Another One Bites the Dust

I was feeling so good last night. I had a great coffee reunion date, filled up my gas tank, came home to an empty house (when one's brother is home all the time, this is a treat), and vowed not to junk-food out. Why would I? I was feeling so good.


Then I get the news.

Another one bites the dust. Even as I approach 30, I'm still not used to engagement announcements. I still hate it. Before I could stop my hand, it was opening up a beer. I sunk into the couch, and let Murder She Wrote end while I heated up leftover soup.

Then I had another beer, wondering where my mother hid the scotch. Most likely she stole it for the pleasure of watching me torture myself looking for booze like a fucking hound on a coke addiction. Most most likely, my grandfather drank it last time the fam was over.

So I do the only thing a person can do when they're in the depths of despair. I share it, and text my best friend who is probably my best friend because we share news like this and then both hate the person who dared to make us feel this way. Then we drink. And talk behind her back. Or big butt. Whatever. Then we drink more.



I picture myself being buried with my maiden name hugging an embroidered pillow (because I fucking love embroidering) that says "I celebrate myself". I'd have to leave my belongings to my brother's 5 kids, except they don't know who I am because there's never been a reason to invite me over when every person in the world is married and I live by myself with my pillows and zero cats because I'm a loser with allergies.



Oh, and I learned that the entire bowl of 'soup' that I ate was actually homemade pasta sauce.

Stress In, Stress Out

The stress in my job is due to things I didn't imagine I'd ever get the opportunity to do. So fine. Check.
The stress in my relationship is due to getting annoyed at such an anti-arguing boyfriend. So can't complain. Check.
The stress in my heart is due to a loss that I'm sure both of us are a little relieved of anyway. So great. Check.
The stress in my bank account is due to a number of yummy shopping sprees that are addictive and soul-saving. Do I want to stop? No. Check.

The stress in everything else in my life feels so completely unsolvable that I can't be thankful for anything stated above. I need a zen week. Something to get my head and my heart and my soul back to speaking terms. Because otherwise I'm going to go crazy right before the holidays. And that, as my biggest priority, can't happen ever again.

happy years ago

he never failed to make me laugh
and i didn't care how much he loved me.
and a corner of my heart hopes he's not married yet,
but the rest of it knows he's too good
to stay single.

Pete and Life

This is Pete.
Pete is stress free.
Pete works for Performa.

"I hope you can give me 5 minutes of your time for Pete's sake!"

Gotta love salespeople and their gifts.

In other news, I'm rocking my life for the most part. Perhaps I'm smoking a little more. Perhaps I've put on a little weight 'round my tummy. Perhaps the heart isn't quite what it used to be. But all in all, if someone asked me if I was happy, my hesitation period before answering "yes" is wayy shorter than it was a few months ago.


Some would tell me that I asked for this. I chose a life that never promised a Cloud 9 existence. I'm going to be 30 without a husband, without a baby, and without any promise of either in the near future. I'm not sure what I'm following - my heart, or my habits? I can't tell the difference anymore. I can't tell which one is pushing me to continue on to destruction, and which one is trying desperately to save me from doing just that.

Breathe. Knees: don't fail me now.

Whisper

I quietly slipped out of his mind.

I'll never know when, exactly, it happened. It's hard to think that someone could forget you when you spend so much time thinking about yourself. But it happens. And it happens quickly and quietly like a whisper. He's forgotten.

The realization came just before I fell asleep last night. His face popped into my mind, his voice, his lips. In one instant I knew. I was the only one thinking about us anymore.

It's just a sentimental thing I suppose. I'm always the last to let go.

My ions are fighting against me and right now I really want to tear the head off of anyone who doesn't know the true feeling of a full-time job.

Just remember til you're home again

Just when you begin to believe you mean something to someone, wham. All of a sudden, it turns out you didn't have as much impact in their life as you'd thought. Or hoped, I guess.

Not that anything happened, or would have happened, but in a large way, our time together every day made...well...my day. I'm usually able to break through a person's shell, get to their inner heart in record time. I understand them, and they learn to like that.

This enigma of a person never broke. He remains a mystery to me, and there's something very defeating about that. I failed. I was water off the back of his ducky life. Barely making a ripple. And here I am, mourning my loss, feeling lonely already.

He had a nice smile and eyes that sparkled sometimes. Wishing you well, sir. I will miss you.

Breathe, Babe

I just want to shake him. Tell him to stop doing this to me. But his 5 senses don't register my presence in his life. There's no use in calling his name.

I promised on my birthday that this year I would only wish people well. I can't quite seem to do that in this case. It would make my day to see him hurt.

It would make my day to keep my heart from breaking just a little while longer.

i think last night you were driving circles around me

I'm walking toward something
away from something
but I can't see how fast I'm going or how close I am
how far away I got
Some days
like yesterday
The lights flicker on and I see
I didn't get far at all
I'm not even close.

from the top of my head

There's something to be said for honesty. If you want to be whoever you think is best, at least have the courtesy of being proud of that person. Don't think you're fooling people just because you don't say things outright. It becomes pretty obvious that you're hiding something. Pretty, darn obvious. Dishonest people are weak. And that's all there is to it. So when you lie, there's no other word that comes to people's minds about you other than 'weak'. People then have to decide whether or not you're still worth hanging out with. That sucks, making a decision like that about someone you really liked having in your life.
And don't assume that just because someone decides you are still worth it that they're any better off. It doesn't make them stronger people, or more valuable. It makes them feel stupid; like they should want to leave, but can't. It makes them feel like maybe if their lives were better, they wouldn't have a need to keep someone around who lies. Then it makes them feel like they've earned you completely by dealing with this inner tormenting bullshit you caused.
Does it stop there? Hell no. Because you're not perfect. You aren't the best person in the world to be with. So now you've got people who are still dealing with your lies, having to deal with your other quirks as well. And what you might see as an even playing field is a losing battle for the other team. No argument or disagreement comes from a clean slate. They're always ready to voice out their resentment, the little growing ball of disappointment that they hid away from you when you asked for their forgiveness.

Anxious

The knuckles are a'cracking. I need to get on this, and make things work. So far, it feels like any project I've taken on has failed in some capacity. It's a horrible feeling. I'm scared to accept anything else in the near future, even though the offers are speeding in. I'm afraid I'll let more people down. They have so much blind faith in me that they don't consider the fact that I might not put out what they're expecting. And it sucks looking into encouraging eyes. Don't look at me like that. I don't want to see them change into Disappointing.

It won't stop. I can't stop this knitted sweater of my life from unraveling. I try. I try to stand still, but the yarn keeps pulling. I try to go with the flow, but the pattern's beginning to look like a spaced-out Pacman screen. People keep taking. I can't say no because there's nowhere to turn away. I dread the idea of being alone and without purpose.

I'm hoping to balance out someday. Not embarrass my brother with my bratiness at the table. Not let down the girls with my lack of emotional support. And especially not avoid the people in my life who make an effort to keep my yarn still. I'll figure this out. I just need more time.

Off the Playing Field

I had hoped that courage existed in his real world.

Hot and Cold, Love and Hate

Things are snowballing in my world and I love it. I love that I'm getting paid to learn how to Photoshop. I love that if I ever get bored of doing that I can be in charge of something else. I love that I get the recognition for stuff. I love that it's ok if some days are less busy than others. I love that I have an even busier life outside of the office. I love that I'm excited about upcoming things. I love that my friends are the best in the world. I love that my boyfriend doesn't make me feel bad for finishing the big bag of M&Ms. I love that soon I will be debt free. I love my new MSN friend. I love that my life seems to have ended up exactly where I hoped 10 years ago, and I don't even remember wishing for it. I love, love that I decided to fill up the gas tank at lunch instead of dreading having to do it after work. I love that I'm going out to dinner tonight. I love that I heard Dance Magic Dance on the radio today (made it the Movie of the Week, btw).

Today almost makes up for the horrible dream I had last night. I sometimes dream of him, more often after he got married, and each time I wish I could take my night back. I hate the dreams. We're usually dating in these nightmares. They're about my gut feelings making me sick to my stomach about it. Deep inside, I know he doesn't want to be with me. He's there, he's smiling, but he's uncommitted. I know I'll be spending our entire relationship worried about who he's going to sleep with behind my back. I know he'll never feel deeply enough, and I'm too scared to do anything about it. So I'm quite stuck: in love and trying to convince myself to run. I wake up thankful for our breakup and hating that I'll never see him again.

Knock n Enter

"No, no, no more bad news. I had a good day today. I don't want you to ruin it."
"..."
"Ugh. Ok, fine. What happened?"
"He's seeing her now."
"And?"
"And it sucks!"
"I don't know why you girls always come to me to say your boyfriends are cheating on you."
"You're a good listener."
"Well, you're not. Otherwise you would know my exact same response for the last 4 chaotic boy situations I've had the pleasure of hearing about."
"Which is?"
"Never expect them to do the right thing. It's only a bonus."
"You're lucky."
"I train 'em well. Luck has nothing to do with it."

Well, I'm a little lucky ;)

Bitch Gon' Down.

If there was ever a girl I was meant to hate, she would be it. I hope she falls on her face someday and breaks all of her little bleached teeth. I hope someone puts her pillow on fire and burns her hair off. I hope she steps in a puddle with her little Minolo shoes. I hope her petite little LA body gets hit by a bicyclist.

I don't even like seeing her smile. It means she is happy. And that means that I failed in my life quest to make her miserable. If I could become anything, I'd be a skin-eating disease and beeline straight to her nose.

Is it normal to despise someone this much? No. It isn't. I know that. But sometimes a girl needs to lash out at someone and sometimes there's a perfect opportunity because this girl meets someone completely worthy of beating up. So what can I do but shrug and go with the flow?

I've been jealous of girls. I've hated the thought of them with my guy, I hated their snub noses and horse faces. This is different. This has nothing to do with my guy.

And everything to do with losing the biggest part of my life.

after I drank a case of you

I've reached a point that I've never reached since my lips met yours. I crumbled slowly in a thousand different ways, and finally, with your silence, I broke.

And when one hits the bottom, the only other way to go is up.

I was angry, truly, but it diminished almost instantly. My heart, once blaming you for every pain I lived with, is now quiet. Everything is finally quiet. In this clearer view, I see I was wrong. I see I hurt you. I see how the hurt you made me feel could have been avoided had I made better choices. I see you never chose someone else over me. I see that I never let us stop, and blamed you for wanting just that. Blamed you for not wanting to see me, when I was the reason you couldn't.

Not that I was unreasonably angry. You could have respected us a bit more than you did, however non-official our relationship was. You could have waited out the pain like I tried to instead of letting someone else into your bed. But it was my anger, my pride, that kept me from letting you know how I felt. It was my fear that put her there in the first place.

I'm not all better. I still think of you every day, every romantic moment, every ending of a movie. I still almost text you, keeping a list of drafts in my phone of how I miss your warmth. It's getting better, though. I don't look for your car driving up my driveway anymore. I'm not tempted to offer you temporary satisfaction. I couldn't stand to disappoint you ever again.

My only regret is the hurt that I caused, and that will never go away. I won't forgive myself for that, but I forgive myself for everything else.

Thanks for the best time of my life.

Romancing the Stage

I remember when you were all I ever thought of. I ran to you in the morning. I left warily when the sun had long given up. I gave my everything for you; I was afraid not to. I knew what happened to those who refused. I was content with a pat on the head when you recognized my pained attempts to please. To an outsider, it was a give-and-take kind of situation. To an outsider, you were the gift. I knew better.

You ran off to show your glam to the world, I stayed behind to pick up the extra sequins that quietly fluttered to the floor. You basked in the lights and applause, I sat quietly in darkness until the magic died down. You demanded power and attention, I slaved to make everyone else see it. You only let me in when the eyes weren't on you; though you'd never say that out loud, we both understood I would have ruined your razzle dazzle.

And we both survived, didn't we? I loved you. I always will, even though I'll never come back again. There's only enough room to shine for one of us. And I'm the one who looks good in lingerie.

Let us clink and drink one down for my stupidly battered heart.

Confessions of a Sims Geek

I miss you so much that I made two Sims of us. We live in a little house. Our attraction meters are through the roof. I wasn't surprised. Hopefully these little guys will have a better ending.

Don’t play hard to get with a man who’s hard to get.

If only I followed each rule that Sex in the City graciously adorned the show with, perhaps there'd be no need to watch it anymore. And then I'd be able to stop trying to relate to characters that don't exist, with conflicts that are created in an office by paid writers sitting around a table with martinis on their mind.

However, the genius writers know this. They know how sensitive we are. They know we're looking for solutions, advice, Chinese takeout chats; anything to let us know we're not alone. They know exactly what problems we'll never resolve. They know we masochistically go through the same type of boy, the same shitty emotions, the same self-inflicting mantras. They know we will go even further and watch skinny versions of ourselves on television go through the same problems. We'll watch them over and over again, and have favourite episodes and favourite issues that make us cringe on the inside and teary moments when the wine hits us just right. And we'll nod at the screen when the man leaves without explanation, shake our heads at the bitch who stole him away, and sigh to the sad song as the credits roll.

So yes, the rules the show creates make sense. The thing is, 'sense' rarely comes into play when it comes to matters of the heart.