-Death Cab for Cutie.- |^|
I've been thinking today,
despite my efforts not to.
Last night I almost succeeded in not thinking.
I've been playing around on Facebook like mad.
It takes some brain power.
And then knit-looming takes some space in my brain, as well.
But today it isn't working.
It's so strange.
I was reading some of my old blog posts today.
I do that every now and again.
It's interesting to see how I have changed
and how I have not.
How circumstances change.
All the memories.
I've had some pretty powerful emotions.
I blogged all the way through my first real boyfriend,
and through my second,
and now through the things I'm realizing lately.
Or rather, the things I'm admitting.
I've always realized many things,
but wouldn't look them square in the face.
I have been so.. Insecure.
And so lonely.
I found my first boyfriend and latched on
because I thought
"Here is someone who needs me, who wants me."
With my second I was overwhelmed and freaking out all the time.
The happy phase really only lasted so long.
Or maybe it's just that the scary things are more vivid memories.
I'm not really sure.
Now I find myself looking at people as they pass me.
Guys who are fairly easy to read.
Girls who are fake.
People with walls.
People with masks.
I think that very few of them are happy.
But some are happy.
I think I can finally rejoice in that.
Not be entirely jealous of someone else's happiness.
There will always be some jealousy, I think.
Until I can let myself be happy.
I think I relish pain, in some way.
I'm a bit masochistic.
It's hard not to love something
even if it is the most acute source of pain.
The thing that I've noticed
is that I will only ever be happy
[As a couple]
with one person.
I've decided this, because I believe in monogamy,
obviously, and because
I believe that I know who that one person is.
Now, I look at the opposite sex,
and every time I'm slightly more disappointed.
I don't know them, but I know who they aren't.
It's worse, when I see a trait that is so similar,
and still. Just. Not.
Coming to the realization that I know who I belong with
has a crippling affect.
I can't believe in dating anymore.
Isn't the whole point to find your mate or a lover?
I can't have boyfriends anymore.
I can't have frivolous relationships
because I'd feel like a fraud.
How dare I?
And then there is that strange romantic thought.
The "Ever since the first time I saw her..." statement.
I know I will never have that.
It is me that has that feeling, not the other way around.
I know that I will always be some sort of after-thought
even if I am the most-loved after-thought in the world.
He will be home soon.
Amy, they will all be home and they will be so close.
They might as well be in Keno,
for all the weight it carries with me.
He will be home soon.
But it is of no consequence to me.
I am only useful for a moment,
and once I am no longer needed
I might as well be a fruit fly or a mosquito.
[Depending on the level of annoyance.]
Mum says words have power.
I believe this.
It's in the Bible, somewhere.
But that doesn't mean I should live my life
taking claim to things that might never happen.
It's too.. Stalkerish.
Ew.
It is best for me to keep my mouth shut,
which is what I've begun to do.
So I write instead.
I can write more freely than I could speak, anyway.
Speaking things makes them too real.
It makes them.. not just mine anymore.
I guess the scariest part is that I could be wrong.
I am human and thus make constant error.
I believe with all my heart that I am not mistaken.
I believe it with my mind.
I see how I have compared.
How I have judged.
How I have only really wished for one thing,
even when I could not admit it to myself.
The one thing that seemed the most impossible.
And that one thing needed me.
For just a day, I was needed.
It was like I had him back, for just minute.
And then he was gone again.
But he is coming home.
It means nothing.
I write about boy because..
I hope that it will help me not to think of him.
Because I feel like such a silly girl.
A very serious, silly girl, if that makes sense.
I have always prided myself in not being shallow.
In not being a typical girl who swoons so often.
Who fills her journal with boys.
Boys that she loves anew every other day.
But.. Maybe I am just that bad.
The boy.
And all the others I used to try to forget him.
Oh.
That is horrible.
I've used.. More than just my ex's.
I don't know if I realized what I was doing..
But that doesn't make it any better.
I'm a user.
No wonder I can't seem to stay happy for long.
I'm just like those other girls.
I do what I need to do to get what I want.
Except, I'm not good at it.
It hasn't worked, obviously.
At least I have resolved to stop.
I can't keep it up, anyway.
It's such a thin plastic pleasure that doesn't last.
I need something real.
I think this is why God hasn't
allowed me to have what I want.
He knows I have put too much stock in it.
I need to be happy being alone.
But how do I do that when I'm missing half of myself
and that half is struggling through things I can't take away?
I want to help.
I want to be completed again.
Not me, but the package.
It's so confusing.
You don't need a man to be happy.
But God created us that way,
so that the two could become one.
Perhaps I'm mistaking pain for unhappiness.
I really have a wonderful life, friends, and family.
I am happy most of the time,
and I don't seek approval from the opposite sex.
Perhaps it's the link between us that is causing
these intense emotions that
I have managed so suppress until recently.
I hate feeling helpless.
I hate feeling hopeless.
[Only in that aspect, the rest of my life is perfect.]
I hate feeling like I'm being toyed with.
And like I'll never get to that path in my destiny
that leads to the most perfect thing that ever existed.
I need to stop.
I'ma go take a shower
and do something about the low blood sugar.
..In your head, Zombie.. - Cranberries.
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