Texts I Did Send

I’d run away, I’d run away with you, with you run with me?

There. I did it. I cried over him.

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On Fuckboys

I’m kind of in that mood where I don’t really know what to do with myself besides retreat into a depressed state. I sent a message to my ex (call him M) yesterday asking if he wanted to talk to me and I got no reply. That was really painful. I feel tempted to send something else but what is there worthwhile to say? I feel abandoned by someone I put my trust in. Things were precarious but did it have to end like this? Maybe a lot of the time while we were together, I wasn’t sure how much I liked him, or if I even wanted to be in a relationship, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care.

I did care about you, sir. And what a painful gesture you have made to not return the feeling: Silence. I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it means something else. That’s what it was with Bo. It was something else. It was never that he didn’t care. Maybe something else is going on. Maybe that’s why he didn’t reply. It’s not that he just absolutely, totally doesn’t care, even though all signs point that. I just want it to be different. I suppose it’s to the point where I’m willing to meet with him and get him to lie to me about the extent to which he cares to make myself believe it and make myself feel happy.

I’m in this whole new world of different people–3 years ago all my world was Bo. Now there’s people who don’t think deeply, and people who act two dimensional, and cardboard people, paper people in their paper towns, and fuckboys. Let’s think about that one for a moment. How to deal with fuckboys? I think I may have liked one…

It’s a fascinating term that has popped up and I worry about it’s implications. Is some male behavior simply too problematic for anything to weigh it out? They become a fuckboy an any merits they have are useless? I guess the definition of a fuckboy is that he doesn’t have any merits.

I haven’t yet met anyone who follows absolutely all the characteristics of a fuckboy that is generally outlined in female conversations BUT I don’t doubt they exist.

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Really was the best definition I could find. Sorry.

Is there an equivalent in the opposite sex? I’m sure there is, and I can think of a few terms for her that people use, but really (and I worry saying this because it paints a stereotypical picture of males, and I worry lately about how we are portraying males) there are some tendencies that you seem to find only in a male, very notorious ones at that. These tendencies don’t exist in females, or if they do, they’re not as dangerous. Yes, some fuckboy behavior is just plain dangerous. There’s exceptions to all of that.

Sometimes I think maybe that behavior in females is just hiding something else, but then, why can’t it be hiding something in a male either? Why does he have to be JUST a fuckboy? Maybe he acts like a fuckboy,  but he’s really  just insecure and needs some compassion. Or not. Who knows? I try to stay neutral but the dynamics of our patriarchical society makes me think that even boys without insecurities act like fuckboys because they think that behavior is okay and acceptable. News Flash: It’s not. But is it really the fault of the male, or the fault of the society he has been raised in? I don’t think the answer is one or the other. It’s a mix of both. Behaviors can be controlled. Everyone has the power to stop and think rationally about whether or not they are following the golden rule (Treat others as YOU would want to be treated). But society sometimes screws with these thought processes because for so long, there were no mores or incentives to stop a bad behavior. Maybe that makes the term “fuckboy” okay. The emergence of this term as commonplace slang means that even males know what a “fuckboy” is, and they know it’s a negative thing, and no one wants to be a fuckboy.

The thing is, although I did state earlier that I don’t know if I’ve met a true fuckboy with every single one of those shitty characteristics, easily I can call all the men I’ve liked fuckboys. Maybe that’s because they’re in the past, and they’re in the past for a reason, and the reason is that it didn’t work out because we hurt each other and didn’t like each other. So of course that a derogatory term I want to use. But maybe it’s not. There’s lots of guys that suck but aren’t necessarily fuckboys. Also, since I talk about Bo all the time because I am so terrible and pathetic, I thought I should let you know, Reader, whether or not Bo is a fuckboy.

BO IS A FUCKBOY. A FUCKING FUCK FUCKBOI IF I EVER. ok but he is not that bad he is also kind and sweet, and he’s not a player or anything, but sometimes how much he cared vs how much he was in it for the V. This is where I wonder about the insecurities part. Bo is not a textbook fuckboy. He never was and not is, he was just acting like one.

When I dated Bo for the first time, when I fell head over heels in love with him, he was great. He was what every girl wants. And no one could have figured it out back then either. He was reclusive and lied a lot and seemed pretty shit. But I found him out.

When I attempted to restart the relationship in December of 2014, he was truly a fuckboy from planet fuckhead. The love of my life did show up occasionally, but mostly I was treated so badly and let myself believe it was okay, that I deserved it and I had done something wrong. He’s the man, I’m the woman, and I’m a broken woman at that. I was intimidated by him and I told him that sometimes but nothing ever happened to make me feel differently afterward.

So, I’m not really in love with Bo still, I’m frustrated that Bo is now acting like a fuckboy and I wonder what happened to the good in him, and I can’t fathom that it could have just disappeared. And then I see him with this new girl being all happy, and I think, hey, that’s my Bo! You don’t get to have him! I found that part of him first! Or maybe it’s that I think of significant others like a project. Something I must improve. Bo has become shitty, I must fix that. My ex, M, really is a textbook fuckboy, but I give him the excuse that he just hasn’t had enough experience yet with women and I must be that experience and I can turn him into something better, I must fix that. Codependency, anyone?

This post has been very freeing and wonderful to write and I think I just learned a lot. Perhaps the high of my week.  I really just need to slut it up for a while, maybe, and if so, I promise, Reader, that my sexcapades will be thoroughly relayed.

Hide, Mittens. Hide fast. 





Post Tantrum Writing from the Heart

I just fucked up a lot and I’m not sure what to do. I threw a huge tantrum and screamed.

I wish I could make this post about what I’ve done this week with my time off in a dangerous low income community, working with young people that inspire me and a really cool group of college students. I will admit that I did some writing in a journal over the week. But otherwise, I am melting into my own depression.

My boyfriend turned out to be a real fuckboy fuckerhead. The friday before I left, I told him not to consider us in a relationship anymore. But he was drunk. I thought maybe he’d reach out to me over the week, but that didn’t happen. I feel like I’ve been treated like something so worthless despite the fact that I put my energy into it. Was I perfect? No. Did I do some things that were wrong? Yeah. Do I deserve this? I don’t think so.

Back to the square where I don’t want to be in another relationship because it’s too stressful to hide from my family anyway. There’s no point in dreaming. The only person worth dreaming about, in my distorted mind, then becomes the only person I ever loved, Bo.

And then I broke and checked online and yes he is very much happy and in a relationship and I don’t care what people say about it looking different online, this kid is happy. These people are happy. I am not.

Sometimes I imagine these scenes where I’m sitting in a hospital room, and in the bed lies my Bo, hooked up to an EKG, and I pull off the cords. How is it fair for me to live so miserable with no escape or hope for improvement or to be in a happy relationship like that? Why is my life so miserable and his is not? How come, once upon a time, and still deep down, I just want his happiness, but all I feel is a dark desire for him to not live a prosperous life? You can say that’s typical ex relationship thinking, but it’s not typical, and it’s not simple, it’s complicated, because I love this person. It has been years and I am not over this person. I dream of this person like it were yesterday. My heart aches for this person. My heart aches for the kinds of things he says to the other girl. My heart aches for the way he loves her instead of me, and how everything that happened means so little. My mind convinces me that everything is my fault. This ended badly because of me—my depression, my culture, my behavior, my society that shouldn’t have clashed with his. 

I know I am living a more aware life. I have seen so many amazing things and I care about so much more than he and this other girl ever will it what seems to be their inconsequential lives in their small town Christian environment, un-exposed to the types of things I am exposed to. I refuse to believe there is under any circumstance a chance that they are as aware of the world as I am. But then again, who cares? They’re happy, I’m not. I’m suicidal, they’re alive. I scream at my mother and my sisters when all they are trying to do is help me and they don’t even worry about those kinds of things.

I really want to kill myself right now.

I feel like ice cream on the pavement.

I miss Bo so much because the last memory I have of being truly happy was when I was with him. It sucks, because I have had some great experiences since then. I’ve climbed a mountain. I’ve hiked miles of backcountry. I’ve helped a lot of people see their potential. I’ve played and made friends and laughed. I’ve been loved by an amazing family. I’ve worked hard at a job I really enjoyed. I’ve experienced culture and food and a sense of collective self. I’ve gone exploring and sat outside and gone to concerts and played with dogs and meowed a lot. 

But I’ve also stood by the river thinking of jumping in, I’ve also laid in the snow and let my body freeze, I’ve also yelled and hit and hurt others, I’ve also had panic episodes and seizures, I’ve also been in the hospital, I’ve also been faced by hate and been unable to understand who I am as a Muslim, as a woman, as a non-white, as a bisexual. I’ve spent nights just crying the whole time and days without eating or showering. I’ve felt bitterness deep in my soul I can’t overcome.

Everything has become a fight for me. Everyone has the potential to be my enemy. I am living in trauma, and instead of being open to healing, I allow another traumatic event to happen and wash over me without much moving forward. I occasionally tell myself I am strong and I can do this. I have been pushed around a lot. Let me be pushed around again. I can overcome. Other times I am weak and want to let everything hurt me. I will never heal. I don’t have any real control over my own mind, my own brain, I wish I could switch it out.

This medicine I’m taking is clearly not doing anything for me. I’ll see a therapist in a couple days. I don’t plan on hurting myself but it really sucks to be alive.

Late Night Fear Musings


Tonight I was feeling a bit frustrated because I felt that I needed to talk to someone, and the person I had hoped to talk to (my significant other) was too tired and did not reply to my message. But then I got confused as to why this frustrated me because why did I need someone to talk to again? When in the past have I been in this situation? Certainly not recently. 

My deepest thoughts, feelings, and worries are exchanged in conversation with only myself, and although it may not be the best situation, that’s how it’s been, so why was I feeling like it was such an unpleasant thing? And besides, that’s what this space is for, anyway. (Hence, here I am, typing away.)

I think once again I am missing Bo and the way I was able to tell him everything. I hate how much I think about him now that I am in a new relationship, but I don’t have much other standards, and I think often about the feeling of being in love. I came to a point where I tried to stop thinking about our relationship as something so negative and destructive and to cherish our good times. I am not sure if that is what I am doing right now or if it is unhealthy for the certain behaviors to be replaying in my mind. Perhaps it is not bad if I am wanting those things, but in another person, and I am hoping those things will happen, but am I? Yeah, sometimes I imagine my new significant other being there for me like Bo was, but sometimes I do just imagine Bo. I think of messaging him for something, anything, I think of what I would do if he told me he missed me, etc. I don’t have an answer to what would happen in those instances and I know the chance of it is so low anyway. It is scary to be missing him again when I am in a position where his role can be replaced. These thoughts make me scared and they make me want to cry.

I think I am curious of the idea of falling in love with someone again, or if I am capable of being loved to that extent again, and as badly as I was burned in the past, I crave it so badly. As much as it would be bad for me, I crave it. As much as it wouldn’t work with my future, I crave it. As unhealthy as it would be for me in my current state, I still fucking crave the feeling of being romantically in love and obsessed with another human being. I would love to be in love, and I am far too vulnerable for my own good. But then again, I have contradictions in my mind that say no, I definitely don’t want to ever be in love with this person at all. Then moreso arrives the dread of me realizing I may be the only side in this relationship thinking these thoughts and that maybe he does not care for me as much as I care for him, and that is truly terrifying. It is such a risky position to be in a relationship, which makes it feel even more scary and unstable when you’re not sure if your feelings are matched.

I wonder if I ever really recovered from my codependency. My therapist in the beginning had given me that word and the resulting information and book that came with it. I guess I never really read the whole thing through. Maybe it’s time to.

The curiosity swells in me if Bo is in a relationship or not. But I know I cannot know. I feel tempted all the time and pulled to check social media and find out. But it becomes a non option. I’m proud of myself for that resistance, especially since there was a time I was so tied to it I felt I had no control over my online stalking habits. 

It is windy outside tonight and I live in a shitty apartment, so I can feel the breeze just a bit coming from the window despite the fact that it’s shut and I’ve put tape and silly putty and grocery bags all around the side—basically everything but actual caulk.

I feel tired which is a good thing, but it is still much later than I wish to be awake. The reason I blame this on is that I have slept very well in the past two nights, and honestly there is no way my body would have allowed me a third. It knows me too well, and I’ve been conditioned to torture myself. I wonder if I will ever break out of this cycle or if I even want to. Am I happy? I guess you can say I’m relatively content with how shit is going, and I don’t really want to fuck with it.

Everyone is pushing me very hard to do an intensive outpatient program (IOP). I have run out of any good reasons not to do it. All I have left is that I just don’t want to, and even that is a shitty thing to say, because it implies I am fine with being depressed. Am I? I go back and forth on this and it’s scary to think about how complacent you get. Am I afraid that if I become happier I won’t have these deep, contemplative thoughts anymore? (I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit though). I have never known myself as anyone who is anything but sad for most of my short life, which is the real danger of adolescent depression, I think. You forget what it’s like to be happy. No, I am not fine with being depressed, but I still don’t want to do it. I just don’t. What more do you want from me? Fuck off. Please.


Image by The Man Machine on Flickr CC.