where would you go tied up to a lasso?

Can I tell you a secret? Sometimes I feel a bit sad that I don’t have a person. Just one person that I can tell anything to. I have a few very very close friends and even fewer very very close people, but I can’t talk to each of them about everything.

            I love my best friend very dearly. Sometimes, though, I feel like with her, I can’t care about something too much. I feel like maybe she’ll see me as weaker or not good enough if I tell her, for example, about what boys I find attractive. It’s just not something we discuss. End of story. I guess it’s because we both feel like we’re too good for such things. She, even when we were younger and more frivolous, always refused to say whom she thought was cute, who she liked. And I honestly don’t know if she just didn’t have those feelings, or if she didn’t feel comfortable sharing them. And so, I wouldn’t tell her about such things because I felt there should be some give and take there. That if she should know my secret I should know hers. So over time, we grew to a point where we just don’t discuss such things.  And it’s not that I think she would, I don’t know, be angry if I did bring it up. I just feel like it’s not something she… is interested in.

            And then with sex. I can’t talk to my friends about sex. (By the by, in the shower I was thinking about how I’ve become a person with a taste for BDSM before being a person who’s ever been kissed. What a fucked up thing that is! It’s a little sad, actually. Ah, for generations past.) I can’t talk to them about sex because I feel like they hardly know. Although it’s entirely possible, likely even, that they think the same thing about me. I’m not sure how likely it is that one of them, even just one, goes home and secretly watches porn and reads erotica. It’s certainly beyond the scope of my imagination. So that’s out. Of course, in some ways this pressure (hehe) was relieved by, who else, The Peter? But in many ways I’m hesitant to discuss such manners with The Peter, and I’m not quite sure if I’m worried I’ll scare him away, or that he’ll scare me.

            But of course there are some things I can talk to my girlfriends about. Clothes, for one. Shit (of the figurative variety) in general, actually. This sounds superficial, well, it is, but at the same time it’s something we’re all very consumed with, as teenage girls. This is one of the frivolous, self indulgently girlish things my best friend and I can have.

            Of course there is also my mom and dad. Whom I love very dearly. But obviously all of the above topics are entirely off limits, with the possible exception of clothing. But I do not really want either of my parent’s input on fashion. I’ve really got it, thanks guys. My parents are usually pretty good at easing my anxieties about school, whatever. At the same time, sometimes they aren’t. Like my mother expects that everything is easy for me. Not in a mean way, she just assumes. But sometimes it isn’t. Like, ‘I have a lot of English homework.’  And she says, ‘Well, that should be pretty easy, right?’ And it’s like, ‘no, it’s fucking not. Not everything is easy all the time, mother. I’m not a fucking genius, I’m a high school student.’ She tries, though. Of all the people in the world I care about my parents the most, but sometimes they’re very hard to talk to. I can also never criticize the way my mother does something because it upsets her. As a point of clarification before telling the story, my mother sometimes comes into my room while I’m not there and cleans shit. I don’t ask her to; in fact I’d prefer she didn’t, thanks. But anyway, today I said, ‘Mother, when you hang up the clothes, can you have them facing the way everything else is?’ And she gets upset.

            And I can tell, too, when I’ve crossed the line into some wrong topic of conversation. Like the other day, with The Peter, when I would not shut up about swimsuits. This was obviously a conversation best had with the girls, but somehow I managed to conflate the two in my mind. It’s also entirely possible that I sometimes exploit The Peter for a MALE PERSPECTIVE, which was certainly the case here. And while I guess I sometimes get what I’m looking for, other times not. Usually I’m just reminded that, as with women, there is no one thing that all guys like. The Peter has his own preferences and ideas, independent of the general male population.

Perhaps it's good not to put all my eggs in one basket... right?

            But anyway, blah blah blah angst angst angst I’m a privileged white girl. Sorry, I know, really. But no one ever complains about what’s going right! Maybe that’s the purpose of religion, right? Be happy that you’re not an ant? Be happy that you’re not in hell? Be happy that God doesn’t smite you right now? Maybe.