2011

I really hate summing up the year when it ends, because I don't like going by years-- too much happens to me annually. But. I'll do it this time.

Last New Year's Eve, I kissed a boy that I really, fully believed I'd be with for a long time. Uh, 2011 proved to me just how much I grow, and how much relationships can change. Looking back, I was a real pussy in the beginning of the year. The most important people in my life were also the most controlling and manipulative. Now, I didn't make this blog so I could talk shit about men that broke my heart. Because I have a tumblr for that.

Anyway, I finished my senior year strong. I really did love senior year. Besides the guy issues, the friends I made that last year were some of the greatest kids.

Summer was tough. I was sent 1500 miles away to work on a beach, all on my lonesome. A senior summer without my friends? It was terrible.

But then I started college. Fuck, the girls I've met here are all 'bridesmaid' potential. They are the nicest girls I've met, ever. They've truly become sisters to me, and some of them now know more about me than my friends back home.

Since I've started college, I realized that I'm not much of a party animal. My idea of a perfect Friday night is me in my dorm room with a bottle of wine and a Criminal Minds marathon. I also realized just how much I hate meaningless sex. I'd experienced it before, and thought of each situation as a learning lesson, but apparently I wasn't learning, if I kept doing it. But in my first month of college, I discovered that feeling empty and detached, or even angry after sex was not something I wanted to feel.
I'm not putting the blame on any of my previous relationships with men, but the other day, Emily and I discussed that... we thought it was okay because we were fucked over, and considered 'nothingness sex' as a way to cope. I can think of less painful coping mechanisms.

After that first month of bad decisions, I finally began to give up on that boy I kissed on New Year's Eve. There was no progress, no response, just constant confusion, and I was very much done with it. Also, I had sort of started to feel... like, uh, "stirrings" for another boy. But as I was beginning the process of letting go, the New Year's boy decided he wanted to hold on.
Such is life. All is fair in love and war, blah blah blah.

But this was towards the end of 2011. I was no longer a pussy, and I wasn't going to be treated like one. I knew, and this was tough, that I couldn't go back to someone I had been waiting so patiently for. I had been beyond lenient, and it was my turn to take control. I'm terrified I'll get thrown back into a place where I'll go back to him, because I know that's one of the most unhealthy and detrimental choices I could make.

The last month of 2011, I came home for the holidays. I had sex in my church parking lot. I get wicked self-conscience around the kid; I think that's a huge indicator that I might be, like, in love. It's different from the last time I fell in love, because that was young love, and it was my first one. It was pure and naive and fearless, like I was when I was 17.
But this one, yikes. This one is dirty. This one is after I've fucked six guys; this one is after I've felt sincere fucking disappointment; this love is one I think I'm afraid of, and afraid to admit.

And now it's 2012, and I'm sitting here thinking I did a lot of things (and people) within the past 12 months. I'm proud of most of them, I am.