Patience.

I am so fucking done with being sucked dry. I feel so used and shitty and taken advantage of by someone who could have conceivably been a friend. 

I took care of her cats for two months, then, when she comes back to get them she suddenly needs a place to stay herself. I offer her my home for a week, to which she asks what is the longest time she could stay with me. I reply with one month and the very next day she has the audacity to argue that I said six weeks. 

I ask her to be respectful of my space and my landlords and not not leave drug paraphernalia outside in the open. She says that she will clean and organize and that things will be even nicer than they were before she showed up. 

She is not respectful of my space, to the extent that I came home to her clothes drying in front of my bedroom door. Nothing like having to duck through a guests clothes to get to my own room. Then, after I offer her my very favorite candy, a lovely fluer de sel chocolate, she eats all but three pieces of it. Great. 

She took over my computer and complains about her own laptop when I ask, politely, if i can USE MY OWN FUCKING COMPUTER. She doesn't even make up her bed in the morning which would be fine if it wasn't also my goddamned couch that I guess I have to sit on because I can't get to my fucking computer. 

I explained that she has to be quiet in the evenings because my landlords ten year old daughter sleeps in the room closest to my porch and i get an email at 11pm about her having invited more people into my house while i was gone and talking loudly right on the porch where i told her shit has to be quiet. Not to mention the two fucking marijuana pipes she leaves outside as if it's so fucking hard to grab her piece then go outside. Noooo, it has to be outside waiting for her. 

This whole thing with fucking inviting people over to my house like it's hers is really fucking getting to me. She acts entitled but it's my house. 

I am pretty fucking generous I thought. I thought that maybe this extremely generous offer would be enough for her to treat me and mine like people with responsibilities and rights. I was apparently really fucking wrong and I am really close to kicking her the fuck out of my home as soon and I get off this 16 fucking hour shift, during the middle of which is when i found out about her inviting people over while I'm away. 

It has really hit me that I've put myself in this really shitty situation for really stupid reasons. I thought that I would be treated with respect. There is no way I am going to get that respect from this person, to whom it has become basic instinct to lie, cheat and steal from whomever she can. It has become apparent that this person is not my friend. 

Isolation

Current Music: Anya Marina - Felony Flats

I've become way too involved with work. I have 60 hour weeks nearly every week now and I haven't had a weekend off in several months. My friends don't even bother trying to call me to go out anymore. I understand this, since the rare nights I do have off, I choose a friend to call and that is that. I just feel so separated from my friends when I look at our social media sites and all their fun outings and inside jokes are spread out before me. I am happy that Vunc in particular is going out and having fun, I just wish that I could be a part of it.

My life is in this weird place in regards to responsibility. I have enough of them that I can't shirk them in favor of better times but they aren't so important that I feel any reward for completing them. My job is a wasteland. A moderately well-paying, sorta-kinda respectable wasteland. My home with Pat is a starter apartment so I feel no particular rush to decorate or make it nice in any significant way. Hell, my relationship with Pat is starting to feel like it may not work because he has, what appears to be, my sense of motivation. Two people with this little drive to really make something of themselves can't be together. I could be very wrong about Pat in this regard. He has surprised me in the past and it can't ever guess what's going on in that adorable head of his.

Crave

Lately, I can't stop thinking about the first kiss. That feeling, lightness, softness, desire, the never wanting it to stop. There is nothing like a first kiss. I wonder when it will happen next and I think of who and how and how it would be different and the same. 

Thinking about it is enough to make me feel dizzy, bite my lip and wonder how it would feel if it just happened right then. The anticipation, that crush feeling, it's so fucking good. 

Sometimes, when Pat kisses me, I'll feel it again. Not every time, not even close, but once in a while I feel that ember of extreme passion flare again, just for a moment. I haven't felt it again with the boy since our literal first kiss. I feel like, sometimes, I am only the way I am, poly, for feeling that. I could live without more sex or any of its varients if I could just have that rush of initial attraction. 

I tell myself over and over again that I am not a bad person for never having enough.