Peppermint

I enjoy the taste of peppermint. It is a fresh, clean taste and smell that I always let linger. I have fallen into routine for waking up every morning, as I am sure most people do, and I have a tendency to brush my teeth in the shower. As hot water wakes up the rest of my body, I tingle my senses with traditional peppermint. As I brush my teeth I am usually stuck staring at my breasts.

Every morning my mind wanders to the same thoughts. 'I love my breasts' and 'who wouldn't love these perfect breasts?' I pride myself on the two flesh mounds stuck to my chest. I am conceited and I feel I can rule men by the power of my breasts. I like to break hearts because I feel every man who turned me down in my past has earned the emotional heartbreak of men after them. I secretly want to become a player and make sure I leave boys used and abused in my path. I hate men, I love men, I need men. To be more precise, I need A man. I worry about the day I might get breast cancer, or I will be in a horrible accident. I won't be able to use my breasts as a weapon. I honestly believe that if I were to indeed get breast cancer and have to lose one because of it, I think I would die a little inside.

I have built this relationship with my chest that has made me so attached other than physically, that I would be missing a huge part of myself. My ego would never be allowed to be big again. I could never walk with an air of confidence. I would not consider myself to be a whole woman. I would cry every night and morn the death of an important part of me. My breasts have become a best friend, a back up, my partner in crime. I would not be able to go on without them. I would be half a person and would most likely begin to view the glass as half empty. To every man I would seem unattractive and no one would want me.

I need someone to love me. That has been my focus in life since I can remember. I cried today. I lay on my bed, alone, with no sound and I cried. I cried to myself saying all I need is physical touch, an embrace, a loving and affectionate gesture. I wanted to be loved. I need to be loved. Even if it was an illusion of love. I wanted there to be a man there with me, looking at me with that twinkle in his eye, holding me close as he pressed his lips upon mine. I wanted his hand to press against my lower back and for him to nuzzle against the crook of my neck. I wanted him to look me in the eyes and tell me he loved me, even if he didn't mean it, before kissing me again. I break hearts and I judge quickly as to whether or not I would give the man a chance based on appearance and the fact that I walk around daily with a broken heart. I am constantly falling in love, and then never receiving any kind of love in return.

I am becoming desperate with the nearing day of Valentines Day. I haven't been alone on Valentines in years. I don't think I could handle being alone this year. Especially since I dreamed of him last night. The boy I was most recently in love with, realized he had warped me, and was left to rot and feel self pity for months at a time over. I dreamed that he was high, and that I had to take care of him throughout the entire dream. He began to cry at one point and tell me he still loved me and wanted nothing more but to marry me. I woke up, and felt more alone than I have for three months. I just want someone to share life with, I want someone to appreciate me, to love me, to passionately take me in his arms and let me know I am all that matters in that moment.

I break hearts because I am afraid and I do not to find this kind of wish fulfilled until I can let go of my worries and fears. I feel maybe I do not put enough walls when I need to, and I put up too many when I don't. I am so confused and lonely that I have just felt more alone as each year passes. Yet more and more men come to me, ask me out, try to impress me, confess things to me I wish they hadn't. Their confessions give me reason to hurt them, to not give them the chances, to only consider them a passing thought. My biggest fear is being alone, and it all begins with my need to be loved. If only someone would tell me they loved me, even like my last relationship. He told me he loved me, it was an illusion, but I was still in euphoria and nothing could have been better. If only illusions could be enough.

Interesting how this had nothing to do with peppermint. How interesting life can be so cruel.

Nerds and How I Associate

As I sat in the cafeteria, waiting for my next class as I sometimes do, I noticed a boy with red shoes. A baby face etched lightly with the signs of growing maturity. At least in age, for I do not know his personality nor his mind frame. He is surrounded by, what I would assume, could be considered the nerds. People I tend to surround myself with. The kind who can appreciate a good game of D&D, who can compare video games, and possibly understand computers at an above average level. The kind of group who lacks a female, and would possibly fear the idea of one becoming part of the group. I would usually go up to them and discuss a game or two. Today is a different day. I almost find myself incapable of confronting them. I have enjoyed being able to refer to myself as a nerd. Sadly I haven't played any games or discussed related topics in such a long time. I almost fear the I will be rejected by the ones I can relate to the most.

Popularity is still a big factor in social lives, even in college. I have grown to become one of the popular compared to when I was younger. I was like them in a way. Considered weird, pushed to the side, yet comfortable with my small handful of friends. I was always a social and outgoing person and I pride myself on this quality. I have made many friends since my younger days and I have gained the title so highly wished for throughout junior high and high school. I had become popular, but not the kind that was instantly given through sports, blond hair, and dating the coolest guy in school. I got it from being able to go into any group and relate. I fit in everywhere, was social to a high, and enjoyed the party scene. Even as I first began college, I became the party scene. I threw parties, told everyone about parties, and became a sort of source to even strangers of where to go on saturday nights even if I wasn't attending. I knew plenty of DJs and had my connections with the right people. I still do, I am just no longer in constant contact with them since I've moved away.

So now, being placed as the new kid again, knowing that I would do well with just about anyone I meet, I still fear going over to the table. I fear the awkwardness or the fact that they may laugh at my not as current knowledge of games. This of course would not actually happen. I have learned the older you get, the more accepting certain groups will be. Especially the nerds. So I did go up to them. I sat down, realized I already had a crush on a handful, talked for a long while before my class and time flew. I even returned after my class was over and was once again faced with the boy with red shoes. He had a lisp, and I couldn't think him cuter. Classic in almost every way, a little shy, but still willing to be social if approached first. I had finally found a group of friends in this large place I had not been a part of for years. I was happy, and that is all that mattered.