swirlicious

T-Minus 2 days til a double decker day of my Chinese and Demographics finals.

T-Minus 3 days til I leave for a week long sailing trip. Somehow going in sunlight for prolonged periods of time seemed like a good idea. I really ought to get back in nature since despite my detest of it, I have participated in quite a bit of it. Plus, bumming around is a failure.

It's weird to think that soon I might be called an adult. That I'll have a daily job. That is really something I'm not prepared for. I don't want to grow up, and I don't want to age.

And in the procrastination that is mandatory of finals week, I reflect. More and more my reflection falls on Seb and in the fact that I did love him. In fact, he is the only person in my life that I can honestly say that I loved. He's someone I had legit emotions and he has in no way been replaced by anyone else. I still do love him and I need to make a much larger effort to stay in contact with him. I really hope that he's happy in his current relationship, despite my jealousy.

There's nothing more satisfying than a hug. Strong arms empirically proving my security. Falling asleep in them, being carried to the bed. So many, many memories of him and almost all of them just make me want what we had more. He is adorable and I love him. My absurd standards of guys to date are so much tailored around him it's quite spooky.

I need a passion for life. I need that fire. Too many things in my life that just consume time, pathetic. Hyde Park is the downfall of so many, though I think I was a lost cause far before coming here.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Singlehood is fucking terrible.

To mock others, it seems a sign of weakness. After watching hours of America's Next Top Model, it has assisted in my understanding of people. Yes yes, har har, however it is a fantastic resource to watch people's behavior, as are many of the reality tv programs. My outlets for watching Joe Schmo are limited since the vast majority of U of C is populated by people more socially awkward than I.

But sassing and mocking others just ends up biting you in the ass. It is an easy way to generate camaraderie, however, it's a poor method to sustain it. There just doesn't appear to be a very good reason for belittling others because...everyone deserves respect? Hahaha, sure Miss Squishy. More like it just hurts your available resources. Usually people with low self-esteem contain some uses, and because they are often shunned, you can easily create a relationship that curves in your favor. Plus, you never know what connections people can have and it is always good to network as far as possible.

If you come across like a nice person, people will like and trust you. You can then use this friendship to acquire things. So really, mean people are stupid people. That, or they just have enough resources that they can get away with it.

I must work to improve my social abilities in non-confrontational ways so that I can acquire as many people-sources as possible. And if I pretend to be something, often times I can easily utilize the absorbed qualities to ameliorate myself.

My investment in ANTM proved beneficial at a recent party with a kid from Columbia College in the Loop. I attended a kegger with him, proving myself to be socially independent of him near immediately. I whipped out the old charisma, I even successfully flirted with several girls. They still have super fucking creepy parts, but its good to know that I could breed were I to desire...or maybe that's a bad thing...

The party I went to actually had one of the girls from ANTM there the weekend before. She's a regular at this apartment, which was also quite an amazing, multi-floor condo. If I can play my cards right, I could be partying with models in no time. Then I could make all the breeder boys jealous.

What's that? You spent the night in the reg? Oh, me? Well you know, the usual. Went clubbing downtown and ended up at one of my model friend's apartments and had a pillow fight.

So what could make Yu-Gi-Oh even more awesome? It already generated a trading card game that it constantly cheats and is missing plot left and right. I mean, I know when I played MTG tournaments I wouldn't bother learning what the cards did...

BUT YEAH! SO LETS TAKE LIKE YU-GI-OH...AND PUT IT ON FUTURISTIC MOTORCYCLES. OMG I'M A GENIUS.

http://animethunder.com/yu-gi-oh-5ds-episode-1/

My sox have been roxed. I like the part where the guy summons 2 monsters and then attacks and then turns 2 of them into a super monster and then attacks with that and then those 2 monsters summon another monster and then he plays another monster and then makes two super monsters...and then ends his 2nd turn. Fuck rules, summoning sickness is for losers.

I just don't know what to do or what to say.

I never know when you'll hate me, when you'll abandon me. That one point where it's over and you've had enough. All I want is for you to love me and I'ld do what I could to make it so. Just tell me what you want, and then I could do it. But no, you desire squishy logic that I lack.

Studying has been insufficient cause I'm still lost.

I'll sit in your lap. See, I go to the gym now, and I even eat healthy. Soon enough I will be pretty enough for you, so then will you love me?

Thinking, all this effort to think, and in the end it has only brought about isolation. If I had been a toy from the start I wouldn't have scared them away. They could fondle and grope me, and I wouldn't know that that wasn't love.

The undecorated walls are naked. You can see each crevice and crack. The gum left from posters that used to doll it up. I find them mesmerizing. And when I stare at the, the light bleeds in from the ceiling. It spikes and flares, blinding my right eye. It pixelates my world that is this shabby room.

I've been trying not to be a dick. Really fucking hard, but I think I fucked it all up. And shit is going to get rough. My mind will split and I'll try to hurt you, and then I'll come crying and apologizing. Then I'll probably do it again.

The fucking happy normies. With their lives I am so envious of. They have a reason to live, beliefs and desires that make everything worth it.

I'll die in a couple hours and the morning will come and maybe I'll be better. Maybe my mind will have reset enough that I'll be bubbly-go-lucky again.

Why do I get the shittiest of the squishy? Panicked and paranoid. I can see so many ways that it fell apart and of course thinking it just promotes it. Fuck, just when I thought I could get my shit together.

I haven't been talking to Diabetes lately. I don't know how to go about talking to him at the moment. Maybe he cares enough to read this and can help.

Things are only as big of a problem as I make them. I don't lack as much squishy as I think I do. Really I just dwell on the wrong side of the fence.

Oh how I do so much better with acquaintances. Never there long enough for them to realize the façade.


I think reality terrifies me more than normal, like a lot more severe than it should. But why?

Why?

Can duplicating squishiness suffice? Can I be happy merely replicating what I believe to be proper behavior? For the most part, my behavior models seem to work out relatively well. Or at least, as long as I can sustain them, which has been increasing in duration recently.

After eating a bit too much of a delicious meal, we went back to his room and laid down on the Murphey bed. I passed out near immediately. Held close, it was security. Is that what my happiness was? I rarely get to lay so close to anyone, much less successfully fall asleep while being touched. His arms wrapped around my small torso, I felt so protected.

You know, sometimes I'm genuinely bashful. I blush, I get awkward and timid. Squishiness has been successfully implemented, at least partially.

I'm losing control on the drug switch. It keeps flipping on, and at times it's really hard to flip it back off. It's quite tempting to drop everything to just stare at the patterns of cracks on the wall. To get close and pet it. Possibly even lick the paint, cause you never know, it could be tasty. But, it's a weakness. I need to keep my composition with a focus on education. I shall keep happy-bubbly-go-lucky switch prompted, ready at a moments notice for socialization.

I'm not a terrible person, I'm just quirky.

I'ld really like to learn to care. Sometimes I think I do. It's hard.

To close my eyes and feel the swell. The concept of laying down, with the window open. A small draft to send a tiny chill. To make the room warm temperature truly feel warm.

My finger tips are elated. They stretch.

I miss Seb. I miss Sean living close by. See, I'm squishy too. All I want is someone to love me.

Having conquered the cold of Chicago, the Gays have persevered, but not without sacrifices. However, Spring offers reinforcements to thwart the ever advancing Lesbian infestation, to reclaim the territory that has been overrun.

The Son of Dick has returned to aid the Lycan Lupus, whose morale had been waining with the moon. His comrade, the Bear, has been thirsting for raw meat. The time for battle is approaching.

Cotton Candy Rage has grown tired of the talk of men.

The strewn, religiously-named boys have ended in me being less than converted.

Tomorrow is an empty date.

Size 0 eye candy spent on the blind who only appreciate it via groping.

But hey, if my personality continually fails to reel the studs in, this can temporarily sustain me, right?

Three days a week at the gym and maybe I can find love…well at least infatuation.
I mean, it’s not like my interpretation of love is healthy in the first place. If sporting pecs and a six pack can buy me dinner, it’s close enough. If being ripped can smuggle some snuggle, then there's no punch to that "No".

-

I’m the faggiest when I got a man. You never truly get over catching the Gay. Its crutches are worse than Polio’s aftermath. It’s scarring worse than that of the Pox. Sure, for a couple bouts, you’ll do alright. But this bitch has 150 VIT and 3K HP, and you’re pDif isn’t even close.

I find that a good date is one where I forget that it's gay. Where orientation is never considered, just assumed. It sounds silly, but there's so much emphasis about preferences that the lack of it is much welcomed. Needless to say, this weekend's date went quite well.

Conversation about throwing knives, banking, mortuaries, mountain biking, broken bones.

"i like hot boys who are jumpy and cling to me like they need me yes"

Mountain Bike Moguls
A flight of fancy, 15 feet from the crossbar
Gravel imbued bravery, the right side defeated
With the collar bone protruding: sliced, not fractured.
A bump, a hump remains- the badge of breeder
Converses, a sacrifice for weakened ankles
Knives-and lasers-to butch it up.

These passed several weeks have been quite busy. Often being out and about is quite nice.

A very odd confrontation of an infamous individual. It turns out that the majority of the people I know dislike this kid, and in reaction my opinion has shifted. A point of reference.

Life is grand at times. Let's see where it decides to go.

Apparently the cookie monster only eats cookies sometimes now.

I think it's cause he has diabetes. Cookie monster amputee who lost a foot.

Soon he will be replaced by cookie semi-enthusiast. He likes cookies too, but he knows moderation.

An invitation to a mistake, which I obviously accomplished in mighty glory. Juggling bad decisions on all fronts: dead end attractions by multiple parties and awkward encounters at respective parties.

Relationship skills of fail.

Heh, a glance south and I see two amusing stories. Off to the left, another one. To think if I ever had any normal relationships with people that didn't result in such extreme results. Sandwiched is a fourth story waiting to be enjoyed and exploited.