Wtf.

To add a little bit more horrible to my horrible ten days, this happened to me yesterday:

I had a sorority date function and instead of being set up, I took my best guy friend at school, arguably one of my best friends ever. We've always had a semi-flirty relationship (for the two years that I've known him) but have been strictly platonic. We had a fantastic night, we absolutely tore up the dance floor with swing dancing, goofy dancing, karaoke, and everything in between. I had an absolute ton of fun, and after we said goodbye, I found myself wishing that he had stayed, or I had taken someone else, or something. These date functions are hard because everyone around you is making out with random strangers and I just felt incredibly, incredibly alone. After he left I got kind-of sad, and I just told myself that it was because I was lonely, etc.

Roughly a minute after that, I realized that my date still had my phone. I texted him frantically from my computer and begged him to bring it back to me, and he did. When he came back and handed it to me, we hugged goodbye again except we both held on for way too long. I could tell something was on his mind so I asked him what was going on, and if he wanted to come in, and he replied that he wanted to do a lot of things and that we should go on a walk. I had to retrieve shoes and all that jazz, so I did, and then we walked around for a while.

He confronted the mutual attraction between us and claimed that he had a lot more fun at the date party than he expected to, that he was really glad I invited him, and that he really liked me. He then said that he was unsure where he was right now because he had just had a flirtation-gone-wrong with another girl and he's busy and I'm busy and he just rambled. I was sick of him talking in circles, so I kinda grabbed him and kissed him. He kissed me back, and pushed me up against a wall, and we made out for about five minutes before we started talking again. He admitted he wasn't really in a place right now where he wanted to risk our friendship and that he was terrified of commitment, and I told him I was scared of both commitment and vulnerability. It took him about half an hour to explain his feelings but I forced him to, because we're both mature adults and we needed to address our feelings now because I didn't want there to be any question going forward what was happening. He landed on the fact that he's very scared of anything happening and he's not in a place where he wants to risk anything because he doesn't want to hurt me, blah blah blah. He had a hard time talking because he said I kept staring at him with Bambi eyes, which wasn't my intention (oops). He's not a risk taker in any sense of the word and I told him that he was maybe being a little too cautious and he admitted that, but stood by his decision.

I'm not going to lie, I was bummed. Here was an attractive guy that said I was "straight bangin', in scientific terms", who I trusted, who trusted me, and who supported me. We're genuinely in each others' top five favorite people and it just stung to be rejected by him. I know it's for the best, and obviously I wouldn't ever pursue something he was uncomfortable with, but I wished for a bit that he would just let it kinda happen and see what was going on. He said he didn't want to do just like a super casual thing because we know each other so well and respect each other so much that it could never be just a casual thing, but he's not in a place to do super date-y things.

Then it got really bad. We were hugging and he brought up me losing the sorority presidency and the sheer weight of everything fell on my shoulders and I just broke down. I started sobbing into his chest and he asked me if it was because he brought up the presidency and I nodded 'yes' into his chest. I told him how upset I was that an organization that I had given so much to just decided they didn't want me as their leader. I told him I hadn't even considered the possibility that I wasn't going to be doing something hugely important in the next year, and I didn't know what to do. I also confessed to him that this year hasn't been a successful one. I've done things, but I haven't thrived. I got into my major on an exception, my GPA is going to drop below a 3.0 this semester, I haven't been feeling connected with people, I haven't gotten internships, and then the events of the last two weeks have just not been ideal. He told me he was sorry that these things were happening to me and it wasn't fair that things weren't working out in my favor. I told him part of the problem is that I'm incredibly good with self-preservation and rarely put myself in situations where I can fail, which made these failures that much more magnified. He told me I was the best and that he was sorry. And I just let him hug me and kiss my forehead, and I cried.

After about five or ten minutes of this, we decided that it was time to go home. I looked up at him and he said "don't look at me like that" and I said "like what?" "You're giving me the 'come hither' look and you just need to stop" "what? That's just my face. I didn't even know I could do that, let me try again." "Yep that's it. You sell yourself short with guys sometimes I think" "Guys rarely ever get within a foot of me so there's that".  We started walking back, and I asked him if it was too soon to start making fun of the situation and he said no so I said some stupid shit as he was walking me back home. As he was walking me up the stairs, he said "if you ever have a debutante ball or anything of that nature, let me know because the crook of my arm is really a thing that's working out for you." Classic. We're so awkward combined that this was honestly one of the more normal and less confusing things said to me throughout the evening, so I was thankful.

As we stood on my porch, we said goodbye again, I thanked him again for coming, and apologized for crying. He said thank you for inviting me and no it's fine. Then it just was really awkward with whatever we tried to leave on, so I hugged him again and kissed him on the cheek. He kissed me back on the cheek and then went home.

It was the best conclusion that we could have come to, and I really do value him too much as a friend to fuck things up, and I'm not in the best place for a relationship right now, but it still stung. It wasn't a fun conversation to have, and on top of everything else, was pretty brutal.

What the fuck am I doing wrong?

Slump

It has been a rough couple of fucking weeks.

Last Monday, I ran for president of my sorority. I lost in the equivalent of the primaries. I also endured a particularly rough hour of therapy, where things from my past that I didn't particularly want to revisit were brought up.
Last Tuesday, I was flown halfway across the country to interview for a prestigious position, was asked two questions during the hour-long panel interview, and left with the feeling that they didn't get to know anything about me at all. They told us we would know results on Thursday.
Last Thursday, I was so anxious about the potential of finding out about the job that I completely fucked up a technical interview with a different company. I also couldn't focus at work, and watched our football team lose. I also didn't hear back from the job.
On Friday, after several hours of waiting, I found out that I didn't get the job, but miraculously got a second round interview for the company with whom I screwed up the Thursday interview with. A small glimmer of hope in an otherwise dull situation.
The weekend was a small reprieve, then came this week.
On Monday, I found out I had to re-do large chunks of paperwork in order to get reimbursed. Not fun. I also had a (somewhat) better second round technical.
On Tuesday, I faced the crippling realization that I had to clean my room desperately.
On Wednesday, I ran for president of the PanHellenic Council of my University and lost that as well. The reason? PHC bylaws state that there can only be two members of each chapter on the council, and two members of my chapter were incumbents running for relatively unpopular positions.

Twice in two weeks, I've felt like my leadership abilities were completely discarded. Twice in two weeks, I've lost an opportunity to make a lasting change in my community. Twice in two weeks, I felt like the organization and the community that I have poured countless hours of my life into has not trusted me, heard me, or considered me worthy of their support.

It's been a whirlwind of about ten days, and it's been an incredibly hard one. I don't understand how so many people can tell me, to my face, that I would be amazing in positions of leadership and then have things like this happen. I don't know what I'm missing- I'm a very hardworking and dedicated person, and I have endless devotion to the organizations I deem important to me.

I'm confused, I'm hurt, and I'm discouraged. I do not feel like I'm getting the opportunity to live up to the incredible potential I have, and that's disheartening.

Lonely as Fuck

I'm incredibly lonely.

I came to this (somewhat unsurprising) realization this morning. After a night of drinking with an acquaintance, said acquaintance and I ended up making out and having a sleepover. This morning, when we woke up, I realized that I was happy.

I don't find this particular individual to be good company. In fact, a friend today kindly reminded me that at a point a bit ago, I was quoted as saying "I don't like him. He's kind of an asshole and he's incredibly boring." Oops. He also happens to be a bad kisser, which has been known to be one of my major deal breakers. So why was I happy? I thought about it, and the answer came to me quite quickly.

For the first time in a long time, I had woken up next to someone who snuggled with me, who hadn't left, whom I didn't leave, and who made somewhat pleasant company. That's all it took to make me a little less lonely.

I'm an huge proponent of being single. I think that, in a lot of ways, being single throughout college has allowed me to grow and develop massively as a person, and has made me more comfortable in my own skin. I don't exactly have the time or energy to devote to a relationship, and I know that being in one would just complicate my life. I like coming home after working late to my messy room and my ugly pajamas. I love the fact that I only feel the need to shave my legs when I'm planning on wearing a dress or shorts, because who's going to see my legs? Nobody. I really like the freedom to do what I want, when I want. I like being able to kiss as many boys as I damn well please. I like being independent, and I like having my friends to care about me.

The thing I do miss, however, is companionship. Having someone to do nothing with, to snuggle with, to look at me with love in their eyes. Someone who gets excited to kiss me, not because they're drunk or it's convenient, but because they know and respect me as a person. Someone to watch bad movies with, someone to cook for, someone to support. Someone who makes me laugh, who finds me amusing, and whose company I genuinely enjoy. Someone to do things for, to make happy, and to go through life with, both the ups and the downs.

That's why I was happy this morning- because although I had a wicked headache and a nagging realization of all the shit I had to do today, I also had a tiny window into that life. I remembered what it was like to have someone there to snuggle with all the time, and I miss it. I genuinely do.

I reveled in the moment until, when I asked him to hand me my bra, he looked at the size and said "nice!" before he gave it back to me. Then I was reminded of why my life is a joke and I'm going to be single for at least another little while.

Alive

It's always at the moments I feel most connected to and aware of life that I experience the overwhelming urge to break down in tears.

I spend the majority of my time trying to simplify, or complicate, or avoid, alter, shut-out, change, or in some way filter what I experience in the world. This comes from many different motivations, but usually it's because my altered reality is easier to interpret and deal with than the truth. If I can choose how things affect me and how I perceive things, I have better control over how I deal with them. And more often than not, life, in all it's glorious intricacy, is hard for me to process.

I stumbled upon a list of 11 songs you're supposed to listen to to boost productivity or whatever. And the first one was from an album entitled "Music for Airports", and it's designed to “defuse the tense, anxious atmosphere of an airport terminal”. Which for me (someone who thrives in airports, because I love the bustle and movement of everything around me), turned out to be not relaxing at all, and instead brought me to tears in my kitchen. 

I do my studying to 10 hour loops of Bangarang. When I need to focus on something, the only, only way for me to do this is to forcibly shut everything else out of my mind so I can hone in and hyperfocus on the thing I need to do. This is achieved by loud (often angry/intense) music, chugging water, and cramming. I simply don't see "relaxing" as a prerequisite to accomplishing things.

This is why, at my most connected moments, I often break down. When on hikes (alone), when in really hard workout classes, when listening to pensive music, when watching sunsets, when simply happy. Feeling truly alive has always been a little much, emotionally, for me to handle. I choose numbness over being connected, and I choose it predictably, consistently, and willingly.

This is hard. This causes me trouble in a lot of regards. It's incredibly difficult for me to simply be still and quiet, and I almost always have some other thought running through my mind. It sucks, and I'm perpetually dreaming or longing for a thing that may never come to fruition. I'm always dreaming of the "more", all while trying to think and experience less. 

It's a fucking paradox. And I'm so burned out and simultaneously exhausted by life and yearning for more and I don't know what to do about it all.

I'm [Not] In Love

Over the summer, I fell for a guy. Call him G. He's funny, smart, charismatic, attractive, charming, has good taste in movies, is a good cook, isn't so bad in the realm of PG-13 activities, and is just all-around a really fun person to spend time with.

It's been a while since I've been emotionally invested in a person, so I took G to heart very quickly. We had fun, we hung out (in various stages of sobriety), we hooked up a few times. He was nice and took [drunken] interest in the things I was studying. He had conversations with me about real things. He learned things about me, and I learned things about him.

I moved out of the fraternity I was living in this summer, and G completely fell out of my life. Not surprisingly- G was never good with responding to texts even when we lived under the same roof, and I knew this would happen, somewhere inside. I texted him a few times, and he responded once. He has made no indication that he wants to see me ever again (although I know he enjoyed the time we spent together this summer), and I, for the most part, am not surprised.

I am hurting, however. I'm not going to pretend like he didn't mean anything to me in any capacity, because I miss him as a friend more than anything. I miss talking to him, drunkenly cooking with him, playing video games with him, drinking good beer with him, making popcorn with him at midnight, and yes, I miss snuggling with him. I didn't allow myself to fully develop feelings for him, but I was maybe a little more careless with that block than I usually am. I didn't do a perfect job of reminding myself that I shouldn't fall for him, and a little of my affection fell through the cracks.

Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. A little affection is not a hard thing to get over and remedy. My problem is that it has been so long since I have genuinely allowed myself to care about another person on a romantic level. So long, in fact, that this tiny fraction of affection I somehow allowed myself to feel for G got completely magnified out of all sensible proportion. I'm not in the habit of dealing with my bruised feelings, because I'm in such good habit of protecting my feelings from being bruised in the first place. I've spent so long playing the defensive that I completely forgot that I took all my manpower off of the offensive to do so.

I don't love G. I don't even come close to loving G. I know that he's a dumb frat boy who falls off roofs, gets facial scars, is a little bit racist, sexist, and doesn't use the correct "you're" in his text messages. He all but ignores me, and therefore isn't worthy of much of my attention. He has just a little too much self-confidence for his own good, and he's sorta a player.

I am, however, completely in love with the idea of loving G. I have so much love to give and it's been so long since I've allowed myself to even tap into that capacity that I forgot how good it feels to care about another person. I want someone in my life that I make happy. I want to have someone to snuggle with, someone to cook with, someone I can watch (or not watch) movies with, someone who can make me laugh, someone whom I enjoy spending time with, someone who's a goof, and someone who genuinely has a good time in my company. And G filled all of those things. He's a loveable, intelligent, hard-working, beautiful, fun-loving goof. And for someone that's been single and "strong and independent" for as long as I have, that was absolutely all I needed.

Now here I am, alone at 2 am on another sleepless night. Nobody to text, nobody to expect to be here with me except my lovable roommate E. And nine nights out of ten, I'm completely okay with that. I can only ask for my friends to be here for me (which they are), and for them to love me (which they do). I can only ask to be studying something that interests me (which I am), and have a family who supports me (which I do).

I am, however, completely terrified of what will happen when I genuinely fall for a guy. I'm slightly head-over-heels for G, a guy that I know full-well is not the guy for me. What happens when I genuinely find someone that I want to spend time with, that I want to be with? How will I react? What will I do? What will I learn about myself, for the better or for worse?

Love terrifies me. Loving an idea of something is one thing, loving another person romantically is a completely different ball game. I love many of my friends platonically. I give love to the world like nobody you've ever seen. I love, fiercely, passionately, unconditionally. But romantic love, from me, is rare. It takes time to develop and often times, I confuse a combination of platonic love and hormones for romantic love (which has gotten me into trouble before). And I'm terrified of it. Completely terrified.

G was nowhere close to romantic love from me. But it was an echo, just real enough to remind me that I'm capable of romantic love and that when I experience it to it's fullest, it can and will have the capacity to knock me senseless. And that, just the reminder of that, was enough to completely scare me shitless this summer. 

Walking Contradiction

I'm a walking contradiction. I claim it's because I refuse to let people put me into a box based on my gender, my activities, or what they assume to be true about me.

I'm a sorority girl, in fact, I'm our VP Recruitment. Making me, by stereotype and definition, the Most Sorority of All Sorority Girls. I'm the one that tells everyone what to wear to recruitment events, where to sit, how to eat, how to speak, and which topics to avoid. I have to be uber concerned with the superficiality of the entire situation because, like it or not, it's important.

I'm also living in a frat this summer. Nothing makes me happier than kicking back with the bros, grilling a steak, and enjoying a beer (or eight). Often, I do this in sorority letters, with a bow in my hair and pearl earrings on. People high-five me when I burp, and I usually get bonus praise if I'm wearing eyeliner at the same time.

People don't expect other people to be so willing and able to defy labels. And might we remember, I'm living in Berkeley, among arguably one of the most accepting and progressive groups of people in this country.

People laugh with me, but very rarely at me. People are often surprised by me. People usually don't know what to do with me. I've been praised, complimented, told that I'm appreciated because I "just don't give a fuck".

That's not entirely true. I give lots of fucks. I don't go around living my life with the express purpose of defying stereotypes and surprising people. Do I do it often? Yes. Do I enjoy it? Absolutely. But do I act for the sole purpose of acting out, or gently pushing the status quo? Sometimes. But more often than not, I just do what I think makes me happy. And I absolutely give fucks. I care very much about people close to me, people that I love. I'm a fiercely loyal friend. I examine problems critically. I put in tons of effort to my education and my job. I care about my own health and well being, and I care about my happiness. I care about my sorority, and the obligations I have to them (including my position as VP Recruitment). I care so much about the things in my life that I deem worthy of my attention. And acting a certain way to perpetuate some stereotypes about my gender or any other group that I happen to fit into isn't something that I deem worthy of my attention.

Today, I talked on the phone for 45 minutes with my dad. In our conversation, we discussed a ton of things, one of which was my upcoming job. I had some questions about my W-4, so he was helping me out. In the same breath, though, I complained to him about how upset I was with the agency that had done my drug testing, because they had cut a square inch of my hair out. He sympathized with me, and told me how angry he would be because "hair doesn't just grow back and it's not like you have short hair or anything". Too true dad. The next sentence out of my mouth was "So I'm thinking of buying an Xbox for my room next year, do you think I should get a 24" or a 32" TV?". I went from complaining about my hair to talking about gaming systems, and he wasn't surprised in the slightest. And you wouldn't be either, if you knew me. It's just who I am.

I don't think it's superficial to care about your appearance (as I just spent $150 on a bag and business clothes for my job training next weekend), and I don't think it's "too boy-ey" for a girl to own an Xbox. I can cook very well, and I'm respected for it by guys and girls alike (because I don't do it to seem domestic, and when someone suggested to me that cooking was a "women's" thing to do, I snapped back that my dad did all the cooking in my house and I learned from him, and if he had any more comments about cooking being girly he could save them because I was going to go grill a steak thank you very much). I have a very large appreciation for good beer, which two different (guy) friends of mine have told me is their favorite thing about me. I think they were kidding about it being their absolute favorite thing, but oh well.

I don't think it's too forward for girls to express interest in guys. This past week, I (maybe too brazenly/obviously/boldly) just walked over to my neighbor's and knocked on the door and told him I wanted to hang out with him (which in Fratland is equivalent to saying "I want to snuggle with you and watch a movie and maybe make out with your face a little bit), walked into his room, and sat down. Not usually something that [sober] girls do, but I don't understand why. I wanted to see him, so I went out of my way to let him know that. And after I had done that, I couldn't help feeling like I had "come on too strong", or I hadn't been "coy" enough, or I had somehow failed at being a girl because I didn't sit on my ass and wait for a boy to come and whisk me away. I thought this boy was very cute and very interesting and thought we got along well, so I took the initiative. What's wrong with that? (P.S. "nothing" is the only correct answer to that query).

I have a wicked sense of humor, and by that I mean that I refuse to take myself seriously and often laugh at how ironic/unfortunate/coincidental my blunders are. I laugh at myself so much that I'm impossible to actually make fun of and offend. Because I've already done it to myself, and believe me, I'm a much harder critic on myself than you could ever be.

I'm done ranting, mostly. I'm just praised so often for refusing to fit into a box, and I'm at best, confused by this and at worst, angered. Because that praise means that I'm doing something novel, something that's somehow noteworthy enough to praise. And granted, I think that I'm doing a pretty damn good job at going through life and making choices for myself and doing it gracefully, and it's nice to hear reassurance, but I'm not reinventing the wheel here. I'm not drastically defying status quos left and right, and I'm not trying to make some sort of statement.

I'm trying to act in a manner that makes me happy. I'm trying to do the things that I love with the people that I love, and I'm trying to live my life in a way that I want to and that, when I look back one, ten, twenty or fifty years from now, that I'll be proud of. That's not novel, that's not groundbreaking, and that's not revolutionary. At least, it shouldn't be.

That's living your own damn life and being unapologetic for doing so.

Eyes

For as long as I can remember, people have always complimented my eyes first. Always. From a very young age I learned that not only were my eyes my widow to the world, they were also the biggest thing on my face. My eyes are HUGE. The better to look upon the wonders of life, I guess.

Anyways, everyone commented on them. My parents' friends would do it, my friends wild do it, and most commonly, boys would do it. Many times it was my friends that did, but many times it was a stranger- and it was the second thing out of his mouth after his name. 

"Hi, I'm him" 

"nice to meet you" 

"can I just say that you have the most gorgeous eyes I've ever seen?"

All. The. Time. It's become something I take as a given, and if someone does compliment my eyes it's unappreciated

Recently, I met someone who drunkenly one night, told me that he loved my eye contact. Not my eyes, my eye contact. This was the first eye-related compliment that I had ever gotten that made me stop and appreciate it. He told me that when he was talking to me, he really felt like I was invested and interested in what he was saying. That my eye contact was amazing, and not commonplace. That single compliment made me feel heard, and not just seen. It was unique and very, very meaningful.

Aftershocks

Have you ever really thought about the past and pointed to a relationship and said "I was in love then. That must be what love is" but absolutely not realized it at the time?

Sometimes clarity is convenient. And sometimes clarity comes almost four years later. 

Oh well. C'est la vie.

Timing

Tonight was a rough night.

I was trying to unwind after the most confusing and scattered first-day-back ever, one that began with a fifteen-mile bike ride (Bike the Drive in Chicago, everyone should do it) and ended with this. After going in my hot tub with a friend of mine, C, I settled in to bed with half a cantaloupe to catch up on my life.

The first thing I did was catch up on the news. There was a shooting in Isla Vista on Friday night, one that left many of my peers shaken (UCSB is still in the UC system, and many students at Berkeley know students at SB, so many people that I know were personally affected by this awful, awful tragedy). I have no words of my own to attempt to process this event, but I will link you to articles here, here, here, and here. For a world where news travels so fast, I was vastly under-prepared for what I was about to read. It's a horrific thing in and of itself, and as a female member of the Greek system at a closely-linked university, it was particularly hard to stomach due to the targeted attack on sorority women in the area. My LITB and Panhellenic love goes out to all women at UCSB; I cannot even imagine having to be in your shoes and am extending love and support your way.

After taking a minute to process one person's devastating lack of value for other human life, I turned to Amazon Prime Instant Video. Wanting to watch a movie that would allow myself to relax, clear my mind, I skipped past all the action movies and settled on a comedy about high school life in the eighties. Made in 1988, this movie was cited as the precursor to Clueless and Mean Girls, among other films, and existed in the same time frame as John Hughes movies, so without any more information on the subject matter or the plotline of the movie, I began watching Heathers.

Forty minutes in, I was horrified. The timing of my processing of the shooting, then watching the movie, could not have been worse. For those of you (like me) that are unaware of what Heathers is about, the plot follows a girl named Veronica who has succeeded in joining the popular clique in her high school called the Heathers: a group of beautiful popular girls all named Heather. After a college party night goes awry and alpha Heather makes fun of Veronica (in a very clever, scathing way), Veronica plays a game of strip croquet with the new-to-the-neighborhood psychopath, JD (whom has jokingly "shot" two people with blanks in the school, already, with no consequence), to whom she gripes about Heather and vocally wishes alpha Heather dead. Now JD takes things literally, so in a well-intentioned prank to make alpha Heather throw up the following morning by having her drink a mixture of orange juice and milk (Veronica's idea), JD decides to ratchet up the stakes and feed alpha Heather drain cleaner instead. She dies, and JD convinces Veronica to help him pass it off as suicide. After killing two more students at the school (this time, misogynistic football players, killed by shooting them) and also passing them off as suicide, Veronica and JD have a relationship reminiscent of Bonnie and Clyde.

Without going too much into detail and ruining the movie, let's just say I was appalled. I took to the good ol' interweb to see what the fuss was about Heathers (specifically, if my disgust was shared by the mass populus), and was floored. Reviews of it as a cult classic were overwhelmingly positive, lauding it as an important dark comedy, a necessary piece of cinema, and a gem, even 25 years later. All I saw was a movie glorifying suicide and murder, which left a horrible taste in my mouth. I didn't understand how the movie could have ever been made, let alone celebrated, let alone labeled a "classic", with or without the world "cult" in front of classic. I was shaken, shocked, and appalled.

Then I took my surroundings into account. I don't know that I would ever love Heathers, given its dark subject matter and my reluctance to personally jump on board with the whole murder/suicide thing, but had I seen it on a different night (i.e. not right after hearing about Isla Vista), I would have felt differently. I will say that I appreciated it for it's biting wit and it's cleverness, and it's commentary on social cliques in the high school scene. It's a well-done movie, and though I won't throw the word "important" around, definitely has earned it's place in the history books, in my mind.

Maybe I'll try again to watch it, give it some time, and see what I think. For now, I'm just going to bed. I'm on Pacific time, and even for that, 2/4 am is too late to be awake.

God bless.

EDIT: I did do some reading on Heathers that changed my mindset just a little, or at least put my viewing of Heathers in the correct frame. I'll link ya: here, here, and here.

This Year

This year was the worst year yet. This school year. It had it's ups, but it had its deep downs as well.

This year:

My depression came back in a really hard-to-deal-with way, and I was luckily able to call someone when I most needed it.

I changed majors. Which is definitely for the better, but the academic courseload got about three times harder, and I got less and less sleep as I progressed through the year and the semester. Which made life hard to deal with.

My baby sister's growing up and that's freaking me out because she's going to college.

I was sexually assaulted by someone that I trusted.

I got a concussion. The week before finals.

A friend that was really close to me was just generally very very shitty and out of left field. 

For the first time in my life I've had to come to terms with some things that weren't so pretty, namely that I am human. This means that from time to time, I fuck up. Bad. I make choices that I can't stand behind the next day, and there are times where I look in the mirror and I'm not proud of the person that's looking back at me. I've been trying to learn not to beat myself up about it, but it's taking time. It's a process.

Mistakes

Mistakes suck.

I'm not talking about the simple embarrassing spelling error on a letter to your grandma, or forgetting to write the subject line in an e-mail to your TA which took you two hours to compose because you're in love with your TA. I'm not talking about forgetting to call your sister on her birthday, or not paying your credit card bill one month.

I'm talking about huge huge mistakes, gargantuan fuck-ups, things that you can't, at the end of the day, tell yourself will be okay. Things that society frowns upon, things that make your skin crawl and make you wonder if you'll ever be okay. Mistakes that ruin friendships, mistakes that ruin relationships, mistakes that ruin lives.

Okay, maybe I'm being a bit dramatic, but I've made a few mistakes. Very recently. That have had serious shockwaves. That weren't able to be brushed off by a simple apology, or justified by the fact that I had good intentions. They're things that I can't go to sleep at night and not think about, and they're things that make me cry one, two, four, seven months in the future. I've had to accept the fact that I'm a human that makes large mistakes from time to time, and that this is a part of learning and living.

And it fucking sucks. Coming to terms with the fact that I'm imperfect is horrible. And not an endearing imperfect, not the fact that I make light of my flaws, really, truly, horribly imperfect.

E, J, and how I learned my life was a joke.

A year ago, I did not know myself.

A year ago, someone else wanted to know me.  His name was J.

A year ago, I don't remember what happened, but J stopped talking to me, out of the blue, showed up with another girlfriend, and we cut contact.

In this year, I've grown closer to E. He knows most of my secrets, supports me when I need it, encourages me, makes me laugh, and best of all, does all of this in a platonic way. He's one of my best friends.

That is, until about four months ago.

Four months ago, E changed. He turned harsh, callous, insulting, and complacent. He stopped answering my texts, both when they were trivial and when they were important. He stopped answering my phone calls when I needed someone to talk to. It seemed like he stopped respecting me as a person, and I have no idea why.

To top it all off, E accused me this weekend of throwing myself at J when I knew he had a girlfriend. Not only is that not his place, that's not who I am, at all, and it felt like shit. This person, who I had trusted, loved platonically, helped, opened up to, and made myself vulnerable in front of betrayed me. It hurt worse than any breakup with any boyfriend, any fight with any other friend, anything else, ever.

It fucking sucked. And it threw me off my rocker completely. I have literally no idea what to do, where to go from here, or what to say. I feel so used and emotionally manipulated, and for someone who prides herself on being strong and able to see through bullshit, this is not a fun place to be in. I feel taken advantage of, both physically and emotionally. I don't know what to say.

This sucks.