after 2am: Pissed, Crying and Bearing my Soul

I hate it here. I want to go home. But mom's apartment is not home either. I don't want to take it anymore. I don't want to be the adult. I can't hold it together anymore. I don't think I can do it. I just want to run away from it all. I'm overwhelmed.

I want someone else to stand up and make the decisions. To be the bigger person. I'm tired of being better. Maybe I want to be worse. Not just better, and then forgotten. I'm tired of the pretenses that others have for me, I'm tired of trying to live up to them. I'm tired of expectations. I'm tired of being the one who cares.

I'm upset that I've not been taught the way to be and am expected to be it correctly. I'm tired of the vicious circles.

I can't pay my bills. I want to, but I can't. I can't find a job to help me. I'm not good enough.

I am tired of feeling unwanted and unloved. Of feeling in the way. Like I'm just taking up un-valuable space, that could be better used by something else just as useless.

I want to have friends. I don't want to be a babysitter.

I'm tired of my family. I'm tired of Pam. I want to be there for her. But she's drained me. One more inch, and I'll snap. And we won't be friends again. and then Merh will take her side, I'll be the evil one, and that will take the Hobbit, then JoeCool, then Grandma... etc. Then I won't be able to be there for Toddly. Why did she have to name him that?! I hate it. I hate SH. I hate that Pam won't just leave him. She doesn't believe in herself enough to actually leave him like she says she will. I HATE all of her words. I hate that she has no action. I hate that she takes everything personally, and everything with her is a one way street. I hate that Toddly is being raised by a drama queen.

...

I hate not having control over anything. I hate not having a home. I hate being confused. I Hate.

I love my mom, I love my dad, and my siblings. I love the rest of my family, And I love my 'friends' more than they like me.

I feel so drained and empty.

I'm frustrated by broken promises, and people going back on their word. By my weight.

I want someone to actually care without ulterior motives. without judging me.

I need a hug.

Your (not so)'Perfect' me.

-Me-

Issue? I only have one?

I'm sleepy. That seems to be a bulk of what I do anymore. I sleep, eat (if there's food), go to work, and sit around. Not much else. I just sit and feel numb. At least I'm not irritated all the time in my office. In my chair in my mom's living room. I am irritated all of the time. Why? Because of lack of control over any number of situations ranging in size and importance. Basically; I have issues.

Second edition fire and gasoline.

Here's that dream I had a while back. I said I was going to write it out and then change it up. But no. I've re-read it and I'm going to post it as I wrote it that morning. Maybe I'll change grammatical errors and misspellings, but then again, I wouldn't count on it.;

As I was getting dressed, I glanced through the blinds. I saw HIS truck pull up. What was he doing here? Here of all places. My fathers house. The house I'd grown up in. The place where I was guaranteed solitude. He had no right to come. I quickly found a dress and put it on. Then jumped beneath my covers. I guess it should be better to have him see me reading in my bed than waiting for him.

I heard him come in and my mother sent him off in the direction of my room. My blue room. He knocked on the door.

"Come in" indifference in my voice. He came 'round to sit on my bed next to my feet. Only then did I see her with him.

"Hey" he finally said.

"Hello" and a quick 'friendly' smile at her. She who then sat on my chair. and Leaned on his arm.

"Listen, I feel I need to clarify something." He placed his hand on my covered knee. I sat waiting. My face ignoring the pounding of my hears. "That's why I'm here..." He went on to explain his relationship with her, and how much we're 'just friends'. At least that's what I thought. My hearing was consumed by a ringing and I was too distracted by his eyes on mine. Something he doesn't normally do. He usually averts his eyes from mine, and keeps his hands to himself. Usually. Now his eyes stayed on me. If not my eyes, then just me. And his hands stayed on my person too. She went back and forth between gazing at him and glaring at me while he spoke...

He finally faltered for words. That or he thought he'd stated his case clearly. Though the numb ringing stayed. He just looked at me. His eyes full of a caring that could not (would not) be expressed...

"Stop touching me." I'd found my voice, though it was weak. She smirked. He didn't move his hands.

I pushed away, off the other side of my bed. And stumbled to my dresser. Realizing I'd not gotten completely dressed, I scrambled for a pair of underwear. I could now feel the numbness in my face and a new pressure behind my eyes. Good thing I'd chosen a dress. Neither of them looked at me now. She'd turned towards the window, he still stared where I'd laid. I quickly pulled them on. Good thing I'd been in scouts. She got up and left the room after I don't know how long, still indifferent to me. I took a seat in the chair on the opposite side of my bed. But I refused to fill this silence. For fear of letting myself show.

"I came here for her you know." He finally broke, still staring at my bedding.

"I gathered." I fought to keep indifference in my tone. And on my face.

"She got this weird idea that you thought I was in love with you or something." He believed these words he spoke to jokingly. "I kept saying we're just friends."

This would be an instance where I would have loved to run to my closet and cry. I did long now for my strange refuge. My comforting sanctuary. Instead I decided to answer him. And I couldn't tell a lie. "I never thought you were in love with me." Oh, so much rode on the barely emphasized words in my 'on the verge of cracking' voice. He looked up at me again. We stared at each other, then around the room in silence.

I'd come here, so far away form my life, to be away from him, and her.

I heard the water turn on in the bathroom and gazed blankly at the sound through the wall. It took me a while to realize he was talking. Saying something about her, and her beautiful dancing and her... Oh whatever. I wasn't listening. I was lost in a reverie.

She came back in wrapped in a towel. How odd. She asked a question about something in the bathroom. I must have answered, but I don't recall. Then she turned, and she in all her 'perfectness' left to return to the bathroom. I'm not sure if he'd left the room or not, but I stood, with no memory of my surroundings, took my pointe shoes and quit the room.

I needed to be outside...

On the front porch, I could hear the murmurs of people talking inside, and the main street traffic that passed by the front of this house, the faint noises of the not so distant interstate, and all of the local businesses which surrounded our exit. All the children at the school on the next block, the dogs of the neighborhood enjoying themselves, the breeze breaking through the tops of the trees. Combined, they made up the muffled numbness of ringing that continued to fill my ears.

I put my ballet shoes on, and moved about my front porch. I walked upon the ledge and down the graduated balustrade on the sides of the stair. I don't know how long I was there, staring out at nothing. I could sense I was crying. But I didn't care. He had come and done what he needed to do for her. He loved her. We could only ever be friends. I knew we couldn't even be that anymore. I knew it before. Which was a factor in my coming back here. But now I 'Knew' it. I'd heard it straight from the horses mouth. He came all this way on a word from her, and broke my heart. Again.

I turned to go back inside. It's no good to wallow in misery. Best to just move on. When I stepped into the living room from the entryway, I caught a glimpse of them leaving through the mud room. They'd changed their clothes. She was in a teal, metallic pants and accessories, with a black top, set. Him in a silver suit with matching shoes and top hat.

I soldiered on through the house slowly. Through the living room, the sitting room, the beloved and happily exposed dinning room, finally through the narrow kitchen towards the back stair.

"Have they gone?" I asked my brother who stood by the mudroom door at the far end of the kitchen. He made no answer. But I saw him then. Through the hinged doorway of this old house. He saw me. He saw my tears.

Then the door adjusted, and they both ventured down the steps towards and out the back door.

By my head, I hoped to never see him again. But by my heart; it was breaking for I still loved him.

Have you seen my shamrocks?

So on my way out to SoCal; I stunk. I smelled of sleep, work, bar, and then plane. That's what happens when you board a plane morning after St. Patty's day. My flight back. I just smelled like errands and plane. Yay me. Also on my way there I did a little creating. Just a little. Have you ever thought about something when someone else mentions it; and others mention it a lot, so you seem to think about it a lot, but if they'd never mention it, you'd never think about it? Well that's how it is with me with a lot of things. Like the attractiveness of certain boys/the opposite sex/well, anyone really. Or Love. Or babies. Or pets, favorite things, names, certain futures... Or weddings. Whenever someone talks about weddings, or their dress, or their plans, or someone else's plans, or 'I've been planning my wedding since I was 10 years old', or whatever. I get a brief moment to think about this for myself. Now I'm not one to dwell on things that I know will never turn out if I plan them now and none of the important factors are in place, I mean; come on, You can't have a wedding with only a bride. *I've gotten off topic slightly. Well, in these brief instances I think about what I'd want my dress to look like. It almost always appear briefly in the same fashion to me. So on the edge of sleep, after reading about a wedding in a book. I decided to draw it out. In other words; I've taken up way too much space to say that I've designed my wedding dress. I will perhaps draw it out in a more understandable drawing, move it into the computer, perhaps 'mock it up' at a later date. Then post it to my design blog. That'll be good. I also designed a carry on/pillow/luggage piece. Logic and whatnot, combined to make a useful piece of reusable equipment. But that is where the creativity during my week stopped. on the plane, between Atlanta and Santa Ana. Lost somewhere in tornado alley.

Everything is Bleak

I'm just going to waste a bunch of time. If I weren't wasting it in this way; I'd be wasting it some other way. One point of me coming here is to see my friends. The other point obviously is to see my orthodontist. But if that were the only point. I wouldn't stay so long. If that'd been the only point this time. I'd've left last Friday. I could have gone back to my own dull life in Wisconsin. Rather than sitting around and hoping the someone cared enough to exert a little bit of effort. (Mostly I am generalizing, and don't mean most.) Seriously!? What did the world do before cell phones? Obviously before the cell phone. No one had friends. And everyone spent all of their time alone. I want to run away now. And go back to counting on spending all of my time alone. I'll go back to getting nothing done. And I'll revert to not developing interpersonal skills because they won't be needed. I will crawl under the rock from whence I came. I will not bug anyone for their time again. Yes, I do overreact with my words. but my words and thoughts are all I have to keep me company.

No one is trustworthy. No one is worth it. I am being bleak.

To waste more time: I don't actually have anything to say right now but to complain. That makes me seem worse than emo. Woe is me, the whole world sucks, life sucks and then you die, I have no Friends, nobody cares, I will never be wanted, I don't belong anywhere, I feel so unloved... I'm pretty sure that I don't truly feel this way all of the time. But with nothing but time to reflect on the actions of others, and their words, I can't but help my fleeting thoughts from coming back time and time again. All I can do is make sure I know the truth. But this subconscious really rides on a person over time. It leaves a person feeling numb. and no matter how long I feel this, or wrestle with it, or battle with the war of thoughts raging in my head; I still feel numb, and cannot change it. Even after all these years. Even after the changing of so many circumstances and personal opinions. Even with the difference of viewpoint and knowledge that comes with a different age and idea. It's the same. If feels the same. It hurts the same. I can only think the onslaught would lighten if I went back to being separated from the cause. Tear myself from the spans of the others. Stop caring so much. Shoot! 'tis not possible to have you see my way. I wouldn't want that for you either. 'tis far to bleak and disconcerting.

Yes, my teeth and ambitions are bared

I cannot believe this is happening! Actually; Yes I can. Because it is, and it has. The day of, and I still don't have a ticket. It's been since February 17th that I've, WE'VE, known about this! I understand that fiances are tight. But, COME ON!

*Breath*

This is still Bloody Bogus. Not because I want to get away, or anything, But because this reflects badly on me and my word. If you know me; then you probably know that I try to always keep my word. If I make a promise; I will do everything in my power to fulfill that promise. AND; I'm one of those people that does not like to fly by the seat of my pants, as it were. I like to know what's going on in advance. I do not like to be spur of the moment with huge things. Like Plane tickets; Exhibit A!

*Breath*

I'm not really as peeved, or miffed, or angry as I may sound. I just feel a little let down. And in turn I feel like I'm letting others down. Not that anyone was holding their breath for me. Or that the majority of my time would change in any measure of consequence due to being prepared. But I would be prepared. And I'd only have myself to be peeved at if anything, like plans, went awry.

Who choose the soundtrack to this scandal?

"Scandalous!" she smiles gaily. "Simply Scandalous!" She speaks with her hands half and quarter mast. Like in the films of the past. She is beside herself. Though she can't quite figure why, and at this particular caliber. The ecstasy of what she sees sends her into a spin. taking in the goings on of the others. The love story unfolding before her eyes elates her. Sarah having brought her assignment man. And so soon after her husbands death. She loves the looks in the peoples eyes and is overwhelmed by the irony and story itself. The typical story told over again in their motives. Only it's been done so well, she doesn't mind the repetition. But then she stops in her elation, and understands that this can only turn bad before it can be truly good. As all the stories go; this one too is bound to follow. She drops her hand and is ashamed of her former delight. Having fallen for the romantics again. Woe. She hates this part. The actual scandal. Not what she's declared 'Scandalous.'

Break my bones to let me chew

How is it that ALL people can be such hypocrites? Complete and utter contradictions uttered in the next breath as the last.

I want to have my heart broken for real. Just so I can be past all of this whole maybe stuff. Even though I know it doesn't really merit a maybe at all. Because it's never been laid out for me in a whole, I cling to a false hope in the maybe. If the heart were to break apart for real. It stands to reason that it could then begin to heal for real. Like when a child breaks an arm, and has to have the bone reset. I don't think I will ever come completely out of this mellow continuous pain. A clean break is required. And I'm just holding by a thread to false hope. The tooth isn't just loose anymore; it's merely hanging by a vein. Useless. But still attached. Only getting in the way of the new, right tooth, to grow in its stead. I do love. That vein of the tooth that used me needs to be cut. The abrasions to my bones need to be broken. I want that time for healing to start. I want to welcome my new tooth. I want to chew again.

I Want To Be Blunt

I want to live in a house; a home. I want to be able to shower at my own leisure without the constraints of someone else's home, bills, and proximity. I want friends of my own. I want to have something that's just mine again. I want Buzzy Reinhardt. I want to not want Rocky. I want to sing. I want to accomplish something. I want to play an instrument. I want someone to believe in me. I want to be loved unconditionally. I want to not be afraid to be all of myself all of the time. I want to dance. I want to be important. I want to be good enough. I want free reign. I want constraints. I want to be happy. I want to create something with all of me, with all the soul and passion I can muster. I want Mr. Bag. I want to be remembered. I want to get on with life. I want to live. I want to love. I want Willie to keep his promises. I want Pam to be a better person, not so; her family. I want to travel and see things. I want to be a Rock Star. I want a shower. I want to dance. I want to cry. I want to be the best me that there is. I want to read. I want to learn. I want to understand things. I want to be held while I cry. I want to be congratulated and encouraged. I want to be wanted.

A Fleet of Companion Ships have just put to See.

I feel like I'm going to cry. And that makes me upset. There is no reason for me to cry. Tonight wasn't bad. Nothing terrible, or sad, or upsetting, or unnerving has happened recently. I just feel like I'm going to cry. I am very contented with my life right now. Yes; I know it pretty much sucks from certain points of views. Meh... I like my job, I like my library, I sing and 'dance', I have family close by. I only lack drive, vision and friends... What of that? I suppose I just realize what I lack when I see what others have and those facts ride on my subconscious until it spills over into the voids in my chest and from there into my tear ducts. I'll live. I should just go to sleep and get over it. I've felt this way before and lived through it. For this fancy is fleeting; And I must soldier on.

All they do is Sing and Eat; Eat and Sing...

I hold today as evidence. I need schedules to stay focused. I want to do so many things with my life, and learn so much, but I can not remain focused on my own accord. I need to create a schedule to help myself remain focused on these tasks. I may need to create each schedule on a weekly/daily basis. I also think that living farther from the office would help with my staying on task. So far, there's no differentiation between life and work, so work never happens. I need Structure! Other than not actually accomplishing anything I wanted to today; I felt it was a good day. I was happy. If I'm happy I have a tendency to do things that make me happy. I sing and dance, and attempt to learn. If I had a schedule to help me to do these things on a regular basis I might be happier than depressed, and that may just help with my SAD. I choose to sing today to liven my mood. and it worked. I even did some barre work this evening. Yay! Let's Sing! and Not go to Bed... I know I have to work in the morning; but I'm in such a good mood and don't want to loose it.

He Found my Letters and Read Each One Out Loud

There are some songs that I don't like. Some songs; I used to not like. When they premiered on the radio; I hated them. I could not stand one song in particular. Which was odd because it was by one of my favorite artists and it made me like them less (that seems low. But it's true.). For years, I couldn't listen to them. Because of this one song, I couldn't get into the other songs as much. I suppose it was an assumption that the songs in some way reflected who that artist was or reflected them. That doesn't usually bother me so much. The artists personal personality and their songs don't always get clumped together as one entity for me. I soon was able to move on (years later) I 'seemed' to have forgotten about my distaste for this particular song (I forgot about the song altogether) and was able to listen to the others. They were good again. Even further down the line; I grew up, and my circumstances, experiences and 'attitudes' had changed. I mean years and years later. I now understand this song, and it's not so loathsome to me. I can identify with the story of this song and realize the emotion and thought processes that went into it and go along with it. It's still not my favorite. But it's been added to some key playlists of my life. Some of them tell stories of my life.

The Love of a Rust Covered Heart

I'm kind of disappointed. I am not sure in what specifically. But I do feel the feeling of disappointment. That's really it. I can't describe it other than that. I don't know what I have to be disappointed in right now. I hope it's not life in general. That's anti-climactic and predictable. Maybe I'm disappointed in myself for succumbing to the natural actions of being a 'girl' in this 'modern' society. (I mean shopping) Or maybe I don't just mean in shopping. I've stated my quarrels with myself in these respects previously; but I don't want to dig up that old dirt, no matter how relevant it may be at this time. Maybe I'm disappointed at my situation. It's been... (since October; so... hmmm...) 5ish months. I'm glad I didn't say yes to that day or two idea. Because it never panned out. I wish people would keep their word, Or at least make an attempt to do so. Maybe I'm just disappointed in the way my new vest fits. That's retarded, I love my new vest. I might be disappointed in my wants. Like what I want in life, from the store, in friends, from people, in movies, from common sense, in Love... I dunno. I'll maybe let ya know when I do.

I'm in love with the hair of a foreign shower

I've always wanted Joan Jett hair (or what I decided Joan Jett hair was). I thought I couldn't have this hair because; in fact I have; Wavy-to-curly blonde hair. And I'm in love with Mötley Crüe hair (or what I decided Mötley Crüe hair was). Like Nikki Sixx' hair. Maybe I'll make that the picture. And then there's Elvira's hair. Nice... See a theme going on here. I've always loved these hair styles. I love the Mötley Crüe hair on guys. I never thought you'd hear these words from me but; Mötley Crüe hair is Hot! However: so far, ALL Mötley Crüe haired guys are douche bags. 'Tis true. Oh well... There are 'Hot!' guys without Mötley Crüe hair. It's not the only hair style out there. I've since changed my hair cut; and more recently my hair color. It's been close to my 'ideal' cut... But I'm not much for using product, and I can get lazy; and a cut of this capacity doesn't really warrant being lazy with it. Either way; I've trimmed my hair again. And this time it's not the worst hair cut ever. It's still not the smartest cut for myself. I want Wash and Go hair; but Joan Jett hair. Now I have to decide what I want more; and if I'm enough of a 'girl' to actually learn to use "product." We'll just have to see... With the warmth comes humidity, and bigger, badder hair. (not in a good way either.)