The Part About This

The sad part about all of this; is how much I wanted to like him. The sad part is I was thinking the same things sober as I almost blurted drunk. The sad part; music makes it harder.

The worst part about this is knowing that it would never work out in the long run. The worst part is understanding that I can get there in my head, but in person, it will almost always stop in person before then. The worst part; these lyrics are convincing me otherwise.

The best part about all of this is finding out truths about me. The best part is talking with people because of my self pity and demise. The best part; knowing I’m strong enough to walk away, at least eventually.

Granted; this 'poem' sucks terribly... Thanks. :)

It's only a send button.

I am sitting here contemplating my demise. Not in a way that seems normal. Not in a way that most people would think of as a demise at all. I am contemplating pushing for something that I know will inevitably end badly. It started ok, and went bad day one. It will end badly. That’s not a feeling. That’s a fact. I am fretting over whether or not I will put my faith in mankind’s ability to change, and mold for others. If people are able to bend their wills to those of others, or not. If I do this, the ball will be off of me and in someone else’s court. But that could be the last straw to rejection. It’s only the matter of clicking a measly minuscule button or not at this point. But in that button is the future of my life as I know it. Do I take this chance? Do I run the other way? I should, and say Fear, it doesn’t matter what you think. I can handle the no if it comes. I can even handle being laughed at for trying. But can I handle it if it’s a yes? Can I cope if the vicious cycle that’s bound to come about with the yes, does come to fruition? I’m not sure I could handle the yes. So I wait… and contemplate. And fret. And over think. Just press the Damned button! It will mostly likely be a no. But what if it’s not?

They Think the Same, It Ends the Same.

I think it's funny how I let these things happen. Especially since I know exactly how they'll happen before they happen, and then they happen exactly the way I think that they will. There are so many 'smart' things I think of to say in situations like this. But they never seem to make it passed my lips. Lots of this has to do with me not being that kind of girl. I mean seriously; I don't think I look like that sort of girl. Maybe I do...

Maybe it has something to do with those it happens with. I have a theory behind that as well. The attractive ones think it'll be easy, because I'm NOT as attractive as them. The fat ugly ones have too much self confidence, or they think it'll be easy because no one else is trying. Regardless of the reasoning; They all end up wanting the same thing. They're guys.

This isn't actually what I wanted to say.

Empty promises are things that I tend to want to believe. But who doesn't? They sound good. they are designed to be believed. But in the end; I know they are empty. And I am glad that I don't always believe them. I chastise myself for believing them some of the time, and to the extent that I do. As soon as I hear them, I think I should run the other way, but stay a few minutes longer. Just to see how it will play out I guess. I do not regret leaving though. I just wish I could get my act together and leave when instinct tells me to.

Sometimes I wish the night would just go bust early, so I won't have to deal with this. Then I won't be the villain. That's terrible. Sometimes I want things to work out. But no one has the same ideals as me in this 21st century America. Therefore; it may never ever work out. So I'll go back to being alone. I know what I want. But I also know where I stand. I am just a mostly good girl. And I won't lie about my past. But if asked about it, they get the wrong ideas. My deep end was not as deep as others. But you can still drown yourself in the kiddie pool. Maybe if I just make a frowny face all the time, they'll leave me alone. Maybe if they actually read my about me; they would get the idea. I wrote it in all truthfulness. So here's the new idea. I will Not meet Mr. Right at a Bar or Club, on the street, or on MySpace.

Blah blah blah blahblah. I think I'll write a poem about this instance.

I've made my skin crawl too far this time.

There are rational and irrational fears. This may sound like a line from a movie. That's because it is. Several movies actually. But it is true. Right now I am afraid. I am afraid of something that is pretty irrational. I don't think I ever have rational fears. Regardless of this fact though, I am still afraid. I know that things like this scare me beyond reason. I know I should not partake in any sort of activity relating to it. But there are times when I feel it would be rude to say no. Maybe I should just be rude sometimes. I should admit to my wimpdome. I should back out, and accept defeat. Otherwise things like this happen. I get no sleep because irrationality plagues me when I close my eyes and turn my back. If my life were an horror movie. I'd be dead in the first 3 minutes. No joke. I would just like to be able to sleep without nightmares. I don't know how to get to that place. I feel terrible. I feel sick. I can't sleep, I can't even shut my eyes and relax. I want to cry because I know this is all so stupid, but I am helpless to change it. My imagination has every possible evil jumping out at me. This is why I said I don't do them.

Strays I Guess

This is what came of our 15 minute writing exercise in class this past week; enjoy:

”There will be mud on the carpet tonight.” She blurted with a stare and calm resignation coming into her face.

I don’t know why she has to speak this way. A way in which no one really understands what she’s talking about. Quoting random poets or authors. It’s just so damned confusing. I hate trying to figure out her subtle meanings. I never know what she has in mind. And I can’t ask about it. She’ll just get all butt hurt and bent out of shape.

So I search my mind quickly for the response she might be looking for. Nothing comes so I sigh and hand my head and ask;

“Why will there be mud on the carpet to>night?” she looks at me aghast.

“Honey don’t you know?” She stares at me as if I had a dunce cap stapled to my head. “There be a dog runnin’ loose in the streets today. And e’ry body know stray dogs always be windin’ up at my house. ‘Sides that, it’s been rainin’.” I really didn’t see that one coming. She turns back to do the dishes. “Shoot, ‘n’ I just got my carpets done. Those Stanley Steamer things ain’t cheap you know.”

With one brow raised. All I can do is stare at her back. Was she serious? It took me a minute to try and find some words again.

“You don’t have to let the dog in.” I said. She laughed a short laugh then mumbled under her breath. I leaned back in my chair at the table and tried to think about something less trivial.

After a time she spoke. “Ya know I’m the only one who can take care of them strays. Dogs, cat’s e’v’rythin. Look at you. You as stray as they ever be.”