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"Charming, you have to come back to protect me from my cat - OW! Get off of my bed, baby cat! I don’t let mean boys in my bed!"

But I guess I might have to start since the only nice one is 179 miles away.

It’s not as hard this time though. And I thought it would be hard living on my own, but that’s not so bad either. And working two jobs isn’t so hard. I’m actually in the process of applying for a third one, believe it or not.

I think the hardest part is when my housemates are actually home. They’re on a two week vacation right now and the freedom I have is actually liberating.

I’ve pretty much been walking around in my scanties drinking red wine out of a mason jar for the past four days.. that’s what’s up.

-LTR

Old habits die hard..

Much like the thoughts of my ex will.
Someday.
..right?

I don’t know if it is boredom or being at home, but amongst the familiarity of my childhood lifestyle are equally daunting memories of my first relationship.

It’s like stepping through the front door unearthed every last thought of him that I had held pent up in the infinite caves of my somewhat lacking memory for the past two years. And as much as I want them gone, my life has become an episode of ghost hunters, and I dug up the wrong phantasmic grave.

My room is a freaky hybrid of remnants of the old and adventures with the new, and every second my mind is playing hopscotch between similarities, differences, and blending two extremely different personalities to make me rethink every decision I’ve ever made.

Do I miss him? No. Maybe. I can’t decide. But my bed seems to fold only tangles with him between the sheets, and the hammock out my window is strung up with an out-of-body memory of our split, and the car that I drove in high school wreaks of the last drive that we took together. A long talk about his ‘mistake.’ He never should have let me go.
But I disagreed. It would never work between us and I didn’t want to try and I stand by that still, but then why can I not get him out of my head? I have a perfect Prince Charming waiting for me a mere, what, 500 miles away? ish? That’s not so bad, right?

And he is worth the wait!

..right??

I feel like a crazy person.

Kesha, girl, you’re right. Wait as long as you possibly can. As soon as you start letting those little sparks ignite, every last ounce of sanity that you have been able to cling to will go up in flames.

-LTR

It’s a funny thing when you start to fall for someone.
You become the very best version of you.
The most incredible, loveable, beautiful version of you.
You try your best and you try your hardest to make your target want nothing more than to have you.

So why does that change?
The more comfortable you become, the less you push to be the amazing person that your better half used to inspire, or rather pressure, you to be.

Let’s be real, an increase in comfort is an increase in the release of natural gases and mildly psychotic and completely unreasonable outbursts..

And it sucks. It’s an involuntary spasm of judgement and I forget that I am supposed to be cute and nice and appealing and then I turn into a crazy person! One who is completely aware of exactly what she is doing and has a freaky out-of-body experience and watches her self turn into a very unappealing and stereotypically psychopathic version of me.

hmph :(

-LTR

In with the old?

So I had a chance encounter with an old ‘buddy’ today. He and I had shared some pretty, shall we say, complicated feelings for each other once upon a time. Anyway, we hadn’t spoken for a good eight months after spending the grand majority of my freshman year together, and as of today, he doesn’t know that I have a boyfriend.

I’m trying to think up the best way to enlighten him..
Turns out having a boyfriend isn’t always the easiest thing.

-LTR

Long-Term Relations

When I go, I go hard.
There are some Friday nights that I don’t even make it out of the building
let alone into town and back.
I’ve jumped off of a 45 foot cliff into a waterfall.
I try to finish what I start.
When I commit, I commit.
Boy 2 of 2 has been around for 9 months and counting.

I’m 20 years old and living in a constant state of nostalgia that I can’t seem to shake.
I like to pretend that I am smooth, clever, focused, organized, and incredibly not awkward, but alas..

-LTR