Sticks and stones may break my bones

But you can never hurt me

I could survive the Black Death

The Spanish Flu

Your pitiful biological warfare is useless

I can go where I want

Do what I want

With anyone I want

Something you can only dream about

I’ll never get to take sick days

But that’s a small price

When it means I can walk through a hospital

Disease and death on every side

And come out unharmed

Not so much as a sniffle

While the rest of you are in bed with the flu

And I can roam the streets

Without worrying about catching something

While your defenses are weak

Mine have never been stronger

I’ll outlive you all

Whether that’s my fault or yours is up to you

So wash your hands this winter

I don’t need to worry, but you probably should

Dear god, not another Tumblr post

Star Wars. Pajamas. Nuggets. Cuddles. Happiness.

Kiss me today, forget me tomorrow

He left yesterday. Today she leaves.

Great. There he is again. Why do I keep seeing him? We broke up a month and a half ago, and he's still finding ways to mess with my life. I guess most of it's in my head, but that's partially his fault as well. After fourteen months of one person "suggesting" everything you do and pitching a fit when you don't do what they want, it's hard to break the habit. Even now, every time I go somewhere I see something he would like and am tempted to get it for him, even though he wouldn't care and never has. I don't know how I never saw it. He used me to get where he wanted to be, and now my usefulness has expired, so I'm gone. I'm in a much better place now, and want him to see that. I want him to know I don't need him anymore, not like I used to. He made life better, or so I thought. All he really did was convince me that I couldn't actually do any better and that I shouldn't try.

All I want to do when I see him is flip him off and tell him how much he hurt me, and how angry I am that things didn't work out the way they were supposed to, the way I had planned and thought he had, too. I want to show him the lasting damage he caused, how I'm afraid to love anybody because I'm scared they don't really mean it when they say I have a nice butt or that they enjoy my company. I want him to realize how much of a rollercoaster talking to anybody is now, because I'm terrified that they're just humoring me, and are so ready to leave at the earliest possible convenience. I want him to know how desperate I feel, reaching out for human contact and actual affection, starving for the attention he was so reluctant to give me, when he could see that it was all I ever wanted. I want to tell him about how scared I am to talk for more than five seconds about something because I can feel, or at least think I feel, the other person getting bored and upset that I'm talking so much. I want him to feel the pain I felt when he said we needed to break up; it was so unexpected, because I had gotten used to the way things were, not realizing or caring that he wasn't treating me well or actually caring about my feelings, my thoughts, my ambitions.

He thought I was in college to find a husband, because apparently I'm not smart enough to have a mind of my own and actually want to do things with my life. Yeah, I want to have kids someday, but that doesn't mean I have no ambition, or no desire to do anything other than that. I want to make a difference in the world, no matter how small that difference is. But all I was to him was a distraction, something that was taking up his time and energy. I didn't ask for fancy stuff, or make him take me on dates. All I wanted was to be loved by somebody, and be able to love them back. That's still all I want. I'm difficult to love, but it's like he didn't even try. My anxiety is something he'll never understand, and wasn't something he was willing to work with. I had too many problems for him to love me. I needed too much attention, too much contact. I was too much. Those were his exact words that day when he broke up with me.

Yes, I'm bitter. I'm bitter that it didn't work out, and that I put all the work into the relationship. I'm bitter that he got to get out of this without any sort of pain, only a little momentary annoyance when I cried for three hours the day we broke up. Then I was gone and he was free to live his life, unhindered by my need for attention and love. Yes, I'm bitter. But most of all I'm scared. I'm scared that maybe he was right, maybe I'm not worth loving. I'm scared that I have too many problems, and if anybody gets as close as he was, they'll see them and run the other way. But by that time, it'll be too late. I will have already invested in that person, and will be crushed by their loss. It will start out as a slow pulling away, trying to retreat gracefully, then they'll just run.

I open my eyes, and there’s nothing to see but blinding white. After a second, the brightness resolves itself into spots of color, then blurry shapes, then a landscape. I struggle to reconcile my memories of last night with what I’m seeing now, but wisps of unconsciousness pull at the edges of my mind, increasing with every moment and pulling me back down into the soft green on which I’ve so unexpectedly found myself. I let myself go back to last night, hoping that in my dreamlike state I’ll be able to remember how I got here, and why Katie didn’t.

“Okay, you can look now. How about this one?”

Katie clutches her chest and pretends to faint. “Well I declare, he’s going to just swoon when he sees you.” Her attempted southern accent leaves a little to be desired, but what she lacks in talent, she definitely makes up for in enthusiasm.

We’re going to go see a movie with our friends, so I thought my usual jeans and button-down would be sufficient. Not for Katie. She insisted I wear a dress to impress Will, even though he has no idea I’m even the slightest bit interested. Well, he might have somewhat of a clue, considering my complete lack of subtlety, but if he knows, he’s never shown it. Now that Katie’s part of our group, though, that may change, especially if I follow her advice on what to wear. To put it lightly, her taste in clothes is totally opposite from mine. I tend to dress more conservatively, with generally neutral colors. Katie, on the other hand, loves bright colors and short dresses. Needless to say, I feel a little strange in this bright blue dress and 6-inch heels. I guess it’s worth a shot, though. He might not like me, but he’ll definitely notice me.

“I guess this is fine, but are you sure it’s not too tight? Or maybe just a little short? If I drop something, it’s just going to have to stay there forever, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to bend over in this thing.”

“It’s perfect, and so are you. Now let’s get going, because you’re taking way too much time getting over your prudish self and way too little time thinking about how hot you look. You’ve been having another one of those internal monologues, haven’t you? You stood there looking at yourself too long to still dislike what you’re wearing, if that’s all you were doing.”

“I just feel weird about wearing something like this, especially just to go see a movie. It looks great on you, but I just feel like every pole I pass tonight is going to be calling my name, asking for a dance.”

“Chicken.” His stare is fixed above my head and out the open window.

“Stop trying to mess with me, I know there isn’t a chicken out there. And you’re just looking at trees.”

He insisted. “No, for real. Chicken.”

“I don’t believe you. Now will you please just eat, already? We have to be at Nathan’s party in twenty minutes. If we get there too late, there won’t be any cake left.” He does this every time we have a party like this, though usually it isn’t this bad. It’s like some kind of ritual or something at this point. “Also, if you don’t eat now, you’ll regret it later and wish you had.”

The only reason I’m even taking him tonight is because Nathan is his best friend. It’s been a long day, and at the moment he’s not exactly suited for public appearances. Life would be so much easier if we could just stay home and go to bed early. But no, he has to go to this stupid party. I won’t even be able to drink anything to make it better, either, because I have to follow him around all night and drive back home.

Don’t get me wrong; I love James a lot. He can just be a little much to handle sometimes and this is how I cope. I mean, it’s not ideal. But it’s a lot better than violence, which he seems particularly adept at triggering in me. Go live with somebody for seven years, then tell me you’ve only thought happy thoughts about them. It’s so hard to believe it’s been seven years; I can barely remember life before James. He’s such a huge part of my life now, and I wouldn’t trade him for anything. Not that I really could, anyway. I’m kind of stuck with him. Reminding myself that I can do this, I get ready for my final attempt at getting him to finish at least some of his food.

“James, honey, eat that last piece of chicken and we can go.”