And I look up...

I talk a lot about spinning. Spinning, round and round, looking up, arms spread. Stopping just to have to world spin round around you. I like songs that spin. Mumford and Sons spins. I think it’s the mandolin. It just goes. I have decided on something that I want. I want a love that spins, not even a love, but a passion. A need for anything, but it has to spin. It has to start one place, see something, hear something, get excited and spin. I can spin in sadness, in happiness, in loneliness. I have said that I  “wallow” in my self-pity. I don’t wallow, I spin. I take that feeling. I look at it, I focus on it. And I spin.

                I need to quit looking for things. For anything, I need to allow things to happen. I have an idea of what I want out of my life, but it’s a very vague idea. I have friends, I have very good friends. I have a certain kind of friend that I’m not sure everyone truly has, I have a best friend. His name is Cameron. I know I talk about him in a very playful manner, we fight, we argue, we do ridiculous things. He did something today that really blew my mind. I came home from work and immediately changed and left, he was a little sad. He hid under his blanket and told me a certain someone was right. Here is the thing that sticks with me; this is the man that has seen me in my most ridiculous, and he still enjoys my company. The past 8 months that I’ve lived here I have been absolutely insane. I cannot express the amount of times I have uttered the phrase “Cameron, you were right.” The man has seen me in situations that he knew were not going to be beneficial to me, he has expressed his concern, I have been a stubborn cunt and did it anyway. And he has held me crying whenever I got hurt. He has seen me drunk out of my mind, freaking out over a fucking karaoke contest. He has seen, and heard me weep the lonely, sad, desperate, angry, ugly cry that I would never wish anyone to see. Its well beyond the normal ugly cry, it’s the point where my face becomes hilarious and he has to stifle a laugh. He has been more than a friend; he has been a guardian, a protector. He has seen me cast myself in a very unattractive light, and he still wants to hang out with me. He still wants to be my friend. He still lets me live in my house. I’ve mentioned the main reason I give everyone as to why he is my “best friend.” In 2008 I got “kicked out” of my house 2 days before Christmas. Cameron let me stay with him. He took care of my stupid 18 year old head. He loved on me because I needed infinite hugs. I may have met him randomly in Wal-Mart and we both probably would have shat ourselves had someone told us we would be living together in 5 years. But he is one of the most positive influences I have ever had, I will probably ever have.

                Now I just told you all about this man, this wonderful gem of a man. I live with him. We are good friends. I have him, and other numerous people that deal with my shit on a daily or weekly basis. But I still get lonely. Everyone does, I know, but I get really lonely. Mostly at night, fun fact: I didn’t really sleep alone until I was like 13. My older sister and I shared a room before our parents got divorced. We would sometimes share a bed, especially when we could hear them fighting at night. When I moved to Kansas City with my mom, I slept in her giant king size bed with her. I think I slept in my own room there once, and then my room became my brother’s room and we shared a closet. When I moved back to Oklahoma I had my own room. But I had awful violent nightmares about killing people. I was like 13, ripping out throats in my dreams. Counseling was involved and that got better. Fast forward to college, I was reading a book one night, House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. It scared the shit out of me; I couldn’t turn the lights off in my dorm. I couldn’t lie with my back to the open side of the room. One night it got so bad I had to go stay with the guy who let me borrow it. Then there was Kyle. Our first summer together he would come visit me in Ada and we would sleep on the floor together. We eventually got to where we would sleep together at his parents’ house. Then when the school year stared, I was staying the night at least 3 times a week. Then more, then more, sleeping in a twin size bed. I had a house off campus, and a full size bed, but there was no body in that bed with me. I needed the security, the warmth. We moved to Arkansas in December of 2010. When our relationship ended in September of 2011, we continued to sleep in the same bed until I moved out in November. That was such a stultifying situation. It fucked with my head more than I let on. I don’t want to talk about that anymore its late and I will make myself sad. The point is I get very codependent at night. I love sharing my bed with others. I’m a cuddle slut and I’m afraid of the dark. Not what’s in the dark, the actual dark. I get scared of the shadows in the corner of my room. I have nights when I will get up and turn the light on 2 or 3 times just to get the dark off of me. I get lonely at night, and in the morning. The morning when I don’t have anyone to tell me how cute baby dinosaur is, baby dinosaur is me when I wake up. I have little roars with every yawn. I think I’m cute, don’t ruin this for me.

                There are a lot of things that go into the idea of loneliness, I know I’m not alone, I have a Cameron. But intimacy, honest affection, security, these are the things that I get a hankering for late at night. I’ve flirted with the idea of polyamoure; I think it has some valid points. But I know that I truly just want one person to think I’m special. Not even entirely special, just special to them. I want to be cuddled. I want to get out of this headspace because I will stay up entirely too late and listen to lots of Bright Eyes and I will make myself very sad. I’m tired even. I has a sleepy. Its 4:30 in the god damned morning. I need to crawl into that bed that I am strong enough, brave enough, to sleep in by myself. I am bigger than my loneliness. I know that I am important to me, that I make myself happy. I would like someone else tonight, but I don’t need it. I’m menstruating and it’s a full moon. I’m just listening to Mumford and Sons and their spinning stringed instruments getting all sappy. Silly Leah, you silly little girl, go to sleep.

Mumford and Sons - After the Storm