
College life is nice and wonderful, with the SoCal sunshine coming through my window during all hours of the day, the sky conspicuously lacking clouds for the past month since I've been home. Still yet, there is another month waiting ahead of me before I get the chance to drown myself in the cold soup weather of Seattle and lay my hands on my one beloved. In the mean time, I live in a hallway with another 40-50 people, half of which, as you might expect, are female. Well, just because you have a girlfriend back home doesn't mean you can't have friends that are girls, that would just be sick and twisted. The problem herein is that once you start falling for one of these girls that you have the opportunity to see every day, life becomes a little twisted. I'm caught between mixed up feelings of jealousy, rage, and loniliness, and deep down I know that the only thing I want is the feel of my love's skin pressed up against mine. Oh but my body begs for any substitution.
What's worse is that some time last night, this passing idea of a crutch called me last night, simply to ask, "Would you come to dinner with me?" Now, the fact that she called me to ask before hand rather than crashing through my always unlocked door was already indicative of some pain locked within her. In this case, a slight emotional trauma that she feels will require some medication. However, she knows that I'm already fucking crazy and decided to confide in my of her problems, and I, being the dumbass nice person I am (at least when I'm around people that I like) offered to stay with her while she had to do her homework last night. Fast forward from dinner conversations and you find the two of us in her room at 10:30 or 11. I've just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, and now I'm sitting on this girl's bed wrapped under a blanket, watching her as the expression on her face becomes more and more distraught. So I call her over, and with one hand holding hers begin to simply rub her back and shoulders and scratch her head for her. There is something about physical contact that makes me feel worthwhile, like I have something to offer. This continued for sometime while I dozed lightly, subconciously offering my services while she did her design work.
Suddenly, her work was cast aside in a violent thrust and the lights in the room snapped off. Left in a cold darkness cowering under the blanket I had no idea what to say or do, whether she needed me to get the hell off her bed so she could rest or whether she was going to let me stay there and sleep on the chair or floor. Imagine, my simple surprise when she instead, changed down to her underwear and pajama bottoms and crawled right into bed with me, asking "do you also wear jeans when you sleep?" Of course not. The heat of her body pressed against mine made my heart ache deep within my chest and I felt tears welling up inside. Her arms wrapped around me and her head down on my shoulder she asked me, "Do you mind staying for a bit?" Of course not. And I fell asleep wrapped around her lither little body, her breathe coursing accross my chest, dreaming of my girlfriend wrapped alone in blankets, 1200 miles toward home.
I dream the whole night, wishing what I had in my hands would turn into something it wasn't. That maybe, she might lift her head and kiss me, run her hands down my skin and release herself unto me. While she slept, I dreamed, dreamed of things I never wanted to, wished for things that could only bring regret. And when I awoke, her roommate was gone, but we were still there, wrapped in quiet darkness.
The pain of loniliness is a harsh one, so many taunts and tests of my love. God dammit. I want to go home.
If you have any money you'd like to donate to the "Fly Matt home early from California" fund, let me know.
Maybe some of you understand, maybe some of you don't: This ridiculous idea of a long distance relationship. Lost somewhere between hopeless romanticism and frantic high-school ideals, you get the long distance relationship. This highly strange and inevitably intellectually contradictory idea states that despite the fact that you live anywhere from 40 to 1200 miles away from your chosen one at any given point, you will under any circumstances stay faithful to that one person. What's even crazier than this idea is when you are so direly in love with this ephemeral entity that you hang on to this miles-long trailing thread with the grip of a drowning man on a life-preserver. This is not the contents of my rant.
College life is nice and wonderful, with the SoCal sunshine coming through my window during all hours of the day, the sky conspicuously lacking clouds for the past month since I've been home. Still yet, there is another month waiting ahead of me before I get the chance to drown myself in the cold soup weather of Seattle and lay my hands on my one beloved. In the mean time, I live in a hallway with another 40-50 people, half of which, as you might expect, are female. Well, just because you have a girlfriend back home doesn't mean you can't have friends that are girls, that would just be sick and twisted. The problem herein is that once you start falling for one of these girls that you have the opportunity to see every day, life becomes a little twisted. I'm caught between mixed up feelings of jealousy, rage, and loniliness, and deep down I know that the only thing I want is the feel of my love's skin pressed up against mine. Oh but my body begs for any substitution.
What's worse is that some time last night, this passing idea of a crutch called me last night, simply to ask, "Would you come to dinner with me?" Now, the fact that she called me to ask before hand rather than crashing through my always unlocked door was already indicative of some pain locked within her. In this case, a slight emotional trauma that she feels will require some medication. However, she knows that I'm already fucking crazy and decided to confide in my of her problems, and I, being the dumbass nice person I am (at least when I'm around people that I like) offered to stay with her while she had to do her homework last night. Fast forward from dinner conversations and you find the two of us in her room at 10:30 or 11. I've just gotten off the phone with my girlfriend, and now I'm sitting on this girl's bed wrapped under a blanket, watching her as the expression on her face becomes more and more distraught. So I call her over, and with one hand holding hers begin to simply rub her back and shoulders and scratch her head for her. There is something about physical contact that makes me feel worthwhile, like I have something to offer. This continued for sometime while I dozed lightly, subconciously offering my services while she did her design work.
Suddenly, her work was cast aside in a violent thrust and the lights in the room snapped off. Left in a cold darkness cowering under the blanket I had no idea what to say or do, whether she needed me to get the hell off her bed so she could rest or whether she was going to let me stay there and sleep on the chair or floor. Imagine, my simple surprise when she instead, changed down to her underwear and pajama bottoms and crawled right into bed with me, asking "do you also wear jeans when you sleep?" Of course not. The heat of her body pressed against mine made my heart ache deep within my chest and I felt tears welling up inside. Her arms wrapped around me and her head down on my shoulder she asked me, "Do you mind staying for a bit?" Of course not. And I fell asleep wrapped around her lither little body, her breathe coursing accross my chest, dreaming of my girlfriend wrapped alone in blankets, 1200 miles toward home.
I dream the whole night, wishing what I had in my hands would turn into something it wasn't. That maybe, she might lift her head and kiss me, run her hands down my skin and release herself unto me. While she slept, I dreamed, dreamed of things I never wanted to, wished for things that could only bring regret. And when I awoke, her roommate was gone, but we were still there, wrapped in quiet darkness.
The pain of loniliness is a harsh one, so many taunts and tests of my love. God dammit. I want to go home.
If you have any money you'd like to donate to the "Fly Matt home early from California" fund, let me know.
[Edited on Feb 10, 2006 12:20AM]