carolineishere

[carolineishere]

and just like that, everything is different. the phases of my life have come and gone, transitioning with the seasons. my loneliness has been filled with beautiful people. beautiful, genuine people that i want in my life and aspire to be like. i’m no longer the desperate girl pining over someone who never cared about me. i’ve found love. i wasn’t sure at first if i was love or just infatuation, but i think ive discovered that both can be true at once. i do really love this girl, and she loves me back. i felt the world crumble into a million pieces when we kissed, and put itself back together, slowly and methodically, making each every grain of sand, each blade of grass slightly more pure than it was before.

i’ve always naively thought of kissing as something explicitly sexual, and it can be, but so much can be communicated through a kiss. love and contentment and desire and pain, and when you kiss someone you truly love it’s as if the universe makes sense, if only for a few moments. the chaos of the world around you is drowned out by the sense of complete security in who you are in the eyes of another.

i also considered sex to be something purely pornographic; something i suppose i could see the appeal in, but always felt so foreign. something i would never experience, let alone enjoy. i’ve heard so many stories of how the first time can be awkward or embarrassing, if not traumatic, but when it’s with someone you love and trust, it’s magical.

i’ve learned so much about myself, too. i like to be on top. not in a controlling or dominating way, but i just wanted to make her feel good and safe and loved. i wanted her to know that her happiness and pleasure matter more to me than my own; that she is truly loved and i would do anything for her.

[carolineishere]

rehashing old memories of you is worse when i’m talking to people who actually knew you. when i spoke of you to my friends there was always a disconnect. i could speak of you in the way i viewed you: beautiful, kind, shy, real. and they had no choice but to believe me; they didn’t have contradictory evidence.

I was allowed the guilty pleasure of creating a false version of you, and believing in my own delusions. I treated you more as a false god than a bad memory.

but when i spoke of you to our mutual friends i was forced to be honest; with myself, and with them. I’ve known that you probably manipulated me, or maybe you just felt too sorry to say no, but why else would you have done the things you did?

i don’t want to think of you anymore, because i know you’re not thinking of me. part of me wishes i never met you, but deep down i know it was for the better.

you taught me lessons i wouldn’t have learned on my own. and it took me years to learn it, but the world is so much bigger than one girl. the world is bigger than us.

[carolineishere]

-this is our one and only life, small and insignificant to the world around us. and still, out of all the tiny people, there’s that one person. that one person who ties your bodies together as one, and to find that person, would be the true gift of the world.

beauty fills the calloused and weathered pelt of this earth. rotating for billions of years, and yet it still stands alone. a moon and a sun, and yet they’d destroy each other if they ever were to touch.

i do not believe in soulmates, but i’d like to. -

[carolineishere]

-the opportunity for me to love doesn’t arise often, so, when it comes, i treat it as a welcome guest. i lay the table and wait with open arms for a feeling i know will completely consume me. at this point, its expected, and yet i still look forward to it. -

[carolineishere]

sometimes i look back at my old writings and wonder if i’ve grown less mature. for my whole life up to this point my maturity level has been a constant upward diagonal, even if below my peers, still improving nonetheless.

my writing used to have feeling, it used to have soul. my writing used to be an extension of my mind and the way i viewed the world. now i hardly write, and when i do, it’s sloppy and incoherent.

i used to have big feeling about the world, positive and negative, but now i find i don’t care, and i haven’t for a while. i no longer care about anything, and maybe that’s why my writing is void of soul. life has been so unsaturated lately, even as im meant to be loving the best years of my life.

[carolineishere]

you were in my dream last night, maybe it was a nightmare. nothing changed, it was before you left, before you shattered my heart, before you tried to fix it. we were still ok, and that’s how i knew it was a dream.

[carolineishere]

you could’ve hurt me, it would’ve been so easy. but you didn’t. so I hurt myself and pretend it was you.

i’m offended by how fast you moved on, even though we were never together. we never even kissed; i never had the balls to ask.

i wonder how you think of me. i wonder if you think of me at all. I hope you think of me fondly, and not as the nervous rambling clumsy girl i was when i was with you.

[carolineishere]

[carolineishere]

today i cut open my hand and bled out all over the floor, not getting that promotion anymore.

today i walked into your room and then i watched you slam the door, don’t know what that was for.

you kick your dog with your left foot and then you walk calmly away, he’s sorry he got in your way.

you stomp wherever you are going and you huff and you are blowing like the big bad wolf in my eyes.

but then you pivot foot and say baby i’m sorry and i’ll change, and i believed you the last time.

because you’re the sun and i need your light so i can shine too, you’re the sun and you burn my flesh when i get too close to you.

[carolineishere]

disclaimer: i’m high as fuck at the time of writing this

this is a year of many things: a year of involuntary sobriety, involuntary celibacy, involuntary sedentary. but most importantly this is a year of nothing.

this is a year of loneliness. you’d think i’d have learned to love to be alone, but i’m not the muse in some romantic poem. i’m not the heroine of some film or song or story. i’m not stoic. i’m desperate.

this is a year of mourning. i have no new memories to replace you with, instead im stuck glorifying you, romanticizing you, idolizing you.

this may very be my last year.

[carolineishere]

life is so exhausting. i can’t write. i can’t sleep. i feel like i’m going insane.

i won’t tell you how it hurts. it’s better for you not to know. i’m sorry. i’m sorry for not getting clean for you. you dont deserve me. you deserve the world.

[carolineishere]

oh to lay on her chest while counting her heartbeats and breaths to sleep

[carolineishere]

on yearning:

i spend all my energy thinking of you. the way we touched. the way we danced. the way we almost kissed, but didn’t.

it always pinches a nerve when straight girls go on about how much easier it must be to be gay, how hetero relationships are so complicated, but sapphic relationships must be so easy. the truth is, i can’t imagine a more difficult thing.

how can the divine feminine be in love with mother nature herself and it not be complicated? women feel. the feel so deeply it hurts. but most keep it inside, at least i do. i feel so intensely i feel to my own detriment. i sit on those feelings and let them fester and expand and rot and flourish inside me all the time. it kills me to live the way i do, and maybe it’s because im too shy, or too aggressive, or too ugly, but the opportunity for me to love doesn’t arise often.

so, when it comes, i treat it as a welcome guest. i lay the table and wait with open arms for a feeling i know will completely consume me. at this point, its expected, and yet i still look forward to it.

it’s crazy how one person can take up so much of my mind. do you know how you affect me? even a year later you’re all i think of. it’s a different kind of pain missing something you never really had. what makes it worse is she probably did know, but neither of us addressed it.

i still remember the day we had to say goodbye, i’d had it planned for months: you’d walk me to the train station, i’d buy a ticket for Bergamo, and when my train arrived i’d look you in the eye, tell you how long i’d been waiting for this, pull you in, and kiss you. but we’d accidentally stayed too long at the cafe, we ran into friends at the park, we had to run for the station. the only thing i could manage was to hug you. how long did we hold each other? a minute? 5 minutes? 10? all i knew is that my eyes were growing wet, and finally they overflowed when you squeezed down.

-when YOU squeezed down. right in the small of my back. you never initiate, but YOU took initiative. usually you just go along with what i start, you always made me worry i would push your boundaries, but you never stopped me. i wonder how i could’ve gone before you stopped me. maybe you’re like me, wanting the other to confirm before you try something new,-

when you held firmly down you gave me just enough to confidence to whisper through a red face and runny nose “facciamo come gli italiani, due bacini sulle guance” and so that’s how it ended. two kissed on the cheeks and wiping away my own tears, wishing it had been your hands on my face. your hand in my hand. your lips on my lips. your laugh in my mind. instead it was silence.

i didn’t look back when i stepped in the train. i sat opposite the platform so i wouldn’t have to see you, instead i saw the replication of my own embarrassment, incompetence, and shame as i knew i would never see you again.

[carolineishere]

[carolineishere]

i want to be so much different than the way i am.

i want to be definable.

desirable.

destroyable.

easy to recognize and even easier to ruin.

i have the selfish urge to let myself self destruct, and have someone care for me enough to pull me out of it.

i want to be able to be romantically ugly and dark; imperfect hair, smudged lipstick, ribs pushing through my soft skin.

i want someone to tell me that i’m beautiful. that i’m destroyed beyond repair. that they’re willing to stay anyway. and i want to believe every word.

[carolineishere]

some lyrics im working on about addiction to people/drugs/disorders:

i’m trying so hard not to fall back into old habits, staying clean is a lie; it’s so hard to keep once you have it.

i’ve buried the hatchet, with the turmoil in my mind. not for myself but for someone i may find.

i wanna tell you how i feel, but i don’t really know. i wanna eat my dinner without feeling like i’ve grown.

i wish i was 17, and on the next train home. i do not want to hurt you but i’m scared it’s in my bones.

to grow, and to shake, to know you is to know something safe. to cry, and to say i’m sorry, i know that i’m brittle and i don’t think it’ll change.

and if i break the chain, i will know i’m the weakest link.

[carolineishere]

but if i break the chain, i will have been the weakest link.