Lucky Enough

I’m content with there being no snow, which is totally unheard of this time of year. The Christmas lights on the trees of my neighborhood still listened pretty in the blackness. It’s warm enough for me to sit on the back step in just a hoodie, fresh out of work, my feet aching. A wave of sadness has hit me and I’m not sure why. Maybe because I feel behind in the game of life. Maybe because every second, things are changing and moments are disappearing and I don’t notice until it’s too late.
My love for the people in my life is so thick and coagulated in my heart, sometimes I feel it will be my downfall. I don’t know if this love is ever reciprocated. I can only hope that it is.
I’m struggling now so I won’t have to struggle later. That’s my goal. I imagine myself in a modest home, with garden and a dog, preferably with a partner but most likely alone. I imagine myself with a career as a writing professor in a university, preferably not in my hometown, but who knows. I imagine being a revered writer, known for my talent alone.
I can say what my predictions are but the predictions are bleak.
I’m not a lucky person. But I guess I’m lucky enough.
–Zara

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Nothing New.

I’m not sure if I want to be alone or with someone else right now.

Work was pretty decent. I finally got a credit (actually, I got two), which means I get to keep my job for the foreseeable future and I got ten bucks, which means I won’t feel guilty the next time I buy myself coffee.

This dude is texting me and he’s kind of drunk and he’s telling me I’m too tall for him. Shocker.

Speaking of height, I keep wearing my heels to work because they look the best and despite being 5’11” without heels, I enjoy being even taller.

I’m pet sitting at my neighbor’s house. Bob’s Burgers is on. I brought the last two beers with me but I kind of wanna drink more than that. I feel depressed and I shouldn’t, and again, I’m unsure if I should just sit here and be depressed (and I SHOULD work on this huge paper due Monday…) by myself or invite my friend over.

Anyway. I don’t know. Here’s a song by Johnny Cash I’ve been listening to on repeat.

-Zara

Online Dating (Or Rather, Not Dating)

“I like girls that don’t feel like they need to wear makeup. Just saying, you can be beautiful without it.”

“It is a hectic stressful job but I love it because it is a huge adrenaline rush. and I can fuck around most of my shift.”

“On a typical Friday night I am…

no, no, saturday nights @ lux
ill see you on the dance floor..”

Just a few examples of things I’ve seen on profiles. There are worse things. I can’t find them.

  1. If you’re a heterosexual male and you say something about women wearing or not wearing makeup, you need to stop and think about that for a second. Will it benefit you from saying it? Most likely, no. It angered me. Then again, I’m a raging, pansexual feminist.
  2. This quote came from a short string of messages between me and this grubby looking character who quit an RN program because he didn’t “understand it”. I don’t know man, but the desire to be able to “fuck around” a lot during your work shift should not be the driving factor of what you choose to do in life. I quickly ended that conversation after he sent me his phone number. Why are boys so goddamn pushy?
  3. WHY does everyone go to Lux? I don’t go clubbing. I don’t know if it’s a good club or a bad club, all I know is that it’s a club downtown in my city so it can’t be that great. Also, dancing? Really? No.

I have been on this godforsaken website for three years, off and on. I went on my first date via this site when I was 18. That was a bust. Man, was a he a pretty boy, but what a douche. Here I am, aged 21, still single as ever.

The boys get offended if you don’t respond to their message after ten minutes. I’m not kidding. They’ll send you a passive aggressive message after you haven’t replied, as if they’re just sitting in front of their screen waiting for the notification to pop up all the while jerking it to anime or god knows what.

The girls never message me back. What’s that, you also like St. Vincent? Let’s talk about that. NOPE. Or they’ll chat with you for like, half an hour then realize, for some reason, you’re too boring/negative/who cares.

I work with a girl who’s on this website. I thought she was straight, which is always a letdown, because straight girls are always the ones I find myself attracted to. Well, straight girls always really like me. I haven’t met many bi/pan/lesbian women in my life and I mean the two girls I have gone on dates with…well, if you’ve read my posts, you know how those went. Anyway, my coworker is on this site and told me her username and I looked her up. So we’ve been casually chatting on there, just about stupid shit. Her orientation says “Questioning”. Does this mean I have a chance? Maybe. She “loves” me, but every straight girl loves me.

Regardless, I told my best friend/coworker B to put in a good word for me. Plug me. Advertise me. Because I need all the help I can get at this point. None of my friends ever want to set me up with anyone (I get it, I’m the token unattractive friend) and I don’t meet anyone through school. Or work. Because I work with only women and they’re all middle-aged or straight or both.

I’m just lonely and fed up with this futile game.

Z

I Hate Change/A List

WordPress, why must you go and change things again? Anyway, here’s a list of things I’d rather be doing than moping around in bed (which I’ve been doing since it got dark at 5pm):

  • Swimming in a lake or the ocean.
  • Being at the beach in general, but here I am in upstate NY so that’s not possible.
  • Eating the best real pizza ever at Fiamma. With a vodka cranberry.
  • Hanging out with Ariel Pink, preferably chain smoking and complaining.
  • Getting hammered with just about anyone.
  • Online shopping, if I had money, that is.
  • Sleeping in a really big, comfortable bed.
  • Kissing someone with really soft skin.
  • Writing something I actually like.
  • Feeling relaxed.
  • Sitting in a hot tub with a beer.
  • Discovering I have a super wealthy relative who’s died and left all their money to me.
  • Traveling in another state/country.
  • Driving really, really fast with no risk of hitting a deer or getting pulled over.
  • Sitting on the rooftop of a building with a bunch of blankets, looking at the stars.

I don’t have a lot to say. I won seven bucks off scratch off tickets the other day. I guess that’s my big lucky break for like…my life.

Z

The Suffering of One for the Greater Good.

I’m thinking about this concept because while I, one in over 7 billion people on the planet, had a good day today, the rest of the world did not.

I went to the financial aid office and the office of student accounts at my university and found out that what I owe for the year is actually next to nothing. I’ve been thinking I owed thousands of dollars when I owe less than a thousand for the year. It made me feel unstoppable – something good happened for me??? Unheard of! I immediately thought, Something is going to go wrong. Probably with my car. But I was able to drive to the mechanic and they checked my transmission fluid levels. It’s still leaking, but it’s okay for now. So, more good news. I was already feeling productive. These were both things I didn’t want to deal with yet the end results had been unexpectedly good. I went to Rite Aid to get my prescription. Another thing I can check off the list. Then I went to ULTA, in dire need of a new face powder, and had a grand ol’ time just browsing around the store. I got four beautiful lipsticks and my face powder for just over eleven dollars. Not too bad. I was feeling good. I came home and checked my grade for a paper I recently submitted (and worked really hard on): I received a 97 out of 100. Thank god these phenomenal grades will not be wasted.

But then there’s what’s actually going on outside of my very small, personal world; the terrorist attack in Paris, the Earthquakes in Japan and Mexico, among other things, all happened today.

I’m not saying this applies solely to me. I’m not that important. But is it possible that individuals must suffer in order for there to be harmony elsewhere in the world? Did my random, atypical “good day” throw the world off balance? Did my few moments of joy somehow cause the world to teeter? Is that so unbelievable?

I don’t know. If it is or it isn’t, I felt guilty for having a good day while so many others suffered. What if I had just experienced an ordinary, mundane, miserable day like I do 98% of the time? Would that somehow have changed the course of human existence and experience?

I’m also not sure if that qualifies as narcissism or just…delusion.

Z

You Win, I Lose.

It’s Saturday night, I got home from work just over an hour ago, and I’m just in bed wallowing in sadness.

I feel lonely. Really lonely. It’s not a good feeling.

I feel like I’ve missed out on so much and will continue to miss out on things. Romantic things. Relationships. Whatever. Those things.

The other night B, S, M, and I all hung out together. We hadn’t seen each other as a group in months. We got to talking, and S, who’s been dating a guy (who was her friend for a long time before they began a romantic relationship), told us she finally had sex with him (this is the first time she’s had sex period), and they’ve done it multiple times, and it’s good.

So after me being the invasive, nay, curious, person I am, I said, “Well, at least someone in the group is having regular sex.” Then my friend M proceeds to tell me that not even two weeks after her long-term boyfriend whom she was supposedly in love with dumped her, an old fling came back into her life and they’ve been hanging out, having sex, and generally being cute together.

I’m kind of dumbfounded at this point. Earlier that day I was wondering how people even achieved sex, let alone relationships, and here two of my closest friends are achieving both effortlessly. For fuck’s sake, M literally just broke up with her boyfriend. This other guy was just ready to jump on her??

I deactivated my online dating account a few weeks ago. I do that. I’ll activate it, realize it makes me feel even more destitute, then deactivate.

I know I’m no prize. I know this. I know most people look at me and think I’m the opposite of attractive. Men know I’m an unattractive, nonthreatening chick they can talk to about stupid shit, straight women think I’m more beautiful than fucking Aphrodite but they’re fucking straight, and gay/bi/pan women don’t realize I exist. But I know this: I’m cool as hell, I’m complicated but I’m intellectual and can carry on a conversation, I’m talented, and I’m caring. I know I have so much to offer. I really do. It makes me so sad that no one is willing to take a chance on me. I’ve been told time and time again by those who have tried to give me a chance that I’m too negative, I’m not good for them, I need to “love myself.” News flash! I DO love myself. I may not love myself physically. I hate my body, I hate all of my excess weight and the stretch marks and how flat my ass is and I’d kill for a better jawline, but fuck, I do love myself despite all of that.

I just went to that wedding, I see couples all the time, people tell me about their sex lives, I’m just tired of feeling and being so unwanted by everyone.

But what it comes down to is this – it will not happen anytime soon.

And I know this. I’ve told myself this every year for many years. But I can’t accept it. And that will be my downfall.

Z

The Library, The Wedding, The Longing.

I’m on the second floor of the campus library. I feel like this library should be bigger. The library at my community college had smaller floors in terms of dimension but there were four floors – this library has two floors and they’re not that big. I brought my headphones but forgot my iPod in the car, but thankfully almost no one is on the second floor. I was hoping it’d be more interesting, or maybe there’d be some corridor I could shimmy out of and smoke. I used to sneak smokes on this awning at my old school. Now I realize how risky that was, considering they’ll kick your ass, financially speaking, if they even catch you smoking a hundred feet from the doors.

When I got up here I saw two small water bottles filled with some brownish liquid. They’ve obviously been here a while – cobwebs are connected to one. I knelt down and unscrewed one of the caps, half-hoping it would be some weird homemade wine or beer, but it was just root beer. Why?

My friend and I are making a trip to the res for smokes today, and although I’m not the one driving, I’m still not looking forward to it. And I’m not looking forward to spending money, but, you know, I have an addiction and all. Speaking of addictions, I keep having dreams about desperately wanting to, but being unable to, kill my “sex addict” mother.

This past weekend I went to my best friend’s brother’s wedding. It was at a country museum in bum fuck nowhere, but it was beautiful. My friend and I were the hottest people there, which wasn’t hard to achieve, but it’s still a massive achievement for us. Although my dress was modest, it was black lace and I wore black tights and black stilettos and even after five free beers I walked like I knew what the fuck I was about. When the bride’s father was making his speech I thought to myself, “If I do ever get married, I do not want my parents there.” I took advantage of the open beer and wine bar (except I don’t like wine, so classy-as-ever-me was guzzling Coors Light like the world was ending and pissing in the Port-O-Potty every hour), and when I watched my friend get up, forced to dance with the other bridesmaids and the groomsmen, I thought, in my slightly drunken state, of how much I love her and want to see her happy, too.

She and I even got on the dance floor. I don’t really like to dance, and I do not dance well, but after a while, I got into it, still in those fucking heels. I kept those heels on for nine hours. I walked all the way to the other side of the grounds to the car in those heels. I refused to be one of those women who just gives up and takes them off. Fight through the pain. And all throughout that wedding, I wasn’t thinking about my homework, or my failures, or my family, or whatever. I was just there. Drinking beer, asking 12 year olds about their little lives, and dancing to catchy pop songs.

I could honestly very easily cry right now but there’s no solid reason behind it. I am one of those people who is so fixated on the nostalgia of the past, yet so anxious by the daunting unknown future. I crave affection. Sometimes I just want someone to twirl strands of my hair and run their fingers down my back. I crave freedom in the sense of feeling free of my mental handicaps, free of the emotional turmoil and the black sludge that clogs my chest. I long for the way things once were – simple and uncomplicated, light and easy. I realize now that I am doing what I never wanted to do: I’m simply just getting by. I don’t want to “just get by”, I want to enjoy my life.

Anyway. This has been a mess of a post. I should go smoke now.

Z