it’s not you, it’s me.

Recently, I have felt really defeated.
small things that just kept adding up until I’m in the middle of the store shouting “FUCK WALMART”, overreacting because they didn’t have the right kind of rice I wanted and G is telling me it’s okay as he kisses my forehead and puts macaroni and cheese in the cart instead because he knows I love that too.
I felt defeated sitting in my car unable to cry because expressing my feelings is something I’m horrible with, even though G says it’s okay and to just get home.
I felt defeated because I had my heart set on risotto and now I couldn’t contribute anything to our dinner.
I felt defeated because I realised I have a hard time giving up control over things, because I want to do things for others.  I have a hard time giving up control over small things, like making dinner, because I have a specific way of doing things.

So for this rough patch that I went through, I just want to say that I couldn’t be more thankful for G.
I’m typically a super self-reliant person just because I find it impossible to trust anyone with doing things the way I want (aka correctly.  kidding.)
But G is the first person I have 100% faith in with anything and everything, and I know I don’t have to worry if he’s taking care of any situation. He literally does whatever I need him to do when I can’t do it for myself, and he doesn’t complain. He also knows when to sit back and just let me try, before jumping in and saving me. 
I also realise this should actually be the norm for your significant other to support you mentally and emotionally (especially when you’re going through hard times) but for me – before him – it never was.
genuinely GOOD people don’t get enough recognition.
don’t date people that are assholes to you and make you feel like anything you’re going through is your fault.
I’ve never met a better, genuinely selfless person.
I swear he’s super human.

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sleep on the floor

Recovery is hard, eating while your mind is screaming that you don’t deserve it is extremely difficult.  Crying over buying new pants because despite them fitting properly, you still feel like you had to convince the pants to let you wear them.
But you’re stronger than that voice in your head.
My mind no longer dwells on such intrusive thoughts, and I am in a different place.  A place much less consumed by an eating disorder, allowing me to have the energy and strength to think about and take part in other things.
This time two years ago the future looked impossible, but I’m sitting here in that future I never believed I would make it to.

I am learning to love myself, and my body.
Because one time I had an amazing float trip with way too much alcohol and several brats and laughed so much I swear I could hardly breathe. Because one time I planned to go to the gym, but realized I hate exercise and was just doing it for the sake of it, so I stayed in and laughed and relaxed.  Because it acts as a squishy pillow at night when I’m entwined with my love and it doesn’t hurt anymore when I lay on a mattress or a pile of pillows.
It’s comfortable.
Because my university friends and I demolished countless amounts of pizza and coffee on our study nights and spoke about all matters of importance right through the early hours of the morning. Because fat rolls are completely normal and literally every single person has them.  Society just believes we should hide them.  Because “fat” and “skinny” are socially constructed ideals of a wrapped beauty image.  Because it represents the birthday cakes shared with loved ones and Thanksgiving dinners I had with my family over the festive period and I didn’t even think about calories.
Because there are times when my boyfriend and I can’t be asked to cook, so we order pizza and watch movies and eat ice-cream and cracker chips and pickles.
Because it’s a sign of how far I’ve come over the years.
this is my body and it’s more than okay.

the way we touch.

i often think back to the first night you told me you loved me:
how adamant i was about never dating the same person twice.
how i was so afraid you didn’t mean it because you were drunk.
when you said those three words, they weren’t an apology.
those three words weren’t a drunken comment.
those three words were home.

i often think back to the first night you told me you loved me:
standing in the aftermath of almost fights and unspoken conversations.
you, holding my hands as you tell me you’ll be the exception.
dancing with you in the bar after hours.
holding on to you as you swung me around.
being home.

i often think back to the first night you told me you loved me:
i think back to that night almost every day.
i think back to the next morning when i was sure it was a dream.
i think of how far we’ve come from the first time we met, to the first time hanging out, to the time you decided we weren’t working, to the night i cried over someone that didn’t want me.
when you’re half asleep and murmur, “love you.” my heart aches.
when you kiss me goodbye and say, “be careful.” my heart aches.
when i look at how handsome you are, my heart aches.
when you hold my hand as i do my homework, or reach out as you’re playing vidja games, my heart aches.
because when you say, “I love you”, it’s like hearing it for the first time, and you are the best i could ever hope for.

– excerpt from a book i’ll never write

love without apologies

if the first time he says, “I love you.” sounds more of an apology than a confession, run.
tell him you’ve heard it before.
tell him you’ve heard it better, in the way the trees speak with their leaves and in the way the earth sings to its streams.
tell him you’ve heard it better in the sky and the clouds just after it rains and everything is born again.
tell him you are full of far too much life to be half loved.
like he’s sorry for you.
like he is holding a broken thing.
like every time he kisses you it tastes like regret and the morning-afters are all bitter with it.
tell him of all the places you’ve hurt, those are battle-scars.
that you’ve fought wars for this type of love.
that you’ve forgotten what it was like to be tame.
tell him you’ve found lionesses under your skin.
tell him they won’t rest for mediocre things.

– excerpt from a book I’ll never write

But am I Happy? 

A few nights ago, as G and I are getting into bed, he asked if I was happy.

This question caught me off guard, but I did my automatic reply of, “yes, of course.” And I was. I mean, I am. I’m always happy with him (and as always, I’m the happiest I’ve been in quite some time). 

Currently, I’m sitting on the couch watching a film and balancing my checkbook with Midna curled up in my lap. As I’m waiting for him to get off work, it dawned on me: I am happy. 

I am euphoric. From the early morning phone calls on his way home to sitting on this little love seat cuddling with Midna, I am happy. 

I am content. 

While we do have our own lives, our own interests, and our own places of residence, it’s nice to be in our own little world. I like coming home to him, making breakfast while he sits at the table drinking coffee, playing hearthstone, going on date nights, just.. existing in the same room. 

I know I’m being a pussy ass bitch, and a typically emotional girl, but it’s just something that crossed my mind; something that when I think about it, I am happy. 

this pain is so loud it could tear open the sky.

it doesn’t matter if I have three exams this week and an overdue english essay from last Friday. it doesn’t matter if my friends don’t understand it anymore. it doesn’t matter if the kettle has been boiling for the past seven minutes and I can’t for the life of me move out of my bed.
it doesn’t matter because this pain is so loud it feels like a siren, like my own heart’s goodbye.

– excerpt from a book I’ll never write

you can’t be a victim AND a villain.

last night, G and I got into an argument over Taylor Swift.
no. I’m not kidding.
Sadly, it has been weighing on my mind all day.  I went to bed angry about it last night, I woke up being a grump, (to put it politely. His words, not mine.  I was a cunt, in the worst way, and I need to apologize) and I am having a very hard time conveying why this argument has me so upset.  Why freakin’ Taylor Swift has me so upset.
I know that I am overreacting. I am being ridiculous and unnecessarily dramatic, but to me, Taylor Swift is my number one hated person.  Like, I defend Hitler more than I defend Taylor Swift, because actually, I wouldn’t defend her.

So, just to start off:
Taylor Swift is an exhibitionist.
And now with her new song, she is a self-proclaimed “Villain.”
except she’s not.
She’s not self-aware enough to be a villain. Typically, pop culture villains take full responsibility of who they are.
“But B, she is literally making fun of herself, because she doesn’t give a fuck what anyone has to say now.”
Oh, yeah, you’re right guys.
She knows what people have said about her, but I’m pretty sure she accepts no responsibility for her reputation what-so-ever. She’s still attached to that victim narrative.
“So, exhibitionist, eh, B?”
Yes sir, you know: a person who behaves in an extravagant way in order to attract attention?
Yes, I know, we are all exhibitionist in someway or another, but the audacity she has truly amazes me.  Yes, Kanye started that feud with her eight years ago, but then she wrote a song about him.  She called him her friend when she presented the award to him, and she lied, in some undeniable way/shape/form, about her knowledge of “Famous”, and she is constantly writing break up songs without acknowledging her role she played in them.
We know she can make fun of herself, (does anyone remember Shake it Off?) and we know she has the ability to say something without saying anything at all. (the snake tweet, anyone?)
Reinventing yourself happens.  Who hasn’t tried to become someone new at the start of the school year?  Moving away to college is the perfect time to become who you want to be.  Even Miley Cyrus has realized that although she’s not the same as she was a year ago, she’s not afraid of who she once was.  She owns it.
You just can’t be a self-proclaimed villain while you’re still playing the victim card, and Taylor, you could do so many things. You control your career and your music, you challenged (and took down) Apple, and ultimately, you could stop saying you were “made” to do anything.

Okay, now to the real issue that I think has me crying myself to sleep last night as well as tonight.  (I would just like to take a break to remind everyone, YES.  I KNOW.  I am very much overreacting, I’m ridiculous, and I’m just being a bitch because instead of saying why this is upsetting to me, I am refusing to acknowledge that sometimes I am triggered by her stupid lawsuit from April.)

This single dollar that was issued to her after the jury ruled in her favor, is not symbolic to me.  This lawsuit is about an instance that happened in 2013.  Now, I know the statute of limitations is not up, not even close, but this dollar that everyone is talking about, has literally no value to me.  I understand that in this sexual assault case, it’s not about the money, but that’s not just this case.  Most sexual assault cases are never about the money, they are about justice being brought to the aggressor.  Taylor Swift got this man fired, and after he calculated all the money lost, he decided to sue her.  I mean, understandable.  However, she seemed to turn this into an “I was assaulted because he touched my butt during a photo-opt and you couldn’t see his hands” situation.
This is a man’s life.  This is not a publicity stunt for feminism.
How many times have you taken group photos where you can’t see someone’s hands?  Hmm?  Do you accuse them of groping you?  And let’s take this into consideration: Taylor Swift is an amazon woman who insists on wearing heels anyway, so is there any way he could have touched her butt, not realizing that she is a fucking giant and her butt is going to be higher up since she is SEVEN THOUSAND FEET TALL??
Okay, whatever.  Exaggeration, but still.
as for the photo, I will say that it is just awkward.  It looks as if it was snapped as he was going in to put his arm around her waist, or after and he is moving away.
But this is still not the point I am trying to make.
Taylor Swift, a high-profile celebrity, won one (1) dollar in a court case because she was groped.
This is aggravating to me in so many ways.  She is a high-profile celebrity; she can afford the best of the best lawyers, and she ended up with a jury of six women and two men.  That is rare.  Most sexual assaults/rape cases do not happen like this.
I understand the importance of speaking up, but if you are raped, you’re more likely to keep it to yourself.  We have been conditioned that it was our fault, we wore something skimpy, we were asking for it, etcetera, but that’s not the half of it.
It’s just frustrating because G has never been sexually assaulted so he doesn’t understand how the mindset works.
You don’t tell someone.  You just blame yourself; asking why it happened to you, thinking about what you could have done differently, and if you do tell someone, will they believe you?  At some point, you will believe that you deserved it, because you shouldn’t have been that drunk, that flirty, that trusting, that whatever it may be.
When you go to court, it’s never about money.  Taylor Swift may have helped women stand up for themselves, because it’s “the principle of the matter” but it’s not really beneficial to see a celebrity have yet another success.  How many woman are going to come forth, lose, and then no one will ever believe them again?  How many women will keep their composure when having to sit through a trial with their attacker in the same room?  How many women will have a jury composed of more women than men?  Not everyone can afford this incredible lawyer that will practice and prep you for keeping your composure.  Not everyone will vote to rule in your favor.
After writing this, I realise that I was upset with him for all the wrong reasons, and I honestly went about it in the worst way.  I loved that he discussed this with me and had his own opinion and point of view, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t convey my reasoning well enough, and that just upset me even more.
I know that had I told him why this upset me so much, going into more detail than I will on here, he would have been understanding, but that’s not something I’m ready to let come back to the surface after years of pushing it down.

Now, does anyone have any ideas of how I can apologize?
it’s gonna have to be good, because I was so grumpy, and I feel awful.