It feels like years have passed in the last four days. Every single second of my days are punctuated with the constant train of thoughts running through my head, morbidly predicting my future, the outcome never good. Even if I could shut off my brain, or put it on mute for an extended period of time (like forever), my symptoms are there to remind me. A constant tapping on my shoulder, a whisper in my ear "You have it. You definitely have it. Oh man is this gonna suck." This wouldn't bother me so much if it was some come and go illness, like mono, but knowing that if the tests come back positive - positive for who exactly? - I will be diagnosed with a lifelong illness, makes me enter the highest level of panic attack.
I have a doctors appointment on Wednesday, most likely to be followed by bloodwork, and a few more days of agony in the form of waiting, and then the results. I just want to know. It really is the waiting that kills.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
A Little Late For Unicorns
When I was five years old, the son of some close family friends committed suicide. I don't remember being told about this, or even being aware of his absence, but I do remember one thing. My sleepless nights. Laying in bed, willing sleep to come, I would begin to think. I wondered what happened when people died. My family isn't at all religious so I didn't have a belief of heaven or God to cling to in that time of uncertainty. The only outcome my 5 year old brain could come up with was nothing. Nothing happens when you die. You float in the abyss for eternity. You can't see, speak, touch, love, feel anything. For a little girl who still clung to her mom's leg when she attempted to drop her off at kindergarten, this was terrifying. Inevitably, night after night that this happened, I would begin to cry. I would cry until my sister would yell for my parents, or they would hear me as they passed by my room. They would come in my room and ask what was wrong, and through my sobs I would explain it to them. I'm not aware of any parenting books that prepare you for when your 5 year old has a metaphysical crisis, so they did the best they could. I had a calendar on my wall, cartoon pictures of ponies and unicorns, bright pink and glittery, stickers adorning the pages, marking what I felt were momentous occasions. My mom would tell me to look at the calendar, look at how happy all the unicorns are, and look at all the fun things you have coming up. You aren't going to die for a very, very long time and neither are we. They would tuck me in and leave, and thankfully their words were enough to comfort me, at least long enough to fall asleep.
These days I have a lot more to worry about, although the whole death debate still makes an appearance quite often. I'm hoping for reincarnation, because the thought of just "being" until the end of time is not only frightening, but seriously depressing. Plenty of things have made me cry in the last year or so; the suicide of someone close to my family (yes, this is a different one), the deathes of two classmates senior year, betrayal in so many different forms (cheating, lieing, stalking, verbal abuse). I can't seem to find anything that comforts me the way cartoon unicorns used to. Instead these thoughts and worries seem to fester in my mind, growing like ivy up the side of a building, slowly but surely engulfing every one of my thoughts. I need something that can take away this worry, or at least push it back a little bit. I need new unicorns.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...
These days I have a lot more to worry about, although the whole death debate still makes an appearance quite often. I'm hoping for reincarnation, because the thought of just "being" until the end of time is not only frightening, but seriously depressing. Plenty of things have made me cry in the last year or so; the suicide of someone close to my family (yes, this is a different one), the deathes of two classmates senior year, betrayal in so many different forms (cheating, lieing, stalking, verbal abuse). I can't seem to find anything that comforts me the way cartoon unicorns used to. Instead these thoughts and worries seem to fester in my mind, growing like ivy up the side of a building, slowly but surely engulfing every one of my thoughts. I need something that can take away this worry, or at least push it back a little bit. I need new unicorns.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...
Saturday, May 24, 2008
The Mentally Unstable Need Not Apply (Unless They Fake Sanity Really Well)
I'm sick of creating titles that fit with I Would Rather Sleep Forever... There are only so many. So I'm done with that.
That guy Chris, the one whose every breath annoys me to the point of homicidal curiousity, is finally gone. Or so it appears. More than 48 hours without so much as a ten word text, and I'm almost jumping for joy. I just worry that the second I start to celebrate his departure, he'll show. Friday afternoon, at about 1:30, I look out the window at work to see a guy walking up the path towards the automatic doors. Not exactly a rare sight, it is a public place that encourages people to frequent the premises. It wouldn't have warranted more than a split second glance if the guy hadn't been the spitting image of Chris. Same height, same build, same blond highlighted backstreet boy wannabe haircut. He came to the front desk, about 20 feet from where I was standing, and I almost hid. Instead I stood there like a moron, pretending to be doing something while actually attempting to covertly look at him every tenth of a second. Thankfully it wasn't him, but I think I had a mild heart attack. I've had exs go psycho stalker on me before (including one who phoned in a fake hostage situation that made for a very humiliating night with my parents and two cops) so I think my freakout threshold is substantially lower than the average persons.
So now I'm on the hunt again...and it really does feel like hunting since I've gotten more aggressive in the last year. I hate games. A friend of a friend started poking me on facebook, someone I don't talk to very often, but he's cute. It went on for days, poke, poke, poke, poke. Finally I sent him a message and all I got back was more ambiguous crap. I wasn't going to sit around waiting for him to ask me out after his balls finally drop, so I asked him what the deal was. Long story short, his status changed to "in a relationship" a couple of days ago, and I'm not dating him. It's all for the best though, since I've heard he has super sperm and the last thing I need to be is with child.
So I'm single and looking, and like the title says, the mentally unstable need not apply. I'm unstable enough for two.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...
That guy Chris, the one whose every breath annoys me to the point of homicidal curiousity, is finally gone. Or so it appears. More than 48 hours without so much as a ten word text, and I'm almost jumping for joy. I just worry that the second I start to celebrate his departure, he'll show. Friday afternoon, at about 1:30, I look out the window at work to see a guy walking up the path towards the automatic doors. Not exactly a rare sight, it is a public place that encourages people to frequent the premises. It wouldn't have warranted more than a split second glance if the guy hadn't been the spitting image of Chris. Same height, same build, same blond highlighted backstreet boy wannabe haircut. He came to the front desk, about 20 feet from where I was standing, and I almost hid. Instead I stood there like a moron, pretending to be doing something while actually attempting to covertly look at him every tenth of a second. Thankfully it wasn't him, but I think I had a mild heart attack. I've had exs go psycho stalker on me before (including one who phoned in a fake hostage situation that made for a very humiliating night with my parents and two cops) so I think my freakout threshold is substantially lower than the average persons.
So now I'm on the hunt again...and it really does feel like hunting since I've gotten more aggressive in the last year. I hate games. A friend of a friend started poking me on facebook, someone I don't talk to very often, but he's cute. It went on for days, poke, poke, poke, poke. Finally I sent him a message and all I got back was more ambiguous crap. I wasn't going to sit around waiting for him to ask me out after his balls finally drop, so I asked him what the deal was. Long story short, his status changed to "in a relationship" a couple of days ago, and I'm not dating him. It's all for the best though, since I've heard he has super sperm and the last thing I need to be is with child.
So I'm single and looking, and like the title says, the mentally unstable need not apply. I'm unstable enough for two.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...
...Than Have To Remember This
April 30, 2004
I made the mistake of talking to Jesse tonight. Dad found out and started screaming at me. Then he shoved me out of my room and started pushing my against the wall really hard. He was slamming me into the corner and then he shoved me into the living room which is down two steps, and then shoved me into the couch and towards the door. He slammed me against the door a few times and then shoved me across the room. I was screaming the whole time because I was so scared. Then Katie ran in and basically told him to get away from me and out of the house. Then her and I talked. Now they're outside taking a walk and talking. Katie said she won't let him come near me tonight. I hope not because I was scared that he was going to kill me, and I still am. I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid he'll hurt me. I've never been this scared. I know that my relationship with him will never be the same. I'm so, so, so scared. I wish I could stop talking to Jesse, but I have no one else that I can talk to. No one else understands. If I had someone I wouldn't need him. If I had someone here to talk to then I wouldn't be so alone. Or scared. I want to go home but mom, dad and Katie have all been drinking.
That was four years ago, but when I read it and think about it, it seems like it was yesterday. It feels so raw, like a wound that will never close. My father is supposed to be the one man that I can completely trust and feel safe with. Knowing that he is capable of hurting me like that changes everything. I don't look at him the same way, I can't have the kind of easy, carefree conversations that my sister has with him. Every interaction, every word, every hug is under a shadow. A week after that happened I started cutting myself, and I still have the scars. Eight little white lines, fairly evenly spaced up my left forearm, each one reminding me exactly why I feel like this, why I'm not good enough. Why I shouldn't really be here. The pain from what happened (emotional, not physical. I managed to walk away with a few bruised bones, nothing else) was so intense and overwhelming. It wasn't a wound I could look at, something I could watch slowly healing day by day. So I made that kind of pain. I cut open my arm eight times, hoping that as the pain from those cuts faded, so would the rest. It hasn't though. Maybe because it has never been talked about. My dad has never said he was sorry, or he shouldn't of done it. No matter what I was doing, (which by the way, wasn't all that bad in the grand scheme of things. Talking to a guy. He was 7 years older than me, but still. I could have been out having sex with random guys, doing drugs, getting drunk. I wasn't.) Anyways, no matter what I was doing, his reaction was not justified. There is nothing I could have done that gives him permission to get physical with me. He has never said that he did the wrong thing and that kills me.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Have To Remember This
I made the mistake of talking to Jesse tonight. Dad found out and started screaming at me. Then he shoved me out of my room and started pushing my against the wall really hard. He was slamming me into the corner and then he shoved me into the living room which is down two steps, and then shoved me into the couch and towards the door. He slammed me against the door a few times and then shoved me across the room. I was screaming the whole time because I was so scared. Then Katie ran in and basically told him to get away from me and out of the house. Then her and I talked. Now they're outside taking a walk and talking. Katie said she won't let him come near me tonight. I hope not because I was scared that he was going to kill me, and I still am. I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid he'll hurt me. I've never been this scared. I know that my relationship with him will never be the same. I'm so, so, so scared. I wish I could stop talking to Jesse, but I have no one else that I can talk to. No one else understands. If I had someone I wouldn't need him. If I had someone here to talk to then I wouldn't be so alone. Or scared. I want to go home but mom, dad and Katie have all been drinking.
That was four years ago, but when I read it and think about it, it seems like it was yesterday. It feels so raw, like a wound that will never close. My father is supposed to be the one man that I can completely trust and feel safe with. Knowing that he is capable of hurting me like that changes everything. I don't look at him the same way, I can't have the kind of easy, carefree conversations that my sister has with him. Every interaction, every word, every hug is under a shadow. A week after that happened I started cutting myself, and I still have the scars. Eight little white lines, fairly evenly spaced up my left forearm, each one reminding me exactly why I feel like this, why I'm not good enough. Why I shouldn't really be here. The pain from what happened (emotional, not physical. I managed to walk away with a few bruised bones, nothing else) was so intense and overwhelming. It wasn't a wound I could look at, something I could watch slowly healing day by day. So I made that kind of pain. I cut open my arm eight times, hoping that as the pain from those cuts faded, so would the rest. It hasn't though. Maybe because it has never been talked about. My dad has never said he was sorry, or he shouldn't of done it. No matter what I was doing, (which by the way, wasn't all that bad in the grand scheme of things. Talking to a guy. He was 7 years older than me, but still. I could have been out having sex with random guys, doing drugs, getting drunk. I wasn't.) Anyways, no matter what I was doing, his reaction was not justified. There is nothing I could have done that gives him permission to get physical with me. He has never said that he did the wrong thing and that kills me.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Have To Remember This
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
...Than Re-Live My Past (Part 1)
May 21, 2006
"I told Jesse that I cheated on him. He went all psycho and said that he's taking a bunch sleeping/pain pills."
We had such a healthy relationship. Isn't it obvious? At that point he had cheated on me numerous times. Well, I guess it wasn't real cheating. Since he made it up!!! Anyways, he had the balls to get all melodramatic when I confessed my infidelity, which I don't even remember now, so it must have been pretty minor. He put me through that kind of shit a lot, and now it's just another item on the list of reasons why I hate him.
May 21, 2007
"I told Josh to call me tonight. I tried to call him yesterday but his home phone is fucked and his cell gets no reception at his house. He tried to call from his computer but I couldn't hear him. He said I sounded do-able. He's so cute. I love talking to him. He's so smart, funny, and interesting."
This was at the height of my infatuation with him. When you have his attention, and he's talking to you, you feel special. It started to fade a couple of months later because nothing physical had happened, a requirement to stay on Josh's radar. There are times when I really miss how we used to talk, mostly when I'm reading through old diary entries, but I think the longing is more about how he made me feel, not who he is.
I can't believe those were the only two entries I could come up with for this day, especially since I went through seven diaries. Oh well, here's hoping future installments will be better.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Re-Live My Past
"I told Jesse that I cheated on him. He went all psycho and said that he's taking a bunch sleeping/pain pills."
We had such a healthy relationship. Isn't it obvious? At that point he had cheated on me numerous times. Well, I guess it wasn't real cheating. Since he made it up!!! Anyways, he had the balls to get all melodramatic when I confessed my infidelity, which I don't even remember now, so it must have been pretty minor. He put me through that kind of shit a lot, and now it's just another item on the list of reasons why I hate him.
May 21, 2007
"I told Josh to call me tonight. I tried to call him yesterday but his home phone is fucked and his cell gets no reception at his house. He tried to call from his computer but I couldn't hear him. He said I sounded do-able. He's so cute. I love talking to him. He's so smart, funny, and interesting."
This was at the height of my infatuation with him. When you have his attention, and he's talking to you, you feel special. It started to fade a couple of months later because nothing physical had happened, a requirement to stay on Josh's radar. There are times when I really miss how we used to talk, mostly when I'm reading through old diary entries, but I think the longing is more about how he made me feel, not who he is.
I can't believe those were the only two entries I could come up with for this day, especially since I went through seven diaries. Oh well, here's hoping future installments will be better.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Re-Live My Past
Monday, May 19, 2008
...Than Tell Him I Love Him
I've debated writing about this for a long time, a hell of a lot longer than the 4 day life of this blog. It has proved nearly impossible to get these words out of my head and onto the page without some sort of emotional breakdown.
I think I will always love Josh, because of and in spite of his flaws. I love him because of who he is, who he isn't, who he could be, who he pretends to be, and who I make him out to be. I love him even more when it seems like I can't have him. My heart aches when he tells me the things I want to hear, either completely unaware of the consequences or maybe because of them. There is absolutely no way he is unaware of my feelings, they're so obvious and in your face. I think he ignores them because he doesn't feel the same way about me, or he just knows that a relationship with me would never work so he just avoids emotion around me at all costs.
Josh took up residence in my heart from the beginning, and no matter how much I beg and plead, he won't leave. He's planted a flag and claimed that territory as his own. Josh works at a big talent agency in Los Angeles but spends most of his workdays online playing games, or talking to people. I used to be one of those people, but I'm not so much anymore. He's originally from New Jersey, but one of those wealthy towns where no one has the unattractive accents. He studied art history at Boston University, and then put his degree to absolutely no use when he moved to LA to become an agent. He has an extremely unique and sarcastic personality, and he has absolutely no fear about telling you what he's thinking. The conversations we had would just flow from one topic to the next, with no awkward pauses or forced small talk. He is unbelievably smart and well read, he knows what's going on in the world and can talk about it, anytime, any place. He has a completely different outlook on life than I do, and I loved the way he would challenge my perceptions and encourage me to think differently. He has cystic fibrosis, which means that his life will probably be substantially shorter than the average persons, something that never seemed to bother him as far as I could see. I loved everything about him.
Somewhere around last October we lost contact, my fault, not his, and only started talking again in the last couple of months. From the beginning it wasn't the same. I wrote him this long, heartfelt letter, pouring my heart out and telling him absolutely everything I had been thinking and feeling. Well, I guess not everything. I stopped short of telling him that I love him, and thank god I didn't, because it was awkward enough without me saying that. He was more distant than he had ever been before, and it seemed like he didn't want to talk to me. It's two months later and we're in a better place now, but not by much. Any conversation we have, except the one where he was begging me for topless pictures, is short and full of random small talk. Then one of us leaves and a week later we may have another half-conversation.
If you're wondering why I can't tell him I love him, then you obviously haven't been listening. I know his reaction wouldn't be what I want so I'm going to save the heartbreak and just let that love live inside of me forever, and hope that one day it will either go away or I can give it to someone else. I hate sounding all hallmark card, summer chick flick, cheesy romance novel on you, but I've let these thoughts fester inside of me for long enough. I really hope that writing them down will take the weight off of my mind, at least somewhat. I have changed his name, but not any of the details about him, so I hope he never reads this. Oh well, that's what he gets for not loving me.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Tell Him I Love Him
I think I will always love Josh, because of and in spite of his flaws. I love him because of who he is, who he isn't, who he could be, who he pretends to be, and who I make him out to be. I love him even more when it seems like I can't have him. My heart aches when he tells me the things I want to hear, either completely unaware of the consequences or maybe because of them. There is absolutely no way he is unaware of my feelings, they're so obvious and in your face. I think he ignores them because he doesn't feel the same way about me, or he just knows that a relationship with me would never work so he just avoids emotion around me at all costs.
Josh took up residence in my heart from the beginning, and no matter how much I beg and plead, he won't leave. He's planted a flag and claimed that territory as his own. Josh works at a big talent agency in Los Angeles but spends most of his workdays online playing games, or talking to people. I used to be one of those people, but I'm not so much anymore. He's originally from New Jersey, but one of those wealthy towns where no one has the unattractive accents. He studied art history at Boston University, and then put his degree to absolutely no use when he moved to LA to become an agent. He has an extremely unique and sarcastic personality, and he has absolutely no fear about telling you what he's thinking. The conversations we had would just flow from one topic to the next, with no awkward pauses or forced small talk. He is unbelievably smart and well read, he knows what's going on in the world and can talk about it, anytime, any place. He has a completely different outlook on life than I do, and I loved the way he would challenge my perceptions and encourage me to think differently. He has cystic fibrosis, which means that his life will probably be substantially shorter than the average persons, something that never seemed to bother him as far as I could see. I loved everything about him.
Somewhere around last October we lost contact, my fault, not his, and only started talking again in the last couple of months. From the beginning it wasn't the same. I wrote him this long, heartfelt letter, pouring my heart out and telling him absolutely everything I had been thinking and feeling. Well, I guess not everything. I stopped short of telling him that I love him, and thank god I didn't, because it was awkward enough without me saying that. He was more distant than he had ever been before, and it seemed like he didn't want to talk to me. It's two months later and we're in a better place now, but not by much. Any conversation we have, except the one where he was begging me for topless pictures, is short and full of random small talk. Then one of us leaves and a week later we may have another half-conversation.
If you're wondering why I can't tell him I love him, then you obviously haven't been listening. I know his reaction wouldn't be what I want so I'm going to save the heartbreak and just let that love live inside of me forever, and hope that one day it will either go away or I can give it to someone else. I hate sounding all hallmark card, summer chick flick, cheesy romance novel on you, but I've let these thoughts fester inside of me for long enough. I really hope that writing them down will take the weight off of my mind, at least somewhat. I have changed his name, but not any of the details about him, so I hope he never reads this. Oh well, that's what he gets for not loving me.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Tell Him I Love Him
Sunday, May 18, 2008
...Than Be With Him
I wish I could say I was one of those people who are completely and totally not shallow. Beauty is only skin deep, don't judge a book by its cover, etc. etc. etc. Unfortunately I'm not like that. I've been with some not so attractive people in the past but generally it's a no go if I am not extremely physically attracted to the person. I guess that can be called shallow but I think it's more about knowing what I want.
Chris (not his real name), is not what I want at all. About 3 weeks ago in a haze of boredom and an extreme need for sexual stimulation I called one of those telephone chat lines. I started talking to Chris and we stayed on the phone until almost 5 in the morning. There was an instant connection and we talked like we had known eachother for years. A couple of days later, after a lot of wondering and misunderstandings, we finally got to talk again. I was really excited about hearing from him, until he sent me some pictures. My stomach instantly dropped after opening the email. He warned me that they were old and he had lost some weight since then, but even taking that into account, it was still shocking, and disappointing. The only picture I liked was the one that he wasn't in, a picture of his truck.
If he ever reads this I'm sure he'll know I'm talking about him, so let's just hope he never reads this. He can be best described as unfortunate looking. He's one of those guys that always looks fat even though he's average sized. He has a haircut that was popular in the heyday of nsync and the backstreet boys. Think Nick Carter, circa 1998. Floppy bowl cut, shorter underneath, with blond highlights. HIGHLIGHTS. I don't like naturally blond guys to begin with, but to see a guy who purposely highlights his hair blond is just so unappealing. When he smiles it looks like his face wasn't designed for that kind of expression. It looks wrong, and weird and creepy. Seeing him for the first time, my stomach just dropped to the floor, thinking this couldn't be the guy who described himself as fairly attractive. Fairly attractive compared to what? I guess I should have asked that. I have never given him any sort of compliment about his looks but he keeps sending me more pictures, and videos, lord knows why. I'm not sure what made him think I want to see a 30 second video of his ten bottles of axe, but I wish he would stop.
I might have been able to look past his appearance somewhat if he had a better personality, but there are about a million things about him that bother me. He can talk for 5 minutes straight without a word from me. That's not even an exaggeration. And he talks about hypothetical bullshit, like who he thinks listens to the songs he writes and why he wrote them. I usually fade out after about a minute and a half, because he talks about things that are completely irrelevant and have nothing to do with what I was talking about. He also takes the opposite side of the one I'm on in every single conversation. I tell him that I'm scared to approach my parents about new boyfriends because of their reactions in the past, and he instantly takes my father's side, and starts generalizing the reactions of parents. When I tried to tell him that this is a different situation, an exception to the rule, he corrects me with more generalizations.
We got into a very heated argument about whether guys and girls can be friends. I believe they can. He says it is impossible, and uses science to fuel his logic. I use real life examples, otherwise known as facts. I'm friends with a guy who I care for a lot. He is very sweet and caring and has been there for me when no one else has. He has told me numerous times that I can talk to him about anything and to call him if I need to talk, no matter what time it is. His girlfriend happens to be one of my best friends. She is completely cool with me being friends with him and doesn't mind if we hang out alone. He's a great guy and a great friend and I'm thankful to have him in my life. Chris says that guys only become friends with girls with the intention of getting into their pants, whether it's sooner, or later. What bothered me about his argument was that he wouldn't listen to my point of view, instead interrupting me to repeat the same stuff he just said. It really pissed me off that he was trivializing a friendship that means so much to me, claiming it's forged on the desire for sex. He didn't respect me, or my opinion in that conversation, and it completely turned me off.
I'm horrible at breaking up with people, or saying I'm just not interested. Instead I usually just stop calling them, and ignore their calls and emails until they go away. I feel bad doing this to him because he is a nice guy, but he's a nice guy with a million dealbreaker flaws. I don't know what to do about him, so I've resorted to getting angry at petty, ridiculous things and hanging up on him, hoping that eventually he will get the point. It hasn't worked yet. I'll keep you updated on the Chris situation.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Be With Him
Chris (not his real name), is not what I want at all. About 3 weeks ago in a haze of boredom and an extreme need for sexual stimulation I called one of those telephone chat lines. I started talking to Chris and we stayed on the phone until almost 5 in the morning. There was an instant connection and we talked like we had known eachother for years. A couple of days later, after a lot of wondering and misunderstandings, we finally got to talk again. I was really excited about hearing from him, until he sent me some pictures. My stomach instantly dropped after opening the email. He warned me that they were old and he had lost some weight since then, but even taking that into account, it was still shocking, and disappointing. The only picture I liked was the one that he wasn't in, a picture of his truck.
If he ever reads this I'm sure he'll know I'm talking about him, so let's just hope he never reads this. He can be best described as unfortunate looking. He's one of those guys that always looks fat even though he's average sized. He has a haircut that was popular in the heyday of nsync and the backstreet boys. Think Nick Carter, circa 1998. Floppy bowl cut, shorter underneath, with blond highlights. HIGHLIGHTS. I don't like naturally blond guys to begin with, but to see a guy who purposely highlights his hair blond is just so unappealing. When he smiles it looks like his face wasn't designed for that kind of expression. It looks wrong, and weird and creepy. Seeing him for the first time, my stomach just dropped to the floor, thinking this couldn't be the guy who described himself as fairly attractive. Fairly attractive compared to what? I guess I should have asked that. I have never given him any sort of compliment about his looks but he keeps sending me more pictures, and videos, lord knows why. I'm not sure what made him think I want to see a 30 second video of his ten bottles of axe, but I wish he would stop.
I might have been able to look past his appearance somewhat if he had a better personality, but there are about a million things about him that bother me. He can talk for 5 minutes straight without a word from me. That's not even an exaggeration. And he talks about hypothetical bullshit, like who he thinks listens to the songs he writes and why he wrote them. I usually fade out after about a minute and a half, because he talks about things that are completely irrelevant and have nothing to do with what I was talking about. He also takes the opposite side of the one I'm on in every single conversation. I tell him that I'm scared to approach my parents about new boyfriends because of their reactions in the past, and he instantly takes my father's side, and starts generalizing the reactions of parents. When I tried to tell him that this is a different situation, an exception to the rule, he corrects me with more generalizations.
We got into a very heated argument about whether guys and girls can be friends. I believe they can. He says it is impossible, and uses science to fuel his logic. I use real life examples, otherwise known as facts. I'm friends with a guy who I care for a lot. He is very sweet and caring and has been there for me when no one else has. He has told me numerous times that I can talk to him about anything and to call him if I need to talk, no matter what time it is. His girlfriend happens to be one of my best friends. She is completely cool with me being friends with him and doesn't mind if we hang out alone. He's a great guy and a great friend and I'm thankful to have him in my life. Chris says that guys only become friends with girls with the intention of getting into their pants, whether it's sooner, or later. What bothered me about his argument was that he wouldn't listen to my point of view, instead interrupting me to repeat the same stuff he just said. It really pissed me off that he was trivializing a friendship that means so much to me, claiming it's forged on the desire for sex. He didn't respect me, or my opinion in that conversation, and it completely turned me off.
I'm horrible at breaking up with people, or saying I'm just not interested. Instead I usually just stop calling them, and ignore their calls and emails until they go away. I feel bad doing this to him because he is a nice guy, but he's a nice guy with a million dealbreaker flaws. I don't know what to do about him, so I've resorted to getting angry at petty, ridiculous things and hanging up on him, hoping that eventually he will get the point. It hasn't worked yet. I'll keep you updated on the Chris situation.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever...Than Be With Him
Friday, May 16, 2008
...Than Let You Change Me
To be irreversably damaged by previous relationships at the tender age of 18 isn't something you wear as a badge, a symbol of something accomplished. You don't even wear it, you live in it. It manifests as the walls I've built around myself, 20 feet tall and bulletproof. Sometimes I'm caught off guard and something makes a dent in the armor, but it never sticks. My threshold for emotional turmoil, regarding men at least, plateaued a long time ago. I find myself feeling less and less.
I can blame two men for this. I'm not sure if it is entirely their fault, maybe I would have turned out like this regardless. But the whole what if...track just gives me a headache so I'll focus on the cards I'm holding, not the ones I could have been dealt.
Jesse - I was 13 years old when I met him, and he was 19. He took pride in thinking that he was corrupting me. It was my first relationship, if it can even be called that, and I made all the rookie mistakes. He walked all over me. Actually it would be more accurate to say that he drove all over me, backed up and drove over me again. Repeat, repeat, repeat, for about 3 and a half years. It was a hard habit to break. I knew that he loved me so going to him was an easy, safe place to hide whenever I was feeling down. My parents hated him (hmm...wonder why) and on some level I know I wanted to prove them wrong, change their opinion. Eventually mine changed. Maybe I just stopped loving him. Maybe I grew up and realized that I never loved him to begin with. I don't really know what it is. It could be a bit of both. I don't hate him, I just don't care about him at all anymore. Hate implies emotion. Indifference is as unemotional as you can get. He broke my heart more times than I can count, with his lies, his games, his complete and utter bullshit. It hurt like hell and I thought I would never heal, but in reality it did make me stronger. I'm not a passive, meek, submissive little girl when it comes to men anymore.
Malcolm - I don't even know where to start with him. He's 20 years older than me, something I didn't know for a long time. He's also married with an infant daughter, two other things I didn't know. It was never love. It was an obsession built upon a mutual need for unconditional affection. We both wanted someone to care for us in spite of..... As his obsession intensified I pulled back and it came to a climax about two years ago when I didn't show up for our flight to Mexico. I knew I was never going to go, I just needed to get through to him somehow, since words weren't working. It worked, although only temporarily. He still emails me randomly, messages me sporatically, loves me occasionally. I know that I am the light at the end of the tunnel for him, leaving means trapping him in darkness. He teeters on the brink of a dangerous obsession, something I realized when I read his online diary, 48 (I think) posts all about me, how much he loves me, wants me, needs me. It's a superficial need, it doesn't go beyond skin deep. Besides never wanting to be with someone who was cheating to be with me, there were a million other reasons I didn't want him. I let go a long time ago, but I let him rope me back in so many times before that I think he assumes he can do it again. He can't.
In case you were wondering, those are their real names. Fake names are to protect the innocent, and they are anything but innocent.
I can't pinpoint the time when I really started to change, but it has been extremely noticable in the last couple of months. I take on the traditionally male role in the relationship. I'm unemotional, unattached, noncommittal, jealousy-free, monogamy-challenged and indifferent. Maybe it's just a defense, a way to protect myself from heartbreak. I can say that I am definitely happier now, now that I'm doing the using instead of being used.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever....Than Let You Change Me
I can blame two men for this. I'm not sure if it is entirely their fault, maybe I would have turned out like this regardless. But the whole what if...track just gives me a headache so I'll focus on the cards I'm holding, not the ones I could have been dealt.
Jesse - I was 13 years old when I met him, and he was 19. He took pride in thinking that he was corrupting me. It was my first relationship, if it can even be called that, and I made all the rookie mistakes. He walked all over me. Actually it would be more accurate to say that he drove all over me, backed up and drove over me again. Repeat, repeat, repeat, for about 3 and a half years. It was a hard habit to break. I knew that he loved me so going to him was an easy, safe place to hide whenever I was feeling down. My parents hated him (hmm...wonder why) and on some level I know I wanted to prove them wrong, change their opinion. Eventually mine changed. Maybe I just stopped loving him. Maybe I grew up and realized that I never loved him to begin with. I don't really know what it is. It could be a bit of both. I don't hate him, I just don't care about him at all anymore. Hate implies emotion. Indifference is as unemotional as you can get. He broke my heart more times than I can count, with his lies, his games, his complete and utter bullshit. It hurt like hell and I thought I would never heal, but in reality it did make me stronger. I'm not a passive, meek, submissive little girl when it comes to men anymore.
Malcolm - I don't even know where to start with him. He's 20 years older than me, something I didn't know for a long time. He's also married with an infant daughter, two other things I didn't know. It was never love. It was an obsession built upon a mutual need for unconditional affection. We both wanted someone to care for us in spite of..... As his obsession intensified I pulled back and it came to a climax about two years ago when I didn't show up for our flight to Mexico. I knew I was never going to go, I just needed to get through to him somehow, since words weren't working. It worked, although only temporarily. He still emails me randomly, messages me sporatically, loves me occasionally. I know that I am the light at the end of the tunnel for him, leaving means trapping him in darkness. He teeters on the brink of a dangerous obsession, something I realized when I read his online diary, 48 (I think) posts all about me, how much he loves me, wants me, needs me. It's a superficial need, it doesn't go beyond skin deep. Besides never wanting to be with someone who was cheating to be with me, there were a million other reasons I didn't want him. I let go a long time ago, but I let him rope me back in so many times before that I think he assumes he can do it again. He can't.
In case you were wondering, those are their real names. Fake names are to protect the innocent, and they are anything but innocent.
I can't pinpoint the time when I really started to change, but it has been extremely noticable in the last couple of months. I take on the traditionally male role in the relationship. I'm unemotional, unattached, noncommittal, jealousy-free, monogamy-challenged and indifferent. Maybe it's just a defense, a way to protect myself from heartbreak. I can say that I am definitely happier now, now that I'm doing the using instead of being used.
I Would Rather Sleep Forever....Than Let You Change Me
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