Catching Up

I’m sorry I haven’t really posted lately. I only write when I’m really sad, and I guess maybe the fact that I haven’t been writing means I haven’t been sad?

I don’t know. Things have been good and bad. The good is that I’m finally, officially going to my dream school. I was barely 17 when I graduated high school, so my parents didn’t want me going away to a college and staying in a dorm. I applied anyway, but I was waitlisted and eventually rejected. My GPA in high school was honestly the last thing I was thinking about at the time, especially after my hospital stay in 11th grade. I’m surprised I was even waitlisted instead of outright rejected. I truly feel it was only because of my essay. The topic was to write about the biggest obstacle you’ve had to overcome. I wrote about my struggle with depression, and from what I remember, it was damn good. I guess I never did overcome that obstacle though. Maybe I thought I had at the time, but here I am, struggling with same shit that I have been for the past 10 years.

I keep thinking about how different my life would have been if I had gotten in and was able to convince my parents to let me go. I never would’ve gone to the same school as my boyfriend at the time, and maybe that would’ve kept us together, or maybe it would’ve broken us up even faster. I never would’ve met Dan, one of my best friends, (though he hasn’t really been much of a friend lately), and in turn, I never would’ve met my current boyfriend, Dylan. I never would have met the guy who raped me. I never would’ve been ostracized by an entire group of people for the second time in my life, and maybe I would still be able to trust others and make friends.

 

 

 

I couldn’t sleep the other night and Dylan was snoring away. All night I kept thinking about how much I hated him. I don’t of course, I love him, but I was tired and angry that he was so comfortable in MY bed while I couldn’t even stay asleep for more than ten miniutes at a time.

Sometimes I think I’m selfish for having Dylan live with me. I feel like things would be easier for my dad if it was just us two. Then all my attention could be on taking care of my dad. Also, I sometimes wish I could have my own space back. I’m tired of cleaning up after Dylan all the time. He’s a messy person and doesn’t even seem to notice when I’ve just cleaned. Sometimes I’m tired of picking up his smelly clothes and cleaning the toilet seat because he dripped piss all over it just like a kid. But I’m also scared of being alone. I don’t want to go to sleep at night and wonder where is, and if he’s safe, or if he’s being faithful to me. I look forward ton him coming home every day. I look forward to him taking off his work shirt so I can wear it and snuggle up with the scent of him. I just don’t want to spend my whole life taking care of other people.

I wish that my dad was young and healthy, and that I was single. Then I would travel. I would move to the city of my dreams. I would go to college and actually live in the dorms and have a normal college experience. I would make friends with people who would stay by my side. I would go to bars and impress guys with how many shots I can knock back while still keeping my wits about me. I would have already graduated last spring with my bachelors and would already be working on my masters.  I would go hiking in the mountains on the weekends. I would get up early enough every morning to go for a jog and then make a smoothie for breakfast…. I could go on forever.

I only have one life and here I am stuck in a relationship with the same guy I’ve been with since I was 18. I love him so fucking much, but I feel like I missed out on the entire dating experience. I never got to have slutty college years or go out and get drinks at a bar with a cute guy. I’m only 22 and here I am stuck having sex with one guy for the rest of my life? Do I want that? I’ve never even had an orgasm during sex with a guy. I want to be with him always, but I’m such a sexual person and I wish I had more time to experiment. Like with Isaiah, one of our close friends. He’s a fucking asshole sometimes and I don’t think our personalities would ever mesh well enough that we could date, but god I’m so fucking attracted to him. I would fuck the shit out of him and I know he could make me orgasm. What if I meet a guy at school this fall? A guy who actually reads and knows who Walt Whitman is. A guy who like grunge music. A guy who picks up after himself. Hell. A guy with his own place and his own money. What would happen then? Everything would be fucking hard if me and Dylan broke up. Our lives are too intertwined. All of my “friends” are really his friends. My phone is on his plan. He bought me both of my iPads, which are also on his plan. He makes my car payments. The TV in our bedroom is his. My handgun is technically his.  He’s my only real friend. It would just be a hard, painful breakup. Plus, what if he really did turn out to be the best guy I could ever hope for and I regretted leaving him?

I love him, I just wish I had more time to see what else is out there before getting into such a serious relationship at such a young age. I’ve talked to him about this before, to an extent, but he doesn’t feel the same way, which makes me feel even more guilty.

I feel like I’m going to be plagued by “what-if’s” for the rest of my life.

 

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