50 Things I Love About You...

1. Your eyes. I've never seen beautiful eyes on a man, but yours are the most vibrant color and I can see them shine when you look at me.
2. The way you breathe when you sleep.  So quiet and peaceful...sometimes you snore, but it just makes you cuter.
3. Your pulled-pork sandwiches. Those things are a piece of heaven.
4. The way you stare at me, like I'm the only creature in existence.
5. Your nose. Its small and its turned up a little.  Perfect for planting kisses on and so cute.
6. The sigil you made for me that says, "You are beautiful".
7. The way you look in your underwear because you look like a little boy wearing something a little too big for you.
8. That butt jiggle thing you do.  It makes me SO happy inside (I mean that in the best way possible).
9. That first text message you sent me..."Fuck logic, fuck reason, fuck intelligent thinking..." It's the most romantic thing anyone will ever say to me.
10. When you dance that goofy dance of yours, where you wave your arms around.
11. Your soft lips on mine when we kiss.
12. When I'm being a cry baby, you never get frustrated or yell at me.  That means more to me than you will ever know.
13. In fact, when I cry, you tell me to look into your eyes.  You pull my chin up, and that tells me you are willing to see me even at my worst times.
14. That time I was over at your house and was feeling ill.  You offered to carry me into the bathroom and hold me as I threw up. THAT is love right there.
15. How you are capable of making feel beautiful, even when I'm feeling gross and ugly.
16. How you change my mind about myself...you make me believe in myself.
17. The way you express yourself.  You are so obscenely opinionated and not afraid to let everyone know it.  Very sexy.
18. The way you pull me towards you when we make love.
19. After we make love, you always hold me close and I can hear your heart beating rapidly.
20. You're never afraid or ashamed to hold my hand in front of others.
21. You give me roses.
22. You go to the beach with me.
23. When you send me little texts or messages telling me that you're thinking of me and that you love me.  Those make my day so much brighter.
24. You call me adorable, even when I feel like I'm just sitting there and not doing much.
25. The way you run your fingers down my bare back and up my side.
26. You aren't afraid to be the biggest dork every with me (like when we skip or dance in public, haha).
27. You brag about me to your friends.  Sometimes when I am standing right in front of you.
28. When I was crying a few days ago, you grabbed me and put me on your lap and gave me kisses.
29. You have a beautiful mind.  I don't know how else to describe it.
30. Your obsession with orange juice is the cutest thing ever.
31. I will always appreciate your black man's booty.  Very sexy.
32. When you bend down so I can hop on your back and we become Gabdorian the Monster!
33. I love playing games with you, like Magic and Monopoly.
34. The way we fit together like puzzle pieces: we are the same in some thing, but very different in others and we complement one another almost perfectly.
35. The way you always want to please me...I don't feel like I deserve that at all, but the fact I have a man that always wants to please me is so amazing.
36. That little voice you make when you talk to me.  It gets high pitched and cutesy and I'm proud that I'm the only one who hears you like that.
37. Your hands.  They are soft and delicate and I love the feeling of them on my bare skin.
38. Massaging your feet.  It makes me feel special and I love the face you make when I'm doing it.
39. Your back.  I know, it sounds weird, but your back is smooth and broad and manly and I love nothing more than grabbing it when we make love.
40. That damn hip thingy you do, the one that gets me all hot and bothered...you know exactly what I'm talking about.
41. You always dip me and kiss me in public.  It makes me feel like the most special girl in the world, like everyone is watching us and our wub.
42. You eat sushi with me! You have no idea...I never had anyone to enjoy it with before you. :D
43. The little love notes you always make for me.  I keep all of them up where I can look at them when I am having a bad day.
44. You helped me look outside myself...you helped me understand who I am on a completely different level, something no other person has ever done.
45. You make me feel sexy.  I can't believe I'm even using "me" and "sexy" in the same sentence, but I have to be truthful here.
46. You're sexy.  Yeah.
47. Your VOICE is the most wonderful sound I've ever heard.
48. After years of feeling like something was missing, you came and filled me up.
49. You have taught me what love is.  And you will never stop teaching me.
50. Heaven without you isn't Heaven at all.  I never want to exist without you, in this life or after.  I love you always and forever.

Self-Loathing.

I haven't done it in a while.  I don't have a problem making fun of myself, but self-loathing I make a point to avoid.

But right now, I'm feeling loathsome of myself.  Part of it has to do with others but most of it is me is chastising myself.  I've had a few people tell me I'm growing up too fast and it's starting to make me think that others see me as a fucking deadbeat.  Of course it isn't their fault, they're entitled to their feelings.  It's my fault.  I don't know how it is that I have this affect on people.  Others think I'm very serious or they feel like they have to be serious around me or impress me.  Like I'm going to jump down their throat if they say something.  I don't understand how it got to be like this.  I don't understand how I got to this point.  I don't know where along my path in life, I became like this but it's something I'm not willing to get used to.  Somehow, life has become disenchanting to me.  I don't get excited anymore.  I don't feel passion anymore.  I don't feel like I want to pick up a guitar or sketch a flower or read a book or go outside and ride a bike.  And now everyone around me is starting to feel that disenchantment, they're starting to see me as something I never wanted to be.

I'm just becoming an old fucking deadbeat, a complacent shell of a once fun-loving person.

I'm growing up.  And I really don't like it.  If someone could tell me how to stop this process, I would give you all my belongings because I'd rather stay a kid forever than see myself fall into the sad, deep, dark crevasse of adulthood.

And I'm pretty sure my hips got wider.  Fuck.

Anxiety.

It always starts the same: with a thought.  A singular entity whose stark silhouette stands coldly against a black background waiting for me to acknowledge it.  I do.  I tell myself that it's there, that one thought, standing there staring at me.  Do something, it says.  Just fucking do something.  

I do.  Against my will, I do what I can to quell this thought, this monster that is still standing there, waiting.  For what, I'm not sure.  But I have to figure it out, I have to have the answer for it or it will keep staring at me, waiting.  Waiting for an answer I don't have.  It will glare at me with disdainfully sharp eyes and mock me, tell me how inadequate I am.

You are nothing, it will say.

My actions will become more panicked, more urgent.  I need an answer.  Need one.  My stomach is starting to hurt, my body is beginning to sweat like an onion in a steamer.  

I just need it to go away, anything to make it go away.  But I know by this point that there is no answer.  I don't have the answer at the moment.  So I turn on the T.V., trying to get the entity to calm itself, for now it is cursing at me, clawing at my insides.

The T.V. is nothing but a drone and a blur of muted colors.  I turn some music on and sing along.  But my stomach hurts and I feel too out of breath to continue.  The entity is now sitting on my chest. I never knew that a thought could make it hard to breathe.

The only way to make it stop is to purge myself, to cry, to throw things, to thrash about, to flail my arms in the air until I become to exhausted to even remember that the entity is still sitting there waiting.

When I wake it is gone.  But only for a time.

Addiction

First of all, if anyone takes this piece of writing and calls it their own (PLAGIARISM), I will report you (because it IS against the law) and then strangle your mother while she sleeps.

I wrote this piece for my English class last semester and though it's not the most insightful pieces I've ever done, it was really personal for me to write.  At this point, keeping such a colloquial piece locked away does nothing for me psychologically, so I figure I could pretend it's just a good story someone wants to read.  Anyways...too much talking.  Comments are welcomed.

Addiction

      For once in my life, I had to stand up and say something. Anything. As long as it put more food in the refrigerator when I got home from school, it was worth it. I was still in seventh grade at the time when I came home and opened the fridge to find a six pack of Bud Light, a ketchup bottle and a can of tuna. Pancakes again, I thought reluctantly. So, I grabbed the box of pancake batter and started the daily post-school routine. That day had been particularly trying. My progress report had come in the mail and without further thought, I opened it. An “F” in every single class except P.E. By that time I was used to it, but something deep down really struck me. I wasn't stupid, I knew that. In fact, I considered myself to be incredibly intelligent, but I couldn't prove it. How could I prove something I didn't care much about? As far as I was concerned, I was worthless. Every day in class I wrote in my journal, completely ignoring the teacher's lectures. I wrote and wrote and wrote until the callus on my ring finger had become a small bulbous reminder of my stupidity. You're fucking retarded Gabs, I wrote on one page. Why can't you just put down the goddamn journal and try to get some good grades, you stupid fuck? No wonder nobody likes you. No one wants to come to your house because your mother's an alcoholic lunatic. Usually I didn't write much stuff like that, but every once in a while the beast came out. That's what I called it. “The beast”. It was the side of me that I repressed most of the time, the side of me that wanted to physically hurt somebody just so I knew someone else was hurting too.
       

     After making my pancakes, I locked myself in my dark room and sat on the bed, journal open in front of me. I stuffed a syrupy piece into my mouth. The taste had become bitter at this point because I ate pancakes so often. The same bitter taste, the same dismal room, the same dusty air, the same darkness I felt every day coming home to that dingy apartment suddenly hit me all at once. I felt the beast boiling to the surface and this time I did absolutely nothing to keep her strapped down. I threw the plate of pancakes at the wall with an animalistic growl, watching the plate break into large pieces. “Fuck you Mom,” I yelled. I ran into the kitchen and swung open the refrigerator, the complete purity of my anger and hate dizzying me. I glared at the bottles of yellow liquid, studied the little bubbles that gathered on the side of the glass. It was poison and I had to get rid of it. “Okay God,” I said. “You want me to prove something? How about this?” I grabbed one of the bottles and threw it against the living room wall. It exploded in a shower of liquid and glass, landing on the cushions of our couch.  Pure satisfaction welled through me and I grimaced. I hadn't felt real satisfaction in so long. No way was I stopping there. I threw another and another cursing God, cursing my mom cursing, cursing my dad until my throat was raw. Up until the last bottle, I had screamed every curse word I knew. The twelfth bottle of poison shattered and landed on the couch with the pile of dull brown glass.
 

     I collapsed on the floor in tears. So overwrought with satisfaction and grief at once, I lay down on the kitchen floor and let the tears I kept so hidden reveal themselves. It was like coming down from a high, a high that was too personal for any one else to experience. I don't remember how long I lay there, but eventually I got up went out to the patio and sat in my mom's chair. The chair she always sat in when she drank. For an hour I sat dazed, not really thinking in a linear manner, but rather subconsciously seeing images of the happiest moments of my life. Seeing my parents hold hands, seeing my brother laughing real pure laughter, and seeing myself playing outside with my friends. Everything I no longer had. But I realized at the end of my revelation that it would be okay. I always knew it would be okay. All that needed to happen was what I had just done. I had to break through the wall. “Break on through to the other side,” I sang aloud, laughing at the fact The Doors aided me in my realization. Then I stopped laughing and sat in silence, waiting patiently for my mother to come home. She was finally going to come home.  

Money

I hate it.

I hate it more than bad drivers. That's a lot of hate.

I had to close my Savings account today because I can't afford to keep it up. And it's only $25 dollars a month. I had to close my gym account because I can't afford that either.

If I could make more money I would. But the economy hates people like me.

In other words, poor college students who get taken advantage of.

Fuck society.

New Year's Resolutions

Just off the top of my head:

1. Don't be an asshole (at least not the kind I despise).
2. Eat WAY less fast food.
3. Take more photos.
4. Make lots of money.
5. Don't die.

That's it. I didn't give much thought to it, but I prefer generalities over specifics sometimes.