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I’ve never been good at getting over people, this isn’t news to me, but sometimes I’m like “damn” even at myself

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there’s a person i am, and a person I make the choice to be. I like the person I’ve chosen more, but I don’t know how much i really like either of them.

I could try just being the person I am, I think about it more and more, but I don’t think that person comes out without blowing up at least half of the things in life that matter to me.

what the fuck, man

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I keep saying in my head “I miss you,” but I’m not sure who I’m talking to

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we’re having a game night in a few weeks. there’s gonna be a little drinking, and my partner promised their friend to have a glass of her favorite wine. wine makes them notoriously horny, and they said “I hope you’re ready to get laid that night”

it’s been a year since we had sex. it’s been a year with hardly any physical affection at all. sometimes we entangle our legs on the couch. kisses, in routine ways, and a few times each week out of actual affection. a hug every few weeks.

I want to be excited, but it feels more like “get excited, I’ll be inebriated enough to finally want to touch you!” and I just feel anxious and more lonely. I'm so starved for touch but this isn’t what I want.

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bitches will hear a song and be like 'this makes me feel like i have a gaping hole in my chest' and then they put it on repeat. its me im bitches

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my princess only lets me take my gloves off for her. at all other times I must wear them, saving my flesh for her eyes and touch alone. I feel near to naked even with only my leather when my gauntlets are off, lest I am sequestered with her, and even (or especially) then, to feel revealed in that way is maddening.

"these," she tells me, trailing a delicate fingertip along the ridged hinge of my gauntlet's knuckle, "are the hands of the kingdom, the deliverers of god's will."

then she slowly unbinds and releases me from them, a task so unbecoming of her own silk-soft hands, the duty of a squire carried out by her highness—and with such grace, such unhurried dally, as if she is savouring me.

"and these," she tells me, holding up my hands laid bare in her own warm palms, the only touch that skin knows and that which I have known no comparable hunger for, she says, "are mine."

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my grandma is dying

actually, it probably won’t be long for both my grandmas, and at least one grandpa

it’s okay, I don’t see them often, and they’re all very old. like 90-ish. it isn’t, you know, good. but it’s okay. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to cope.

my partner told me a long time ago that they aren’t good at helping people with grief. i’ve known this for a while. i did think they’d be able to manage at least a hug, or an i'm sorry. instead I got a few minutes of hearing how hard it would be, financially, for me to be where my extended family lives right now.

and then I got to comfort them about maybe missing a single, weekly event because their young, flighty friend is as young and flighty as ever. served with a side of telling me how it’s my best friend’s fault and how she’s terrible and selfish for it.

I’m tired, boss. i could really use a hug.

i really could.

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can you get in trouble for remembering a detail about someone

is it normal to notice details

pervert definition

how much is it normal to remember about someone

are you allowed to think about people when they're not talking to you +reddit

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“Pitcher Plant”

I dislike the term “pitcher plant”. It reeks of outdated ignorance and describes a vast number of species from around the world, many of which are not closely related to each other.

As a botanist, and an evil one at that, I prefer to be precise with my language. You too can become an educated scientist and terrific snob by using the correct terms for each variety of “pitcher plant”. If you require education on the matter, allow me to inform you.

There are three families of “pitcher plant”: Sarraceniaceae, Nepenthaceae, and Cephalotaceae. Sarraceniaceae has 3 genera — namely Sarracenia, Heliamphora, and Darlingtonia. Nepenthaceae has a single genus (Nepenthes), and Cephalotaceae has a single species. An entire family with only one species. Ugh.

Now, they look quite distinct from each other, so here are some photos and facts.

This species belongs to Sarracenia, the North American or trumpet pitcher plants. Note the height and slender shape.

This is also a Sarracenia. Note the lack of height and squat shape. Most Sarracenia species look like one of these two — they are quite easy to identify. They are found in boggy, temperate areas around North America and reach a height of up to 4 feet tall.

This is a stunning example of a Nepenthes (tropical pitcher plants) species. These are what you likely think of when someone mentions “pitcher plants”. Beautiful, found in warm, humid regions of the world. They are climbing vines and pitchers can reach over a foot tall (this is species-dependent).

This is an example of Heliamphora, the sun pitchers. They can be found in South America. While still belonging to the family Sarraceniaceae, they are not as tall as Sarracenia, but still quite graceful. If you have a mind for Greek, you may wonder if the “heli” in Heliamphora is for sun (from “helios”). It is not. The name Heliamphora instead comes from “helos”, meaning marsh. The name “sun pitcher” is misleading and comes from a misunderstanding — these plants would be more accurately called “marsh pitchers”.

I have a passionate love-hate relationship with Cephalotus follicularis. Cephalotus is a monotypic genus (a genus with only one species) and of course it is Australian. They look similar to Nepenthes but are unrelated and much smaller — the plants reach just shy of 8 inches tall.

There are also the cobra lilies, Darlingtonia, which belong to Sarraceniaceae. Those are arguably similar enough to Sarracenia that they do not need to be discussed here. Darlingtonia is another monotypic genus within Sarraceniaceae.

Now you have absolutely no excuse. You have been informed on the major genera of “pitcher plants” and should weaponize this knowledge as you see fit.

The brilliant and brave may also wish to weaponize the plants themselves. Kindly send me updates if you do. I am ever so curious…

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took a step I really should have a long time ago. actually, more like correcting a mistake I never should have made. I’m trying to be more healthy in my attachments. it’s hard, I’m trying to fix the attachments I *should* have, but I’m still lonely. and, frankly, starved for touch and intimacy. you’ll (hopefully) never know, but I’m sorry for violating your privacy.

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i think everything would be easier though, if my partner and I could trust each other.

I fucked up a long time ago, years ago, and damaged our trust first. (I hid an illness, to be overly concise about it). the ramifications of that have been around for some 5 years now and I know they’re my fault.

but there’s this stupid cycle where he doesn’t trust me, so he acts constantly suspicious, and if he thinks I’m lying he’ll come at me very aggressively about it. and then I get defensive because I’m not hiding anything, but it’s not like that makes one seem innocent, now does it? I feel like I’m constantly under scrutiny, and accused of being a liar and a bad person. and I’m not saying I’m not those things, but I’m so much better about them.

but the constant scrutiny built a wall. because we aren’t close, and because of his own mental health struggles, he can’t carry the emotional labor of helping me with my emotions. so they constantly feel dismissed, uncared for, belittled. he’s not a toucher, and the emotional gap has him not compelled to make concessions on that, so I’m touch-starved. same for sex. same for sharing things we are excited about, like media.

and I don’t think we even like each other anymore. we both want to. we both want to be best friends and in love again. But that means a leap of faith on both parts to be nice and be vulnerable and bridge that gap, but it’s really hard to care that much and have that much faith and put in that much effort for someone you just don’t think actually cares about you. And yeah, I mean that for both of us.

that’s part of why this blog is here anyway. maybe journaling will help me process these feelings so I can be open about them. There’s no fear of rejection here.

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I’m scared I fucked up.

I have a friend. We’ve flirted for a long time. It was fun and then for a while it got kind of very serious feeling, and then it stopped, and then it started a little, and then it felt like actually no, a boundary was being set, and all of this back and forth on top of me having had a bit of a crush since, like, early summer.

i got confused

I needed clarification

so i wrote out this whole thing explaining that I was a little confused and just wanted to know where our boundaries were, and were we flirting for fun or serious and etc.

so we talked. she was cool about it. we’re both bad with boundaries and agree it’s best we don’t mutually catch feelings (I did not tell her I kinda already had, I have a feeling she knows, I have a feeling she already a maybe had too). shes thought about it before and just isn’t into polyamory either, too much the jealous type, too scared of “stealing” someone’s partner. we’re still friends, we just aren’t flirting anymore. To keep that boundary line clear.

the largest part of me is relieved. We’re still friends, and this is the best way for us to stay friends for the longest time. And that’s good because she’s really my best friend and I want us to stay in each other’s lives forever. It’s one thing to go from “friends” to “something more than friends,” an annother, much more difficult thing to go backwards from that. And this is less complicated, too.

but another part is so fucking scared. I’ve changed our relationship for sure, since we aren’t going to flirt anymore. I don’t think that will have long term ramifications, but I’m worried it could lessen our closeness, or I’ll be less fun this way. I’m scared she sees me as just another shallow ‘guy’ who’s friends because they want to sleep with her. I’m worried I’ve changed our relationship in ways that I don’t understand yet, put some hairline fracture in the foundation that’s doomed it down the line. She’s acting normal still, so maybe, with luck, it’s just my own head that’s a fucking mess.

and a small but very fucking loud part is disappointed, and feels rejected. It’s not a smart part. I know it’s better this way. I know she’s my friend and she’s not rejecting me like I confessed romantic feelings for her or anything. But that RSD doesn’t care about logic, y’all. it’s still a crush that has to be squashed now and that’s not the kind of thing that logic can soothe.

hopefully, like all my other miseries, I can just tamp it down and bury it under a pile of distraction until it’s so much mulch and bones.

we’ll see, I guess

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I don’t want to die, and I certainly don’t want to kill my self, but I do think that if there was like, a switch that just put me in a coma for a few months or years I’d hit it. I’d love to just not-be for a while. Tap out for a bit. Regroup.

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Midway on our life's journey, l found myself in dark woods, the right road lost

To tell about those woods is hard - so tangled and rough And savage that thinking of it now, I feel the old fear stirring

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I’m just constantly suppressing an angry sob and everyone thinks it’s happiness that’s bubbling up instead

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I’m pissed at her and heartsick and I’m still putting her favorite jello in the shopping cart