A New Perspective

     I’ve wanted to write you a letter since the moment you texted me on July 15th. I’ve wanted to tell you how I feel. I’ve wanted to see you. I’ve wanted to hold you. But I haven’t.       At first, I thought i knew exactly what I’d wanted to say to you. I thought this would be easy, but it’s not.       I’ve wanted to write you a letter since the moment you texted me on July 15th, but I haven’t had the time - until now. Now, I don’t know what to say.       I'd hoped I’d hear from you again and when I did I couldn’t believe it. I’d been so numb to everything, to everyone, recently. I saw your name - well, “Alyssa Molinari’s” name - pop up on my phone and immediately my heart started to race. I felt my heart beat throughout every inch of my body. Unlike anything I’d ever felt before, truly. I couldn’t, and still can’t, believe that even just your name, had/has that effect on me. I love you and at the same time, I don’t even know you anymore.       We haven’t seen each other in over a year. We haven’t had a real conversation in over a year. And finally, I thought you wanted to talk to me. You told me you wanted to talk. But then, as quickly as my heart raced - it sunk.       I thought you came to me because you were hurting. Because you were sad. Because you needed someone to talk to. You asked me to add you back on Snapchat. Our conversation was nice. What happened?      The next day you snapped me once in the morning, I responded. You opened that snap and from that moment on I hadn’t heard from you for the rest of the day. I wanted to give you space - I did. But I thought I deserved some kind of an explanation. I was so ready to be there for you - as a friend, as someone who would just listen, as whatever you needed me to be. But you changed your mind. Why?      Did you initially text me because you were lonely? Because you wanted to ensure that you’d have an option if you were alone for too long? Because you knew that I’d be there, because I love you? I have so many unanswered questions.       I know, you really don’t owe me anything and it’s shitty and selfish for me to even think that you do. But it’s how I feel. And you reaching out to me and then changing your mind was selfish of you, so I’m not sorry for being selfish either.       I want to believe that the you I once knew is still inside you. That inside that outer shell you like to portray is the person I cared for and admire so deeply. But I don’t know that anymore, and it doesn’t seem like I’ll ever have the chance to.       So, what if you decide you’d like to talk? That’s what everyone keeps asking me. I don’t know. I don’t even like to think about you coming back around as a possibility, because I am so tired of getting my hopes up. But, hypothetically, if you did, I’d like to think that I’d have some kind of respect for myself and tell you that you’ve done enough damage, etc. But, at the same time, I like to think I know what you’re going through and that I know you to your core and that you’re going through a tough time and that you’d never do anything to deliberately play with my feelings.       But I don’t know anymore. And I don’t know that I ever will. 

You don’t get to play with me just because you know I’m putty in your hands.

I’m not sure what we had, not sure what to call it. But I hope to find it again, sometime soon.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

     I miss you and I’m so thankful that the universe brought you to me.

     I wanted to write about sexuality and, in particular, my own; but it’s so hard. It’s difficult for me to put my feelings into words because these feelings are new and confusing and, quite frankly, I’m really unsure of them.       Actually, to be honest with myself, I’m not unsure of them at all. I think, truthfully, I’m just afraid of them. I feel like putting them in writing solidifies them, and I’m not exactly ready for that yet.       I’m glad I have supportive friends like Brittany, Jordyn (even though she wasn’t so supportive) and Alyssa to talk to about all of this, despite the fact that it’s pretty messy stuff.      Kissing you was crazy. I’m not sure if it’s because it felt like a long time coming, or if it’s because I had the entire moment built up in my head, but is was crazy. You even thought so. I feel like we were both pretty surprised and relieved and a whole bunch of other feelings.       Feelings, feelings, feelings. This is the first time in I don’t know how long that I’ve been excited about someone. I know it’s probably not the best idea, and I know that it probably won’t end well, but I’m tired of ignoring/burying/hiding my feelings.       I think it’s because you’re such an emotional person and so vulnerable and honest (seemingly...) with me that it makes me want to be the same way with you. It’s funny though, for the first time in a long time, I’m actively wanting and trying to trust someone, and I know it’s someone who probably shouldn’t be trusted.      Regardless, I felt like I had to get this off my chest. I’m in a weird state of happy mixed with nervous mixed with “how the fuck could I be so stupid” mixed with “let’s just see how this one goes.”       Ultimately, I guess I just wanted to share that I’m one of those people who ‘falls’ for someone else based on their personality and whatever else, regardless of their gender. It’s definitely a weird feeling, and maybe even weirder to be so self aware, but it’s also really, really nice. 

Written on 02.12.2018 

Gravity - EDEN U Don’t Get Me - Gnash Oceans - Seafret We Won’t - Jaymes Young Left Out - Gnash Motion Sickness - Phoebe Bridgers  The One - The Chainsmokers Can I Be Him - James Arthur

     I am so tired. My schedule is slowly eating away at me and, although I hate to admit it, my workload is more than I can handle. I’m officially sick of working with my cousin at his dental office and being talked down to.       I am so scared that I’ll never be good at anything, that I’ll never amount to anything. Journalism is a dying field which makes me feel as though my entire education is a waste of time.      As a fat girl, there’s nothing more embarrassing, to me, than to tell other people that I’m a foodie. But, honestly, the Food Network, and farmers markets, and recipes and cooking gets me so excited. I could talk for hours about Bobby Flay or Anne Burrell and I could spend hours over the stove making something for my family to enjoy. I want people to love what I love, it makes me happy.       It’s so hard to find something to talk about with people. I don’t watch the news, I don’t watch TV or Netflix or Hulu, I don’t listen to music. Sometimes I feel like I live in my own little world, and I hate it.      I hate feeling uneducated and living life without strong opinions. And I know, I know it’s all my fault and that those things could very easily be changed, but I just don’t care to change them.      One day I’m motivated, the next I’m not. One day I know what I want, the next I don’t. I am so stuck. I am so confused.       I don’t remember the last time I wasn’t confused. And honestly, at the end of the day, I think I’m sad again. Not, like, astonishingly sad. I’m just not as happy as I know I could be.       I’m not sure if life is about luck, who you know or the work you put in, but I’m so tired of this waiting game. Since being at Stony Brook, I’ve worked the hardest I ever have towards a goal. I want to graduate next semester, so, so badly. It would truly crush me if I had to do an extra semester. I’m so jealous of my friends who have full time jobs, even if they’re just receptionists.        I’m so tired of feeling lost and alone, and like there’s no one to talk to.

     Writing once came naturally to me. It was my outlet, my escape. I loved it; so much so that I wanted to pursue it as a career. And I think I still do - love it, that is.       I’ve never been good at speaking my mind. I have always been much better at expressing myself through the written word, and that scares me. What if i’m not good enough? What if I don’t have enough experience, or the right experience? What if I’m not meant to write?       I enjoy sharing my personal life and experiences and deepest emotions on a platform where people could take a glimpse into my life, but probably won’t.      There are things that I’d love to delve into - my relationship with my father, my younger brother leaving for college, my financial fears and struggles and many other things, but when I sit down to write my mind goes blank.       I’m not sure if my brain shuts down to protect me or if I’m just truly at a loss for words. Either way, they’re topics I’m hoping to get back to - sooner rather than later.       This post doesn’t have much substance, and I’m not exactly sure what my point is, but it feels good to at least get my fingers running across my keyboard again.       I’ve missed the sound that reminds me of my passion - my nails hitting the keys. 

     I feel sick to my stomach. I’m confused, sad, angry and nauseous. You’ve nauseated me. Sure, is it my fault for reaching out to you? Yes. I should’ve listened to Sydney and kept my excitement to myself.       I guess I was just so accustomed to sharing everything with you. I wanted to be excited with you - I just wanted to talk to you. I am so stupid.       Our messages back and forth that night made me so happy, the happiest I’ve been in a while, actually. I was finally excited again. It was almost as if I could feel my blood rushing throughout my entire body...I could feel again.       When you sent me what you wrote in your journal my heart shattered in my chest. For whatever reason I felt, and feel, so guilty. I feel like you’re on this medicine because I pushed you to talk to someone and get ‘help’. I just wanted you to feel better and now you feel worse (I think) and I’m so sorry.       I could’ve sat with you in your car forever. Just being around you makes me happy. I’m so sad knowing that I won’t be around you again. I love listening to you talk, or ramble, and decipher your thoughts. I just want to know what you’re thinking all the time. I just want to know you.      You kept rubbing my leg and just your touch made me feel electrified. I’ve never felt anything like that - I felt a lot of things that night.       I guess I’d been suppressing most of my emotions in an attempt to feel less crazy. I’m so bad at feeling; I hate feeling. You’re the only person who has ever made me feel like this - so many things in such little time.       When you hugged me in your car I cried because I knew that I had lost you. I know you’re gone and that you’re not coming back and it hurts.       I could’ve listened to you talk forever. When you put the key in the ignition I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want you to leave.       We pulled up in front of my house and I couldn’t move. When you kissed me I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. I’m so tired of feeling.       I’m not sure why you waited outside of my house for so long, or why I stood in front of the door for so long watching you wait outside of my house. Maybe it just felt like a long time. Maybe I was hoping you’d come to the door. I don’t know.       Against my better judgement I texted you to come inside and I’m so sorry that I did. I shouldn’t have texted you and you shouldn’t have come inside. It would’ve saved me from a lot of this unnecessary blah-ness. I’ve been so blah since that night.       I thought our talk was so good. I love (and hate) that you pry my thoughts out of me, it makes me think that you might actually care about what I’m thinking and feeling and wanting to say. I love crying with you and to you. You have such a hold over my emotions.       I keep thinking back to the sex and how I thought it was incredible, but maybe that’s just because there was passion and we hadn’t seen each other and we had really good talks throughout the night. I don’t know - maybe it was just incredible. I’m trying not to think about it.      When I asked you if you were going to tell her and you said no I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Maybe it was just my perception of you, and maybe I was wrong to think so, but I believed that you were the most honest human on the planet. But then, to top it all off, you said, in complete seriousness, “I’m a really good liar.” Matt, my heart dropped to my feet, my brain felt like it shorted out and my stomach did a million flips. A piece of me died.       The entire image of you that I had worked up in my head was a lie because you told me that you’re a liar. I’m crying typing this out because knowing that breaks my heart. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so many emotions in the span of seven hours and the days following those seven hours.       All I could think about was her. Do I like her? No. Obviously not. I’ll never like anyone you’re with who isn’t me. But, for a moment, I felt bad for her. How could she be lucky enough to have you, but a you that, thankfully, I never knew. I guess the craziest thing, though, is that she doesn’t know that side of you. This paragraph isn’t making much sense to me. You’re not making much sense to me.       If you ever spoke to Monica (while you were with me) the same way you spoke to me (while you’re with Jackie, obviously) I’d resent you for the rest of my life. Although I was skeptical I always chose to trust you. And if you ever physically cheated on me, well, you’d be dead to me. I know - this is really hypocritical since I’ve cheated on you - but at least I let you know and gave you an out if you wanted one.       I don’t know what’s worse - knowing or not knowing. I guess, at this point, I wouldn’t want to know.       Sex aside, and just for your own sake, I don’t understand why you’d choose to be in a relationship if you have such strong feelings for two people. It’s not fair to do to yourself or her, or, honestly and selfishly, me.       Why trap yourself in a box (metaphorically, of course) instead of giving yourself the space to figure out what’s going on in your head? Do you really need to be with someone that badly? Sure, you like her and enjoy her company - but is that enough for you when you’re still trying to figure yourself out?      Maybe it’s just me and I’m just jealous.       I’m sorry I sent you those texts and those pictures and I’m sorry that I asked you to hangout and be friends. I don’t want that. I don’t want to be your friend and I don’t just want to hangout with you. I want so much more than that.       I want to do everything and anything with you - certain things feel so empty without you and I’m sincerely hoping that with time the emptiness will be filled. Whether or not it’s filled by you, I guess, is up to you.       But then I think, hypothetically, if you were to leave her, would I even want to be with you? You’re not the you I once knew and I don’t think I could ever trust you again.       When you were on Fire Island and you were drunk you texted me, “I’m an asshole who always tries to get his way.” Again, my heart shattered. I don’t know you anymore, and all you kept trying to say was that I’m the only one who really knows you - but I’ll never know if that’s true and I’ll never know if you actually mean what you say or if you’re just trying to evoke some type of emotion out of me.       Whatever it may be, I can’t get you out of my head. I cried to Hunter about you the other night - I’ve never felt so pathetic. This whole thing makes me feel weak and dumb and a bunch of other things I hope to never feel again.       I love you Matt, with my whole heart. As I’ve already said to you, I’ll miss you for the rest of my life.      

     I truly believe that Matt was my second love. I did love him, he meant the world to me. But sometimes that just isn’t enough. I really did picture a future with him - which now seems like a pathetic childhood dream - but still, it was a nice thought for a while.       Regardless of everything that happened I do truly hope that he is happy and that he finds the love that he deserves, because he does deserve so much.       I don’t regret a minute of our time spent together. I’m so happy that my lame, high school crush turned into a pretty awesome two years with someone completely unexpected.       Thanks, Matt.

     Well, Blog, it’s been a while. Matt and I broke up mid-December and, lately, haven’t been speaking much. I’m not so afraid of being alone anymore, which is nice. I also don’t really miss him, at all...On the contrary, I’ve been ‘putting myself out there more and it hasn’t been terrible (not in the dating way, more in a friend way)! I reached out to Madison West and Vanessa Silva via Twitter and after a few exchanges we actually hung out. I think I’ve been a better friend lately. Maybe it’s my constant need to be in contact with someone, but I don’t mind staying up to date with the people I care about the most.       I’ve also been going to/will be going to a lot of concerts. Music is becoming a part of my life again and I am so happy about it. I’ve always said that nothing feels better than standing in a room with a bunch of strangers who are there for the exact same reason as you.       Hunter and I are friends again which is cool. I’ve also been talking to Kevin, Harrison and Kyle more frequently. There’s something about a guy’s rawness and honesty that you can appreciate in a friendship that you don’t necessarily get with female friends.       I’m a little over a month into my second semester at Stony Brook and it’s actually, really okay. I have Professor Ricioppo for my broadcast class again which is great, but aside from him all of my professors are strangers to me. I’m taking a beat reporting class, a narrative journalism class, a type of journalism ‘lab’ class and an intro to business class that is far too easy. I think I’m falling behind this semester because it’s so much less demanding than last semester and I’m not stressed out enough to be motivated.       I’m still working for Glenn every Friday and Saturday but I really need to find an internship. I’m really nervous that I either won’t get one, or I’ll get stuck doing something I’m not particularly interested in just to fulfill the University’s requirements.       My favorite thing about this semester so far is my broadcast class. I love my professors and something about shooting and editing video makes me feel like I’m finally good at something. It’s the first thing, in a while, that I feel like I’m actually good at.       I’m not sure what else to write about. I guess I could mention that I did Jenny Craig for seven months and have lost 30 pounds, but that’s nothing special anymore. At first I loved it, but now the schedule of foods that I’m supposed to be eating is too repetitive. I’ve been trying to make healthy choices on my own and this morning my scale said that I’m down another two pounds.       Overall I’ve been feeling really good and confident with myself. I’m not sure how to end this other than mentioning how happy I am and how I finally feel like I’m finding myself.

     I thought transferring to Stony Brook would be exactly what I needed. A fresh start, a chance to get a better education, even an opportunity to better myself. It’s 10:03A.M. and I’m sitting in the Melville Library because my 8:00A.M. class was dismissed an hour early.       Normally, my shitty schedule only includes a four and a half hour break between my two classes. Today, my shitty schedule granted me five and a half hours.      I don’t remember the last time I had an 8:00A.M. class aside from when I was in high school. Actually, that probably was the last time I had this early of a schedule.       I already know that I don’t belong here. You may be thinking, “How? It’s your first day.” Well, let me tell you. I am sitting next to a girl who is making a study guide for something about molecular functions and it is only day one of the semester.      Maybe I’m so upset about all of this because everyone back at Albany is posting fun Snapchats and Instagram pictures of themselves enjoying rush week. Or maybe it’s because I feel like I’m doing all of this work for nothing.       Going to college and having no idea what to do afterwards absolutely kills me. Not having any goals set for myself makes working hard seem pointless and much harder than it has to be.       Hopefully as time goes on I won't feel so lost here. Wandering around the campus aimlessly has me feeling like a freshman all over again. Having to ask the faculty where things are makes me really nervous, which is weird because for the most part I think I’m pretty outgoing.       It’s crazy how quickly my mood can change. When I started writing this post I was feeling extremely pessimistic. This morning when I left my house the GPS on my phone wasn’t working, I had to pay to park because I was unable to register for a parking sticker online, and my journalism professor made his class sound extremely difficult. But, mid-writing, my parter for my journalism project e-mailed me and made me feel much better about not only the project, but working with her in general.       I normally hate group work. Usually the other person doesn’t do their part, or sometimes I feel like I didn’t do enough. Either way, group projects are not my thing. My partner, Yawen, seems really proactive and willing to work together to get the entire project done on time.        Surprisingly, just my interaction with her made me feel a bit more optimistic about my time here. I’m scared but ready to work hard. Although I may not know where I’m going, and although I may not be 100% comfortable here, I’m ready to find out what Stony Brook has in store for me.      

     Breaking my arm was a complete wake-up call that I never knew I needed. After laying on my couch for over a month and a half feeling as if I was unable to move made me truly appreciate life again, as well as the people around me. I’m not sure if I actually did, but I personally think my body detoxed. I wasn’t drinking every weekend, I wasn’t smoking every night; I was in pain, but my body was healing.       After my friends and I got into ridiculous petty arguments and stopped talking, I decided that Albany was no longer where I needed or wanted to be. I never belonged at a party school, I was never ‘that type’ of girl. Being home for an extended period of time while life went on at the university, helped me decide that home is where I am meant to be (at least for a little while).      I made the rash decision of applying to Stony Brook, even though my grades did not fulfill their expectations. I was nervous, anxious and excited about my decision and I could not wait to hear back from the school. It took less than a month for me to receive my acceptance letter and there was not a single doubt in my mind that Stony Brook was where I’d be spending my senior year.       After my mom paid my tuition and orientation deposits I was good to go. Aside from sending in the necessary paperwork, I was Stony Brook’s newest Seawolf.       I started to tell some of my friends, but I wanted to keep it under wraps for a while. Once I told a few of my Albany friends I got mixed responses and was starting to doubt my decision. “It’s your senior year, you really want to start over?” “Are you sure you want to do this, NOW?!”       After hearing all of their concerns I began to have concerns of my own. Maybe I was making a mistake. I wished there was a way to know which decision is the right decision before having to decide. I had a foundation at Albany, my college roots were planted there. I was so close to the finish line and was so worried that transferring was now one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made.       Although I don’t have many friends at home, the only good friends I had at school were no longer my friends, so what do I have to lose? I’m working on losing weight and I’m already down 15 pounds. Maintaining my weight loss at school would’ve been extremely difficult and I feel like I can focus more on myself while I’m home. I’m really hoping to get a job within the next few weeks and would like to work more while still going to school, opposed to the crappy job I had up in Albany. Overall, I’ve convinced myself I’d be happier at Stony Brook.       Today my mom, brother, Pa and I took a tour of Stony Brook and I am so glad and relieved that we did. The campus is beautiful and, as ridiculous as this sounds, I felt smarter just being there. Throughout the tour all I could think about was how I feel like I wasted my first three years of school. Sure, joining a sorority was great and I’ve made memories that will last a lifetime, but it’s never the path I intended to take.       I guess that’s what’s crazy about this entire thing. Although I disliked Albany, I never had the guts to transfer - I was too comfortable there. I never intended to transfer. I never intend for anything to happen, really. I guess that’s when the most amazing things and opportunities fall into your lap.       Today I feel great about my decision to attend Stony Brook in the fall and I am so excited to see what my future holds. I know that life is what you make of it and I am going to keep working towards each and every one of my goals. 

     When I started this blog a few days ago, I told myself that I’d write something every day. It’s not that I don’t have things to write about, because I do. I think the problem I’m having is knowing whether or not it’s appropriate to talk about some things, if certain things are worth writing about, or if what I’m considering is something that other people would be interested in.       I thought I’d write about how I’m no longer friends with two of my pledge sisters, but I realized that I’d only be sharing my side of what happened, and for the most part - complaining. No one wants to read a heavy handed story, let alone another persons grievances.       Aside from being bored due to a lack of funds in my bank account, things have been going particularly well. The only problem with this is that when I go to therapy I have nothing to talk about.      I also considered writing about this. Is therapy only useful when you’re upset or hurting? My therapist says no. But, it seems to me that when things are looking up, she and I just kind of stare at each other uncomfortably until my 45 minute session is finished.       Another problem I have is continuing a post. I thought I’d be able to write about how inconsistent I am with this blog (already), but I don’t even know how to finish this idea.      I guess a question that I can end this with is: Is an incomplete thought worth sharing, or should you wait until you’ve figured out everything you were looking to share before sharing (posting) it?