050

12 Relationship 'Nevers' to Remember
(Based on the Experiences of 5.5 Relationships)

1.  Never compromise your beliefs/goals for your S.O.

2.  Never hold onto a relationship in which you’ll be over 100 miles apart.

3.  Never introduce an S.O. to your extended family until a marriage proposal has been made; it will either scare your S.O. away or give your S.O. the impression that your relationship is more serious than you may anticipate.

4.  Never jump into a relationship when you still harbor feelings for an ex.

5.  Never go back to an ex who hurt you; you’re giving him/her permission to do it again.

6.  Never assume you’re in a relationship; third base doesn’t mean a thing.

7.  Never make “your song” a Top 40; if you break up, you’ll hear that shit everywhere.

8.  Never go to bed angry.

9.  Never give a gift you might want back.

10.  Never make promises you don’t intend to keep.

11.  Never  give up on someone who makes you genuinely happy, no matter what.

12.  Gibbs’s Rule: Never date a coworker.

049

I don't know what to write, but I know I need to.

Over the past week or so I've realized that crying doesn't have the same calming effect it used to have on me.  In college I cried a lot--more than the average person.  I cried because it made me feel better, because if I cried I could get all my feelings out.  Now, I've stopped crying.  Crying just leaves me face blotchy, my nose runny, and my eyes bloodshot.  Now, crying makes me feel weak--like I can't hold it together.  I don't like feeling out of control, especially when it comes to my emotions.

But even holding back the tears doesn't change the lump in my throat that never seems to fully subside.  It doesn't change the ache in my chest that keeps coming back.  And it brings on more headaches from holding everything in.

I've had to tell about a dozen people at work--all at separate times--about the break-up, and the worst moment always comes when they ask: "Why?"  And I try to explain what he's told me, and my outlook on it, but my subconscious always has to have her two cents and say, "Yes, Emily, please tell us: why?"  And I don't know the answer.  I can flap my gums over how much freedom he needs, but when it comes down to it, I can't understand why two people, who over the course of a seven-month relationship never fought and claim to love each other, are no longer together.  I can say that I understand, but I don't think I ever really will. 

048

I've been wanting to write for the past day and a half or so, but nothing seems right.  Everything seems too personal for a public blog.  I've rehashed everything to all of my friends a dozen times, but it still doesn't seem real.  Things just sort of crumbled in a matter of days.

I think the worst part is that while I understand all the reasoning, I can't accept it.  The thing I love most about Walter is that he makes me feel young.  We talked a lot about how I went to college and had time to mature, but I don't really feel like I ever had the opportunity to be crazy and stupid.  I joined my sorority in my sophomore year, and it was one of the greatest decisions I made.  However, with that, I was expected to hold myself to a higher standard.  I matured more quickly than I realized.  And then I met Walter.  He gave me a Nerf gun for Christmas, and that can almost sum up our relationship.  Sure, sometimes he'd drive me crazy, but I loved every minute of insanity that i experienced with him.  I wish I could tell him that.  I wish I could tell him that his maturity never mattered to me--that it was exactly what I needed, that I looked forward to seeing him grow and mature on his own time.  But now I can't even do that.  I can't muster up the courage to even text him, because that means clinging to him--something that could, for all I know, drive him further away.  So I wait.  I stare at my phone for hours, just wishing he would text me and say anything, so I'd know how to act and how to talk to him.

This wasn't meant to turn into something sad.  This was supposed to be a way for me to embrace what we had and share the love I felt, the love I still feel.  Maybe this will make sense to someone out there, and someone can give me some advice, because I'm more lost than I've ever been.

047

I haven't written in a long time, but I really need to because I can't get things off my mind.

When I'm upset, I bottle things up inside, and very few people know that anything is bothering me--not even the people who know me best.  I internalize my feelings, which has always been my biggest reasons for writing.  Writing is the only way I know how to express the uncomfortable things I need to talk about.  I started writing after my aunt died when I was twelve.  That was the first time I recall being depressed, and there was no one I knew that I could talk to about my feelings, so I turned to loose leaf paper and a pencil.  Since then, things have changed; now I tend to reach out to this blog or a Word Document, other times my purple pen and my leather-bound journal that a friend gave me. 

So that's why I'm writing tonight, because whether I want to admit it or not, I'm feeling anxious and insecure, and even if I don't say it aloud, I'm beginning to express how I'm feeling. 

046

So, on Thanksgiving everyone says they are thankful for the same things: friends, family, loved ones, opportunities for the future, etc.  While I am thankful for these things, I want to take the time to express the not-so-deeply-rooted things I am thankful for this year.

I am thankful for CollegeHumor, Joan Rivers' snarky remarks, McDonalds french fries, feather boas, The Graham Norton Show, Starbucks mochas, Channing Tatum's abs, William Shakespeare's works, every song covered by Glee, Youtube, Qwerty keyboards, Girl Scout cookies (especially Samoas), peach incense, free wine at religious ceremonies, oversized sweatshirts, bathing suits on sale in November, the Tardis, online shopping, Mario (but not Luigi), Tucky Williams' smile, Ravenclaw house, Justin Bieber's haircut, zebra-print, do-it-yourself tye-dye, gingers, the middle finger, dimples of Venus, Postsecret Sundays, Monday night Football, chocolate-covered pretzels, peacock feathers, skinny jeans, anything said by Albus Dumbeldore, cookie dough, perfectly placed mistletoe, carnival rides, pink plaid rainboots, sparklers, rollercoasters with double helices, Alan Rickman's voice, composition notebooks, and Google.

045

It astounds me how tired I become sometimes, just by being in bed.  I woke up this morning at six, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, I got back in bed.  I wasn't tired at all, so I browsed my Facebook News Feed from my phone for fifteen minutes or so, liking the things that I missed after going to bed around 11:30.  Once I reached my status that I put up before bed (about my mother's delicious cookies), I closed the app and decided to go back to sleep.  I fell back to sleep easily and didn't wake up again til 11:42, at which time the other half of my bed was taken up by lap-dog wannabe.

I got up then, recognizing that twelve hours was more than enough sleep for the normal functioning adult.  I ate an unhealthy breakfast--or rather brunch--and watched mindless television for an hour.  I came back upstairs and sat at my computer.  Then, I thought to myself, 'Self, you have a netbook.  Why don't you just sit in bed and use the internet from there?'  I couldn't really come up with a suitable argument against myself, so I pulled out my husband pillow, who had been named a year ago but was now nameless due to my inability to remember, and burrowed under my comforter and fleece blanket.  After looking for jobs--in which I discovered that NCIS actually exists and that it is impossible to get a government job without experience--I felt my eyelids begin to sag.  With my lower half heated by blankets and a warm netbook, I was beginning to feel tired once more.  Why does this happen?  Why, when I get ample sleep each night, do I find myself tired?  Is it because I have nothing to do?  Because I'm sure I can find a number of things to get done.

It's times like these that I wonder how I made it by in college with four hours of sleep after writing a five-page essay on The Tempest and a ten-page paper on Much Ado About Nothing, because I didn't bother to work on the former until the last minute.  Then, of course, I have to ask myself, 'How on earth did I pass Shakespeare's Comedies anyway?'

044

Tonight I'm feeling sort of dry when it comes to inspiration.  A lot of things are bouncing around in my head, but it's just sort of hard to grab a hold of one when they're whizzing by so quickly.  So, I did a bunch of Googling to find a blog prompt.  When I was unsuccessful, I decided that I'm in a list-making mood.  So, here are five lists of three:

Three Celebrity Crushes
1. Michelle Rodriguez
2. Kellan Lutz
3. Mark Salling

Three Favorite Book Characters
1. Luna Lovegood (of the Harry Potter series)
2. Wanda (of Stephenie Meyer's The Host)
3. Vivian (of Annette Curtis Klause's Blood and Chocolate)

Three Favorite Things to Wear
1. Spandex shorts
2. Camisole tank tops
3. Pearls

Three Things I Want in a Relationship
1. Honesty
2. Immaturity at appropriate times
3. Cuddling

Three Things I'd Do If I Weren't So Afraid
1. Bungee-jump
2. Fool around in a library
3. Sleep on my roof under the stars