Although this might come off sad, I find it absolutely liberating that when a love song comes on, or whenever I watch a romantic film, I think of nobody. It hits no strings in me whatsoever. It used to be that I could get caught up in that certain moment and really long for a past lover, and if it wasn’t that, then i’d be longing for a future lover. Sitting in my room like a bleeding heart. That was me up until this year.
I really don’t know what changed, but i’m really not complaining. I understand love/being in love is one of the greatest things to experience while being alive, I truly do get that. I’m not knocking people who strive for that every single day. Its just that me, as a person, its not something i’m striving for. If it happens, then it happens. I’m just not relating to it through a romantic comedy and a song. If i don’t find the love of my life, oh well. Simply because at this moment i’m trying to change all my ambitions into reality. I am fulfilled. And I am happy. Without crushing, liking, lusting or loving somebody. I am happy. Just me. My life. What i’m doing right now. In a way, I actually feel.. kind of fucking free.
Don’t throw yourself like that In front of me I kissed your mouth your back Is that all you need Don’t drag my love around Volcanoes melt me down And what I am to you Is not real And what I am to you You do not need And what I am to you Is not what you mean to me You give me miles and miles of mountains And I ask…
"Why aren't you out?! Its (insert fri/sat)! You should be out having fun!"
Bitch, because I want to stay the fuck in. I want to sit in the clothes I’ve been wearing for the past couple days, eat some fucking ice cream, catch up on my motherfucking tv shows, and read a goddamn book. Just because its a weekend night doesn’t mean i’m fucking obligated to be outside. WHY AREN’T YOU OUT THIS SATURDAY NIGHT HAVING A GODDAMN RAINBOW OF A TIME INSTEAD OF CALLING ME ASKING WHY I’M NOT OUT!? Shit, let me eat my damn mint brownie ice cream in peace.
I was at the airport for over 5 hours waiting for everybody to fly in so I wouldn’t have to shuttle them in back and fourth. Every character is inside my house right now, from the estranged uncle that nobody seems to like nor talk directly talk to. The drunk aunt who is still looking for her big break. The cousins you have nothing, I mean absolutely nothing in common with. And the spouses who married into the family that you always feel sorry for and apologize to. With special appearances from family friends who constantly badger you with, “when you getting married?” “aren’t you at the age to have kids?” “so how about that obama?” Along with every other invasive question they could possible concoct in their minds.
But don’t get me wrong, in the batch of crazies, there is a misfit amongst the wolves. That one relative you look forward to catching up with and you both promise each other to keep in touch and never seem to do. Not to mention my darling brothers who even though we are on complete opposite sides of the spectrum personality wise, tend to push aside our petty battles and join forces to mock everyone else while stuffing our faces with turkey and mash potatoes.
The living room and kitchen was filled with family gossip and dirty laundry being aired out. Brothers and sisters fighting, cousins and aunts disagreeing. Of course how I live, look, and job occupation is always being ridiculed. To be fair though, once you enter the house for Thanksgiving holiday there really is no rules or regulations to who gets criticized. You really enter at your own risk. It usually always leads to somebody getting angry and them bowling a frozen turkey down the driveway while screaming “HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW MOTHERFUCKERS!?” by the end of the first night. True story.
This is my family though. I enjoy the chaos. The fact that I have to share a room with three other people and be forced to bond. Waking up and having breakfast with that estranged uncle and trying to avoid all conversations while indulging in your favorite cereal. My father stopped coming to these festivities years ago, he doesn’t appreciate crazy like I do. I love these fucking family get together’s. After all, I don’t call my family The Griswolds for nothing.