The World Behind My Wall @uncontrollablemess - Tumblr Blog

he taught me about cooking

anytime i reduce a sauce, i think of him.

he of course, knew about the scientific elements to it all. that what we're actually doing is getting rid of the water, letting it evaporate, and have the flavors concentrate.

i didn't know that before.

he'd always wave the smell coming from the pan into his face.

He had a huge book that explained everything you needed to know about how to cook. he said he'd never get rid of that one. he also used it to smash masa. who needs a tortilla press.

anytime a man is smarter than me about something, it intimidates me and makes me feel uncomfortable. but i also admire it. and with him, i was able to learn as well. he knew about cooking. he knew about a lot.

Campeones Del Mundo

As if Sunday nights weren’t already hard enough. Half a medium pizza and half a bottle of wine done. Season 3 of Gilmore Girls, done.

You left on Wednesday. It’s not like I didn’t know you would. I matched with you the day after you got here, nearly two months ago. And I knew from the very beginning what the deal was. I welcomed it, naively,

Here I am three days after you departed, and I am so deeply in my bones, sad. Today was the World Cup final and your country won. Of course you’re a huge soccer fan, Messi fan, and more importantly a fan of where you’re from. And so you got back just in time to celebrate and experience it all with your friends and family. Relish in the glory and the pride. How happy and amazing and beautiful. I mean that, really.

But maybe you should (or really actually shouldn’t) know, that a few thousand miles away..I am just sitting here. With half a pizza and half a bottle of wine down. Inexplicably and unavoidably missing you. I’ve been carrying a heavy sadness with me since the day you told me when you were leaving.

And genuinely -- I look back and I don’t know if its just who you are or if you just really didn’t care about me all that much and therefore never showed anything, but I could never tell what you felt about me. Regardless, I want to say that I did care about you. And I did like you. And I do, want you.

Maybe it’s because of the state of where I’m at in life that made me attach to you so hard. Maybe it was the way you would hold me at night, when I stayed over in your hotel room. And oh, how it strangely hurts to know I’ll never have a reason to go that hotel again.

But fuck, seriously. You held me in a way that made me feel safe and loved. And I know now that that is something I want. From someone. But it can’t be you, can it? You are now just someone that exists in my phone. Someone with whom I strategically open messages from on a semi-irregular basis so as to not seem desperate, and so as to not run out of things to say and risk seeming un-interesting.

No, you are no longer someone who holds me the way I want to be held. You are someone from another country many miles away, leading a life I no longer have anything to do with.

And I am here, leading my life. Or at least the semblance of one, The shambles of one. Back in the ashen city of my hopes, dreams, and desires. I face myself once again. My solitude. And my yearning.

In hindsight, I regret how I foolishly relished in the fact that you were only here for a short time. I had felt secure in knowing I never had to make any commitment. Knowing I could let you go, with no worry. It seemed then, ideal. A safe bet.

Unsurprisingly, now here I am. Missing you. Or at least missing what you gave me. I’m not sure which is which.

But if I am to be good, and pursue another person the “right way” next time around, I have to first face a long and lonely road to rebuilding myself. And I’m scared of taking that journey. I’m scared to be alone.

For now, I just want to say plainly that I wish you were still here. I felt something for you. I don’t know exactly what it was, but it was something. And thinking about you today, in your country celebrating a momentous and glorious win in the streets with all your people, and imaging you in all that joy... it made me sad. And I selfishly, insecurely, and stupidly wondered if you even thought of me for a second. Or if you miss me a fraction of the amount that I miss you. And I feel that maybe - rather, I feel I surely know- that you do not.

Oh and what does it matter anyways? Of course I’ll never confront you about it.

You were here for two months. You were supposed to be temporary, fleeting. A story to tell to a future person. About the Argentinean lover who left before it could be anything real. It was supposed to be fun. And yet, it inevitably left me feeling empty. Once again.

That is the story I’m left with. And I don’t very much care to share it with anyone.

#writing

On Cuddling

what does a big bear hug from a 6ft’2 man with a hairy chest do to a young woman who’s on the verge of falling apart?

theres all this sadness

i still don’t know what to do with. it lives within me, distributed across my entire body, yet right under my skin. it travels all the way down to my fingertips and toes. i can feel it while i type. It is always there, then sometimes it pools. my blood brings it to the surface. and i become acutely aware of just how sad i really am about the whole thing, as if it was ever something so easily forgotten.

missing you is the worst, why do i miss you now. this far out. when i remember so many times not feeling comfortable in your presence. stupid things make me the saddest. like how you used to buy all your clothes at Big 5 Sporting Goods. and how you’d bring me coffee and pastries in the morning.

you said what we had was real and i was always running away from it. i understand you now. what real means. who new it would be so hard to find. you did, of course.

you reached out to me on Facebook. a new method, you hadn’t tried before. and it scared me, so i deactivated my profile. not wanting to block or unfriend. i’d rather disappear and run away. as you know is my preferred method.

yet in that message you said you were diagnosed. with a mental health disorder that explains it all nicely. but what am i supposed to do with that information. thinking back with this new hindsight, i still feel all the pain. and remember all the suffering. and above all, i know the why. why i cannot reply. even though i want to.

just to say hi. tell you how the cats are doing. tell you about my new job and my drivers license. and how there is not a day that goes by where i don’t think of you. and how some days are harder than others. and how i’ve had some great times this year without you. enjoying life and doing things ive always wanted to do. and how theres still nights, like tonight. where i sit and cry. sobbing to myself alone in the darkness. the tears come so easily.

drenched in the pain. waiting for it to dissipate once again, i just wait for it to stop pooling up, and go back into the different parts of my body. where it is better distributed, so i can carry it through my day. in my fingertips. in my heart. and everywhere.

#writing #breakup

One month, six days

Since I last heard from you.

I blocked you, thinking it was inevitable before I were to unblock you.

3 years of this, on and off. angry and happy. sad and then even sadder.

I finally got the space I’ve been wanting, and needing so desperately for the past three years.

And i’ve tried to fill this time, some with positive things and some with not so positive things.

I find I am still a shell of a human being. Feels like there is a gaping hole right in the middle of me. And my soul is leaking out of it.

So much damage has been done. To all of me, and I know to all of you.

How are you doing? Are you on the street? Are you dead? There’s now way to find you, without going to lengths I know I won’t be able to recover from.

I feel alone.

I understand you more now. Forgive me, for what I was unable to do.

#writing

hey tumblr

did you know I'm like fully depressed now?

yeah have been for a couple months now.

taking antidepressants and everything.

they're not working.

anyways, hope to come out the other side.

lmao

Adolescence Pt. II

I’m not sure if anyone else is going through this, but it feels like I’m going through a second wave of adolescence in my mid-20s. I feel awkward in my body, unsure of what my personality is, and am moody all the time. Everything seems like the end of the world, and not just because it’s 2020.

In general, my life seems aimless. I know this is me and every other borderline Millennial/Gen Z-er, but I feel sad and nostalgic a lot of the time. I know many people my age have been diagnosed with some variation of depression, anxiety, de-personalization...the list goes on.

I don’t know if this is a chronic thing for me, or just temporary. Did my adolescence really end? Or did it just blur into this hazy young adulthood? The thing is, I know I have a set of privileges that have in some ways has set me up to feel this way. I don’t need to worry about “standing on my own two feet” quite yet. I do have a trustworthy safety net that I rely on, often.

I have earned a degree and am working towards a career. And I’m grateful for that. This year was supposed to be a blast off for many of my friends and myself into the next phase of life. Now the world has shifted, and I’m struggling to stand where I feel I should’ve been standing.

#writing