SHIT HEAD

So I know today's Father's Day 'n all that shit, but I feel as though the only emotion I've been overwhelmed in today is pain. First of all. I'm starving. Literally the only thing I've eaten today was a medium sized pancake at 10:20 am. It's is now roughly 9 pm. Second, today I was confirmed that my parents have absolutely no sense of right and wrong (but that was already a fact so we'll skip the details).
Yes, I am aware that I'm only a teenager, therefore I eat, breathe, and sleep drama, but in my defense, I learned how to act like a 13 year old girl from my forty-something year old mother. Honestly, I've never felt more in a high school drama movie than when I'm with her. But the purpose of this entry isn't to bash on my parents for sucking so bad. The purpose of this entry is to assure myself and anyone else who reads this, that we're all going to be alright. That sounds a little vague I know, but lately I had been feeling so shitty about everything. Seriously, EVERYTHING.
My boyfriend wanted to hold me about a week ago while we were watching Casa Blanca, and I just about broke down crying. It wasn't even a bad hold, in fact, all I wanted the previous week was to be held, and right when the opportunity presented it's self before me.. I cringed. I didn't know what had caused this feeling, but I definitely knew that what ever it was, I had to kick it's ass. My parents aren't fond of my relationship with my boyfriend, and so time spent with him is rare. And here I was distancing myself from the one person that  I ache to be with...

WHAT THE HELL.

So I got over it. Though it felt strange I moved closer to him as he placed his arm around me.
Crap like this has happened way too many times for comfort, and I have a terrible feeling that it'll probably keep happening. And coming to that realization was, for lack of better word, depressing. I started becoming a bitch when I was around him, and other people that I cared a lot about. I spent a week of my summer laying on my bedroom floor, staring at Christmas lights hung on my wall, listening to sad music. I decided that I didn't have any friends. Greasy taco shops and university classrooms became my only companions. I was low, so low, I even began to accept that my life served no purpose.
Another week passed in this limbo and I felt myself go cold inside. It wasn't until a respected friend of mine pulled me aside as asked what my deal was. She said she noticed I was quiet in class, and it upset her, and she wanted to know why. I hadn't expected this, nor did I expect the answer that I gave her, but as tears began to stream down my face I told her that I felt I was never going to escape. I didn't have some amazing talent that could take me somewhere, and I didn't feel myself changing to develop one. I told her that I could see all of my peers changing and progressing, and I saw that I..wasn't. I was still working at my dad's place, I was still getting average grades, I was still the same 138 lbs of mediocre that I was in middle school. Entering my senior year in high school, I had literally, nothing going for me.
 She listened to me carefully, and when I finished wiping away my face she held me tight and said, "Gaby, shit happens, and more often than not you'll be wondering what the hell is going on. But I know you're spirit, and it makes people purr when they leave you because they feel as though they've been stroked when you're around them.." (I'm not entirely sure what the cat analogy meant).."You're a bubbly person, just like me, and who knows where you'll be when you're 53, maybe you'll be alone, or maybe you'll be living your life in love. But it doesn't matter, don't worry about where you will be, just worry about right now. Life's too short to be sad."
And with that she gave me a kiss on the head and we parted our ways. I've never felt so loved by someone I barely knew. My friend lost her husband roughly 2 years ago, and when she did her heart broke. They were so in love, and anyone who saw them could see it. I had only known them, for a couple years, but quickly I realized that I wanted a love like theirs. Regardless of the home that I was brought up in, regardless of the negative things that I associated to marriage, I knew that I could be different. I could find my soul mate and live happily ever after with him. I just needed to be patient, and true to myself.
The other day I was talking to my boyfriend. He told me that he frequently imagined the day of our graduation from high school, and that he imagined that as soon as we walked out of the building, we could be happy, really, truly happy, because I didn't have to worry about my family anymore. As I sat there listening to him say this, I couldn't help but wonder if I would still be sitting with him when I was 53. What if the boy who told me he loved me as a teenager still felt the same way decades later? And then it hit me, I was sitting next to a person I loved, dreaming about the future we could potentially have, instead of enjoying my time with him. It's strange how life works. We can spend hours thinking about what will happen, but nothing will happen, if we don't focus on what were doing. ANYWAYS, this post is almost too long for comfort. Bottom line: don't be a shit head. Just be happy. End.

For. Ever. A. Baby.

Yesterday I almost kissed the boy of my dreams. I was literally an inch or so away from touching his lips with mine. He tucked my hair behind my ear, stroked my cheek with his hand, lifted my chin slowly, leaned in..
And I?
I turned away.
I hid my face, closed my eyes.
I can't do this, I can't. I can't. 

We were so close, his face right next to mine. I could feel his skin radiating it's warmth. I ran my fingers through his hair.
I can't.
I moved away, I sat up. I leaned against the window. I looked outside. It couldn't be more perfect. Soft faint music in the background. We were alone. He was ready. I was ready. It was supposed to happen. But it didn't.
There is no logical explanation for last night. I simply couldn't. So many things ran through my mind. Was it too soon? Was it okay? How did I get here? Why can't I do it? This should be easy. I'm shaking. 

The song ended for the second time. It's obviously not supposed to happen. 
He pressed play again. Damn it.
This is really happening. He really wants to. I really want to. Don't I? 

Cuddling wasn't a problem. Holding hands? Piece of cake. It was all natural. Easy. Meaningful, but easy. And yet, here I sat, next to the greatest thing since portable music. But I couldn't. I glanced at his face, he sat patiently taking in my rejection. I knew what he was thinking.

"It's not that I don't want to. Really, I want to. I'm just scared.. I guess."

He held my arm softly, rolled up the sleeve that had fallen down in my frustration.

"It's okay." 

No it wasn't. I moved in. Held his face, his hand reached up to hold mine too. Our noses touched, his eyelashes grazed my cheekbone as I moved to the side. The song began to reach the climax. If it was going to happen, it'd have to be now. Closer, we came in. I held my breath.. no. I dodged him and moved to the left. Burying my face into his arm. I muttered an apology that sounded so pathetic.

It's happened before. I little less pleasant though. That's how I lost my V.L. (yes, that does stand for Virgin Lips).  But this was different. He was different. He didn't force me to. Which I loved him for. But for the life of me I couldn't let him kiss me. It was too much. I was too scared. I looked out the window again and saw the silhouette of my mother looking at us.

 THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING. 

I apologized for the millionth time and said I had to go promising we'd talk later. I rushed inside and went straight to my room. I felt depressed. That was all I had ever wanted. For him to tuck my hair behind my ear. To hold my face, to pull me in. And I had ruined it. I was forever pathetic. Good things happened and I'd run away in a sprint. I was a coward. A chicken. A baby. And I could never take it back.

Italians

    I've recently decided that one of my favorite gang movies is A Bronx Tale with Robert De Niro and Chazz Palminteri. It seems that every Sunday afternoon this movie is playing on the telly and my plans for the day are pretty much non-existent at that point, because I know for the rest of the evening I'll be glued to the television screaming at 'C' to listen to his father, or stay away from Sonny. I don't know why I've suddenly found an interest in hard core Italians. Perhaps it's how they conduct themselves when they want to show they've got "heart", or perhaps is they way they strut in their leather jackets and black suits. What ever it is, I've established a new home for them in my heart, where they can come and watch the streets smoking their cigarettes with their fedoras when ever they please.

    But don't be mistaken with the Italian "guido" that seems to be running MTV now a days.

No, no, I'm talking about the real Italians that wore suits every where they went, and kept a baseball bat in corner incase someone got out of line. Not the over muscular, over tanned, gel crusted Italian that walks the streets of Jersey Shore. A Bronx boy, a streets smart kid, a true gangster that lived in a strictly Italian neighborhood. That's the kind of kid I was after.
    And yet, this obsession with the Italian only lasts the night, come Monday I'm back to the typical cookie cutter lover boy I want. With the straight A's and Ralph Lauren button down. Who knows. Maybe it's a sign. Maybe I'm a fling kind of girl, that I can handle the incredibly forward action Italian boy once every blue moon. Maybe I just need to get out more, see the East Coast a little, and hell, maybe even eat some pasta. What ever the case, I need to figure it out soon cause I've been craving a little Italian blood, with possibly a side of fettuccine.

Unspoken Rules & Boys Sweaters

    I'm just assuming this, because I don't know, but I feel like there's some sort of unspoken rule about blogging more than once a day (or in this case night) that every social network has. Just like updating your facebook status or tweeting more - although tweeting could go either way- than once a day automatically makes you inferior to the rest of the world that seems to have more self control. But as so many before us have said, rules are meant to be broken, and whether this includes the unspoken rules I'm not entirely sure, and really don't care. I'm a rule breaker.
   This last week I ditched roughly 3 classes with a boy I've grown close too this summer. Which actually is much more dangerous and heart racing as you would think, considering my school this year has chosen to become incredibly over dramatic and take unnecessary lengths to make sure we all attend our scheduled classes. Which in turn has given me more motivation to not attend my classes and want to drop out of high school all together...  ANYWAYS; so this boy.
   Yes, this boy who may or may not be the reason for my frequent ditching (more likely not, and I'm not just saying that.. well maybe) has become a rather significant part of my life recently. We hung-out a lot in the summer, went on drives, shared secrets, blah, blah, blah, and suddenly I'm now wearing his Thrashers Magazine sweater to bed for the third night in a row.

   I barely even know that much about skating. But what I do know is that any chance I get I slip in this large, navy blue sweater and just think about him. Weird I know. Just the other day it seems like we drove together for the first time, and now I'm spending evenings in his basement having deep conversations about our parent's divorces and picking up Indian take out. Suddenly I'm resisting the urge to text him because I fear I'm being annoying or pushy where as before I just called him to talk without thinking twice.
   Now I'm wondering if I should put on more mascara before he picks me up where as before I'd answer the door in sweats. Regardless of what exactly I've been changing about my self, the fact of the matter is that I'm scared now. I'm scared to show my face for longer than 5 seconds because I'm self conscious. I'm scared I'm not capable of being myself when we're alone. I'm scared of what I'm changing into now that I know he likes me "that way". I'm scared I'm not smart enough to realize I like him "that way" too.. I've noticed now more than ever that things are much easier said than done. Which is really too bad; for a lot of reasons but I care too much about you to elaborate.
     Honestly, all I want to do is wear his sweater all the time, and be comfortable around his folks, and not have to worry about people thinking that we're making out and holding hands every 5 seconds. CAUSE I ASSURE YOU I'M NOT MATURE ENOUGH FOR THAT. Although I wouldn't mind trying. Bottom line, I just want this kid's sweater. I'll probably give it back to him so he can make it smell good again, but then it's mine.