Chapter 50: Orange peels

You toss an orange to me, and I fumble to catch it. I look up at you, orange in hands, flustered.
You wink and say you can't open it. I nod, and get to work.
I peel it in a spiral shape, the peel in one piece, and when it's off, I wrap the orange back up and hand it to you. You nod at me and tell me to take one.
I didn't hear, so I take a piece. And another. And a few more. I leave one piece and hand it back to you. You open the wrap-around peel and chuckle a little. Pig, you laugh jokingly. I blush. You take the last piece and feed it to me. Then you pull my face to yours with one hand below my chin, and you kiss me. You smile, lips still against mine. Oranges, you whisper.
You kiss my lips again, inhale, then kiss my jaw. I can't help but inhale sharply and you grin again, into my skin. You know how much I am anticipating this - how much I am anticipating you.
You move your lips along my jaw, then to my ears. You lick the edge of my ear, and nibble a little on my ear lobe. My body is melting, pushing into yours, and the hand that's not on my chin makes its way to the small of my back and pulls me into you.  I can feel your chest against mine, and the heat emanating from your body only makes me want more.
(not gonna cont.)

Chapter 49: Not my type

You're not my type
Too quiet, too calm, too mature

Quiet smile that makes me want to see
you smile all the time
and makes me want to do stupid things
and say the right thing
just to see that smile
so I can smile too.

Calm words that make me secure
and when you're excited,
just a few degrees happier
but those degrees make all the difference because
they're precious and rare.
And thrilling

Mature presence that makes me bashful
of my childlike ways and childish thoughts
and curse myself when I do stupid things.
But I know you don't judge or care
because you're like that
And you accept the good with the bad

You're not my type,
all quiet smiles and calm words and mature presence
And you're not my type
making me do stupid things
and making me feel secure
and making me bashful

or maybe you're not my type
because you make me feel different than they made me feel
because maybe you're not my type
but maybe you're just what I need.

Chapter 48: Another fantasy thing

We were laying on the grass looking up at the stars, your arms a pillow for your head, and your stomach a pillow for mine. I tried to slow my breathing lest it betray how aware I was of your taught belly and your steady breaths. You pointed up and whispered, do you know which one that is? I shook my head, and you felt it and laughed softly. Me neither. I laughed too, then. Then I turned my body so that my cheek was on your stomach and I was looking at your chin, lightly sprinkled with the shadow you'd harvested on our little camping trip. Our parents were asleep, of course, it being nearly 4am, and so were our siblings. This late night, or early morning, rendezvous was ours, and only ours. I propped my body up sideways on my elbow, and gazed into your face, blocking your view of the stars. Your face was nearly obscured by the darkness, and I could faintly make out the shape of your face and the glint of your eyes. I stayed like that for a good five minutes or more, listening to your breathing and mine try to find a steady tempo. Hey, I whispered after another moment. What? You didn't move from your place. You didn't even stir. Are you still awake? I knew the answer, but I didn't know what else to say. I could feel his hot breath on my face, and it made me lose my speech. He didn't answer. I waited another five minutes, then leaned in closer to his face. Hey, I whispered. There was no response save for his steady breathing tickling my cheeks. Suddenly, I felt soft lips on my nose. I bit back a squeal of surprise. He chuckled, and I moved in again, spurred on by his boldness. I put my hand on his face to better navigate myself in the dark. From my hand on his cheek, I was able to tell where his eyes were, his nose, and his mouth. I kissed his nose lightly as a checkpoint, and my hand still on his cheek could feel the crinkle of the corners of his mouth as he smiled. Then, slowly, I pressed my lips to his. He kissed back, chastely first, then more hungrily. This was his first kiss. I pulled back, teasingly. He growled under his breath, and turned his body so that my back was on the grass, and he was positioned slightly above me. I was both taken back and turned on by his ability to take initiative, given his newness at this kind of thing, but I went with the flow. He kissed my lips again, taking his time savoring the feeling, then kissed them three more times before moving down to my jaw.



OK NO MORE GAWD IM GETTING FLUSTERED OH MY GOD
if you want more, please comment or something.

Chapter 47: Some Fantasizing

We were the only ones standing there on the sand, and you were looking out at the ocean and I was looking at you. I wanted to hold your hand, or touch you in some way, or just be close enough to feel the warmth of your body. I turned my gaze to the fire, and didn't see as you turned yours to me.
And suddenly your arms were around me, as if you had known what I was thinking and had reacted as if to orders. My arms were around your neck, and my chin was buried in your shoulders, and before I knew it, I was crying. You knew what this meant to me, and held me tighter. My fingers grasped at your broad back, and you stood, strong, ready to hold my sobs and shudders as the cried fled from my lips.
I felt your hands, honest and firm, wrapped around my upper back, and I wonder now if you were thinking about how fragile I felt, how weak and small. Your hands emanated warmth. Your body was an anchor, holding me in place, but also a rope that someone had thrown me, that I clung to desperately. I hadn't known before, but I knew then. I loved you. I loved you.

Chapter 46: The New One

She always watched him from afar and wondered why she hadn't noticed him before. He had always been there, in the background, helping, caring. But now that she had become more aware of his presence, she couldn't help but think about his numerous good qualities. First of all, he was incredibly nice. Not even just nice, but genuinely kind, never missing a chance to ask what he could do to help or express concern for others. He was quiet, too, but since he was quietly good looking, he was also mysterious. And once he got to know you, which you want, very, very much, he was also very funny. She thought about how she couldn't help but grin widely every time he pulled a funny face on her or made a snarky remark to her under his breath so that nobody else could hear but her. He was also talented and smart, ranking higher than her on both the SAT and in GPA, and having been her teacher in several instruments as she had been starting out on them. She wondered why she hadn't before been aware of how her heart reacted to a simple smile on his face directed at her, or how she hadn't noticed his soothing voice or calming presence. He was like an older brother to her, and before, she hadn't known that that was her type, or at least that he made that her type.
She remembered the sinking feeling in her chest when someone had once mentioned that he had several attractive female childhood friends, and the smile she had to fake when they also mentioned an older friend of hers that she felt was like a sister to her, and how that friend had a crush on him for a while now.
She sat in an oversized sweater and running shorts, legs pulled up to her chest, on a chair in front of the desk in her room. She had been reading shoujo manga for three hours, reading through countless happy endings despite seemingly hopeless situations, and her heart had been questioning itself. She knew that her unrequited love was hopeless. He was obviously too good for her. But she found some strange solace in a small thought: at least I can like him.

Chapter 45: Man, it sucks to move on

I was looking back at the essay you wrote about me that you sent to me in the freshman year. It sucks that I bet you don't feel the same about me. Everything sucks. You just ignore me now and you make me feel like shit. I hate that. But I can't even hate you because I keep thinking that you're just like this. You're tired. You just get tired of people. You'll come around. You'll stop being so mean and bitchy. Whatever.
The thing is, you used to be some of the reason I would cut. And then you were the reason I stopped.
Now there's no reason not to.
I tried to go back and find the conversations we had long time ago. When we actually had good feelings toward each other. I couldn't. They had long gone with my old computer. It made me a little sad to realize this because I knew you had the conversations still, and I couldn't ask you for them.
All I have are the poems you wrote me, and the first fight we had. I don't have anything since then.
I hope you're reading these. Just kidding. I hope you're not. Then you'd know how messed up I probably am.
I hope you know that I don't love you anymore. I'm trying as hard as I can to move on. I'm 95% loaded already. I'm trying hard to be done, and you make it easy and hard at the same time, thanks.

I hate how you can be so insensitive. I know you're just fishing for a reaction. I don't want to respond though. I always feel to stupid around you. I hate myself when I'm with you.

Chapter 44: Music and Books

Books I want to read because John Green said they were good:

The art of fielding chad harbach

Ballad of the whiskey trooper

Behind the beautiful forevers

Sula toni Morrison

The blood of the lamb

Telegraph avenue

Bossypants

The magicians lev grossman

Wolf hall

Emperor of all maladies

The disreputable history of frankie landau banks

Everybody sees the ants

If I stay gale foreman

To say nothing of the dog

Pd james

Dorothy parker

Songs that I like that I found out about recently:

Angels- the xx

A Case of You- James Blake

Girl with One Eye- Florence and the Machine

Crave you Feat. Giselle- Flight Facilities

Something About Us- Daft Punk

Stars- the xx

Heart Skipped a Beat- the xx
Waltz for one- real tuesday weld
Sparks- Coldplay
love me- yiruma

Chapter 43: Please be chill about this. It seems like a lot more than it is. It's just.. ugh.

If you ever read this, this is how I feel about you. 
I love you. I know you don't feel the same for me. You just don't. And even if you say you like me, there are going to be times for you where you won't like me because you don't feel like feeling it even though there will also be times where you do.  
And I also know that when I like you, I will always have more emotion and more of myself invested in you than you will have anything invested in me. I know this because you said so. You said that even if you didn't have me or if I left you, you wouldn't mind so much. You wouldn't care. You don't mean this in a bad way. You never do. It kills me though. It hurts so much. You leave me in a bad way. And it makes me want to leave a scar that shows me that I am hurting. But it would hurt you to find out that you're some of the reason for my scars. So never mind. So anyways. This is why I ended it between us. Even though I still like you. Even though I might possibly still love you. But what do you want from me? What do you want me to be? It hurts, it hurts. 
Sometimes I lie awake and think about what might have been. What would it have been like if I didn't end it between us those two times and what would it be like if you loved me and what would it be like if you were capable of loving me. What would it be like if I didn't love you but I know that this is not possible. Because of how amazing you are. And it hurts. And then I get up in the dark and walk to my desk and pull out a small knife and make the cuts on my skin and put a bandage on the cut and go back to bed. And I close my eyes and shut them tight and feel the small cut throb with my chest and my head and try to push all feeling out of my mind and wait for the excruciatingly slow dark of sleep to overcome me. 

Chapter 42: What I would do to you

I search for you as I quicken my pace down the hall
People streaming in all directions around me
I search for your face, for your hair, your build
I find you
And grab your arm
And spin you in
With my arms around your neck,
Your arms around my waist
and I kiss you

I shuffle, shivering in the winter morning air
My tea is spilling from its thermos and
My textbook is slipping from my heavily sleeved arms
I see you
And run to you
My things falling
And bump you with my body
And you laugh
And help me pick up my things
a morning kiss to wake me up

After school, the sun is high in the sky and I sigh
My back is heavy and so are my arms and my eyes
But I walk with light feet to the open gate
And meet you
And squeeze you
In my arms
And hold you
Because you are mine
And I'll tell you I want you
And you'll say
me too

Chapter 41: I just want to hold you close

Every time she saw him, she thought he was just like her. He was strong. His eyes held a flinty hardness about them that made her apprehensive about showing any signs of affection toward him. But there was something behind that. After a joke, his eyes dropped, emotion lost, and so did his face. When he thought she wasn't looking, he'd look at her longingly, but cautiously, as if he wanted her to touch him, to hold him, but wasn't going to ask her because that would betray the wall he had built around himself. And she wanted him, too. She saw that his eyes were lonely, that his body seemed to lean inward with insecurity and aloneness. His smiles were real half the time, and half the time his cruel, sharp retorts jabbed at anyone who tried to become to familiar with him, anyone who might pity him. She wanted to hold him close. She wanted him to not be so alone. She wanted to hold his body tightly, press his warm body close against her own and show him that she loved him. She wanted her feelings to touch his loneliness and reach his tiredness and help him be happy

Chapter 40: Ignoring me isn't helping anyone

     "I'm in a relationship." I blurted it out, suddenly, apologetically.

He blinked. "Okay..."

     "I mean, I'm going out with this guy I've liked for three years." I laughed.
"Isn't that just sad?"

     "It's not sad if you're finally with someone you've been in love with for so long. Good for you."
He smiled a bit, but I didn't see it reach his eyes.

     I shook my head. "I didn't say I loved him. I said I liked him. That sounds bad. Sorry." I didn't know what to say. I was being such a bitch. I knew he loved me. I knew he'd loved me for four years now. What was I doing, I was being such a bitch.

     "Oh." He turned away from me a bit, turning his attention back to his book. The back of my neck was buzzing now. I wanted to confront him. I wanted to be a bitch. I wanted him to tell me he loved me.

     "Is that it? Are you mad at me now?"

     "Why would I be mad? Isn't that a little juvenile? I'm happy for you." His voice was light, controlled.

     "Then why aren't you saying anything?" My eyebrows furrowed. He still refused to look up. He still refused to look at me.

     "What do you want me to say? Tell me. What do you expect me to say?" He looked up at me now. The suddenness of his eyes on mine made me look away, my head jolted.

     "I...I don't know. Forget I said anything." I looked away, ashamed. Maybe he was mad at me now. Maybe he didn't care. I shouldn't care anyway. I was in a relationship. I was taken.

I probably cut myself for a different reason than you do

I cut myself when there's too much happening in my life that I can't handle. But that's not what different.
I don't cut myself because I want attention. I make the cuts so small that I can easily blame the injury on some type of accident. A small cut on my hand, on my arm, on my shin. But mostly my hands.
I don't cut myself to make a visual and physical representation for the emotional and mental pain I feel that I don't know how to deal with. I used to, until I felt that cold blade on my skin.
I cut myself cause the sharp pain shocks me back into reality. The blood and pain tells me that there's always worse than what I'm feeling right now. The almost invisible, tiny scars remind me to keep on going. They tell me I'm strong enough to handle what's going on. That's why I cut. It's not suicidal or because of depression or because I want attention. And I'm not saying its a good thing that I'm harming myself. Because it could easily be prevented if I had friends who cared or if I actually cared enough to talk about what going on or if I weren't addicted just a little to the short pain and thrill of it all. I'm just saying, I cut for a different reason. That doesn't detract from the fact that I cut and I need help.

Chapter 39: I'm not crazy

Sorry if you read this blog.
It's really
Just me
Ranting about the people in my life
That I can't just tell things to
With my words.
And If you ever think I'm crazy
Cause you read through all my posts
At once
Like I just did,
Just remember
That I've had this blog for two years now
And a lot has happened
With a lot of different people.
I'm not crazy.