a slow death

You say that you want to spend less together, that you need the space – and no, not the space to be yourself, to be with others – to be with books. Books. I’m replaced by sleepless nights of poring over Economics notes, by workout sessions with the bboys, by the fact that you’d much rather get a A than lie in bed on lazy Sunday morning, tracing the beauty marks on our bodies.

No, it doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bother me like it doesn’t bother me that I’m less significant than a perfect problem set, that I’m less cool than a successful windmill followed by a sick 90, that a wild weekend in NYC pales in comparison to a studious weekend in Philly.

I’m a passive aggressive bitch, but I’m tired of my own mind games. Big D always said to never ask questions to which you didn’t want to know the answer. Somehow, I still love to play the games in which you always come out on top.

So what’re you up tonight? Going to bed early?

At some point, you will notice that I have willed myself to stop caring. By then, it’ll probably be too late. We’d already be far too gone.

illusions

So I asked my mother why she hated Big D so much. It wasn’t something out of the blue, it was actually something that came out of a conversation about the state of marriage between my parents, and how me seeing Big D behind her back while my father was away really drove her insane and stressed her out.

According to my mother, Big D was unambitious, and even if he was ambitious, his intellect would have not be sufficient to carry out any ambition.

My mother is very bad at reading people. She can hardly tell if I’m lying most of the time. But it was definitely a sad conversation for me, because ambition and intellect are things that I worry about in Bboy A all the time. Maybe I am my mother’s daughter, but in that case, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to tell my parents about him.

homecoming

I came back to Montreal last night, on another agonizingly long bus ride. I read and slept for the most of the way, but as soon as we got close enough to the city for me to recognize the highway exit, I turned off the reading light and just sat there, enjoying my return to a city that means to much to me.

It’s a strange mix of fear and love each time I come back, because Montreal holds so much history for me, somewhat painful at times. I think of Big D, I think of my insane parents, I think of the hardships of college applications and clandestine rendez-vous. Because the me coming back from New York, from Beijing, from France is never the same person as the me who left Montreal not so long ago. And it’s scary to try and figure out how this new person fits in with the old life I left behind.

I come back this semester as an insane student who took 10 classes without telling her parents, as the girlfriend of a bboy from Philly, as the ex of Big D, as the new NSOP coordinator for Columbia… I’m not sure who I was when I last left, but it was definitely someone in a different mindset.

08-08-08

on the topic that Bboy A and I got together on the day that Big D and I were “planning” to get married.

Emo-tastic A: You’ve got like, some kind of weird obsession with 8, eh?

Me: Yeah, I guess.

A: Is it like some kind of food fetish? Like, the past tense of eat?

M: Or oral sex.

Is this it?

So I just got off skype with Emo-tastic A… after talking to him for waaaaaay too long. -___-”
And I was all pensive and shit about crap that is way too complicated.
(Talking to my past has that effect on me sometimes. Damnit.)
And I’m kind of freaking out because I have so much work to do tomorrow it’s unreal.

Fuck. What am I doing?

I learned tonight that I’m not completely over Big D, that he was some kind of big shot in high school, that he was the better looking of us two… It’s not that I’d want to get back together with him… at this point, it’s hardly possible and it would be so destructive for me. But maybe I just miss our physicality? The way we connected? Will it get better between me and Bboy A? Was it ever this… awkward… or… whatever this is with Big D?

Bboy A told me that he missed me over the phone today, and even though I missed him a lot today, I just couldn’t say it. I tell him all the time, though text messages, e-mails… but putting it into words is a lot harder than either of those. Maybe it’ll remind me too much of the sweet words between me and Big D… I stared at Bboy A’s lips the last time we made out, from the nose down, he looks exactly like Big D… maybe all boys do. Making out with Bboy A is messy, jarred, and at times… too urgent. Maybe I just need to give it time. But, do I like him enough to give us that luxury?

Long distance relationships bite. One-sided relationships suck even more. Thanks, Big D.