#04.08.2013

[vecizsozler]

Beni bir denizin kıyısına bırakın Bir çakıl taşının içine gömün orada O zaman ölmüşsem bile ağlamayın Deyin: -Son türküsü ölümdü! Ahmet Erhan

[vecizsozler]

[lolasong]

04-08--2013

[lolasong]

04-08-2013

[mondlichtkrieger]

Sind deine Gefühle wirklich weg? Fühlst du nichts mehr für mich? Ich komme damit einfach nicht klar... Es ist zu viel für mich... Ich weis nicht mehr weiter...

[an-inbetween-place]

8. Prose

4:30 AM

It was cold in the stairwell.  The window wouldn't close all the way and at times, the howling wind could be heard.  At 2 AM on a almost spring but still really winter night, the cellar like feeling was matched with the dirty grey stairs. 

We sat on the step that was located on the curve of the descending flight, side by side, no more than half a foot between us.

I tried to read about Einstein's theory of spacetime, I really did.

I couldn't help but think back to the previous Tuesday night - the cold windy night accompanied with the not so cold, definitely not as windy kissing.

Still feels like it didn't happen.

No, not that it was so perfect and dreamlike, that it was something too good to be true. 

More of something that just didn't happen to me.  Something that was out of a novel or some fanfiction.

More so fanfiction .. unless it was a crap novel.

What did I even know about this guy?  His name, his major, his age?  Nothing more than what you'd find out about someone is an hour.

All the talking we did was insubstantial.  Flirting, laughing, I was desperate to avoid the awkward tension.  

He's blunt.  Doesn't care much for what others think and isn't afraid to do things in public.

We're very different in these aspects.

I could tell this without having to spend much time with him.

How he'd wrap his legs around mine in the restaurant, even though I could see the tiny chubby waiter's eyes moving below the table.  How he said things that were impossibly cheesy and corny to my ears, how I couldn't even imagine speaking those phrases.

These are the things that I noticed that night.

My friends are all "happy" for me.  "Happy" I met a guy.  But did I really?  I barely know anything about him.

Is the reason I texted him purely because I was scared this wouldn't ever happen again? 

Or when it did, it'd be too late to redeem myself?

Do I simply enjoy being taken out and wined/dined?  Probably.

And now, with the flirty texts, I feel as if I'm doing something wrong.

But it's the only romantic thing that's happened to me in 18 years, so I decide to go for it.

Spacetime is flexible, personal, stretchable.  It bends depending on the matter weighing on it and then affects the matter accordingly.

No, this isn't working.

I look over - he's playing a game on a ratty old Android phone.

If he has 80$ to drop on one dinner, why doesn't he get a nice new phone?

Back to reading, back to reading.  Beams of light are affected by the curvature of spacetime, as can be seen from the stars near the Sun.

What.  

Okay now, don't regret this.

I close the book with a resolve, look up and ask him to talk.

Just talk right?  This way we can get to know each other and I can finally figure out what I'm doing.

I make him drop the phone - I should come in front of that ratty old thing.

Ask him about his first girlfriend, ask him about what he likes, ask him about anything - any common interest will do.

Meaningless conversation ensues.

Witty flirty remarks make their way into the conversation.

Taunting, edging, is this really what I want?

Apparently so, because he closes the gap between us and kisses me.  

My back's pressed up against the cold wall, arms still in shock, not knowing where to press them.  

And with that one kiss, things progress.  

There are no innocent delicate kisses here, this is the tussle of a overdue 18 year old and a peak 22 year old.

Embarrassed and curious, I ask him for a hickey.

He seems surprised.

I cherish the small pride that comes with surprising him.

He sets to work, moving aside my hair and shirt, mumbling in "how does that feel"s/"you like that"'s.  

I'm embarrassed... who knew people really said that kind of shit?

Does this guy just watch movies and soap operas all day?

I throw in a few moans and sighs here and there - some for the heck of it, some because I can feel myself becoming aroused.

It only serves to encourage him.

Well good, seems like at least something's right.

It's all a rush.

All I can really remember are glimpses of his closed eyes, his careful roaming hands (only once did he graze upon my breasts & ass and apologized for it both times), the scratch of his scruff.

My back aches, he's obviously in an uncomfortable position.

Awkwardly and half-heartedly, I move on top of him - just like the way I see it on tumblr - and take more control.

Sometimes he grabs my neck/body and in a feat of arousal (I'd assume) makes out furiously.  

Mmm. Now that's more like it.

I feel wanted, beautiful, amazing.  Like all those other girls - like all my other friends - like everyone I've ever been jealous of.

It heightens when we stand and he grabs the sides of my face with his palms, holding my face and looking down at me like I'm a freaking precious diamond or something.

We kiss.  (I just repressed the words - our lips met - here.  You're welcome.)

We break and he whispers: "You should really go study... but I can't stop kissing you."

And with that comment, the feeling soars and lifts, and how could I say no to more kisses then?

I still can't remember most of it.

For some reason, he likes kissing and grinding.

I honestly don't see why - with me in front of him and our bodies moving awkwardly, I couldn't appreciate it.

He obviously did though and his breathing got faster, hips got wilder and kissing got harder.

It may not have felt good for me in that position - but making him feel that way was way better than the small bead of pride for surprising him.

I think I'd still prefer me sitting on top of his legs. 

More control for me, and the ability for me to half hug and half hold him.

Looking back, he probably didn't feel anything when we were sitting like that.. but purely did it for me.

Somehow, it's nearly dawn when we finally break.

He's sitting diagonally across from me - against the wall I was staring at before and I'm alone on the step.

He's tired, eyes drooping, and I can't help but want to throw away my book and kiss him more.

Not because I like him, I realize.

But because I like making out.

I reach forward, book still in hand and kiss him as he responds.

He reaches for me, grabs my book and throws it over his shoulder. 

I giggle inside as the cliche qualities of that action pass through my mind, but my lips are busy doing other things.

We break and I whisper - "how am I supposed to study now?"

He snorts, gives back the wretched book and in my mind I'm cursing my practice test that's not even tomorrow anymore, wishing that I could stay in the stupid cold staircase forever, making out and not having to deal with anything.

Just making out because it's a new and fun thing - regardless of my feelings, his feelings, my morals, his intentions.

But reality comes crashing down, too fast, too vividly, too crushingly real.

I remember now.

He mentioned how we were both going away next term and with the thought of it, I frowned immediately.

He grabbed my face and told me not to frown, to smile in between kisses.

I felt so precious, so wanted, so amazing.

Now, I wonder if those words meant nothing. 

I wouldn't be surprised.

Suddenly, I'm out of the staircase, the haven that I've been carefully piling my naiive dreams.

I wait for the elevator, such a normal thing in contrast with my non-normal chain of events that just occurred.

Then it's back to my room, back to spacetime, back to the dull aspects of my life.

It's cold again in my room.  The window, cracked open a bit to air it out, the peeks of the light blue sky coming alive.

I settle into my bed with my light, phone and book, already giving up on the test.

It's warm in there.

5:04 AM

[an-inbetween-place]

7. Commitment

4:17 AM

I want to be able to read throughout this tumblr - even if I'm the only one - and see a sense of progression.

Here's to a commitment - a start of many things, let's hope.

4:19 AM

[an-inbetween-place]

6. Breaks

4:00 AM

I have my second Natsci midterm tomorrow, but have reached a total dead end in studying. I finished the reading the material around 12:30 AM tonight  and despite that, I feel still unprepared. 

So of course it would make sense for me to pick back up this blog and write.

Time moves so quickly ... there's only about a month of school left of my freshman year.  It feels so weird... growing up, finishing freshman year, really becoming adults.  At least in freshman year, we are coddled and taken care of to an extent.  After this, we'll be expected to take care of ourselves and take responsibilities. 

That's right - I'm even going off to Shanghai next term.

New continent, new language (kind of?), new people, new everything. 

I'm scared.  So very excited, but it's being blocked and blinded by my fear.  

Reflections ... many things indeed have happened freshman year.

I've learned - somewhat - what it means to be on your own (only sort of, really), to take care of yourself since no one else will.

The freedom in college is unbelievable.  The things you can get away with ...

Freaking time management... college is no joke.  Between work and school, grades and social events, just plain procrastination and bad habits, first term has taught me a lot.  Hopefully that fear will still be instilled after this.

Learned a lot about myself - about how I interact with people.

About how I truly don't think I'm a good person - loosely held morals, negative and oftentimes too jealous and envious to even be happy for others. 

Too pessimistic and depressed, too often propelled by negative thoughts or selfish goals, too easily pressured and caught up.

Hypocritical, fake, desperate.

Cause, fake it till you make it, right?

But how others are the same exact way.

Unless it's just my paranoia speaking out.

New experiences - cause isn't that what college is supposed to be about?

Partying/Clubbing - the atmosphere, the pain, the pleasure, the sweaty feeling of bodies.  The anticipation, the drunkenness, the awkwardness that quickly ensues. 

Boys, or really, Men - Who would have thought?  22? Puerto Rican?? It seems almost incredulous to believe .. if only I haven't been telling it over and over again to others. 

The feeling of being wanted... the lust, the feeling of being special and the only one in the world.

The distrust, the lack of faith, the disappointment that easily follows.

The disappointment that follows because of the previous feelings of disappointment.  The jealousy and apathy when it comes to comparing examples with others.

The utter fuckery that you feel when you know you're in too deep.

Confused when you think of why... confused of how this happened, of what exactly your intentions are.

Fake it till you make it.

4:14 AM.