More like jaded. I wish you know how everyday I am looking forward to seeing you. This kind of attraction is so fucking cheesy and it hurts a little to admit that yes, I may be attracted to you and your tricks. I guess I can say you carded your way into that spot in my brain meant for sudden likes and incredibly nice teeth. You have very nice teeth. Do you know that?
Ah I can feel a slow disaster coming over me.
If there’s one thing I know about you and me, it’s this. You kept yourself in a safe distance so you wouldn’t have something to own or to lose. That’s you. So disconnected. Twenty steps ahead of everyone.
I tried, believe me, I did. I did not want it to end like this but it seems to me that you are pretty convinced I am no good and I will never be. This is going to hurt, it already has, but I am left with nothing but acceptance.
For months I have put restraints. I did not want to write about you because you’re precious. You cared. You were so good to me. God damn it, what happened?
Now you only call me whenever you want to and I? I give up everything. I lost my job. My friends. My well being. If I see your name on my screen, I will put everything on hold because you, god damn, you give me life.
You hurt me.
I recently received a message from one famous blogger in my niche (our niche?). I don’t know if the person means well or just really hates me or just hates my guts. This person and a few other famous bloggers hang out on and offline a lot and I don’t know if it’s just the social anxiety talking but I feel like they all hate me?
It took me several hours before I can publicly post my reaction to her message because I didn’t want to sound offended. I will not give them the satisfaction of knowing I squirmed and maybe a little hurt.
I think it’s probably my writing style? I don’t know. I’m not the best writer in the world and I admit that there are people better and it’s sad that I’m losing interest in the one thing I have been enjoying lately.
Whatever it is, I hope they’re happy.
I should be giving myself a pep talk but I won’t because that’s just pathetic.
So, here we are again. I wish there’s a better way to say that there’s a physical ache in my chest and I don’t know how to get rid of it permanently.
How can this be so incredibly difficult to maneuver? It should be easy. Like breathing. Or getting dressed for work. Love should be easy. Effortless. At least that’s what I have always believed.
I’m so tired of getting in this kind of situation over and over again but it seems like I never learn at all. I’ve been rooting for every single person who has been involved with me romantically for so long, but who’s rooting for me? No one. It’s not like they said they were to begin with yet is rooting for me a little too much to ask?
I don’t get it and I guess I never will.
This is the first time I’m talking about the show My Mad Fat Diary. This will probably be the last, I don’t know.
I just saw the latest episode of season 2 and that changed the game for me. Being able to relate to Rae Earl made me lost perception. I forgot that the show is so focused on her and what she believes to be true, because it’s her diary after all, and so I get suckered on this belief that Rae is a wonderful, well-adjusted human being and everyone she loves hurts her.
Until today when the episode focused on Chloe and I got to see bits and pieces of what truly transpired in some of the episodes. I don’t know why I’m feeling sorry for Rae still because it’s true what Linda said about her, that she’s being self-centered, and that she has been a disappointing friend to Chloe. She’s supposed to be Chloe’s best mate.
I also don’t know why people are still nagging about Finn. I know he’s charming and cute and absolutely still in love with Rae but come on, that’s not the focus now.
It sucks that Chloe isn’t different from Rae. They both have insecurities and by the end of this episode they both settled for less. You accept the love you think you deserve.
I don’t know anymore.
I’ve reread a couple of entries from this forgotten journal. It wasn’t the most pleasurable read; my eyebrows arched in disbelief, my nose crinkled in slight disgust, and my brain a little tired from the constant disappointment and waiting.
Last Friday I got invited to an overnight stay at a hotel in the city not far from where I live by a friend I met on the Internet. She is an intelligent woman and a decent one, I guess. Although she had tried to invite me on several occasions (that I politely refused), this time I thought: fuck it. So I went. It turns out she did not invite me to murder or scam me; she just wanted company and that made me settle in a bit. At one point in our conversation she told me the secret to her relationship with her long-time boyfriend is that she knows what her priorities are and at the top of that list is herself.
I find it strange because in all the years I spent looking for love, the love that is not the inherited type, I learned that I don’t have much control. I give everything. My time. My pride. Myself. I do not leave anything for me, not even a tiny piece. It’s go big or go home.
And now I realize how idiotic this ideology is. The moment your family stops financially supporting you, you are on your own. You move out and find a tiny room the size of a bathtub and call it home. You have to get a job and pay your bills. You get to be your own anchor.
It’s no different with love. The moment you fall in love with someone, you must be independent still. There are boundaries and you have to go about it quickly or you get left behind. You cannot ask for guidance from your parents or your friends, you have to do it yourself or you’ll get in all sorts of trouble and you wouldn’t know how to cope.
The stains from almost lovers and boys who change their fancy minds every time I decide to let go are still here. And what do I do instead of getting rid of them? I wait. I’m a very impatient person, it runs in the family. I want answers now and I’ll try to shake it out of whoever no matter how much it will hurt me. Once I get my answers and they have given me the kind that I don’t want – or need – to hear, I remain in a rut. It’s like I have been paralyzed and I don’t have the money for therapy because I’ve given everything up.
I guess what I’m trying to say is: the wait time is over. I’m carefully removing the go big or go home sign from the facade of my fist-sized heart. I’m shaking the cobwebs and drawing the curtains up. I’m wiping the stains no matter how strong they are. I have paid my dues. It’s high time I collect what I deserve.
Gosh, I haven’t learned anything from past failed relationships, have I? I always get a little too much attached to the next guy who’s giving me the least bit of attention.
I cannot believe I turned down someone who cares about me and instead wait all night and slightly panicking every fucking time my phone beeps. God fucking damn it, just get your shit together, self. You never fucking learn.
YOU. NEVER. FUCKING. LEARN.
Also unemployed, if you must know.
If there’s one thing I should be really focusing on, it’s how to start over with my career (as if I have one) and life in general. I thought this time would be spent in my life’s reformation of some sort but what do you know, I have been slumming my Mom’s couch for five days now (and counting).
I wish I could write something with more sense than this but I guess after that show, I lost the drive to run three blogs and screw everything up, which I am doing great at by the way.
Ha, I wish there are books about getting over a slump.
I know you’re watching over me. Maybe as I am typing these words, you are behind me reading. I just want to tell you that I miss you terribly. I wish we had more time.
I’m not blaming you for the struggles life has thrown me but I wish you were there to guide me to the right direction. I never understood your passing until I was old enough to make decisions for myself. Life is hard, I bet you know already know that. But it so much harder when your father isn’t present.
18 years. You have been gone for 18 years. Has it been that long? I’d admit that there was a time I got used to not having a father. Mama did a great job raising two kids alone. But there are days when I wonder what it is like if you hadn’t died? Would I have ever been this damaged?
In case you are wondering, today is one of those days.
I also regret that I wasn’t old enough to tell you how much I love you. And I cannot remember a lot of things from when you were alive. Except for that night you went home from the hospital and you told us you sneaked out of the hospital to get us Dunkin’ Donuts.
I am furious that we don’t have a lot of memories. We could have created tons of stupid memories so when the time comes that you have to leave, I am left with something.
You were gone to soon, Daddy. I love you.
I always say that I want to disappear. I didn’t put much thought in that sentence to be honest. It is possible that I was drunk and utterly unhappy when I created this blog. That happens a lot. Anyway over the holiday break I had time in my hands so I’ve given that some thought.
Do I really want to disappear? Disappear to where exactly? It turns out I just want to be found. By you.
I don’t want to be sad anymore. I guess there comes a time in your life when you are ultimately tired of sulking and writing sad words and you just want time well spent with your person. I want that. I want that with you.
So find me. I am here.