It started with a bra and some Skippy peanut butter…

And then all hell broke loose.

Aww man, the things I can get away with while Jackie is a computer. While she is my computer girlfriend. She get’s all the underwear and peanut butter. 

But sadly, none of the cuddles. That is what pen and paper are for. 

In Italian, different words are used for a girlfriend of a girl or a girlfriend of a boy. 

Girlfriend n. (of girl) amica; (of boy) ragazza. 

And I’m totally writing my Italian composition about a woman proposing to her girlfriend at a restaurant in Italy and having the waiter help her out. How cheesy is that? 

afraidofme: How are you?

z0mgcake: Packing. Which is making me cry.

She’s been away at a camp for three weeks working hard, making friends, and having, as she has told me, “the best time of her life”. I think she said something along those lines. Besides that, there is no question as to why she would be upset to have to pack her bag and come home. Of course, I have mixed feelings for all this. When she’s been away there have been a good number of relationship problems. The general feeling of missing your girlfriend set in right away and of course I’d liked for her to be home with me so that maybe the problems wouldn’t happen. Maybe we could talk things out. Maybe she wouldn’t meet and know someone that would become a target of infatuation. And maybe she wouldn’t have had such an awesome time but then have it ruined by coming home.

I’m not lying when I say I’m happy that she had such an amazing time doing things away at that camp but I also wish some things were different. Unfortunately these moments can’t be changed now and they will always stick somehow. It scares me a bit to know she has someone else on her mind. It’s happened before, maybe not as severely, but it’s not a position I favor.

I think of how hard it is for her to come home. I feel as if once she comes home there is no way for her to have that kind of experience and that she won’t be as happy and she will, most likely, be miserable. I fear most that it will partly be my fault that I can’t give her that amazing experience here and I’m feeling like an unappetizing food that’s left to go cold on the plate. I won’t measure up to where she’s coming from.

I’d imagine that if she could transfer from home back to the camp she’d be smiling instead of crying.

Because of this, I’m not really sure how to feel about her coming home. It’s almost as if she has to settle for something that isn’t as good. It won’t be the same. I doubt it will be the same.

I can’t decide on whether to be excited for her arrival or terrified.

I may not know her.

At least tears can clear up my congested sinuses but, unfortunately, not my congested mind.

Separation is hard; physical, emotional. It’s all crashing down on me a bit. And then you tell me I’ll be in your heart forever and I shatter to a hundred little shards of glass and I’m not sure what to believe. Infatuation, Why? I’m somewhat confused as to why I can’t fill up the heart that I’m in, to keep all else out. Your mind is elsewhere. Dual lives split by a schism that is distance. Separation. Of the physical. It then seeps into the emotional as the distance persists and I think of all the good we’ve had. Love, warmth, lust, embracing one another under the stars talking about things that no one would remember. That’s the old life, which has no place in the new life. I’m afraid of not being in the better, new, life.

I’m sick of the distance. I’m sick of the separation. I’m sick of the affects of such a thing on our relationship. I’m sick of missing you and I’d do anything to be with you to set it all right.

For now, I’ll just sleep with salty eyes and a runny nose. My thoughts will be settled later.

I’ve realized that I spend more time with my fencing coach than with my girlfriend. They are very different people and so it is rather funny. Being with my coach isn’t a bad thing; I don’t mind him and we actually get along. He’s probably in his mid-forties, rather tall, laughs like an elf, but has a hideous sense of fashion and hair style. I think all his shirts are related to fencing or knives. Don’t let me even describe the one time he wore shorts. Lastly, we get to the wonderful ponytail (and I say that with not a hint of sarcasm, but with a high dosage of it). It’s just like another person that lives at the back of his neck and is really annoying and gray and yuck. Let me get off that topic. Please.

My coach and I are pretty similar, though. As much as I don’t like to admit it, we laugh at very random things, sometimes even having the same sense of humor (He laughs at my jokes. Nobody laughs at my jokes except for myself). We both are of the same weapon, which to all fencers, can tell a whole lot about a person. Epeeists are patient, a bit carefree and silly, very calm and pensive, and usually tall in stature. Well, that hit the nail on the head.

Fencing with him tonight reminded me a bit of how we actually have some kind of “friendship”. We have been working a lot on “in fighting”, which is when two fencers become very close to one another and pretty much have a sawing contest to try and poke their apponent. My style of fencing is more like stay-the-fuck-away-from-the-other-fencer just because I can use distance to my advantage. So, this in fighting thing is something I need to work on. Doing so involves being right in my coach’s face repeatedly, having to pull my arm back and get my blade’s point in front if him, or sometimes passing him. The point I’m trying to get at is is that while doing these drills, it’s not awkward or anything. I know that most people would find it so, but I think I’m just used to him and it doesn’t bother me. That wasn’t always the case back when I first started fencing, but I’ve changed.

Of course, my girlfriend is a much different story. She’s a saber, fierce and ready to slash your arm off at any moment.

She can be stubborn, strong willed, determined, competitive, but also a bit too emotional for her own good. It’s a stark contrast from my cool and collective self. She’s also shorter. Not too short, but shorter than myself (which, to think of it, most people are shorter than me). P.S. I find short girls adorable. That was unrelated and slutty. Enjoy. Lastly, I don’t get to see my girlfriend two times a week every week that I’m home. It’s a bit hard since it’s not like we live galaxies away from one another. It’s only about a 20 minute drive. But, things get in the way and we have things to do and are busy little creatures as always. I wish that I could be close with her right now. Maybe we could “in fight”, or rather, just cuddle and watch a movie and talk about our feelings and cry over Wall-E and make kissy faces and not be that cheesy but just enjoy ourselves together. I would say stupid things while she tries to maintain a romantic mood, thus ruining the mood, and then I would apologize for being silly and then she’s just kiss me to shut me up. That sounds a bit more realistic.

This post is too long. Forgive me, Tumblrettes. Suck my dick! Wow, that was vulgar for no reason. Too much “Recovery” in my life.

“You can be the dick, just call me the ball sack.”

hehe c:

Why is it that you turn your back? Why do you have better conversations with her through a text rather than when I’m sitting right next to you? Or, in general; why don’t we have fun conversations anymore? And why is it that you’re over their house so often? That you wear a bikini for the first time, without granting me the pleasure of even seeing it? That they get the privilege. The time. The effort. Why was it that I offered them a cookie? I had a full box, open to anyone. But why offer them such a treat? They already are stealing you away; now my food? Then again, I did offer it to them. Why do I lack the confidence to say to you “Hey, you know that I feel really alone. I don’t like how you’re texting while I’m trying to communicate and how you’re sending emails as I try to make conversation at lunch, or how the only way you’ve been able to talk to me for a good 10 minutes is through accusations and gawking over hot women.” Why am I so selfish? Don’t fall for them… please. Why? Why am I pushed into the background? Why am I becoming this monster? Where is my “best friend”? Why am I becoming, solely, the girlfriend?