Late

Its Late.

The mantra rings through me as I go about my day, waiting. 

Waiting and waiting.

Body tense. 

 

All I can think is, its Late. 

 

I can't focus on the work in front of me. 

Eyes looking at nothing in the distance.

My body in flight or fight mode.

But there's nowhere to flee.  

 

The threat is inside me.

 

Distractions are all I have left.

And waiting. 

There's no hope. 

If it's taken from me, I don't know if I'd survive. 

So I wait, wishing I could speak with someone.

But it's too soon. It's not that late.

 

The mouth speaks and now two are waiting. 

 

Waiting and waiting and waiting. 

Until something can be done. 

Plans have been made, but it's too soon to act.

 

So we wait.

 

One gives in and checks.

It's too early, but maybe it will help. 

Only a little.

It's still too early. 

 

And we wait.

 

Finally, finally hope slithers into us.

We relax a little.

Breaths come out easier.

But we still wait.

 

It's too soon to know.

So we wait.

Goodbye Lovely Boy, Sweet Dreams

It's Friday evening, March 17. 

American St. Patrick's Day.

Inside of a 'Happiness is Pets' puppy store is a family of three playing with a small black and white puppy. The mother with bright red hair is on the phone speaking with her husband, having a conversation they've had multiple times. She sighs and hands the phone over to her daughter and son who plead with their father, begging and promising the world over just so they could take home this small black puppy.Multiple minutes of begging and promises pass, promises that the father knows will not be kept, but he relents and finally agrees.

And the small puppy is quickly brought back to his new home.

That puppies name is now:

Oreo.

He lives a happy life with this family of four. The kids always play with him, sneeze with him whenever he sneezes. So Oreo learns that when he's happy he should sneeze, because it brings a smile on the kids face as they also sneeze back. There's a big yard to play in and sometimes they take him for walks, but Oreo doesn't mind too much. He's a sitting dog, jumping up on the back if the couch and observing the living area as his family bustles about. He is content.

One day the dad leaves, he doesn't know why, but every once in a while he comes back. The family is filled with joy and he jumps and barks demanding treats and pets. He may not always get treats but he is never lacking in pets.

Then one day the kids are gone too and it's just him and mom. It's quiet and lonely in this giant house now. Oreo mostly sleeps, wondering where his family has gone. If they left him, but one day he's taken by mom. They both travel somewhere, he remembers sleeping for a really long time and waking up alone, but mom quickly finds him as he barks his heart out. 

Soon he's barking from joy though as he see's his entire family. They're in a new home, but that doesn't matter to him because everyone is here.

Oreo likes this new home. There is a sensible garden, cats to bark at, new dogs to meet and best of all he is never alone. Grandmother is always home with him, either watching tv or working in the garden. She's a little clumsy and sometimes doesn't notice Oreo, but she's kind, feeding him tasty scraps and letting him out whenever he wants.

Life is good for Oreo he's happy and taken care off. Maybe he doesn't have as much energy as he used to, he's an old boy with more gray hairs than black. His favorite things to do now are sleep, eat and beg for treats. He always appreciates scratches though, wagging his stubby tail in appreciation. 

He wakes up one morning, feeling hungry for the first time in a couple days. Oreo gets some cheese from the father, gets pets from his favorite human - the brother and sits by the garden window, observing the street. It's a nice day, clear sky, not much of a chill and the sun is shinning bright.

It's a good time for a nice long nap. 

Camping Chair

It's got four, flexible metal legs.
It's made from a sturdy plastic material.

It's a bright purple with grey accents.

It is a compact, camping chair.

And it's something that's helping our relationship.

 

Aster had a new game to play and he wanted me to watch, so I brought out one of our camping chairs. They're pretty comfortable and don't take up much room, so I didn't have to put it away every night. The game was watched, time was shared and enjoyed, eventually the game ended, but the chair stayed.

 

When we weren't living together Aster would come over and spend the weekend, we'd sit on the couch together and just do our own thing. It's something I greatly missed when we moved in together, always seated on the opposite sides of the room. 

 

Now the chair has found a place. I seat it next to Aster and either watch him play something or do my own thing. Or sometimes he brings the chair out. And it feels like we're back in my room, teenagers just enjoying each others company.

I feel like I need those small moments more and more in my life.

Self-Inflicted Drought

I want to hug you, but I also don't.

I want your hug, your touch, your comfort

but I can't.

 

I can't touch you because I'm afraid.

I fear your touch.

It brings joy, happiness, love and comfort,

but with it, it also takes.

 

 When the touch is gone, so is the comfort.

When days span to weeks, my weakness grows,

so I crave your touch,

but I'm also afraid.

 

I can't ask for a hug because I don't know when the next one will be.

I can't hope for a kiss, because now is not the time.

 

So instead I crave your touch, hoping and dreading when it will happen again,

because then for one blissful moment, as your arms wrap around me and you give a content sigh.

 

I'm reminded that this is what I love, 

miss and crave.

 

You and your touch.

 

So instead I wait for you, trying to withstand this drought,

trying to ignore my wants.

 

Now is not the time.

 

Leave him alone.

 

He has more important things on his mind,

so I wait.

 

Withstanding a drought I could easily end, 

but for some reason refuse.

Instead I take comfort in one constant.

 Your shirt, in our bed.

 

The only thing that helps me suffer through my self-inflicted drought. 

Word Dump, Emotion Dump, Tear Dump

This week was probably one of the fucking hardest for me for the first time in a long while. I was stressed from Sunday to Sunday, my body was physically exhausted, I developed a fever during a pandemic which made my stress levels go even higher and my brother thought I forgot his birthday and there is nothing I can say to make him think otherwise. 

To sum up this week has been absolute shit. 

I was so excited for Friday evening, I'd finally get a break, relax with Aster, maybe drink a bit cause after all the shit I went through I just wanted to relax. Nope. The world went fuck you your shitty week is continuing. I hate this. Right now I almost hate you.

I come home, excited to see you and want to talk with you and hang out with you. What do I get? The fucking cold shoulder, because your angry at yourself that you messed up the rice. Thanks that made my mood instantly drop. Instead of slight joy all I felt was anger, sure you told me later why you did what you did but the damage was already done.

Now, well now I don't even want to tell you about my day. You didn't even ask so what would be the point in saying anything. We live together and this entire week I think you're completely unaware of what I went through. I really just wanted some support from you. You didn't care at all when I was sick, didn't even offer to take the dogs out for a long walk that day. You don't know about the fucking panic attack I had because another dog got loose and attacked Daisy and Bax. And all of Daisy's progress, all the work socializing her, went down the fucking drain. You don't know how my Boss made a complete and utter fool of himself in front of an important company, potentially losing us these clients; a group of people that I really enjoy teaching. You don't know about my nerves to present our idea for my final paper to pass college. You don't fucking know. 

Because I haven't told you a damn thing.

I never feel like I can talk to you about mundane things. I've been taught to not speak about my troubles because my families only reply is 'Too bad. Suck it up. You have to finish school.' I know I have to finish school. All I ask for is some support. I'm not asking you to do my assignments or a go to lectures for me. All I ask is that you give me a tight hug and whisper 'Do your best. Keep trying. I know you can do it.' 

It's not much is it?

Is it too much to ask? 

Then again I can't even accept hugs anymore. I've just gotten used to not getting them. I don't ask for them. I don't want to ask for a fucking hug. Oh hey partner dear, could you move your ass and give me a hug cause I'm in physical and emotional pain here? No, ya that's fine I'll just throw myself in front of this truck. That will make the pain go away.

I've had those thoughts recently. 

So I've been trying to stay away from busy streets. 

It'd be so easy to just trip, wouldn't it? 

Reading has been helping me a lot. When I read my mind is solely focused on the story in front of me. Everything else I'm thinking about just fades away. I wish I could write a story like that one day. I don't know if I'll ever write again. 

This was written to just get stuff off my chest. I'm so stressed right now balancing work and school. I know I'm not the first or last person to do this. I know of plenty of students who are in the same boat as me. My respect goes out to them, because I'm only one month in and I already want it all to be over. 

I can't think about Aster and my one sided relationship problems. Right now, unfortunately, that is not as important as finally finishing school. I need to be done with it. I'm tired of having the same conversation with him over and over. I begged him for more physical affection because I NEEDED it, it decreased so much that I feel like I'm forcing myself to have sex with him sometimes. FUCK, don't even get me started on the pregnancy scare I had recently. That was absolute shit. I wonder if maybe we're not cut out to be a pair. I still care for him and love him, but I feel like I'm doing so much work in this partnership, that it doesn't even feel like a partnership. 

I want to sleep but I know when I wake up more work waits for me. More things need to be done. I don't want to be alive anymore. I'm such a weak willed person.

Impulsive Decision

    Its a stupid and impulsive decisions and for a split second as I hurl myself into a deep ravine, I try to grab a branch to stop myself from falling. It slips through my fingers though and I'm left tumbling downwards for who knows how long. At one point I pass out as my head smacks into something rough while continuing my fall.

I'm such a fool.

    I think as I'm starring up at the darkening sky. Can't even choose a proper hole to kill myself in. Still I can't move and all I can do is think, the one thing I don't want to do right now. Trying to stand is futile, one of my legs is definitely broken and I can't move my left arm.

    The tears that roll down my eyes aren't from pain, instead they mock me and my stupidity. I just wanted my thoughts to stop, for everything to stop. Instead of going to someone, talking with them I unsuccessfully throw myself off a fucking cliff. Too hurt to get up and too lost to call for help. Fuck, Zin and Larkspur are going to kill me if I don't die from exposure first. And what about Az? Fuck, I'm leaving behind people that actually care for me, because the one I cared about most doesn't give a shit about me.

    The wail I let out when this thought surfaces is heartbreaking. Fuck, I'm a terrible human being. I'm going to die here for them?

No.

    I'm dying here because I thought I wouldn't be able to continue living without them. Now, now when it's too late I realize I lived without them before and I can live without them again. I have precious people that I care about, even if I am shit at showing it.

    My laughter bubbles up and I choke on tears, or no that's blood. Fuck can I bleed out faster? Am I even bleeding? Hopefully internally. I'm a stupid human being.

I don't deserve to live.

    Maybe I can reach my phone? I wiggle my one working arm and clench my teeth as pain shutters through my body barely pulling my phone out of my inner sweatshirt pocket. How it survived the fall I have no clue, but I can see five missed calls, three from Aster, fuck them right now, and two from my dad.

    Shit, how long have I been down here? Who should I call? What do I say? Do I just call an ambulance? But I don't even fucking know where I am! Maybe I'll just not call anyone. Let myself lie here as I try to convince myself that my attempted suicide wasn't a spur of the moment thing.

    My thoughts are broken up by the ringing of my phone. Without looking I shakily swipe my phone, please just don't let it be my boss. I'm not in a good head space to deal with him right now.

"Nast?"

    I hear the one voice I can't deal with right now and I close my eyes in rage as tears start to spill.

    "Ya," I choke out suddenly noticing how difficult it is to breathe.

    "Where are you?" They ask frustrated and worried, psh ya right they're worried.

    "No clue." I cough out, "Why need your maid to clean something for you?" I ask with venom in my voice. I'm still pissed at them.

    "What?! No, stop. I told you I care about you! Stop thinking that you're just my maid!"

    At these words my simmering rage bubbles to the surface and I'm unable to hold my tongue as it lashes out. "Oh really? You care about? That's really fucking hard to believe considering you're actions say something completely different."

    "What do you mean? Stop this, just come home and lets talk about this." At this I laugh and tears gather in the corner of my eyes, my laughter doesn't last for long though as I fall into a coughing fit which turns into groans of pain and sharp breaths.

    "Wait, Nast whats wrong?" The voice on the other side of the line panics and I can here them shuffling about.

    "Just a bit more broken than usual," I answer once I get my breath back, the pain is worse than it was before though.

    "Nast, please come home. Talk to me, tell me whats wrong."

    "Oh, are you actually going to listen to me? It's too fucking late Aster. I can't come home."

    "What do you mean you can't come home? Then I'll come get you. Where are you?" I hear them grabbing their car keys and I start to cry in earnest.

    "Even if you wanted to come get me you couldn't, because I have no clue where I am and I can't move. Just leave me alone Aster. We're over. You never cared about me to begin with."

    "Don't hang up. First of all I DO care about you and second what..." I cut him off before he finishes, unable to hold back the rant that's been brewing inside me.

    "Oh, you care about me do you? You keep saying you do, but your actions say otherwise. I was sick yesterday. Had a fever, was sweating, weak and everything. If you cared about me you would have offered to take the dogs for a long walk, not let me do it. You would have told me to get some rest before work and that you could handle everything because your job isn't as demanding as mine. No instead you let a sick person you 'care' about go and exhaust themselves even more. Not even trying to help lighten their load a little. And then when we were finally going to sit down and talk about vacation, something I've been super excited about for over a month you kept cracking jokes and making me feel like you're humoring a child. Then you ask me for details, details I have been telling you about since the beginning of the month all we really needed was a date. That was it and you claimed that I had nothing planned. And to top it all off. You promised we'd watch Fantastic Beasts together and I see you watching it the next day on the computer by yourself. So fuck you. You don't give a flying shit about me." I finish my rant, unsure of when black dots appeared in my vision. It's getting harder and harder to talk.

    The voice on the other end is quiet, so I continue ready to finish this call. I don't want to die with regrets. Even if I do regret dying this young. "As for whats wrong, right now I'm lying in a ditch, after a failed suicide attempt in the forest behind our home. No clue where I am though and I'm about to lose consciousness. Hey, think on the bright side at least you no longer have to deal with me and my bullshit. Find yourself someone who you actually care about Aster. Tell Zin he's amazing. Apologize to Larkspur for me and take care of Az, I don't want him to end up like me." I finally stop talking, feeling lighter and a bit better.

Now I can die.

    "Nasturtium! Don't you dare lose consciousness on me! Keep yelling at me!" I hear their voice breaking up on the other side.

    "Don't blame yourself," I lie as it becomes harder and harder to think. "This was my own fault."

    "No, stay awake! Nast!"

    I continue to hear them shout my name over the phone, but it starts to feel farther and farther away. When did the pain disappear? After all that shouting I think it's time to go to sleep.

Goodbye.

Talk and Change

I don't really write here anymore. Not because I don't need to, but because I don't want to. Things still plague my mind, never as bad as it once was, but they are still there. Instead of writing here though I let it build up until I end up writing a letter inside of an old notebook. I've written three of them in the past 6 months, only one was shared to the addresse the other two still gather dust in that innocent blue notebook lost among school notes and math calculations.

The main reason I don't write here is because I don't want to talk about relationship problems between Aster and I. I want to preserve the beauty of me falling in love with them on here and not the slow downfall of our relationship. When I read old blog posts I want to cry tears of joy, not bitter regret.

Although that isn't the main excuse. Why don't I write on here any more? Because I'm afraid that people will read these posts and think I'm in a toxic relationship and urge me to break up with Aster. Which isn't the case. Our relationship isn't toxic, but filled with miscommunications and misunderstandings. Some of them are the result of a culture and language barrier, others stem from neither of us being able to express ourselves or our emotions. And when I do get the courage to talk or say whats wrong things change for a day and then go back to normal.

Sometimes I feel like when I do talk it's not heard or understood.

While I feel like you don't talk enough.

I wish we could both just talk and listen and change together.