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I am happy.
It’s about fucking time.
And nothing will bring me down.
Nothing. Outside the fact that he’s not answering his phone.
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Filed under: Uncategorized
What’s awesome is a breakdown that comes out of nowhere.
I had a miniature one of those last night, and it was all sorts of not cool. And then all hell broke loose, fortunately not from me, but still.
It’s ups and downs. I don’t feel like doing this rimeow.
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I could use more nothing in my life.
That’s an oxy-moron, but I mean it.
There’s too much…stuff. My life is a cluttered room, and I barely have space to walk, let alone breathe, or think, or feel.
The lonely is what drives me, and I’m aware of that. Why I let it get so out of control is something I’m not aware of. And it needs to stop. The temporary benefits aren’t outweighing the long-term effects.
I need closure.
I need definite answers.
I feel like I’m wandering around in the dark, blindly feeling around in front of myself. And I can’t find my way. I keep running into brick walls. He is my brick wall. I’ve tried to climb over. It’s too high. I’ve tried to go around. It’s too infinite. I’ve tried to go straight through. It’s too hard, too thick. I keep thinking I can do this, but at the same time, I don’t know if I can, or if I want to.
Have you ever watched a movie, or a TV show that ended happily, but you still felt something inside of you had broken? Have you ever watched a happy ending but felt so utterly depressed that it followed you around for a while? That’s how I feel. I don’t know if things happen for a reason. I don’t know if there is such a thing as karma, or fate, or whatever. What I do know is that I cannot do this anymore. I know that even though it kills me, and even though it hurts more than anything I have ever experienced, I have the strength to endure. I think that having made one of the hugest mistakes of my life doesn’t justify the reckless mistakes I have been making. I don’t think I will find the validation I seem to be seeking on the lips of a random hookup. I’m not going to find it between the sheets of someone’s bed, or in the friction between skin. I think all I am doing is causing myself more pain. And I should be smarter than that. I am smarter than that. I’m better than that.
I don’t know if He and me were supposed to last. I don’t know if it is really my fault that we are no longer together, or if it is by some strange coincidence where the timing made it appear that way. I do not know if it would have been different had I been different. I don’t know if he ever really loved me as much as I love(d) him. And I don’t know if any of it really matters. I don’t know if any of it ever did.
I don’t think I have ever felt so alone. So lonely. So lost. So confused. So scared.
And all I can do, what I have to start doing, is tell myself that it’s going to get better. It has to get better.
I can’t allow myself to believe that I’m going to feel like this forever.
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I will reiterate: I am really, really sick of this up and down bullshit.
All it’s serving to do is turn my stomach, and I feel the need to vomit.
It’s making me sick.
I’m either okay or I’m not, you know? I’m tired of feeling fine one day, and the next, I feel like I’m going to die if something doesn’t improve.
I will expand on this when it’s not three in the fucking morning.
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Filed under: Uncategorized
I’m not going to apologize anymore. I was wrong, slightly, but I am not sorry. The feelings are there. They aren’t changing, and they shouldn’t have to. I suppose it is of no consequence if anyone else is sorry. It’s hard to admit, but it’s none of my business anymore. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it was too soon. But it’s not my life and it’s out of my control.
I spent the majority of yesterday crying. When I finally numbed up a bit, I wrote this. It makes me feel I am a hypocrite, but it’s what I believe, even if I don’t practice it.
At some point in life, we all encounter pain. It rears its head at untimely and unexpected moments. The best any of us can do is armor up and face it. Why? Because life goes on. While we get hung up in the pain or emotion or whatever of the moment, time continues on, with or without us. And before you know it, time’s moved on and you are living in the past. Sure, be hurt. Be betrayed. Be lost, confused, torn, angry, sad, scared, whatever. Be what you are, but do not let your life move on without you. Love, and by all means do it fiercely. Love freely and uninhibited and with every ounce of your being. Ther’s the only way to ever love. Do it with no regrets, no matter what happens. And when shit comes to shit and love scorns you, keep going. Yeah, it hurts. IT hurts more than anything you’ve ever, EVER felt before. But life goes on. Time is slow, but it heals. No matter the size of the wound, time will eventually make it scab over. Don’t pick it – that only worsens things. In time, all wounds scar over and heal. It’s the scars that are important. They are lessons learned, loves lost, mistakes made. You can be bitter. You can be angry and mean and hurtful. It doesn’t get you anywhere. It’s not going to make you feel better in the long run. Pain is pain. It is absolute and unavoidable because it is a part of life. And as I said: life goes on.
Go with it.
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He’s not my boyfriend anymore.
But I’ll say it.
I miss my boyfriend.
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So, I was just being what started out as accidentally nosey, and then progressed rapidly into just being fucking nosey. However, it was a good/bad experience that I feel I was entitled to have.
I will discuss this with you more at a later date, when my boyfriend pulls his head out of his ass and decides he wants to have a conversation with me that NEEDS to happen.
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Being abandoned. I fucking loathe it.
That is all.
Filed under: Fuck, Honestly, I'm crazy, Oh NOES, Ramble, Rant, Why why why?
The seams have finally burst.
I have finally reached maximum capacity, and all the stress, worry, and everything else you can imagine has caught up to me.
I’m freaking out. I’ve been really down for the past couple weeks or so, and then at some point last night, something snapped. I keep crying hysterically for what seems to be no real reason. Sure, maybe something small instigated it, but not something that warrants all-out, uncontrolled hysterical fits of bawling.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. But it’s not good, and it needs to go away. I feel crazed. Out of my mind, out of control. I literally feel as though I am spiralling a (the?) drain.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
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he and I had something beautiful but so dysfunctional, it couldn't last I loved him so but I let him go 'cause I knew he'd never love me back such pain as this shouldn't have to be experienced I'm still reeling from the loss, still a little bit delirious near to you, I am healing but it's taking so long 'cause though he's gone and you are wonderful it's hard to move on yet, I'm better near to you. you and I have something different and I'm enjoying it cautiously I'm battle scarred, but I am working oh so hard to get back to who I used to be he's disappearing, fading steadily well, I'm so close to being yours, won’t you stay with me, please near to you, I am healing but it's taking so long 'cause though he's gone and you are wonderful it’s hard to move on yet, I'm better near to you I only know that I am better where you are I only know that I am better where you are I only know that I belong where you are near to you, I am healing but it's taking so long 'cause though he's gone and you are wonderful it’s hard to move on yet, I'm better near to you
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quarterlife, get a grip. Please. Stop popping your pills and chugging your alcohol for long enough to actually think about something. First of all, you have NO IDEA what is going on with my ex-boyfriend and myself. You don’t know what we’ve talked about, you don’t know the details of our having sex nor the repercussions of it. You can make all the assumptions you want, but not all scenarios play out the same, and you definitely DO NOT FUCKING KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON. As for hurting you, that’s not my fault. If you’re hurt because I slept with Spooner, I’m not going to tell you I’m sorry, because I’m not. If you’re hurt because I haven’t filled you in about the shit going on in my life, I’m not going to tell you sorry, because I’m not. Not one single person knows all the details right now. Not even Poser. Yes, she knows more than you do, but she also has a tendency to NOT JUDGE ME FOR MY ACTIONS. You say you want me out of your life, then so be it. The fact of the matter is that makes you a shallow, immature, and completely emotionally flaccid person. Also, if you want to be pissed off because I talk to Poser more than I talk to you and I “bitched about her” all the time to you, you can go ahead and tell her everything I’ve ever said about her to you. And it won’t change a god damned thing, because I have told her those same things.
Here it all is. On the fucking table. Because I’m tired of shit blowing up in my face for no god damned reason.
I had sex with Spooner. It was wonderful, and I do not regret it at all.
I have recently had sex with He (more than once). We are dealing with the outcome of this action.
THE WAY I FEEL, THE CHOICES I MAKE, AND THE THINGS I DO ARE MY BUSINESS. The people I want to fuck are of no concern to anyone else (because I’m not sleeping with anyone’s boyfriend or anything). The choices I make that affect MY life are not for anyone who dares call themselves my friend to judge.
Want to know what hurts me? That YOU of all people have the audacity to call ME a selfish brat. To tell ME that I’M self-involved. Regardless of whether or not I make poor decisions, they are MY decisions to make. I never dropped you out of my life, and we all know you’ve made your fair share of FUCKED UP choices. I disagreed with a good number of things you were doing, and I didn’t give up on you. Your inability to cope and reason things logically is the thing that hurts me most right now. NOT the fact that I had sex with my ex. The fact that the majority of people I consider to be my “friends” right now don’t actually give a fuck about me when it comes down to it; that hurts me. Yea, sure, so I’ve never come to you when there’s shit going on in my life. I DON’T TALK TO PEOPLE. You know who I go to most often when I have problems? My dad. Sometimes my brother. AND THEN Poser. And excuse the fuck out of me if she has seniority over you. She’s been my rock for a very long time, and people have a tendency to stick to what they know. I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings by making you feel as though you’re not important or that I don’t feel like I can talk to you. That’s not the case. I just don’t openly discuss my feelings. Or who I sleep with. Or whatever. Some shit is personal, and it’s NOT YOUR BUSINESS.
My ex-boyfriend is one of my better friends. He will always be. We are totally open with each other, and we talk freely and often about everything concerning the two of us and how we feel about things. I have an immense amount of respect and love for him, and I care very much about him. How fucking dare you be so fucking arrogant as to tell me that I’m hurting him? YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. You go ahead and talk to him about it if you want. Ask him how HE feels about the sex. Ask him who told him it was a really bad idea to have sex. BEFORE and AFTER. Fall off your high horse and fuck off a bunch for sticking your nose in business that isn’t yours.
I will apologize for being such a bitch about this. Specifically to you, quarterlife. But damned if I have little to NO fucking tolerance for people blatantly insulting me when they have no fucking idea what they’re talking about. I will not stand for it, because I do not deserve it. We all make mistakes, and regardless, if you’re my friend, you have NO FUCKING RIGHT to judge the things I do, especially when they don’t affect you at all – such as with He. You want to cry a river about “friend” being another word for pain? GROW UP. Open your eyes. People are people. We’re all human. We all fuck up. We all do things that others don’t always agree with. And if you’re a real friend, you stick with the people you care about. I have never intentionally done ANYTHING to hurt you. I’ve been a bitch, but that’s just how I am. If you don’t want to be my friend, it’s both our loss – but your mistake.
It’s a terrible, terrible shame that I was doing so well avoiding the drama, and then it crawls right up my ass and parks there. Fuck this, because I’m done. I’ve said what I need to say. I’m sure quarterlife will take it the wrong way, but there’s not a whole lot I can do about that. I’m tired of explaining myself to people because they’re too selfish to listen to what I really mean. I’m tired of dealing with unnecessary drama because people are too consumed with its absurdity. I’m tired, so I’m done. If I have to be a cold bitch to avoid this shit; if I have to push away all of my friends, so be it. If I have to be alone for the rest of my god damned life to keep drama llamas from fucking all over my life and shitting out miniature drama llamas, I’m going to do it. Because I’m tired of the bullshit. We’re all fucking adults here, and I’m tired of all of us acting like it far too sparsely.
I’m going to go to bed now. UGH.
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Dear Internet Porn,
These last ten years have been quite a trip, have they not? My letter to you now, however, is not one of celebration… I don’t feel like we are the same anymore. We just don’t have that passion we used to.
When we first met I was a loser, and you were there for me. My parents told me that you were no good for me, but I didn’t listen. You showed me that there were plenty of people like myself getting laid. It was beautiful and passionate. Your softcore erotic videos were a tasteful introduction to my budding sexuality.
As I got older I started seeing girls on the side. I knew you were jealous, but you have always held a special place in my heart. You became naughtier and it affected my relationships. I started wanting all the things I had seen you do. I wanted to be just like you. I wanted to cover my girlfriend’s face, put it up her ass, choke her.
But that’s when I realized your dark secret, Internet Porn. You aren’t real: you are a fake and shallow individual. No girl wants a load on her face! Anal sex hurts and humiliates, and choking only leads to bruises that friends and loved ones ask about. You lied to me and changed my sexual expectations. Now no girl can please me.
I know it isn’t all bad. You’ve taught me so much. I can surf the internet with either hand and I know all the keyboard shortcuts for my browser. I know positions that aren’t even in the Kamasutra. But you have such a dark side. I’ve been late for work more than once and I find myself wanting to jerkoff at six in the morning. That’s what you’ve done to me.
Even now, on the eve of Christ’s birth, I sit hunched over my computer, penis in hand. I had to turn the nativity scene around so that Jesus wouldn’t see your filth. Try as I might, I can never hide you well enough either. It is harder to find you squirreled away on my hard drive than it is to get into my online bank account. Yet there is always lingering evidence. I’ve told you time and again to stop leaving your things at my place. But you ALWAYS forget something: a shortcut here, an unclear history there.
There’s no acceptance when you are discovered either. It might have been ok when we started – just innocent flirting with softcore. But now my girlfriends discover my asphyxiation collection, or that one goat video. I hate that you always invite your shadiest friends over when you come.
So I have one request. I know I can’t get rid of you… you are the psychopathic stalker to my teenage horror film. But if you won’t leave me alone, can you at least do me one favor? If I ever die, can you please format my hard drive? All of them? If you can’t do that, just burn my place down. My family can never know of my shame.
- Your shamed lover
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Don’t wonder why people go crazy.
Wonder why they don’t.
