I’ve been thinking of starting a new feature here at Steel Magnolias and Sweet Tea, where I share a few of my favorite things found on Tumblr. I love Tumblr, and I am far more active there than I am here because Tumblr makes it extremely easy to share the things that you like with the people who read your blog. Except that I found that Tumblr was too easy because all I found myself doing was reblogging things. Anyway, I’ve been thinking of doing one post per week where I share some of my favorite pictures and quotes found on Tumblr. I think I’ll be calling it Tumblr Tuesday. If anyone else is interested in joining in, leave me a comment.
Also, I made a page for the books I’ve read so far this year earlier today. Be sure to check it out!
I tried to write this out on paper and I couldn’t get the words to come out right… or even really to come out at all… because it reminded me too much of writing letters to you, and even if I sometimes ended up not sending them because I’d said more than I really intended to, I always started them intending to send them. But although part of me wants you to read this, I don’t think I can write this for you to read. I’ve been struggling with a couple of things that I know must seem contradictory but that I swear are both true. you make me feel safer than anyone else I know, and when I was with you, I never worried about the things I normally worry about on dates. The things I can’t stop worrying about on dates, while I’m being honest with you. I never once worried that if I didn’t like, didn’t want, or wasn’t ready for something you did, you wouldn’t stop. I never had a reason to, but it’s more than that, because that’s the kind of thing I worry about whether I really have a reason to or not. There are very few men that I feel completely safe around, and you’re one of them. Despite this, I found myself hesitating when you wanted to know things about my relationship with my ex, in part because I had tried to tell you just about everything that I could remember about it before, and even though you’d said you would do your best to be a good listener, you failed miserably, and it hurt. I know you’re sorry that you did that, but it doesn’t make me less hesitant to risk that again.
I recently realized why relaxing while cuddling is so difficult for me, even when I really want to be held. During one of the last conversations I had with my ex, we had been arguing and I had finally decided that I needed to break up with him, and it needed to finally really be over because it was never going to change or get better. I finally realized that if I stayed it would just continue to get worse and worse. So I told him that I couldn’t be with somebody who hurt me and in whom I was afraid to confide. At first he just got angrier but when he couldn’t frighten me into staying, he decided he would change his tactic and he tried to calm me down and hold me. I remember breaking into a cold sweat and my hands shaking uncontrollably. This sudden attempt at gentleness was extremely unlike him and was a thousand times scarier than his anger, which was frightening enough on its own. Even though I crave gentleness, something about it is extremely unsettling to me.
I don’t know if remembering why this happens will make it easier to deal with in the future or not, but I do know that it’s not even worth trying with someone I can’t already trust not to hurt me, which leads me to believe I won’t be dating anyone anytime soon. Plus, honestly, I can’t see myself with anyone but you, and I still believe that you are worth the wait.
He was the kind of man who could make a woman feel safe and giddy at the same time. His smile was exuberant, stretching too far across his face, as if his body could not contain his joy. He didn’t smile often, except for a near-constant sexy half smirk. It was as though he was all too aware of the power of his real smile. Surely he must have noticed that that smile dazzled everyone around him, leaving women slightly breathless and almost unable to speak.
[This is how I see you. I wonder if you’ll ever know it.]
“There was a time you let me know what’s real and going on below, but now you never show it to me, do you?”
[I miss being close to you. I don’t think you miss me, so I guess it shouldn’t matter, but it does. I miss you holding me, I miss being able to think out loud in front of you, I miss how safe you make me feel, I miss comfortable silences with you, I miss you being able to practically finish my sentences because you know me so well, I miss your smile, I miss your hands in my hair, I miss how you looked at me like I was the more beautiful woman you’d ever seen. I just miss you.]
“But love is not a victory march. It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah.”
I’ve been looking for more book memes to do. I like having memes to do because they give me something to post even if I’m not feeling particularly inspired. However, I don’t consider this blog a book blog because I don’t really write book reviews. I’ve tried before, but honestly, I read too fast and too compulsively to review books. In order for me to review a book, I have to take a day or so after finishing the book to think about how I felt about it and why I felt that way. Since I cannot stand not to be currently reading something, I just can’t do that. Reacting to books is different from reviewing books. I react to books all the time, both offline and online. Reacting to books is essentially what I did when I posted about The Fault in Our Stars. I was trying to write a real review, but I loved the book so much that every time I sat down to write about it, it turned into, “I love this book and I love John Green and ASKDL;FSJAKL;DFDKLS So. Many. Emotions.” As a reaction, this fangirling is perfectly valid, but as a review, it’s not. A review has to be more carefully considered and more balanced. One has to summarize the book and point out the specific things they liked and didn’t. If I really love a book, I am apparently not capable of doing that. Also, I’ve found that it’s much easier to write a negative review than a good one. When I have multiple problems with a book (or a play, as in the case of The Vagina Monologues), I have plenty to say, but when I love something, I can’t accurately verbalize or write about why I love it. I believe it was Jane Austen who wrote, “Had I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” That’s the case with me.
All this is to say that I do not have a book blog. I don’t really know how to categorize this blog, honestly, but one thing is certain: although I love books more than almost anything else on earth, this blog is not a book blog.
I hope y’all have a good day, dear readers. I am off to get a snack before my science lab. (Cue groans. Science, ugh.)