thanks for making my life good

I want to write, but I have no clue anymore. I usually write when I’m stressed or something traumatic happens in my personal life, but it hasn’t been like that lately. I have an ongoing project here in my writing folder, the android piece. That doesn’t seem too hard or sad, but I’m just not motivated.

A year ago, I had so many ideas because my life was fucked. I was not happy. I was afraid to even talk to the guy I lived with and spent many a day being silent in my own bedroom. I watched Netflix by myself and did homework. I didn’t really talk to anybody except for my friend from my freshman year. I feel like I keep talking about this, but it’s also good to talk about the negative parts in your life. I’ve removed the toxicity with a squeegee like a sludge.

Today, I chatted up my friend, the co-president of my group and I couldn’t stop smiling because our conversation went downhill quickly. Tonight, I wore a passion peel off because it’s good to treat yourself. Yesterday, I took an adventure through this town with one of the best people I know and someone I really like. I went to Relay for Life this past weekend and did wonderful charity work with some great people. I’m going to Ihop, the best place on Earth, with amazing people, and one of them is that special person. They know I talk about them here because they read everything I write that isn’t fiction; shout out to you, you know how I feel.

I went to Chicago last month to go to a conference because I was lucky enough to be asked to go. I’m a board member for my on-campus group where I have made my circle of friends bigger. I’m exercising more and eating less and doing more things things that make me happy. WOW. It feels good to be happy! WHO KNEW?

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call me belle

I love exploring this town. I love it even more knowing that I’ve been here for four years now and I haven’t done hardly anything. I was in the corner of my campus today, yelling out “I don’t know where I am!” And it’s so weird because this is almost a whole year after I actually started writing here. That weird gentle weekend is coming up at the end of this week.

But what am I going to do this weekend? Honestly, I’d love to explore this town some more with you while you show me where to go and what we could do here in Mount Pleasant. I’ve never actually walked to Mission Street before because I go everywhere by car, but it’s different when I’m interested in like, the only person who walks and bikes anywhere. Show me what to do. Get me out of the driver’s seat of my tiny batmobile.

Just don’t talk to me about the future yet because I still don’t know what’s happening in the now and don’t want to lose it before this summer comes. But I also want hugs. Please. I want to be affectionate. I hope when you read this, you find it endearing and hilarious and you do that thing where you laugh into your elbow.

the gummy bears sucked

poetry is my least favorite creative writing class at my university, but i always think they’re great when i write them. i love prose poetry.

i mean, maybe i could have fought harder, but i could have also taken a step back.

Maybe i didn’t move, but as i stood stationary while the world passed around me. while you left and not only left, you left me. standing here while the world passed slowly like the snail outside on the concrete step.

fighting harder pushes you away and not fighting at all shows that i don’t care, but i’m the one who cares the most. and you know that about me, but there’s a disconnect like when the phone charger is pulled out of the block and the lightning symbol disappears from your screen and the battery bar turns red again. but we aren’t a phone and its charger. we are people confused on what we are. you didn’t even say goodbye before you left.

domestic life

I like the way that you cover your face with your elbow when you laugh.

I also actually really like writing dream sequences where Ezra is happy with Owen.

Owen and I hugged again and we went our separate ways in the dead of night. He wished me a peaceful sleep and I did the same, and we closed our doors simultaneously with soft clicks of the door handles. I spun like a princess from the movies as I fell onto my bed and pulled the blankets around me. I yawned and waved my lights off as I buried my face into my pillow. I had another dream, but this time it was happy, just like while I was at home.

Sunlight came through the open window of my bedroom and brought me from a full rest to a stir. I rolled back and into an unexpected form.

“Good morning,” Owen said with a yawn. He wrapped his arm around me and pressed on my chest. I turned over in his hold and gazed upon his face, gently pulling the sleep from his eyes and off his head.

“Morning. How’d you sleep last night?”

“Ever since you’ve started putting me to sleep, it’s been better and better. Is there coffee downstairs?”

Before he could take another breath, I was gone from the bed and scooping coffee grounds into a filter. Owen descended the stairs quickly with a robe tied closed around himself. He started retrieving breakfast foods from the refrigerator and he prepped the utensils for the meal.

“You know, I could have waited on coffee, right?”

“And you realize that I could have made breakfast from the living room?”

Owen rolled his eyes and went back to work on the stove. We ate sitting on the counter with multiple cups of coffee between us and the morning news playing in the living room. Owen slid down from his seat by the sink but I held him back at the foot of the stairs, stuck in place.

“I can’t get ready for work if I’m stuck downstairs, Ezra,” Owen laughed.

“I mean, you don’t have to go. Stay with me today.”

“Ezra, we have spent so many days here, it is a mess. I’ve never thought that sex like this would be so enticing, but wow. But I also need to go to work today. I can’t just work from home every day. And neither can you.”

I rolled my eyes and my pajamas from the night before became one of my dress outfits for the office I edited for. I did the same for Owen as my hair grew out and I tied it into a bun. I did a twirl and pointed at my clothes.

“Better? Can I make an appearance at the office and then come back?”

Owen shook his head and pulled his keys from the wall hook and wished me a good day. He kissed me goodbye and removed his bag from the floor by the back door of the house. He waved from the other side of the door window. I waved my hands and the household chores began as I left with my own work over my shoulder and the lights flicked off as I closed the door behind me.

reconciled

So, I wrote a personal piece tonight, but I have also been working on this for a few days, but every time I went to type, I would always end up taking Buzzfeed quizzes. I’ve never reconciled anything, so that was also difficult? I end up basically running away from my problems until they start to kill me inside; ask Kyal and literally everyone else I know.

I packed my bag without touching a single thing. Mom and Dad watched the process from the doorway, hoping to learn what it was like to be me. I watched the amusement play across their faces as an invisible assembly line worked right in front in front of their eyes, my clothes floating from our laundry, folding, and sliding efficiently in my duffel bag. My bags zipped and faded into nothing, returning to my apartment. I said goodbye to my parents, gave them both a hug, and closed my bedroom door behind me. I vanished from the house and found myself on the doorstep on my apartment, reluctant to touch the door handle.

“Ezra! Where’ve you been?” Mason called out as he climbed the metal stairs up to their floor. He stopped at the top of the stairs and I thought back to my nightmare. He looked me up and down and said, “I like your hair. Extensions?”

“My hair grows fast. That’s not the point though. I went home. I just had some stuff to deal with.”

“Well, welcome home!”

I was nearly put off by his weird exuberance, but I followed him into the apartment and the two of us went separate ways, gently tiptoeing through the hallway and past Owen’s door, closing my own behind me. My skin felt hot with anxiety and I hadn’t even seen him! But I had to do something even if I felt like I may die while doing it. I mean, we both had to deal with hard aspects of this relationship and I didn’t know what could happen; it wasn’t like I had uncovered any sort of future sight.

I waited. Mason and Gavin were asleep in the respective bedrooms, but so was Owen. I didn’t know what he would say to every time I had just shown up in his room. But this time, I didn’t just pop into his room like the last one; this time, I traced the outline of his door handle and waited for it to click. Instead of Owen being asleep, he sat at his desk with his back to the door, but he jumped when the door had closed.

“I really wish you’d actually start knocking. Last time this happened, I thought I was gonna die, or at least be hurt in some way.”

“I’m sorry. There was a better way to do that. But I just wanted to see you and see if you were okay.”

Owen turned his chair and pushed himself to his feet, only to sink into his bed. “Ezra, you know I’m crazy about you. I was just—I was just scared and thrown off. I mean, you’ve seen Harry Potter. How do you think any regular people react when they’re told something this life changing? I mean, you had to think that there would be a few different outcomes to what you were doing. And then you what? You ran away. I could only assume that you went home, but the point was you dropped a bomb on my life and you weren’t even around for me to talk about it. You didn’t return any of my calls or messages, but it was like you’d dropped off the face of the planet. You can’t actually leave the planet, right?”

I shook my head, but let him continue.

“I want to work with you on this. I want you to trust me. I don’t want you to think that you have to his any of this from me anymore.”

“I trust you, Owen. That’s why I told you, but I was more afraid that you’d come after me with a mob or something?”

That’s where Owen sat up straight off of his bed. “You really think that I’d do something like that to you? What the fuck? I know they happened, but I think this generation is open to witch trials. Do your parents even know or am I the only one?”

“I told them when I got home. I didn’t think they should be in the dark anymore if you knew.”

“And how did they react, Ezra? Did they ban you from the house? Disown you? Did they try to murder you?”

I turned away from him as he spoke. I felt emotional while I listened to him tell the truth. “They’re my parents. They love me, Owen.”

I heard him shuffle around and could feel him behind me as he said what he did next. “I love you too. And I really want you to be here and to stay here. I mean, yeah. It’s a huge change learning this about you, but it’s just one more thing that makes you special.”

Owen gently turned me to face him and I couldn’t hate the difference in our heights more at the time because he seemed to tower over me in this moment and I nearly fell into him with a face full of tears. He held onto me with one hand across my back and the other, slowly stroking my hair and holding me close.

“Does this mean you still want me?” I asked through pathetic hiccups.

“I mean, I could get used to holding you like this. I’ve wanted to for a long time.” Owen stopped and then began again. “If I ask you nicely, will you show me some tricks? But like, some that don’t scare the hell out of me. Do you know how long it took me to actually get the door open?”

“I’m sorry. Heat of the moment.” I looked up at him once and then realized that I made a horrible pun. But then I thought, what was stopping me from showing him now?

I told him to close his eyes are spun us once in circle and I could the change in his expression as he felt a breeze brush over his face. He slowly opened his eyes and then kind of gasped when he saw where were, standing at the top of the campus bell tower.

 

 

 

prescribe hugs

I mean, I’m fine. These are a legitimate medicine that release chemicals in the brain to stabilize moods and emotions.

I don’t know what I’ve been doing today. I’ve been watching some of the more romantic Disney films because I’m a connoisseur of them, even if I had only seen 2015’s Cinderella for the first time today; it was good, quite lovely, and even though they were in the end credits, I was happy to hear “A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes” and “Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo”. There was Mulan and I was going to watch Zootopia, but that seemed too torturous at the moment, only because I’ve seen it like, seventeen times and for other reasons. I was going to watch Anastasia for like, the first time all the way through because that seemed romantic enough. But then I watched like, half an hour of Fantastic Beasts because I love Newt with all of my Hufflepuff heart.

But I mean, I laid in bed drifting in and out of sleep since I went to lunch. I mean, where was my motivation? Probably on a shelf in Newt’s case. I mean, if you told me to listen to Beauty and the Beast for the eight billionth time, I’d probably sing “Evermore” four times and then move on to “Something There”. And I mean, today, I just feel the self-doubting and anxious side of me coming through. Yesterday, I was happy as fuck and today, I feel like I’m just floating or like, completely stationary. So, maybe in lieu of a hug, I might go exercise tonight and try doing yoga to balance myself out. I’ve been having a very good streak and I don’t want one stupid aspect of my personality to ruin it for me.

living that domestic life

So, I’m super inspired right now? And I really just wanted to write another dream sequence? Like, I’m just really happy aside from all the work I have to do for school.

I had another dream about what life could be. This time, Owen and I sat together in my bedroom at home, but the furniture had changed and instead of my messy, adolescent bedspread, we were leaning on each other on a comfortable couch. Owen was older with longer hair and his face had filled out more; he had neatly trimmed stubble that got caught on my own hair. Where there was once a wall was now a floor-to-ceiling window that gave a perfect view of the tree in my backyard where I spent most of my time as a child. The tree, now much taller than before was bare but caught what snow it could. I guess Owen had been speaking for some time before I had refocused on him.

“… and when your mother called, I was still doing the dishes, so I missed the first call and then she was relentless about trying to get through. The point is that she wants to know when we’ll be serving dinner on Friday.”

“What dinner?”

“Christmas, dummy. Are you not paying attention? Are you projecting or something?” Owen seemed like he was upset, but instead, he gently pushed on my shoulder, nudging me off him as he rose to his feet.

“Oh. Well, what did you say?”

“I told her that we were going to be working on the meal all morning, but would actually start serving once she had arrived along with the rest of the family. I was more hoping to talk to you about that though.”

Owen held his hand out to me, which I took, and he pulled me into him. “Shoot.”

“Well, from what she’s said, her facility gets kind of empty when holidays roll around and it just hasn’t been the same since your dad passed, Ezra. I was wondering if we could put a bed in here for the week and have her stay.”

A wave of sadness flooded over me as if the dream were real. “That’s fine, Owen. I’ll call her in the morning to let her know we’ll pick her up.”

Owen smirked. “What about that magic fingers, Ezra? We don’t even have to drive the car. There doesn’t even have to be a car; can’t you just wave your hand and she’ll be here?”

“You really think my mother would enjoy that? We don’t see her that often and you think that she’d want to be immediately whisked away without any warning? What if I lose her?” The last part was more of a rhetorical question.

“You’re right. Come downstairs with me and we’ll get dinner ready.”

As he began to head for the stairs, I didn’t let go of his hand, but pulled him back to me and looked up at him. Even in my dream, there was a sizeable difference in our height and as I stood on my toes in my socks, I kissed him and when he opened his eyes, we were sitting on a newly-installed kitchen island.

“I love your magic. I love you.”

“You’re still doing everything by hand,” I said with a laugh.

And as he was done with every pot, pan, and utensil, they washed, dried, and put themselves away as I watched my husband plate our dinner and it gently floated over to our small table by our kitchen window. With a snap of my fingers, the slightly burned down candles were lit and the speaker by the refrigerator came to life with soft notes of a piano. Owen watched me with a delicate look from across the table and tenderly took my hand in his own and even if we weren’t talking, I was happy.

I did not wake up in a rush this time. I did not throw my stuffed cat. I kept my eyes closed and rolled over and squeezed the cat harder.