Calling people hairy butts is desirable but not required

         I’ve switched between being a puddle of tears and snot, being furious and sarcastic, and being just tired. I’m so tired. I don’t want to fall in love again and I don’t want to find a new best friend. I want things to be okay between Daniel and me, but they’re just not (puddle), and it’s really not my fault (fury), and I’m not sure there’s anything to be done to repair the damage (tired).

         Thank goodness for

·         home teachers who stop by randomly and give great blessings and even better hugs

  

·         Sheet cake cookies with my sister

·         Blasting music on long drives that are (wait for it) car-thartic.. haha..

·         Adorable roommates who leave me nice notes

·         Instead of making a big deal of coming home to me sobbing on my bed

·         I tried to hide it and failed miserably..

·         Texts with Grace where I can just be sad

·         And then she calls Daniel a hairy butt

·         *Pimples probable

·         winning the $50 drawing at work

·         so I can buy a plane ticket home for Thanksgiving!

·         I need this break so badly

·         I leave Friday

·         I can’t communicate my enthusiasm about this

·         I’m really freaking excited for California and family

         Please be the guy that gives me blessings, invites me over to make cookies partly because you know I'm sad, leaves me nice notes, and comes home with me for Thanksgiving, and know that I love you.

                                                                                           

This does not give me "hot happiness"

Walking home from class—in almost winter, at night—isn’t fun to begin with, but being unprepared with a flimsy light weight jacket isn’t helping.

I reach with trembling, numb fingers for the zipper on said flimsy jacket. I fiddle with it for a couple moments with absolutely no luck. My fingers feel frozen and awkward. I let out a sigh and my breath puffs out in front of me.. Why is it so cold?

If you were here..

I reach with trembling, numb fingers for my jacket zipper, fiddling with it hopelessly for a second before you notice.

You chuckle, breath puffing out, and one of your hands tugs on my waist, bringing us to a halt and turning me towards you. You reach with sure hands to steady mine. I mock pout, but drop my hands and allow you to zip up my jacket. You zip all the way to my chin before zipping part of the way back down.

“Thanks.”

In response, you wrap your arms around me, drawing me closer before pulling up my hood too. I wrinkle my nose at you, earning another chuckle and a kiss on the nose.

Then your hand finds mine, beginning the thawing process that will probably take the rest of the walk home, and pulling me into step with you.

But you’re not here.

Big stupid tears start welling up and pouring over, leaving warm trails down my freezing face. You’re not here and it might not matter if you walked into my life right this second, because I’m completely heartbroken over someone who obviously isn’t you.

This week is three tests and two essays and ten hour shifts at the pool for days in a row, and since the argument with Daniel, I haven’t gone a day without crying and my jacket won’t. Zip. Up.

And you’re not here.

Things that even donuts can't fix

Daniel heard about the Church’s change of policy announced this week. He freaked out a little bit and all the tension we’ve been suppressing on the subject came bursting out.

We argued, literally fought and yelled and I was crying, for two hours on Skype. He couldn’t believe I’d support an organization that “discriminated against people based on their beliefs.” When I objected that I felt personally attacked- like by saying the Church was wrong and bad, he was saying I was wrong and bad- he replied "well..."

I tried to explain that the policy is hard for me to accept too, but that the Church is just true. I have to support the whole Church, even policies I don’t understand all the way.

He rolled his eyes. He looked at me like I was a crazy person. That’s when I stopped trying to explain my testimony.

And then he gave me an ultimatum. He told me that this was “a friendship deal breaker.” That he couldn’t have any kind of relationship with me if I continued to be a part of the Church.

I defended myself. I told him that he was no better than what he thought the Church was doing- discriminating against me for my beliefs. I told him that the last person who asked me to give this up was Ian. I think that hurt him and I think I’m glad it did. 

There’s a lot more to the argument that I don’t want to get into anymore.

Basically I sobbed my way through him saying “if you hang up on Skype right now, that’s it. We’re done.”

I hung up.

I ended up at Denny’s with Ryan at 3:00am ordering Oreo milkshakes and off and on crying into his shirt. He got me to laugh once or twice.

Daniel called 12 times while we were there. I didn’t answer.

I slept until noon today, when Grace barged into my apartment, worried that I hadn’t answered my phone or showed up for our plans this morning. I told her what happened and got teary again. She bought me donuts and took me out for the day.

I’m going to be alright. I’m being taken care of.

But frick, am I hurting. I’ve been crying on and off all day. I can’t remember the last time I cried over a boy. Tim maybe. I just can’t believe that after everything, Daniel actually asked me to give up half of who I am for him. He can call all he wants but he can't take back the things he said, the things that already broke my heart. The damage is done.
         I’m so sick of heartbreak.

Please, please, please, be a faithful Mormon and know that I love you.