I've been in a most sentimental mood today. I suppose it's the fact that the sun was shining, and even though it was still far too cold for someone of my fragile frame to deal with, a hint of Spring whispered through the air. I took a drive in between my classes, and as the sun warmed me through my windshield, and I played a CD I made last year around this time, tons of wonderful memories came back to me; the kind of memories that overwhelm your senses, and launch a hostile takeover of your sensible emotions. I recalled the newness of my relationship then, the newness of everything I was experiencing in life. Ups and Downs; ups and downs of the most elated heights and the lowest lows. But when I look back, I somehow forget how the lowest lows felt, and in retrospect, that was a beautiful time in my life. I partied way more than I should have. Wino Wednesdays, which had started out as a girls night only/weekly ritual, had turned into full out parties by that point. Not only was every friend I had invited, but they generally took it upon themselves to invite other friends to my apartment in addition. Even if we started out with wine, it seems we always ended up drinking hard liquor (Baccardi 151, Absinthe... Germ-X :p ) and the boys usually made a beer run at some point. The music was played too loud, pot was usually acquired and smoked... I'd often end up pissed because I was supposed to be relaxing after a hard day at school and Claires and I'd end up playing babysitter (seeing as how the event always took place in my apartment). But I wouldn't trade any of it for the world. I remember the night I built a tent out of sheets above my bed, complete with an ornate chandelier I constructed with fake flowers and strands of mardi-gras pearls. With my paper star lantern in the middle it was an enchanting, magical tent... and after consuming Bacardi 151, that tent managed to house not only myself and my boyfriend, but two of my girlfriends as well. I assure you it was non-sexual; we just decided we all wanted to sleep there. But by the time the liquor wore off in the wee hours of the morning, I realized a Full size bed just was not large enough to accommodate us comfortably and I ended up on the couch, my boyfriend on the floor. The next day we all had class and kept the pact we had made the night before to get up at 7 am and finish our respective homework. It was rough, to say the least. There were so many nights at that apartment that were so perfect. Parties, nights with girlfriends, nights with one friend or two friends, nights with my boyfriend. I think at the time, as stressed as I was juggling a heavy course load, practicum, and work at Claires, entertaining became a bit of a chore; but a year from that point, it looks so fun and easy. Especially now that my crew of friends is dispersed, and I am about to graduate. I guess I took for granted the fact we wouldn't always be so carefree, or careless. The fact we wouldn't always be in the same town. I know there are plenty of good times to be had ahead, and I am sure I will make more friends down the road, but I can't help feeling a bit melancholy looking back; it's as though I've watched myself grow- and I have, and that part of me, that carefree, slightly (or heavily) neurotic and crazy part of me that was at an all-time high last Spring, has been repressed. That's not necessarily a bad thing- I mean, my grades were back to their stellar standard this year, and I feel waaaayyyy healthier without the stress of having to entertain on a nightly basis, and without alcohol being my major dietary staple. It's just that, when one has noticed self growth and maturity, it really knocks you down, and makes you take a minute to reflect on how and why you have changed.
I remember when I was the queen of making out in the Fall of 2009. I think I was desperate to find a boyfriend, or someone who would understand me. I was sick of being the only one of my friends to still be a virgin, and to have never had a boyfriend. It was seriously depressing, but even more depressing was the realization every guy wanted to bone me and nothing more. Id make out with someone, and never hear from them again- no one even gave me a chance (which is fucked up- I am an awesome girlfriend, I must say). I was so very naive too, in thinking love was going to save me from myself (I was seriously crazy at the time, my diet of alcohol really didn't help encourage a positive mind frame). When I finally realized the love I harbored for my current boyfriend, it was months after we'd initially met, and I'd gone through many many crisis in the wake of my realization and acceptance of love. I'll keep that private for the sake of this blog, but my good friends know what I mean. However, the point I think I started off writing about, is that I was naive. Love is a powerful thing, and it has definitely changed me in a lot of ways, to love and be loved by someone other than my family or friends. However, did it complete me the way I thought it would once upon a time? Helllz no. I think it's human to always want more. And even though I have this love in my life now, that I formerly only so desperately craved, I have realized that though it is uplifting, empowering, comforting, and generally has made me much more self-confident, it is not going to make all of my dreams come true. Only I can do that, and it's going to take a whole lot of determination, will power, work ethic, time, and effort. That is way easier to do knowing that my family, friends, and bf support me though. I am still really naive in a lot of ways, but I guess that's just me. It certainly makes reality a little softer when every other thought is a pleasant daydream or fantasy of the future, and it really gives me incentive to strive for.
Back to the change, though. I wish sometimes, I could go back to my former self and slap myself. Yes. Slap. How could I ever let some of the uggos I made out with break my heart? Goddamn, it's not like I had sex with them... I'm not sure how or why I ever felt an emotional connection at all. Most of them were straight up douche bags and hideous. I won't name names, but I hope the few who really hurt my fragile, tender, pure heart, will see me years from now, in the prime of my life and success, and I hope they are alone, or with fat, sloppy, busted girlfriends who can't do shit in the bedroom or cook an awesome meal like I can, and I hope they slap themselves for not giving me a chance (even though I wouldn't want to be with them now, at the time I probably did).
