I should be sleeping... it is after 2 am, 6 comes early. I'm pretty sure the time stamp on my blog says something different though, but I really don't give enough of a fuck to go change it. More random thoughts.
Look up "Damaged Goods" in your Websters, my picture is right next to it. No matter how hard I fight that reality, no matter how much I wish for it not to be true- I am Fuckdidid in the heart, and in the head.
Growing up in an environment where love was something they preached about on sunday, but never a warm fuzzy feeling you got from your mommy was pretty fucking confusing. I admit that as a child, and even until I had children of my own I had no clue what love felt like beyond the love of a girl fro her dog. Let me tell you though, I still shed tears over my best friends Toby & Orla. I was more connected to them emotionally than I have been to most people in my life.
I'm guessing I need help. No, I was told that I do dammit, it's the truth too. I'm totally fucked, completely insecure, and when someone does manage to break through that wall I find an excuse to build another- so a relationship with me looks something like plowing a bulldozer through a 3ft thick cement block wall every few weeks.
All good things come to an end, but even entertaining that idea leaves me distraught. Simply knowing what I do now about love, about what it means, how it feels, what it does... it makes me terrified of losing it. It would be easier to see someone I love die, than it would be for me to cope with their rejection. I don't do rejection. Another reason that being in any kind of relationship with me in my present state poses an occupational hazard. I throw darts when I feel attacked, rejection is a personal attack.
Just a short bit ago I said that I didn't have anyone to talk to, which I don't. No one who I can actually trust not to intentionally cause harm with the knowledge they would glean from our conversations... So, brilliant me thought "Hey... I'll just fucking start typing, no one reads this shit anyway." which is likely the truth, and best for it. The venting I mean.
No one listens to my words either, especially when spoken. They come out a jumble, a mess, a fucking mixed bag. After spending 1/2 the conversation agonizing about what is actually the important point to convey, I generally stick both feet in my mouth until I gag and involuntarily spew words. Not the best plan, I do realize- but generally better than being a selective mute (which would otherwise suit me just fine).
Why Is that, I wonder? Why is it that I am perfectly capable of conveying an ideal, instructions, abstract thoughts, etc using the written word (ok, typed- my handwriting is halfassed at best, and simply indecipherable st worst).
People who are well spoken often turn me off. Seriously- I can feel my twat drying up when I hear them speak. I rely so much on words though, because I can't read people. I rely on what they say, rather than what I can see because I don't fucking understand human body language, or how to interpret it. I *need* words to know where I stand with someone, but in turn I suck ass at providing feedback that people find helpful- which leaves me wanting to cry like a baby over my shortcomings.
Animals. I get. They are so clear with their "words". Put me in a room full of angry dogs and in 5 minutes we'll all be rolling round on the floor playing. Drop me in a pasture with a horse that doesn't like to be caught, and he'll wind up coming to me. With people. Not. So. Much.
I'm ashamed that I need so much assurance, but I do. I actually need it, and when I don't get it I feel terrified, alone, and completely rejected. It doesn't matter what you already told me with your actions, until I hear it, it isn't really true. It's been quite a fucking while since I've felt any measure of......
~*~This is the point at which I decided I could say nothing good, and closed the lappy for the night, wishing sleep would find me~*~
I guess since I am going through a "reevaluate my fucking senses" tell all session to an imaginary therapist (not much different than prayer, except that I realize I'm the one who has to decide to do something rather than wait around for it to happen) I might as well admit to being truly jealous for the first time in my life.
Jealousy has no place in a healthy relationship, it makes people do stupid things. Makes us feel insecure when we shouldn't, makes us lose trust for people who haven't actually done anything wrong. It's generally damaging, which is why I have always reacted with a rational approach to the idea when it has been introduced- shove it out of the map. This time however, it is proving to be an immovable obstruction.
When I hear a woman say "my man" I generally laugh, simply can't help myself. It's funny to think of people as possessions, slightly demented as well. But I can't help wanting to say "MINE!". Juvenile, insecure, and hurt am I.
As it would turn out, the past can not simply be negated by the now... whoda thunk?
I've always been OK with being me, well for the most part. Being the odd man out has never been completely cool with me, but I understand people's hesitation when it comes to something new, something unknown, something different.
Problem with that is when people not only actively exclude (oh, boo hoo... woes me) but attempt with malice to remove the anomaly from their plane of existence. We're ruthless bitches, even when we decide we don't want something that was once perceived as "mine", we still don't let go of it- let me clarify that "we" is purely in reference to the % of the population who were born with vaginas and not me specifically.- and even attempt to undermine anyone else who wishes to stake a claim.
Seeing people (mostly women) behave badly in a fit of jealous rage has always given me a laugh, because I never understood how threatened and vulnerable they felt. That is the heart of jealousy. It is fucking excruciating. I actually feel for people who experience jealousy on a regular basis, I can't imagine my life being completely permeated by it. I'm blown away by the reality that it has found a way into my life at all, and even worse... is actually doing harm.
All of that said, I'm overwhelmed with jealousy over an insignificant, used-to-be-important, BUBBLE... a fucking bubble who watches glee. Jebus what the fuck is wrong with me? She is a BUBBLE. But apparently is "really cool"... yeah, I'm sure... and about as deep as a kiddie pool too.
Maybe it is the lack of intelligence which causes me to recoil from a reality which once was, questioning whether or not I'm undesirable because I am capable of independent thought... perhaps it even stems from my insecurities regarding my own broken, used, destroyed body- that is what happens when you're forced to carry a pregnancy before your body has properly developed to accommodate the task... Meh, nah... that bothers me too, but I know plenty of men who would kill to get just a taste of me. Its the idiot thing. What kind of man is attracted to that?
Why are men attracted to fluffy, bubbly, STUPID women? Why? Really, does it make it easier to convince them to gobble your knob? Or to assign an opinion to them because they aren't capable of doing so their self? Control... maybe that's what it actually boils down to for most men.
So, like it or not I have to put my big girl pants on and simply fucking cope. Like always, even when I'm not wholly responsible for the miscommunication which resulted in the fucking uncomfortable fuckedupdididness.
Though, this is one time I just wish I could fucking climb up on my high horse and drag MINE up there with me, and be the cunt of the century.
Look up "Damaged Goods" in your Websters, my picture is right next to it. No matter how hard I fight that reality, no matter how much I wish for it not to be true- I am Fuckdidid in the heart, and in the head.
Growing up in an environment where love was something they preached about on sunday, but never a warm fuzzy feeling you got from your mommy was pretty fucking confusing. I admit that as a child, and even until I had children of my own I had no clue what love felt like beyond the love of a girl fro her dog. Let me tell you though, I still shed tears over my best friends Toby & Orla. I was more connected to them emotionally than I have been to most people in my life.
I'm guessing I need help. No, I was told that I do dammit, it's the truth too. I'm totally fucked, completely insecure, and when someone does manage to break through that wall I find an excuse to build another- so a relationship with me looks something like plowing a bulldozer through a 3ft thick cement block wall every few weeks.
All good things come to an end, but even entertaining that idea leaves me distraught. Simply knowing what I do now about love, about what it means, how it feels, what it does... it makes me terrified of losing it. It would be easier to see someone I love die, than it would be for me to cope with their rejection. I don't do rejection. Another reason that being in any kind of relationship with me in my present state poses an occupational hazard. I throw darts when I feel attacked, rejection is a personal attack.
Just a short bit ago I said that I didn't have anyone to talk to, which I don't. No one who I can actually trust not to intentionally cause harm with the knowledge they would glean from our conversations... So, brilliant me thought "Hey... I'll just fucking start typing, no one reads this shit anyway." which is likely the truth, and best for it. The venting I mean.
No one listens to my words either, especially when spoken. They come out a jumble, a mess, a fucking mixed bag. After spending 1/2 the conversation agonizing about what is actually the important point to convey, I generally stick both feet in my mouth until I gag and involuntarily spew words. Not the best plan, I do realize- but generally better than being a selective mute (which would otherwise suit me just fine).
Why Is that, I wonder? Why is it that I am perfectly capable of conveying an ideal, instructions, abstract thoughts, etc using the written word (ok, typed- my handwriting is halfassed at best, and simply indecipherable st worst).
People who are well spoken often turn me off. Seriously- I can feel my twat drying up when I hear them speak. I rely so much on words though, because I can't read people. I rely on what they say, rather than what I can see because I don't fucking understand human body language, or how to interpret it. I *need* words to know where I stand with someone, but in turn I suck ass at providing feedback that people find helpful- which leaves me wanting to cry like a baby over my shortcomings.
Animals. I get. They are so clear with their "words". Put me in a room full of angry dogs and in 5 minutes we'll all be rolling round on the floor playing. Drop me in a pasture with a horse that doesn't like to be caught, and he'll wind up coming to me. With people. Not. So. Much.
I'm ashamed that I need so much assurance, but I do. I actually need it, and when I don't get it I feel terrified, alone, and completely rejected. It doesn't matter what you already told me with your actions, until I hear it, it isn't really true. It's been quite a fucking while since I've felt any measure of......
~*~This is the point at which I decided I could say nothing good, and closed the lappy for the night, wishing sleep would find me~*~
I guess since I am going through a "reevaluate my fucking senses" tell all session to an imaginary therapist (not much different than prayer, except that I realize I'm the one who has to decide to do something rather than wait around for it to happen) I might as well admit to being truly jealous for the first time in my life.
Jealousy has no place in a healthy relationship, it makes people do stupid things. Makes us feel insecure when we shouldn't, makes us lose trust for people who haven't actually done anything wrong. It's generally damaging, which is why I have always reacted with a rational approach to the idea when it has been introduced- shove it out of the map. This time however, it is proving to be an immovable obstruction.
When I hear a woman say "my man" I generally laugh, simply can't help myself. It's funny to think of people as possessions, slightly demented as well. But I can't help wanting to say "MINE!". Juvenile, insecure, and hurt am I.
As it would turn out, the past can not simply be negated by the now... whoda thunk?
I've always been OK with being me, well for the most part. Being the odd man out has never been completely cool with me, but I understand people's hesitation when it comes to something new, something unknown, something different.
Problem with that is when people not only actively exclude (oh, boo hoo... woes me) but attempt with malice to remove the anomaly from their plane of existence. We're ruthless bitches, even when we decide we don't want something that was once perceived as "mine", we still don't let go of it- let me clarify that "we" is purely in reference to the % of the population who were born with vaginas and not me specifically.- and even attempt to undermine anyone else who wishes to stake a claim.
Seeing people (mostly women) behave badly in a fit of jealous rage has always given me a laugh, because I never understood how threatened and vulnerable they felt. That is the heart of jealousy. It is fucking excruciating. I actually feel for people who experience jealousy on a regular basis, I can't imagine my life being completely permeated by it. I'm blown away by the reality that it has found a way into my life at all, and even worse... is actually doing harm.
All of that said, I'm overwhelmed with jealousy over an insignificant, used-to-be-important, BUBBLE... a fucking bubble who watches glee. Jebus what the fuck is wrong with me? She is a BUBBLE. But apparently is "really cool"... yeah, I'm sure... and about as deep as a kiddie pool too.
Maybe it is the lack of intelligence which causes me to recoil from a reality which once was, questioning whether or not I'm undesirable because I am capable of independent thought... perhaps it even stems from my insecurities regarding my own broken, used, destroyed body- that is what happens when you're forced to carry a pregnancy before your body has properly developed to accommodate the task... Meh, nah... that bothers me too, but I know plenty of men who would kill to get just a taste of me. Its the idiot thing. What kind of man is attracted to that?
Why are men attracted to fluffy, bubbly, STUPID women? Why? Really, does it make it easier to convince them to gobble your knob? Or to assign an opinion to them because they aren't capable of doing so their self? Control... maybe that's what it actually boils down to for most men.
So, like it or not I have to put my big girl pants on and simply fucking cope. Like always, even when I'm not wholly responsible for the miscommunication which resulted in the fucking uncomfortable fuckedupdididness.
Though, this is one time I just wish I could fucking climb up on my high horse and drag MINE up there with me, and be the cunt of the century.
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