Things I wish I could do more often
Alas, soon to be abandoned… more than it already is… due to lack of money/impetus.
Sigh.
Ha!
Well, one thing I’ve learned from this whole “let’s lie to Charlie and then laugh at her when she needs a friend most” thing is that, just as I suspected, NOTHING ever lasts. It doesn’t matter how much you think you’re in love with someone, it doesn’t matter how much you swear you’ll never change–EVERYTHING ALWAYS CHANGES. You can’t even trust yourself not to change. Feelings are fickle and, quite frankly, unpredictable. Nothing is a “sure thing”, so you can’t plan for the future.
Why fall in love, if this is all there is?
I prefer to love, love and love–but never fall. Not again. Experience has taught me that if you fall, you’ll just end up disappointed and alone.
I want to make one thing perfectly clear: I was never in love with you. I never fell for you. You didn’t rip out my heart and crush it into tiny little pieces. You couldn’t, because I already had a broken heart when you met me. All you did was hurt me. More than I expected, but PAIN can be overcome. PAIN is easy to deal with. The fact that you LIED TO ME is what twists the blade. I never asked that you wait for me. I told you to feel free to see other people because I couldn’t commit, myself. It would have been unfair to hold you to something I couldn’t hold myself to.
But I DID ask you to tell me. The ONLY THING I asked was that you be honest, and TELL ME if you were going to fuck someone else. That’s all.
And you couldn’t even do that. And now I feel like an IDIOT for placing my trust in you, and what hurts the most is that I thought you were my friend. You KNOW ME, you should have known.
There are only two choices, and they don’t help at all.
Either this was a sudden fling that you’ll regret but won’t let yourself acknowledge it until much later, or you’d been planning this for months.
Either way, you’re an insensitive asshole. The second way just means you’d been lying to me longer.
You said that I knew you pretty well.
Apparently not well enough.
I want you to know that it’s okay. I’m fine, if you care at all. I’m going to drink my way into the New Year and maybe have some casual sex while I’m at it. I will write no more about you. There will be no other entries involving you. No poems. Nothing.
You don’t exist anymore.
I Got It Bad (And That Ain’t Good)
It’s very difficult for me to start writing again, having been so long removed from creativity. I’m also uneasy in this WordPress format–I really, really miss my green theme from the old days of DX. But! Time passes, things end, time to move on.
In order to move on, I feel compelled to examine my past. Why do we assume that by investigating our previous actions and feelings we can somehow judge our present condition and thereby predict and plan for the future? Who says I am the same person I was last year, or even yesterday? And yet, that is the natural impulse, and regardless of what I may theorize, I am mostly the same person I always was.
So here are some observations about Charlie.
1. I am vain and proud. I secretly think I am better than everyone else, even when this is very obviously not the case. I think perhaps I have to continually assert my self-worth or else I’ll forget there is such a thing. Unfortunately, this vanity and pride of which I speak makes it damn near impossible to allow myself to be in a relationship, a serious relationship, because I’m always somehow embarassed to be with a guy who isn’t my equal. And who IS my equal? I’ve wondered about this a lot recently. I can’t quite see that there IS anyone who is my equal, at least not any males. Perhaps I am looking in the wrong place.
2. I have recently been chastised for my apparent determination NOT to fall in love. I am simply being realistic when I rebuff advances; as I am right now, I really shouldn’t be in a “serious” relationship with ANYONE, much less someone I actually care about. I’d just end up hurting them, because I have trouble committing. I hate being tied down. I hate being caged. Therefore, I’m following the path that seems most logical at this time.
3. I have really sexy eyes. It’s true. Ask anyone.
4. I have a bit of a saviour-complex, and try to help people that I care about. Today, I gave cookies to a random acquaintance that I met while walking home in the dark and rain. I don’t know why, but giving things away makes me happy.
5. Rain, also, makes me happy.
6. I’m too tired to continue this list right now. G’nite! ^_^b
Theories
1. knife + blood
2. scissors + hair
3. a pebble
4. a boy
5. the past
6. the future
7. whispered words
Recipe for
Gah.
I wake up from a wonderful dream, I can still almost feel his lips on me. I remember the absolute relief when dream-him tells me everything will be okay, that he’ll do whatever it takes to make me happy… but even between kisses, between touches and bed, I have to tell him that it couldn’t work–I remind him of his last email, and that we can’t do this anymore. Then I wake up, feeling more alone than I have in a long, long time.
What does it say about me that I can’t even enjoy my fucking DREAMS without forcing reality into them??
ugh.
Well, I pretty much expected to spend most of my summer knee-deep in lemon yellow vomit.
Caring for old people is exhausting.
Srsly. WTF.
I went up to Ancaster for a little dinner party… friend-of-a-friend sort of thing, very low-key. There were seven of us: me, Chris, Geoff, Rozer, Rob, the birthday girl, and J4’s mother (who is a close friend of b-girl and the boys). The food was expensive, but I was prepared for that. Chris and I were both pretty out-of-the-loop, not having grown up in Ancaster, and thus out of the conversation for the most part. But even that didn’t really bother me. During introductions, J4’s mother said something to the effect of “So you’re the Charlie, as on the blogs?” and didn’t seem to realize that we’ve met before. It may have been only once, and last summer, but I WAS sleeping in her son’s bed and you’d think that a mother would notice that sort of thing. But anyway.
They start talking about our favourite person in the world, the darling J4 himself, and this goes on for (I kid you not) A WHOLE FREAKING HOUR. Seriously. It was mostly Geoff and the mother reminiscing about what was WRONG with poor J4, and blah blah blah poor disassociative antisocial J, we sure hope that being in school will help his problems, blah blah blah. The long and short of it being, I felt like shoving salt-shakers into my eyesockets. Instead, I drank some wine and went for a couple “smoke breaks” with Chris, relieved by a few moments of mutual commiseration about how much this whole thing sucked.
FINALLY the mother left, and we had a good time. J4 was stricken from the records and not mentioned again, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that MOTHERS SHOULD SHUT THE FUCK UP. Nobody wants to hear about your poor lost lamb and what went wrong. Maybe some attention should have been directed to the birthday girl whom you claimed to be so fond of? Maybe? Hmm?
While it is entirely possible that I am just a bitter, caustic person who holds a grudge, I am more inclined towards the other option: The world is full of shitty people, and my solution is to surround myself with NOT-shitty people (and bitch about the few that get past my arduous screening process, yaharr).
Speaking of not-shitty people!
Chris moved in today. Hurrah for Hatgirl! ^_^b
That is all for now. Cleaning. Yes.
One Song, Glory
I’m so restless. I know it’s after 4 am and I should, by all rights, be in bed, but all I can think of is gaming. Not the crap I’ve been filling my time with, either… REAL gaming, with words and plot development, and creativity. I need to redefine myself; I am finding this cyclical tension tiring.
Life? Please.
*groan*
I. Am. In. Love. With. V.
>.>;
V for Vendetta: HOLY SHIT, hawt!!! Now I totally wanna blow up Parliament! Er, and get one of those fancy masks. Uh, and TOTALLY have sex with V. >.>; Haaaawt..!!
I purr at this film. A lot! Mmm. Yep. Time for sleep now. *thud*
p.s. Before I forget: also TOTALLY HOT that they used *good* music, if somewhat amusing that they picked Stan Getz’s smooth, sexy sax as a theme between V. and the gay television host. Hmm. >.>; VIVA LA (also wtf was up with Englishmen rioting? No freakin’ way, they’d be all “Cup ‘o tea, dear?”).
