Another Relapse…Didn’t I Just Say I Had a Revelation Before? Wtf…

It was the moment where I saw myself gagging on the floor because I so psychotically cried on the floor, with so much strain, that I knew I sucked as a human being. I know, it sounds really harsh and there are worse things one can do to really suck as a human being, but I am serious. To my standards; this does not work.

I guess everyone has a bad break up so why am I special. I’m not I know. I don’t care this isn’t about me being fucking special! If I was special then I wouldn’t be fucking going through this fucking break up!

Note to self; IT HAS BEEN 8 MONTHS YOU BLITHERING IDIOT FUCK OFF.

I know I sound really mean to myself. This whole, “girl you gotta love yourself” thing isn’t my forte. I love myself when I don’t fucking act like a bitch vagina. I just made that up, it seems to fit somehow although I can’t work out what I actually meant by it.

So, back to the floor; and why I have my revelations on this floor I don’t know. Maybe my floor is holy. Maybe people will flock it it. Come to see it, kneel before it….okay I am hedging.

I fucked up. I spent almost 8 months of basically never (except once) giving in to the urge to call the fuck up and talk. Not even talk but just fight or something I don’t know. I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t. It would come and go. Today I cried almost all day intermittently. I am not a big crier. I am an angry person more than a crier. So…I didn’t do so well. It’s fucking really impossible to do anything while crying. When angry, one can multitask. Work, shop, drive, walk, breathe, read, whatever. When you cry…you can’t fucking do shit. But because I have shit to do I couldn’t not function because I was distraught. I have this motto to just keep fucking going until you’re fucking dead on the floor…I still don’t know if that’s actually proven successful in my life or not.

So I went on with my business, while I
cried. I cleaned, while I cried. I actually went for my daily workout and run, I cried a lot then, which strangely helped for motivation. I came home and tried to distract myself. I had no one to talk to. My only life line is a girlfriend of mine in England who already spent 2 hours on the phone with me in the morning discussing my horrible relapse into “fuck-you” insanity, as I call it, (because it’s literally saying fuck-you to me as I self destroy all my neatly stacked up thoughts and logical patterns), and she’s asleep now, hopefully happy and none the wiser that I am about to fail us.

I fucking thought, well jeez, 8 months and this still doesn’t feel right, maybe I’ll change and actually talk to him and see if that helps. Oh yeah, great fucking idea. Besides listening to him tell me he tried, he tried, he tried and I never let him fix it because I showed him how much I hated him (which I had to explain that if you hurt someone, they’re not exactly going to be happy with you. Even as you try to fix it…you have to make it up to them man….bloody hell is he thick?) and that he was going to call me this week to let me know that most likely he will be starting a relationship with another girl, I did say my piece.

I told him he should have tried harder. That I didn’t sleep with someone else and that I didn’t start another relationship. I was hoping he’d figure it out but he never did, yada-yada-yada. Back and forth, back and forth and nothing was resolved. But we both said what we said…and here is the Pièce de résistance, he URGENTLY cut me off and said “I gotta take this call” and I knew it was her and I asked and he URGENTLY confirmed and I almost threw up on my iPhone (which I really am starting to hate since it’s been nothing but a gateway to hell with this fucking Instagram, Facebook, texting bullshit it lets me see…or rather, I use to self-hurt by reading those god-awful, vomit inducing, death provoking comments he leaves on her fucking stupid pictures). I URGENTLY said bye.

If I thought I was crying before, I was fucking wrong. I haven’t cried like this in a long fucking time. Well, as I said…it ended up with me in a weird, disgusting shape gagging on the floor and basically retching till I felt my head would explode. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to live. I felt it, I actually wanted my heart to just stop. I didn’t want to feel it. I then thought “wow, what the fuck? What is this?! I can’t feel this?! I’m fucking almost 25! I can’t be this type of person! No for the love of god!”. I tried calling my friend in NY. Almost lifeless at this point I couldn’t even hold the fucking phone to my ear…what a loser. He picked up but he was out with people. He heard it in my voice a bit. Asked me if I was okay. I lied. I perked up and told him I was just checking in. What I wanted to do was scream and vomit again from crying and say “oh my fucking god fly over here before I can’t breathe anymore”. I didn’t. I didn’t want to show someone how fucked up I can be. Even if he knows, I think I can’t play that role anymore. I am not the one who gets to be this way. It’s like seeing your Dad lose it or something. It’s disheartening but also shakes your stability. I don’t want to do that to the people that are close to me.

I hung up and proceeded to lose it again, worse and worse. I knew I was at a dangerous point though. I guess if there is a time where this would happen then it would be this kind of time but I had the worst shit going through my head. In the time it took me to drag myself to my room and collapse on the floor I had literally thought of every possible way to end everything. Just fucking implode and die. No more work, no more anything. I didn’t want to do or be anything. Pure, horrific, apathy. I tried dialing my mother twice. The calls failed. Good because I would have really disappointed her for being like this. That’s after she probably would have come to the rescue but still.

The retching wouldn’t stop so I dragged myself to the bathroom. Nothing came out. Oh yeah I forgot to eat dinner. Smart, that should help keep me stable in times of stress…being hungry,! Good job, you half-wit. Since 1/4 of my body was up I decided to push and stand up all the way. My legs were literally no longer in the control of my own mind. I dragged myself around the house touching things. I told my self, OUT LOUD…seriously, things like “good job, you touched that so well! Wow excellent. That’s really good, good job, yes that’s good, man that was very good.” I fucking lost it man. Seriously. I just kept thinking, I gotta take care of myself. Me. Not someone else. I am at a point where I should be able to handle…this thing. This cannot be me really. So I “walked” around my little apartment touching things and wailing for about 40 minutes.

He texted me somewhere in between that  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you at the end. I just couldn’t continue talking about this and not knowing what to do.”

To which I replied: “it’s fine. do what you were already doing as I said. I didn’t talk to you this whole time because I didn’t want to confuse you….obviously this is what happens. it’s okay. “

He then proceeded “I just want you to know, I never did anything intentionally to make an effect for you, I just did  them to try to handle something in my life” and I gracefully, or not so gracefully, said: “Just keep growing the little seed you planted. If it’s good, then no one really can say anything. Me included. Don’t worry. Thanks for talking it was nice to hear you.”

Knife through the heart, complete. Begin another 20 minutes of walking around, touching things, crying/laughing/talking to myself insanity. Then I sat down. Then I started writing this even though this whole time I feel scared that I have to admit I was so dramatic. That I can sink so low. I feel sorry for myself. That I have this pressure to be excellent and that I am truly able to be but that I can also emote all of this horrible shit that I feel when something like this happens.

Right now I have the worst stomach ache, probably from churning up all the bile when retching like a dick. I’ve been having horrible nightmares at night these past 2 days. I thought maybe it’s because I eat before bed but I think I’m gonna have to eat now before I burn a hole through my stomach lining…although that might help end it all….KIDDING okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.

Do I want to post this? No not really. Will I? I think my insanity speaks for itself:

Just keep fucking going until you’re fucking dead on the floor.

I also have a feeling that that wouldn’t even stop me.

-F

 

P.S:

I was just thinking, I really am the infinite improbability drive…I end up anywhere and at any time without notice. I’m tired.

Suddenly I Realized…

…And all of a sudden I had the most interesting realization; that I didn’t hate you because you treated me horribly, because you didn’t fix this upset between us, because you couldn’t stop yourself from sleeping with someone else instead of devoting yourself to salvaging us; but because I was cheering for you. I believed you could make it. You could have done it and won the prize you wanted, us.

I realized I loved you so much I wanted you to win the game you chose to play. I wasn’t heartbroken because of my own personal loss of no longer having a partner. I was angry because my team lost. Like a soccer match. You cannot do anything about it, you just watch the attackers give up or fumble, the defense crumble and the goalie miss, and you get angry and cry and yell and scream but in the end the match is lost…and you just sit there.

I noticed this is the way I love people. I want them to have everything they want to have but, after growing up more and having my own experiences, I know that I cannot do it for them. So I push and try to coach them into achieving what they want.

I failed you at that. I didn’t coach you properly. I wanted you to win so bad and so ardently I lost it. I got scared and angry when I saw you heading for “the wrong side of the field”, so to speak. When I saw the attack and defense crumble. When I saw you not playing hard or fast enough for the win. When I was no longer sure you wanted to even play.

However, I am a fair and strict referee and I cannot lie to you nor I that we lost this match. I am sorry. I really wanted you to win and I hope I will be able to shed this “sore loser” persona I realized that I am being.

Losing hurts. It sucks. But there is something about the fact that I don’t hate you because you hurt me but rather that I am angry that you didn’t win and that I had to end the game of my most favorite team.

I realize I should find someone that I don’t have to coach but rather, we can play together.

You Get What You Resist

I probably wrote 3 or 4 articles in my head before I finally gave up today and decided to write for real.

It is Saturday night, 8:55PM and I am just doing laundry. Colors to be exact. I am sitting on a small little stool in my laundry room listening to the sound of my Electrolux drowning all my clothes in whatever smart way it thinks is best.

I wasn’t writing because I was getting sick of myself writing only about relationships. Only and only about this. No wonder I feel my life is so boring. Alas, here I am, again on this fine Saturday night, writing about what? About relationships. I guess I get what I resist in the end.

I found out that Mr.MD is trying to date someone else. Another girl who was after him slightly while we were together. I am truthfully not worried about who’s better or even if he’s going to marry this girl (I’m sure the more immediate plan is to do…other things). I am simply angry. Angry that he is truthfully a fuck up. And a lazy bastard. And a liar. And a cheat.

Yes, I have my faults. Yes, I loved him a lot. Yes, he has plenty of great traits. No, he didn’t make it work. No, he didn’t fix it. No, he didn’t understand that I literally told him how to fix it and all he did was just complain about me not letting him come back to me (asshole). No, no, no I do not feel sorry for him. I am angry. I am not okay with what he did. I am not okay with how he handled the break up, or really, how he didn’t handle it but just sat there complaining I wouldn’t give him his “toy” back.

I guess I never said it. I never cried about this until last night really. And then I cried this morning. And then some more in the afternoon. Shameful crying full of hot, stinging anger because there have got to be better more important things to cry about than this shit-hole of a situation.

I thought to myself; if I could say anything to him right now it would really be “Fuck you. I’m tired of your shit.”

It really upsets me to see someone give up on me like that. And he would say the same thing I am sure. But what makes me sick to my stomach is the thought that during all these months of back and forth, between disappearing and blocking me off any connection to him and then reappearing and acting like everything is fine and I should simply welcome him back with open arms, he was kissing someone else, fucking someone else and flirting and trying to start a relationship with yet another someone else.

So much for being the only one you wanted to be with.

And no – my trust in men is not ruined because of him. I don’t even put him in that category.

If he so even wishes to be my friend, he’s got a long list of damages to repair. I am tired of covering for him to myself. I am perfectly sane. I am not disillusioned into thinking he did or is otherwise. He is what he is, and he did what he did and he is doing what he is doing. These aren’t opinions, they are facts.

And I, no matter how bad it hurts, no matter how much this rage consumes me; I will always seek to live with the truth.

 

Morning Snap Dragons

I’m all right

I’ve been alone in my house for 3 or 4 days now. My father, who I’m not very comfortable with lately, went back to Italy.

I started being able to sleep more. I had no idea how much I wasn’t resting.

I wake up and I am alone. The house is not vibrating with someone else or with my own rejection or subconscious emotion. It echoes.

I dressed for an event last night. Low key outfit but overall I felt happy. Burberry, Marc Jacobs and Louboutin black and golden. Felt; royal yet demure.

Whenever I attended these events I rarely had my ex with me. I would walk back to the car or valet texting him letting him know how it went or that I was going home. Feeling the oppression of that long distance relationship, never feeling fulfilled and loved.

Last night I walked back knowing I was alone. I didn’t have that sinking feeling of loss. There was nothing to lose. I was all right.

I watched one of my favorite BBC shows on Netflix while I ate my favorite Caesar salad and warm naan bread in bed, it was late and I was not worried.

Me not worried. To say I savored those minutes of still mind is an understatement. I was careful not to move too quickly and to continue to lull myself into a sleepy stupor.

I fell asleep. I woke up as usual a couple of times in the middle of the night and nothing bothered me. Got up, drank freezing cold water and went back to bed with no problem at all.

When I woke up early I was not feeling exhausted. I went through my daily wake up routine; Instagram, emails, Instagram, interesting articles, maybe some YoutTube and Facebook.

I got up and watched some old recordings of The Mindy Project; love her. I drank my green tea, honey and cream (been doing that more than my usual Earl Gray & Cream) and relaxed. I didn’t think about a thing.

I watched a cute little french cooking show I like for the visuals and then started cleaning a bit.

This mundane routine felt like a relaxing massage. A mini-vacation.

I feel like every week I go through a break up with my ex. I keep refreshing my choices like a frozen web browser. I throw away bits and pieces of what remains in my apartment of him. I think about it for a second and then stop. I threw away his mouthwash. I threw away everything now. I boxed what he needs back up and printing a label right now….done.

I do have to mention I did it all wrong. I was so concerned about still taking care of him somehow that I let him jerk me around, feel guilty, be worried, cry, yell and not live openly so he wouldn’t hurt…but a couple of days ago I realized I was doing that. I was doing that for someone who really hurt me, upset me, jerked me around and didn’t try to get better to win me back. I will not give a child a toy just because he cries about it and yells, screams and becomes apathetic. I will not give myself to a man who does that or worse either.

I finally feel fine and safe with myself. I know I change a lot. Tomorrow might be completely different. But today; I woke up and I felt grateful for what I had. I didn’t put my life down.

I was happy I was walking in the apartment that is mine. That I pay for. I ate the food I bought, I made and I worked for. I slept in my own bed. I woke up on my own terms, checked the phone I got for myself, read the stories I wanted to read and remembered that I have always been the one person who I’d spend the rest of my life with, and that I was already all right with that once.

I don’t discount other relationships, friendships or family, adventures I want to have, places I feel I need to be or things I need to do; but for this Saturday morning I feel just fine. I feel like I can smile towards a future and not worry about someone else needing something from me.

Almost everyone I know needs something from me. I am happy to oblige. I am happy to make them all happy in the way that I can. I don’t want to break hearts but I, today, know that I have mine to take care of as well.

Being Lazy is too Comfortable

Things I’ve Noticed

Tonight I took a brief look at myself. This battling single girl/woman having a quarter life crisis since the age of 15….

- I take boiling hot showers at night…like my fat is just going to melt off?

- I now sleep almost in the middle of the bed…since there is no one to share it with me anymore.

- I worry less about flirting with others and actually end up flirting with no one at all…not that there are many candidates around here…

- I still haven’t decided what the hell I’m supposed to be doing…obviously

That’s all.

I woke up feeling alone.

Really what happened is my eyes shot open like I just heard a cannon fire and was engulfed in this sinking feeling. I literally sat up and started writing. I still have a horrible taste in my mouth. Ew.

I mean I have the perfect reason to feeling alone. I am alone in my bed and I am alone in my house…so I’m not that psycho…but I guess I am moody. I don’t remember if I was happy yesterday. I mean I was for sure happy because I don’t live in a horrible place or anything where bombs are exploding every 5 seconds and I don’t know where my next meal is coming from, but still; if you’ve been following this infinitely improbable life then you’ve heard the spiel. The unfulfilled and yet guilty existence I am acting out.

Anyways; today I’ve got the job of the perfect little homemaker to accomplish. Cleaning, grocery shopping, laundry  and baking treats for someones birthday tomorrow. At least it will keep me busy. Busy is good. I can’t hear myself when I am busy.

 

The Death of a Salesman

Yesterday I called an old customer of mine, who is due to retire soon, to check up on an order. The young man who is taking over his position answered the phone and my questions. It wasn’t until I asked him to say hi to Jeff that he sadly had to inform me that he had passed. Weeks before his retirement he had a massive stroke and died.

I was shaken as anyone else would be. I didn’t think it would effect me as much though. I obviously develop relationships after years of talking to clients and working on long-duration projects etc however I do not consider them family and nor do they me. But hearing of this on last morning I felt more involved than just a person whom I’ve worked with. It felt like this man was putting things into perspective again.

When my grandfather passed 2 years ago I was pretty distraught. Besides losing my taste for my beloved cigarettes somehow (and he didn’t die of any smoke related illness) and feeling like I was the worst niece in the world for never making a trip to see him one last time before he completely forgot the girl he helped raise while my parents were figuring out their own lives, I found myself a little more adult. A piece of my childhood had passed with my grandfather. Now he would be a fond memory with a heavy tinge of regret until I learn this skill called “forgiving yourself”.

After I hung up with this client I had to make the call to his agent whom I closely work with and whom I care about more than a normal client for sure. I told him about Jeff. He knew Jeff well and regularly visited so telling him wasn’t a walk in the park. You never know how people react to death. He was shaken up as well. What was it about this particular day? I got goosebumps again just like when I had been told. But what this man said is what got me. Somehow it didn’t seem it was about Jeff per se. “You have to live life to the fullest. Never forget that it could end at any time. Our hours are short and you owe yourself the fullest life you can want.” I just sat on the phone suppressing my tears and this weird guilt feeling in my stomach.

Why was this mans death so retrospective? Is everyones death like this? I’ve had to deal with it more than once through family, friends, co-workers etc but it was usually engulfed in grief. Is it maybe that because of that I didn’t have time or energy or the emotional focus to realize that I was also looking inward or is this really the first time?

When I heard of his passing and knew he was due to retire, that he had worked for decades and that he died on a normal day, like any other; it hit me. No I do not think I will die and end forever. I didn’t grow up thinking I was just a soul and body combo that would soon expire. Not to get into a religious or philosophical spiel but I know I am a spirit and whatever happens after this, be it another life, some sort of heaven/hell situation or simply some other form of living, I am not worried. What did worry me is that in this life, with this body/identity/what have you I am not fulfilled.

I don’t expect to die any time soon and this isn’t a speech of fear, but I did, although probably selfishly in the wake of some else passing, think of my own life. What would I be happy about if I was gone? What would I leave behind except very sad family and some close friends? Nothing. I would also be someones memory and someones dose of regret. I don’t want that.

I wanted to leave people inspired. People changed. Leave with a sense of accomplishment and hurrah. None of this screaming grief and guilt I store inside myself. Someone people feel the same, some people cope with it better and some people don’t give a flying kite about it all. But I don’t know why since I’ve been a child I knew I was supposed to do something moving. I knew I was supposed to start something, a renaissance of some sort. Because of how my life turned out and me trying to keep piecing it together to seem normal I never got to explore this “duty” I felt to humanity. I work so hard to have a “normal life” that I, even though mostly failing, now have some sort of half-in, half-out and completely unfulfilled existence.

I do not want that to be my imprint. I do not want people to remember how unhappy I was. How nothing was ever enough. I want to experience this life I had chosen for myself. I want to document it all and show anyone else feeling trapped or unfulfilled that it is something doable and even if they can’t do it then reading, or watching, or listening about it all through fills in that hole and allows for a happier and more beautiful existence. This is what I wish for the people around me.

If there was ever a reason to throw caution to the wind and jump, it would be to live a life you would not feel unrelenting, unfulfilled guilt for. I want this. I want to do things that I dream, and that ultimately, make others dream. This is what I wish for me.

If Jeff died feeling unfulfilled he should know that he did something. He reminded me that I have something to live for.

Sex&TheCity - Relationship fitting

The day I greet you as an old friend…

Obviously I don’t feel comfortable posting about this.

However, I choose writing as my medium over most things and so here I am, wearing a deep cleansing mask over my face, looking like an alien, and instead of where I should be, sleeping by  now, I am writing.

This morning started as usual. I woke up; late. Got to work; late. Worked; hating it, trying to focus.

These past weeks I’ve been working while wishing to be elsewhere so hard that I feel like I have been drugged. At the end of each day I can barely recall what I did and how I made it through such long, relentlessly boring and purposeless hours. I feel exhausted and dazed while barely having done anything at all. Such a drama queen I know.

This morning as usual, and not very work oriented, I was texting with all my friends from various, and more exciting, parts of the world and walks of life. People who are already enjoying their lunch while I cling to my watered down cup of coffee in my dreary morning office. Time differences, work differences and just different differences. They keep me entertained. They distract me from the brain corroding work I am doing. Which incidentally most people in my field would kill for my job…and I would let them kill…but alas, the bills must be paid and I shouldn’t be complaining so much for actually having a job and for being able to support myself to most degrees. Things have been and could be worse, that’s for sure.

Well; this morning I got a text from Mr.MD. Now Mr.Ex I guess…

“When you get a chance can you send me my stuff” – after about 3 weeks of nothing from him (which is fine considering where we’re at). I answered “yes of course”.

Because the problem is that his stuff has been packed and ready to go for months. Since January actually. Why didn’t I ship it? I have no idea. No it’s not because I wish maybe I didn’t have to and we’d be back together. I lost that sentimentality a while ago. I just didn’t ship it.

How the conversation evolved from there….no clue. Things were said. Stupid things like “Just don’t come, cause you have no reason to be in New York”….like I didn’t live there before I dated this man.

“I’d rather not have you in my life at all cause it’s a joke” “I don’t even want to hear about you from someone else, ever” and other amazingly childish remarks. He ended up calling me. I took the call…should I have? I don’t fucking know anymore.

We fought some more. He doesn’t see why I left still. I can’t see why he can’t see that. We’re both so fucking blind it hurts.

Lucky for me, I am not the complete idiot I sometimes act like. I know why we didn’t work. I stated my case. He denied it but I stuck to my guns. Since it was morning and I couldn’t have a conversation like that one mid work and neither could he we hung up.

I then found another woman to talk to. Across the ocean and in another country yet always available to help; especially when relationships are the gossip topic. After talking, or more like venting and ranting and cursing, I agreed that I should give him yet another chance to see what was supposed to be different this time.

I spent the rest of the day “working” feeling miserable. I didn’t like, trust or love anyone. Even the people I was so ready to die for the day before. Nothing. I crawled into my little hate filled nook and waited. Waited because I knew that after work and all my other responsibilities, at 10:15PM I had a call scheduled with Mr.Ex.

I just finished the call. What happened? What I knew would happen. Nothing, in a sense, and something.

Nothing because he cannot produce and give me the things I require from a man.

Something because, I am really strongly hoping, we left it finally at a better place than last time.

I did love him. This time even I, who is so highly skillful at this by now, cannot be friends with this Ex. Not now. It does hurt. No one likes a breakup usually. Unless it’s something really really horrible you are happy you made it out of there alive I guess.

I told him plainly; This is what I wanted. This is what you brought to the table. This is what I asked for. This is what you brought to the table. The table was pretty empty. Done. No words or excuses. The reality is the reality. And I have made myself face the facts. No matter how much I love or loved him the fact of the matter is that a relationship has to work with certain factors agreed upon and set up between both lovers involved.

What do I wish for? I wish for my heart not to break when he begins a new relationship.

I wish for him to be truly happy with himself and no longer regret not having me.

I wish for him to not hate me, resent me, or wish me to remain alone.

I wish for me to let go.

I wish for me to be willing to start something new and not kill it with self doubt and anger.

I wish for me to be an old friend. One who truly knows him beyond others and who is loved and respected but never demanded of.

I wish for things to be easier.

And mostly I wish for the patience, courage and strength to make these wishes come true.

Good night now,

NYC Fog

Not Sure Who “You” Are, but Meanwhile I am Disappointed with Myself

I locked my front door thinking to myself how improbable it is that I find myself thinking you should be here in my house when I come back from another late night.

I don’t know if it should be you here but I’m starting to think there should be someone waiting for me, or maybe I should be waiting for him. I don’t know why I feel like this tonight. Knowing me tomorrow it will be different. Hell, after finishing this paragraph it could be the exact opposite.

I’ve been so selfish all these years. It’s nearing a mere quarter of a century and I am already disappointed in myself. Mostly because of the choices I made, the relationships I started. They all should have ended; there’s no doubt about that. My problem is that I wasn’t smart enough, or determined enough, or (my worst fear) ladylike enough to not start them in the first place. I’ve never had sex out of a relationship just like that. Never casually. Never with one and then another and another, but somehow, in the back of my mind, I failed. I gave myself up too much or too easily.

It’s the constant nagging feeling that you could literally be a whore and yet, looking around, you’re not so bad. I haven’t been really single in 8 years. One serious relationship after the other. One failed dream after the next. Should I have waited? Yes I think so now. I can’t do anything about it but begin to try to get comfortable in my own skin. I found that I can’t recently. I feel completely inadequate. I feel I can’t trust my instincts as they are the assholes who led me here.

I jump into a relationship believing, truly, believing that they can be the man they say they can be or that I see they could be…and yet it never happens. Obviously I am not the right woman either. No patience, not sympathetic towards their difficulties, always easily pointing out where they are wrong or not meeting my standards. All for what? To have me? Like I am made of gold, encrusted with diamonds perched onto of something like the holy grail…I was wrong.

I am not a bad person but I could be millions better. I’ve helped people but I could have done more and recently haven’t been helping anyone but myself. This isn’t a self pity rant. I don’t even pity myself. I have come to the realization that there is someone here who thinks I am this Holy Grail creature. I don’t understand what I do that makes some people think this; but I will not do this again.

I cannot let another dream fail; mine or another’s. I hate myself for not being able to just jump in. I hate myself for wanting to. I am constantly running through all the possible things that could be wrong, reminding myself of all the signs I missed the last times, knowing that time will show me that I am right, this isn’t really the truth. I am not a Holy anything and the beholder’s eyesight will soon clear and know that I am just like him, if not worse off. A human. With so many insecurities and currently self guilt I can barely sleep in bed with myself  sometimes.

Indecisive, doubtful yet self-assured. I’m always angry, grumpy yet full of infinite amount of happiness. Jealous, critical yet loving and admiring. I am not the Holy Grail. I really am this Infinitely Improbable person. I haven’t been able to decide on where I want to be, how and doing what; and if I did, I did not have the courage to go for it and I sit here wallowing in my own anger towards myself.

In 25 years I’ve accomplished a lot, I’ve received so much help from others, I’ve helped some as well, I’ve had 8 full on and serious relationships fail and I have found myself in a routine I hate and all the while blaming everyone who even slightly pisses me off for whatever reason and mostly; I have disappointed myself to the point where I can no longer be in my own space.

Back to you. I miss this “you”. I haven’t shipped “your” stuff back. I haven’t decided if I should fall in love with “you” or maybe I haven’t met this “you”.

I think the real problem is that I know I do not want to just put someone in that “you”. I want it to be someone specific who I can refer to as “you”. Someone who is meant to be there with me. Where I have no doubts. Where I am a worthwhile person to love. Where I am not worried where this will end. Where I am happy to be there at the moment and feel no pressure. Where I can stop worrying I will lose interest and vice versa.

Currently my problem is that I don’t believe I can find it. I am not looking. I refuse to look. Which makes this life continue to be the most improbable and currently failing mission I have ever been a part of. Here is to using 4% of my available energy doing what I do not care about, worried sick I’ll never have the guts to just do something worthwhile and draining the other 96% to a point where I wonder why I am even allowed to be part of any group right now; be it work, a family, a relationship, a friendship et al

Feeling sorry for myself isn’t even coming to me right now. Tomorrow will be different I am sure of it, but for now: tonight specifically – I needed to really show myself where I am at. My rock bottom might not be so horrible compared to others but it is the fact that I am close to a rock bottom that should trigger some sort of response.

Not tonight; I am as dead as it gets and I am slowly sinking towards the bottom.

And all I want to hear is that it’s not true…

Reflection

Losing Myself & Probably You After Reading This…

I am so tired. Exhausted. I spent a weekend living my life as a teenager and knowing full well that I no longer have the tolerance or stamina for that shit. I went to bed at 4:30AM Friday and Saturday. Needless to say I was a self contained mess.

Being the most improbable drive I know, me, out of all people in my close universe recently, got caught up in what I like to call a “whirlwind worm-hole hyperdrive traverse through a supernova” relation. Notice I did not say sexual relation or relationship.

I did what I always do – poured myself into something or someone at a moments notice and lost myself completely. Right now I don’t know if it’s the complete exhaustion or the actual weekend I just passed but I feel oddly calm and reflective.

I spent time with someone whom I’ve sort of adopted as a close friend/mentor. I won’t say what he does or his name but he is a great professional and an adventurous man. Inspiring me to be someone more, to leap for the career and life I want etc. I had someone with me that I could talk to all day and night. Who I could freak out in front of about choices and needs and the mystery of where I’ll end up. Amazing. Mostly unbiased and truly liberating.

I liked the person I was when I was with him…Now reread that:

I liked the person I was when I was with him. 

Is that supposed to happen? Can you love someone because they turn you into someone you like? Is it just one of my selfish ventures to like someone because of that?

I was also speaking to my mum the other day. She said something that sent me careening  off into the chasm that are my doubts on life, self and all that is unholy. “You could do even better.”

I am past the phase in my life where I constantly put myself down like an emo teen; however I am not at the stage in my life where I feel physically perfect and empowered of my own body, of my self.

Hearing that statement from my mum made me tremble. Do I settle? Could I do better? Am I a horrible person to even think that? Can’t everyone do better?! Who am I to say the person isn’t “good enough”. Plus it’s my mum…isn’t it in the Bible that mums will always think 10000 times greater of you and your abilities, real or imagined, than the rest of the human world? ….Maybe that’s not where I read it but I am almost 100% sure it’s true of almost 100% of mums…or at least the good ones.

Either way – yes I do not know where I am going or if I should be with someone getting there, or once I get there, or once I leave after getting there or never at all. I am mostly concerned still of where “there” is and how and IF I will get there to even worry who’s there or coming with me.

I never look for someone but there is something in the back of my mind – a sort of “what if” on both sides.

What if I never get with someone and then spend the rest of my (childless) life regretting not settling down?

and, playing my own devil’s advocate;

What if I settle and choose someone who I then regret being with because I stumble upon the one that is truly better?…what if I stumble across more than one?! Aaaah!

These are the moments where I truly wish I could just be a man…I feel like I could handle that better…alas; I am not looking to switch teams now, so I am trying to cope…and failing as we can tell.

There is something to this feeling though…not the psycho one; I mean the one where you feel calm, beautiful and lulled into this sense of security just by being around someone. I know I make people feel like that – or I try…but I hadn’t experienced it fully in the reverse…I am afraid it will all come crashing down.

I wish I could just know that I was making the right choices…and I am sure most people wish this…it’s just that I don’t have enough courage to just take a leap of faith…and I know I am loosing  many opportunities, closing many doors, regretting it all and yet still frozen on the doorstep because I don’t know where to go or how to get there.

I wish I could just not care about losing myself. I wish I really could believe that to find out where and who you are…you actually need to lose yourself in the first place.

I want this to end but I can’t find the bloody off switch in the dark.

I’m just still sitting here – confused, calm and all emotions in-between.