Of Memories and Misanthropy

TW: Abuse, sexual assault, gaslighting

This has been a year of growth for me, so I'm filling in the blanks on stories that I've told, but never elaborating on. Facebook took the liberty of reminding me that I drove down to Medford to meet Germain Zepeda, aka Lirael Lockheart, three years ago today. It's got me hankering to lance a festering soul wound.

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THREE YEARS AGO...

Three years ago today, I had just driven the farthest I've ever been by myself to meet the man I convinced myself would solve all my hurt. I can still hear him berating me for being scared because he had done the same thing, only he had driven farther.

Three years ago today, I pulled decks of cards, notebooks, and other distractions out of my purse. Perfect icebreakers for a first night of getting to know someone. I can still hear him laughing at me for being "so innocent and naive".

Three years ago today, I told him to keep his hands above the belt because we'd just met in person and I wasn't ready for that. I can still feel his hands disobeying my explicit request. I can hear his dismissive "well, that rule didn't last long" after he decided we were done and it was time to sleep.

Three years ago today, I convinced myself what happened was okay because he cared about me. I mean, he drove across three states to see me. That proved he cared, didn't it? I never saw anything butt that room. I was never asked for permission. I can still hear his "hurt" voice saying he felt unwanted and undesirable because I hadn't touched him back.

Three years ago today, I was swept into the maelstrom. I was thrown off kilter and never allowed to step foot back on solid ground until my senses were too brutalized to recognize true safety. I can still feel the fear, the chaos, the turmoil, the violation. I still think sometimes "why do I have a target on my back? Why me?"

Of Depression and Understanding

Having a mental illness is tough. It's something that has been stigmatized for a long, long time. Part of the reason that suffering from illnesses like depression or anxiety is so hard is that it is impossible to convey that feeling to someone who hasn't experienced it. "Normal" people who function in their day to day and can do things like getting out of bed in the morning or talking to their insurance company to clarify coverage. They have a hard time understanding what it's like to fight your own brain. To sit there and know perfectly well that getting up and experiencing the day would be much more fulfilling and worthwhile, but to have your brain actively SCREAM at you that NO! Getting up and dealing with people would just cause you more hardship than anything, and what's the point anyway...

I've been struggling with this over the past year.

A lot.

I had a steady handle on my anxiety and my depression for a long while. I lived on my own with my boyfriend at the time. Paid all my bills. And went to work even when I felt like death.

Life felt like it started to crumble when my 6-year long relationship ended.

The initial break-up was tough because we had been on rocky terrain for years. Neither of us wanting to admit that the other had different relationship goals in mind and that we were just using each other for the company.

About a month and a half after I broke up with Peter, who is still a good friend after everything, I got into another relationship with a guy that I thought was a real winner. He and I had been friends online for about 3 years. We met through a mutual friend and got along rather well. It seemed like a GREAT match.

Then the roller coaster that was the past ten months occurred. He isolated me from pretty much all of my friends. Made enemies with everyone I held most dear.

Peter moved out about a month after me and this guy got together.

I was alone in my apartment. I went to work and came home. I never saw anyone. I never spoke to anyone. Locke, the guy, was really my only form of contact with the outside world unless I was explicitly approached by people. It caused me to go through a brief stint where I would drink wine until I was significantly tipsy so that I could sleep easily at night.

He acted so kindly and understanding for my anxieties because he too had them. But, if I wasn't immediately responsive to things from him, he yelled. He would call me selfish and heartless. He told me that I lacked empathy and wasn't good at comforting people because everything that I said came off callous and conceited. He claimed I was wishy-washy and couldn't remember things. And if I ever mentioned my friends, the people who had been there for me through so much, the people I had formed meaningful bonds with, there would be an angry rant about how these people are not who they seem to be. How I was foolish for trusting these people who had never once hurt me or caused me to cry.

He even went so far as to convince me that my previous relationship was abusive. But, the thing is, Peter wasn't abusive. He's a good friend. And he's a bit of an indecisive git who struggles with confidence, but that's basically most people at our age. He's one of my best friends. I value him greatly and don't regret our time together. We both learned a lot from one another.

Locke would freak out anytime I mentioned Peter. Whether it was a memory or a Facebook post. I had a forgotten picture of the two of us on Facebook that caused a four-hour fight. And if I every hung out with Peter, the fight would be multiple days long.

I once recorded him during a fight. I could only get into 3 minutes of it before I started panicking.

During the course of our relationship, I started to have consistent panic attacks, chronic illness, back pain, and massive insomnia. I was put on anti-depressants for the first time in my life. I was having freakout breakdown sobbing fits at least 4 times a week. And I felt I could tell no one. I was missing work. Struggling to pay bills. And all the while, he was telling me that it would be okay. One day I could just stay home and he would take care of me. That I would be okay. If I ever snapped at him, like normal people are wont to do, he would launch into an infuriated, yelling tirade about how he didn't deserve to be treated like that. About how I was a mean person. That I was being abusive.

He tried multiple times to get me to move down with him because I was struggling to pay my rent. He told me that I could just live with him. I didn't have to work or anything. All I needed was to move down to Arizona.

If I ever brought up that I don't know anyone in Arizona and that if something happened to the relationship, I would be stuck in a place with no one to support me, he would backlash. He would argue with me that it would be the same if he moved here to live with me. That if I moved there, I would at least have his family to fall back on because they wouldn't leave me stranded like that. But, if he were here, he would have no one, but he would still be willing to do it for me. Because I was important. And that maybe I didn't care enough because I wouldn't do that for him.

If we ever talked about moving or changes or anything like that, I would mention that uprooting my life like that would be tough for me. I have established roots here. I have a therapist, my family, my job, my friends. He would fire back that I'm selfish and uncompromising. "Everything has to be your way. You're not willing to compromise. Relationships are a compromise."

By the time my anxiety was so bad that I was missing most of my work days, I had gone to visit him for his birthday. His entire family took instantly to me. They fawned over me and thought I was lovely. But, I felt disenchanted. I was forcing myself to keep up the facade because I told myself that I'd invested so much time and I didn't want to be seen as a fool who was wrong. Who got together with someone she met online and it turned out badly. I didn't want to be another statistic. I already felt like I was because of everything that happened with Anthony. I felt like I was tarnished goods and this was as good as it was going to get. How could anyone really want a girl with such low self-esteem? Someone who is afraid of physical intimacy because of what happened to her.

If you were to look at my google search history from June through July, you would be concerned. I was on anti-depressants and muscle relaxers for my back. There are several google searches for the side effects of mixing these medications with alcohol. And I felt helpless because I didn't feel like I could tell anyone about it. I didn't want to hear people tell me how it was obvious and that I was being foolish. I didn't want to be committed and under constant watch because people thought I was going to off myself. I didn't want to be that person.

About a week before I was set to move out of my apartment and back in with my parents due to a rent increase that I could in no way afford, he called me to tell me that he was going to move up here and live in his car for a while. He also said that he might get a job at my work. And that his mum was going to help him do all of this because she wanted to see us succeed.

I had a panic attack at work. I went to see my mum after work because I didn't know what to do. I knew I couldn't deal him being here. Every time he had come to visit me, I had an intense negative reaction.

My mum said that I should call for a two-week break and then cut all contact with him to see how things go. It would leave me time to focus on my move and get my head clear.

He did not like that idea. Nor did he like the fact that I hung up on him and refused to answer any calls, texts, or messages. My mum was worried he was going to show up on my doorstep. I didn't sleep well again until I moved into my mum's house.

Over the course of those weeks, he sent me a package. I refused to open it. It was a belated birthday gift. The last day of the break, he called me late in the day. I felt sick to my stomach talking to him. I knew this had to end.

After we broke up, he called me back twice to demand answers. He told me that I wasn't giving him a chance. That he stood by me with my flaws and anxieties, but I'm just giving up on him. I snapped at him, telling him that this was for me. He was not respecting my decision. And that I needed to leave for my mental health.

I haven't spoken to him since.


Since then I've struggled with residual anxiety and depression. Most of my days go by fairly smoothly, but recently my mum has been showing concern for me.

I WANT TO CLARIFY THAT THE NEXT PORTION OF MY BLOG IS NOT MEANT TO VILIFY OR CRUCIFY ANYONE. I AM MERELY SPEAKING THROUGH THE GOGGLES OF DEPRESSION.
It seems asinine that this clarification needs to be made because I very much love my mother. I do not in any way think that she is working against me. All my thoughts and opinions that follow are purely me speaking from the perspective of my anxiety and the isolation I've been feeling.

This brings me back to my point about people not understanding. From the moment that I moved in with my mum, I've felt like I'm not wanted in the home. I feel like I've lost my independence that I struggled so hard to get. I feel like I've made absolutely no progress in my life. In fact, I feel like I'm worse off than I was before because I cannot seem to function in my day to day.

I'm currently writing this blog post on my laptop in my closet because I don't want my mum to come into my room and see me in bed again. I don't want her to ask me if it's all a facade because I can't make it to work, but I was able to see my friends on my day off. I don't want her to see me as I know she already does. Lazy. Unmotivated. Loser.

This is how I view the situation. I feel like I'm a letdown to my parents because I am no longer an independent, functioning member of society. I'm afraid of being seen as a failure. I'm afraid of seeing the disdain in people's eyes. I'm afraid of letting everyone down. Especially my parents because I feel like they expect so much more from me. And because my symptoms are all mental, I don't look like anything but a loser. A deadbeat.

I can't explain my emotions and my anxieties any better than I already have. I can't bring her into my head and make her feel the utter loneliness, bitterness, shame, guilt, blankness. She's very much a fixer. If there is an obvious solution to the problem, she doesn't hesitate in taking it. She wants to help people. And she wants to do it now. Because that's how she operates. She doesn't understand how people can be in abusive relationships. She doesn't understand why people have difficulties just going out and fixing their problems like she does.

I feel isolated in this house, just like I did in my apartment. I feel like I'm drowning. My insomnia is back. I have no appetite. I'm struggling to make it to work. And this is in part because I don't feel like I have control of my life. I don't feel like I can explain myself to anyone and have them understand what I'm feeling without being seen as a lost cause.

And it's taken me a long time to admit that it's gotten this bad. Because I didn't want to be another statistic. I didn't want to be a failure.

But, I guess I've already become one...

Of Adventure and Delay

Well, here we are. Two days into our epic Japan adventure and we're JUST flying in to LA.

To make an extremely long (like 3+ hours at the airport ticket counter on the phone with dunderheads) story short:
Our booking agency neglected to inform us that our itinerary had changed. So, we had an illegal connection from LA to Narita and WOULD NOT make our international connection.

Ugh.

Either way, we got the whole thing sorted out. We were rebooked for the fourth. Which means that we missed our first night of hostel reservations. Now we have to pay that even though we weren't there. /sigh

All things considered, I can't say it was too bad. My travel anxiety peaked like crazy and I practically passed out from exhaustion of holding it all in while we got everything taken care of at the airport. I didn't break down into tears though! So...bonus!

Now, we just have to make it through the rest of our trip with little to no hiccups and we'll be fine! :D

Stay tuned for more lackluster updates from travel Maddie!
I'm also updating my YouTube vlog daily. Check that out. Whoop whoop.

Onward to Japan!

Of Past and Present

Today is the day.

It's officially been one whole year since I was sexually assaulted.

It's weird. It doesn't feel like it was that long ago. I don't feel like I've retreated into my shell like a hermit crab, hiding away from the rest of the world and any new and exciting opportunities it may have, for one whole rotation of the Earth.

And yet...

When that night happened to me, when the people I trusted as some of my best friends betrayed and used me, I was shaken down to my core. I was broken. I was terribly, horribly afraid to exist in this world.
I couldn't do so many of the things that I loved because I was afraid of running into Anthony. I nearly refused to go over to the other side of town because he lived over there and just being in the area would set my heart racing and have me constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid of a chance encounter.

Most of the people that I knew and associated with when I was still friends with Anthony are not really a part of my life anymore. All of these people still seem to associate with him. And there are some who probably have heard his version of the story. The twisted, "faerietale" version where he isn't to blame for his actions and that I'm being unreasonable for not speaking to him ever again.

I have some things to say to those people, whom I will address by partial name:

Woodward: How would you feel if the entire situation was reversed? What would be going through your head if Katie had been the one assaulted and Peter and I continued to associate with Anthony? How would you deal with the fact that we LIED to you and said we would never talk to him again, all the while being the lackadaisical friend behind your back? What story did he tell you? What words made it okay? Was it easier for you to accept this scumbag back into your life than it was to cut him out of it? It's tough NOT to feel utterly betrayed.

Riki: I'm glad you are away from him now. I'm glad that you can be happy with someone else. It bothers me that you didn't come to this conclusion sooner. I think sometimes that maybe the two of us could still be friends, but I can't bring myself to bridge that gap because you trusted him so deeply and so steadfastly, that you couldn't just walk away. I know you think he was your salvation and your only option at the time, but he wasn't. Had you walked away from the entire thing, I would have been there to help you out until you could hold your own. You weren't alone. Instead, you ran. You abandoned your job, abandoned your friends. Because of that, I cannot get passed the possibility that somehow you were involved in the whole ordeal. And that sickens me.

It's been a full year. I spend my time hiding at home, engrossed in my video games because they are an escape from the real world. In my MMOs, I have just as much advantage as anyone else. No one that I interact with, no one that I make friends with, will ever be able to get any closer than I let them. They will never have any power over me. Most of them only know my voice, not my name. They know my character, not me. These people, these friendships, are safe. They are founded in a virtual world, and they will stay in a virtual world.

I'm a recluse now. My therapist describes me as an introvert. I've been an extrovert my entire life.

Some nights I still wake up in tears from strange, disconnected nightmares about Anthony and what happened to me. But, those nights are fewer and farther between.

I'm less concerned with looking over my shoulder when I'm on his side of town.

Although, if I did run into him, I can't guarantee that my heart wouldn't race. I can't guarantee that I wouldn't break down into uncontrollable tears and hyperventilation. I don't know what my reaction would be. I try not to think about it because it does me no good to dwell on something that doesn't affect my life anymore.

I can look back on the situation, one year removed, and be reflective, rather than afraid.
I can enjoy time with my boyfriend and not have to worry that some word or phrase will trigger panic.
I can talk about this incident with people other than those I hold most dear.

I am stronger.

That is remarkable progress for a year.

Of Scars and Stories

Seven months, two weeks, and three days.

I think I'm making good progress.

I'm back in school. I'm being more active. I'm meeting new people. I'm learning new languages. I'm planning to go overseas.

And yet...

The movie theatre. How poetic. So very perfect a place for my wounds to reopen.

I wrote a story with a friend once. A novel about a group of friends going through life. One of the main characters worked at a movie theatre. He was kidnapped from that movie theatre and raped.

I've been thinking a lot about what happened to me in January lately. My Human Sexuality class discussed sexual assault this week. I shared my experience with them. The teacher told me I was brave.

I thought I was brave. I felt like I'm heaps better than I was in January.

I went to the movies with my boyfriend and his family last night. We enjoyed each others' company and talked outside the theatre for a long while.

Anthony was at that theatre. I saw him walk out with two other people. I heard his voice. I felt my entire body revolt.

He didn't approach us. He didn't acknowledge us. He just walked by.

And my heart raced. My body put up all its defenses.

I kept my composure until I parted ways with the group. As I walked to my car, I feared Anthony would meet me there. That he would want to talk. Or worst.

He didn't.

I sobbed the entire way home.

I sobbed when Peter got home. I told him my fears and I sobbed. And I felt sick. And my heart raced for three more hours.

Seven months, two weeks, and three days.

I thought I'd made more progress than this...

Of Rants and Residual Hurt

I was supposed to have a romantic evening with my lovely tonight.

He had something planned that was akin to one of our first dates almost five years ago.

Alas, this didn't happened.

We opted for a night in, playing MMOs and eating leftover pizza.

I've lost count now how many times I've tried to connect with him on either a romantic or intimate level recently. Every time I clamor almost desperately for his affection, I'm either met with the weary sighs of "I'm exhausted" and "I have to work in the morning" or the vaguely annoyed grunts of "I'm busy" and "Not right now".

I feel alone.

I feel more alone than I have been in years.

And it's not that I am actually alone. I'm surrounded every day by people who love and care about me. I go to my job that is filled with wonderful folks who brighten my day. I come home to spend time with friends and loved ones who make me smile and laugh. I have many meaningful people filling up my life. I have multitudes of opportunities to immerse myself in society.

But, I feel helplessly, horrendously alone.

I had an argument with my lovely tonight. I contested that he never apologizes when he's feeling vindictive and snarky towards me. In fact, I argued, I was the one who most often apologized for his grumpy demeanor. Most of his apologies sound forced and sarcastic because at the time he says them, he feels he's in the right, even when he's not. It leads to a very bitter ending to an evening most of the time.

It should be known that I will tend to get moody and snap at people from time to time. And I have a very lengthy cooldown time.

Compared to Peter, my cooldown time seems like seconds.

Back to the topic at hand:

I expressed to him that I felt frustrated because we were supposed to have "Us" time and that didn't happen. It didn't happen because he assumed that I didn't want to do anything when I returned home from work because I immediately went and sat on the couch.

I've been working at my job for almost five years.

I've been living with Peter for nearly two years.

It is my natural order by this point to come in after work, plop down on the couch, and chill out for a little bit to enjoy the feeling of being home after a long day.

Never in this time has it been established that I will not do something after said chill out time.

In my frustration, during this conversation, I stated that the fact that we didn't do anything really put me in an off mood, mostly because we hadn't done anything romantic, coupley, or intimate in months. As I continued on about how I was striving to tear down the giant wall that blocked the two of us from being close to one another, I inadvertently dug up quite possibly the main reason I've been feeling so vastly alone in these past few months.

The last person that was intimate with me did not have my permission.

I spoke about this in my last update. But, the fact still stands.

It has been five months since Anthony took advantage of me.

Since then, the most intimacy I've gotten from my love is the occasional comment on my appearance and the random grope when I'm near.

And every time these things happen, I feel more and more isolated.

I feel like nothing more than a piece of meat. Something to be fondled, both visually and physically, whenever the mood strikes, but not something to be cared for and loved.

In fact, a majority of the time the only love I am shown is a strange sort of "familial" love that one would show a child or parent or even a close friend.

I feel broken. Damaged. Like some unwanted goods because I've been sullied by another. As if I were a refreshing lemonade that someone spit in, rendering me undrinkable because I am not fresh anymore.

I feel alone.

And upon this realization, I began to cry. I did not know where any of these thoughts were coming from. I did not know that my simple irritation at a lack of apology would lead to an earth-shattering surfacing of emotions of which I did not know I was in possession.

The response?

A delayed hug and a tender "I'm sorry".

Both of which were cut short because my elbow just happened to be uncomfortably digging into his leg as we sat upon the bed. And rather than readjust so that the comforting could continue, both just ended as quickly as they had come. Although, my tears did not.

I tried to quell them as quickly as I could because I did not want to lose all my control this evening, but even now I find them welling up in my eyes, threatening to betray my outward calm.

Him: "So...are you going to come back to bed then?" 

Me: "Yeah...I just need to blow my nose..."

Him: "Okay."

And without further word, he laid back down in the bed and promptly closed his eyes.

After I climbed in bed, I half-expected him to cuddle up against me and hold me close as he had done in times past.

No. He just lay silently on his bed, drifting into a seemingly easy sleep as I tried to quietly soothe myself next to him.

And when I sat up in bed to contemplate my thoughts, the only response I got was a "What's wrong?"

I told him I was just thinking about what I was feeling. He merely said "okay" and went back to sleep.

I felt my loneliness and emptiness grow immensely at that moment.

The words were resonating in my head. They still are.

The last person who was intimate with me didn't have my permission.

And in that moment, when my heart felt exposed and vulnerable...

Where I was reaching out for someone to take my hand and help me out of the water I'd been treading for so long...

I reached for the wrong person...

Of Evils and Betrayal

This is hard for me...
I don't know how to accurately express my feelings...

So, let me start from the beginning:

Tuesday, January 7th, 2014:
I was hanging out with some friends. Good friends that I have known for several years. And we all decided to go out to a bar for karaoke like typical twenty-somethings.

Over the course of the evening, I had 3 smirnoff ices, 3 applesauce shots, and about two fingers worth of sour apple pucker. Needless to say, I was drunk and did not drive home that evening. I stayed the night at the house of two friends I trusted. One of them was our designated driver and did not have anything to drink that evening.

I'll call him Anthony. His girlfriend I will call Reyna.

We left the bar around last call, went back to the house and played video games. I passed out at about four in the morning, a mixture of alcohol and fatigue effectively knocking me out.

About an hour later (this time frame is a guesstimation based on how drunk I still felt), after Reyna and I had passed out on the bed and our other friend, Ryan, in the other bed next to us, Anthony went to bed.

Rather than climbing into the other bed with Ryan, Anthony climbed into bed between Reyna and I. This woke me up slightly. I remember being in a state that my mind was awake and had thus awoken all my senses, but my body was still heavy and sluggish.

It was shortly after that that Anthony began touching me.

I remember thinking that there was no way this was really happening. And I was scared. I didn't know what to do, didn't know how he would react if I reacted, so I stayed perfectly still. I remained quiet and still because I didn't know what else to do. Couldn't think of anything else to do.

He continued to take advantage of me for several minutes. And every so often, he would stop and lift my hand to check to see if I was awake. And I let it drop every time because I didn't know what else to do.

I kept thinking that if maybe I stayed still and passive, he'd get bored and leave me alone. That he would just turn away and go to sleep.

He did turn away after a while. He turned and decided to mess around with Reyna instead. I don't know how long that was after he started messing with me. I didn't have any concept of time. Just the sound of my heart pounding in my ears and the desire to run away as quickly as I could.

I remember him shaking me at one point, calling my name softly, trying to wake me up.

And I remember him turning my head towards him slightly as he kissed the edge of my mouth.

The next day, I remember him waking me up, telling me that his dad was coming over so I could hang out with them or head home. I told him I'd go home. And I remember him asking me very pointedly how I slept. I just mumbled okay as I gathered my things.

The entire drive home to my house, I kept thinking, "I've trusted these two so many times. I've gotten blackout drunk at their house before. I've passed out and slept through the night in a dreamless, drunken stupor. Has this happened before and I don't remember? How many times had I been taken advantage of? Is this why Anthony always tries to get me to drink excessively?"

I thought a lot about it throughout the following day. I didn't really know how to tell anyone. Mostly because I half feared that everyone would blame me for not stopping it. For not being stronger. And I thought about just acting as if everything was fine and that nothing had happened. So I wouldn't complicate anything, or see anyone hurt or angry.

All of these things played through my mind over and over and over. And it wasn't until my boyfriend got home that night and I shied away from him, when I slipped into the shower to clean myself and hide, that I finally broke. I started sobbing. He heard me and asked me what was wrong. He asked me if I wanted to talk about it.

...it took me at least thirty minutes to actually say aloud that Anthony had molested me.

I haven't had contact with them since. Although, they have tried to contact my boyfriend since then. Specifically Anthony. Desperately trying to salvage his friendship since he'd been caught.

Anthony tried to tell Peter, my boyfriend, that it wasn't intentional. That he had been asleep. That the act of him sexually assaulting a woman had happened before while he was sleeping. Reyna went so far as to say that Anthony had sex with her once while he was asleep.
I was appalled that someone could expect another person to believe that.
I was sick to my stomach about it. I am still.

What's worse is that others took his side. People I knew and trusted decided that, after a couple months (or mere weeks in some cases), it was okay to associate with him again as long as they didn't add me to the mix.
There were some people I thought were being sincere when they looked me straight in the eyes and said "Yes, that's wrong and unacceptable. I won't be dealing with those two anymore."

Those people lied to my face and went behind my back to spend time with Anthony. (Reyna, from what I've been told, is no longer in the picture.)

Why is that acceptable? Why is it alright to absolve someone of something like that? What if it had been the other way? What if the friends who now still associate with him had been in my situation and I lackadaisically pal'd around with their abuser still? Would they be hurt? Would they feel betrayed?

The thing that I find most irritating about this whole situation is the response I'm getting from people.

"You can't pick people's friends, Maddie."

"Now you know that they aren't a friend you can tell your secrets to because they don't see you that way."

Why in the fuck does some shitbag who sexually assaulted me get to keep his friends and get to go on to a job in law enforcement?!
WHY IN THE FUCK IS THAT OKAY WITH PEOPLE?!

Why does it feel like I lost more in this struggle than he did?

...how did he come out on top?

How is that fair?

...the fact that I felt like everyone would blame me for this situation, that I was more afraid of people abandoning me and turning their anger on me because I was afraid and didn't know what to do to stop it, is idiotic and wrong.

That the only people to stand steadfastly by my side were family...is wrong.

Anthony is an abuser. He was verbally abusive to Reyna when they were together. He was sexually abusive to me.
He tried to play the loyal, honest man. The righteous do-gooder. The cop.

He is a wolf in sheep's clothing. And people know it. They just choose the lie. Because it's easier.

I'm sick of people taking the easy way out.

Of a Girl and a Boy

You looked her straight in the eye, knowing exactly what she wants and what she dreams. You looked at her during their very first dance as a married couple and said "I'm not going to have any country music at my wedding."
She looked flustered, staring at you wide-eyed. Her mind was racing back to the short conversation the two of you had earlier that day.

"Would you wear that ring if I got it for you?" She said absentmindedly, admiring the shiny black ring displayed in the jeweler's window as you walk passed.

"What? Like as an engagement ring?" Your voice sounded confused.

"Sure. Why not? Like as an engagement ring." She laughed a little bit.

"I would feel awkward. I would be like 'is this really happening?'"

"And I would say 'Yeah! It is! Get used to it!'" She laughed again.

"Okay..." She sounds unsure of herself, "Why are you telling me this?"

"I dunno."

She is stuck for the rest of the evening in her mind. Everything in her being fighting with her heart. She knows what you expect from this...this thing you have. It's just filling the blank. Warming the bed until "the real thing" comes along.
You don't expect to be with her forever.

Yet, as she remembers you telling her that over and over, she's thinking back to your conversation and your awkwardness and the unspoken and unanswered question that still lingers in the air.

It doesn't help her that everyone else there is saying the stereotypical question, "So, when's your turn?"

The next day she consults a friend. She asks if she should just go for it. Maybe it's time. Maybe you really do care more than you're letting on. Maybe you do think she is the one. And maybe you aren't looking around the corner for "the real thing" anymore because you realized that it's right here, sitting next to you, lying in your bed at night, making you smile, making you laugh...loving you...

She tests the water. It's cold. She shakes it off.

Later that day, she tests the water again, jokingly this time. Proposal with a lollipop ring. What would you say? What would you say to her?

"The same thing I would say if you proposed to me with a real ring."

Her body is humming, singing, tingling with nervous anticipation. She holds on to every hope, every strand of sanity she has left, wishing desperately to hear something that will free her from this hell she's been quietly residing in for the past three years. Something that will tell her that she's not alone in feeling this...this ache.

You looked her straight in the eye, knowing exactly what she wants and what she dreams. You looked at her as she held out her battered heart, waiting for you to take it into your hands and cradle it softly, heal all the wounds, make all her efforts and trials and tribulations and maddening self-motivations worth something more than keeping her sane for just one more day.

You looked at her...and you said no.

Of Working and Wine

So, here's the spiel on me:

This is my first night with wifi in my very first apartment! With my lovely, lovely boyfriend, Peter.
We've been here for about five days now. It's pretty doggone exciting actually. Although, I'm super paranoid about money now. XD

It's neat knowing that I can sit here, watching him play Bioshock while I have a glass of wine and write on my sporadically updated blog, knowing that no one is gonna come into the room and demand that we do anything or that we relinquish the television so that someone can catch up on Jeopardy or Hell's Kitchen or whatever. This place is entirely ours. And we can do whatever we want.

Being independent is both liberating and terrifying.

But, I'm extremely glad to be going through this adventure with Peter. Despite the fact that he and I squabble from time to time over silly things, I couldn't possibly ask for a better roommate/boyfriend.
He is the bestest.

Anyhow, I don't really have anymore to write at the moment. But, I think I'm going to expel my thoughts here more often now that I have a solid internet connection and a place all to my own. Well, OUR own. :)

Toodles,
Queen Madz/Iceman

PS,
I'm a manager at my workplace. :3 Customer Experience Manager - Events <3

Of Work and Woes

I finally have wifi in my house! Bwa ha ha! Goodbye, real world! I'm probably going to revert to my high school days where I practically lived through my Internet connections!

That is, if my connection stays stable. It appears to be very shoddy, but our Internet always has been in this house.
From the day we set up our first wifi connection, we've had issues with our modem going in and out.

Luckily, I have work to distract me from the sinister goings-on of the world wide web.
Ever since we got our new managers, I've been working pretty steady hours. And now that the Christmas season is in full swing, I'll be getting more and more hours! YES! I love being loved at my work. Also, every single one of my coworkers are absolutely amazing. I feel like they make my job that much more enjoyable. :) It's absolutely wonderful.

I don't even mind coming home covered in glitter! Although, glitter itches like a BITCH! Seriously. No, joke.

Although, I have other parts of my life that aren't nearly as rosy.
I'm trying so very hard to get my driver's license. I've had to jump through eight million hoops.
I'm starting to think I might be an alien. Like...from outer space. Because I need every possible form of identification to prove that I'm actually a US citizen. Including, but not limited to, my birth certificate, my social security card, and my high school yearbook.

...next they'll be asking for my blood for DNA testing or some crap like that.
Thank you, DOL. Thank you for making my tiny scramble for freedom nearly impossible. *sigh*

Not only that, but with my slightly over minimum wage job, it's making it nearly impossible for me to move out of my rents' house.

Luckily, thanks to my lovely friends, Mr. Edgley and Mr. Breimon, I have future roommates. :D
I now just have to save up enough money to actually move in with them.

...and I need to find a second job.
AUGH! Woe is me!

Actually, it's not that bad. Just another real life struggle in the life of a fairly normal Maddie. It's helping me build character. :D

BOOYAKA!

Toodles,
Queen Madz