I should be getting ready right now, but I'm not. I'm sitting in the sweatshirt I slept in, writing a blog about how I shouldn't be blogging right now.
okay, that's not the reason I started the entry.
I was thinking about how differently I write here. As compared to my other blogs where there is community and comments and that leads to the constant awareness of having someone evaluate my ramblings, this gives me someplace to pretend I'm writing in private. Not that I want no one to ever read what I write, otherwise I wouldn't even bother, I just become nervous that someone is judging me based on any of these.
I like the way this site looks. I like how it feels to "publish" my entries. I like looking at the archive build and know that I can look back to how I felt during any of those months. Not that those are all entries I would want to remember, most of Fuzzy WAS about David, being able to is the important thing.
It's sad that I never talk about my boy, guy thing. Maybe because I knew as soon as we hung out that we would never last? Maybe because once I met his family I knew he was too good for me? Maybe because I can't stay with any one person for too long before going crazy. Maybe he already knows I'm leaving him. It would be like him to know when I told him and to put his hands on me and let me know everything was okay. Annie asked me about him today. I just don't know what to say. I stopped caring about him. I'm an awful person. I hate being this way. I wish I could commit to something and be happy about it. I lie, I hope, I pretend I can be normal and I can't. I'm practically doomed. Then again, people can always change, people always ARE changing. Static personalities are for bad made-for-TV dramas. I change, obviously *looks back in archive*, but I feel like I am changing for the worst in some cases. I'm definitely becoming a more organized person, at the very least slightly. I'm a little less high-strung, things aren't bothering me quite as much as they would have seven months ago. I can swallow my pride if I'm given enough time. That would really be the big one if you knew me well. I once said "My pride is all I have. Give it up and I have nothing." I said that while refusing to open my door on principle.
I'm a prideful person. I'm selfish. I'm greedy. I don't often think of others with my actions. I don't often think my actions through all the way. My success up to this point has been a lot of luck. I'm afraid of people I know. I want to believe that other people might like me. I really want acceptance my peers on such a level that I don't have to worry about being alone during "those" times. Those times are coming less and less though I still feel it occasionally and don't know what to do besides hide in my room and cry. I've stopped going to any therapy, against my therapists recommendation, of course. Those bloodsucking bastards wouldn't ever want to let go of me. I would be tied up to them with fifty minute talks and lexapro for life if I did what they wanted. While I am slowly growing out of my pride, there are levels of dignity that I will never let myself fall below.
because I love myself more than I have ever been able to love another.
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