anyone other than me

notice how basic white cotton panties can make you feel unattractive? like, i have a really good collection of sexy underwear. or cute underwear. or underwear that doesnt make me feel like an old lady of thirty-five with two kids, and the only thing I have time to shop for are the basic cotton five pack of Hanes underwear at Target. I have panties made of lace, I have sheer panties, I have silk panties, boy shorts, cheekies, briefs...all kinds. And as of current, because you really need to know, I'm wearing basic white cotton underwear. and I feel less attractive when I think about what kind of panties I'm wearing. They are flattering. Sometimes they can look cute. But I feel fat and they make me look fat. The gym is in order most definitely.

So I've been thinking about my level of attractiveness lately. Like, what makes me attractive. There is no doubt that people find me attractive and that I consider myself attractive. But I've been wondering how I am attractive. How to explain....hhmm...okay, so ya know how there are some chicks that are attractive because of how they carry themselves? Like, I know a few girls that act like they have that "it" factor, and they are deemed attractive because of this. And then there are the girls that are actually pretty. That have the eyes, nose, lips, cheekbones, forehead and symmetry (and proportions) which make them pretty. So they are legitimately attractive, even without the confidence bit. Now. I've been thinking about this. Am I the girl that isn't really that attractive, but I carry myself well, thus people perceive me attractive. Or, do I have the features of a pretty girl. That most people would find me pretty, just by looking at a picture of me, without knowing how I was in person or some shit like that. You know what I mean? Would the kind of underwear that I have on make a difference at all? If I were wearing my sevens, would that up the ante? Or whatever.

I've kinda been going crazy lately. Did anyone notice? So much going on in my mind and it catches up to me. Like a pregnant hamster sitting on top of my lungs, preventing me from breathing like a normal human being with normal thoughts and normal worries. I have been uber stressed. My dog is dead. He is officially dead. Melany texted me Friday night telling me that Tobie was put down on Tuesday. And it's a coincidence that Tuesday was when I was sick. I had a horrible migraine that day. Funny how things work out that way. Regardless, Ryan and I drove out to Suffolk County to an Italian restaurant called Carabba's, and I was doing well. I did not feel achey in the head, I was stressless because it was Friday night and I had my honey to spend time with for the night. And I was texting Andrew, and I got a random text from Mel. And my dog is dead. I've been fretting over it for weeks, and it's finally done. And yes, I wanted to cry. I need to cry. Need. But I couldn't. Why? Because I was out to dinner with my boyfriend. Not a good place to totally lose it. Upset about Tobie, upset about my life as of current. No me time. No understanding the foreign language I signed up for. No catching up with the homework that I've been slacking with. Nothing. No nothing. If I started to cry in Carabba's, I would not have stopped and I would have made a scene. Jen made a point: I should cry in front of Ryan. I don't like to cry in front of anyone, but the way i've thought of it, I trust him to see me naked, and to know parts of my body with his hands and mouth that I wouldn't trust other people with, so why can't he see a few salty tears fall from my eyes. But the other way I thought of it, it's a new way to be vulnerable to someone. Sex is a totally different emotion than sadness (or insanity, whatever) though both can tear you to pieces if approached the wrong way. With sex, I face the risk of losing my own domain. My body, my skin, my curves, my everything. Sadness, I risk losing clarity, happiness, peace. In the moment of both, I lose myself. And I suppose it's easier for me to let my body go in order to achieve orgasm, than to risk crying and not stopping. But as I said before, I need to cry. It will make me feel a lot better. And I want him to see it. I just have to actually do it. I've held back tears for the past three weeks, not having a chance to express my pain, my fear, my sadness, my worry, anxiety, hatred. It's all boiling inside my body, and I refuse to release it. It's never the right time. I feel worst when at work, or class or the gym or in a public place. When I'm in my room, it won't come. Those tears won't come. And tonight, when I wanted to tell Ryan that I was sad because I thought of never seeing my dog again, I couldn't say those words. Because saying them out loud, just like typing them right now, brings tears to my eyes. That's the worst part about death, the toughest thing to grasp. Never seeing that being again. I can't call him over to me anymore, I can't give him cookies anymore, I can't pet him or brush him. I can't do it anymore. And that's what hurts inside. That's what makes me want to break down. It's what makes me crazy everytime someone close to me died. Knowing I could never see them or speak to them again. And now it has happened with my doggie. My little Tobie is gone and I won't see him ever again.

11th grade I lost my grandma, she died in her sleep. 12th grade I lost my uncle to AIDS, essentially. Sophomore year of college, I lost my dog. And it's never going to get easier. The older one gets, the more loved ones one loses.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that Andrew and I were meant to be friends. Like, I can't imagine him not in my life at this point. He can make me laugh like no one else can. He is one of the only persons that I feel 100% myself around. And I know he will be there for me, and I for him. And I hope, regardless of what happens in our lives, that we always stay in touch. I have a feeling that if we lost touch for ten years and bumped into eachother at a high school reunion, we'd have everything to talk about and there wouldn't be a silent moment. Anywho, I'm glad he's stayed in my life through these years. He helped to make me who I am today. I am a less serious person because of him. And I suppose I did something for him.

I'm drying up inside. And it sucks.

And ya know what I want to do? I want to fuck. I want to fuck and I can't because I have a roommate.

I love him.

I just can't say it.

Call it emotionally dysfunctional if you'd like.

It's just that vulnerability again.

And I used the word "just" like it's something so simple. Giving up vulnerability is apparently easy.

College is driving me crazy. I still don't get why I'm doing this to myself sometimes. I'd be better off in the Peace Corps.

I really really really really really really hope Obama wins this election.

I'm looking forward to going home this weekend.

It's all in the panties, man. It's all in the panties.

Love and Peace...though I have major problems with the "l" word.