I wanted to write this elaborate post about who I am, what my two weeks with Babe were like, and all that….
….but I’m kind of in this unsure and worried headspace that won’t let me write properly. He always says not to worry, but given my track record with most things, this is impossible. The fight to be mellow is daily. Sometimes mellow wins, sometimes I have a bad headache.
I am tired of thinking, but my mind won’t shut up or off. I am tired of examining, trying to understand, and needing to know. Tired of wondering what I need to edit, then lacking satisfaction from editing myself.
I need to know. Sometimes twice. Thrice.
I need reassurance sometimes. My love life has either been dry, toxic, or dry AND toxic.
I need real sympathy and understanding sometimes. Not sarcastic slow claps as I’m worrying that I’m too stupid to graduate college, because I have never been that smart to begin with.
I don’t need need need all the time, but this is kind of a series of turning points in my life. I’m opening up, I’m sharing. I’m trying to show people whom I trust who I am, and don’t want to feel like I need to regret this and fold back into myself. I do not trust a lot of people. I’m not a gift, but more of a delicate, vulnerable mess trying to grow.
I spent two weeks with someone, and that story is sort of complicated. I still didn’t get to do a bunch of stuff, so I feel bad for that. I feel like now the mystery and wonder of me is kinda gone, and now this break period is about to show up. I’m genuinely worried. I’m also out of ideas on what to text next to keep the ball rolling.
I feel weird.
Yet feel the urge to talk to that person all the time. But I don’t want to be clingy, either.
I don’t do communication right, but my heart and concern are usually in the right place. I’m not trying to hard or taking it too far–I just care. Is caring weird now? Caring is weird. I just want to say that I’m not trying to pressure anyone into anything. Maybe it’s just been about 9 years since I’ve felt this way about anyone, and a part of me is more ready than I think.
I’m also rusty in relationship stuff.
I’ve only had ONE serious face to face one, and about a million Internet disasters and frolics that I have cast into the fire.
This isn’t a call them out and bitch about them thing, either. It’s just my thoughts. My mind is awake. My worries are, too.
I don’t think I’m great or interesting, and that’s got me in a lot of mental places. So I’m trying to express myself. I’m trying to purge it. I don’t know what happens next, or if things will evolve, or if I lose again.
I’m tired of that.
I’m old, I’m lonely, I’m sad, and I see the kind of happiness I want. And I’m loving it. I am grateful for it.
I think I’m scared because it seems like it is so hard to find and keep something wonderful. Everyone wants something. Everyone has an agenda. There’s a vice, there’s a story, and I keep seeing women in my age range get hurt….
….or write entries about how sad and lonely they are too.
I have something and I want to keep it that way.
I had to get on a bus to go back home, away from it, and that’s why I’m lonely. It felt right, it got on my nerves, it made me cry, made me orgasm, made me feel like a different life was possible….
…And I wasn’t ready to go back.
I cried a few times the night before. Fought tears on the bus.
I feel like a corny, feely idiot though.
But I know what’s in my heart. I can’t help that.
I can’t control how they feel after this two week thing. Or how I feel, want, or think I need to say.
But they always say “be patient”
and “This is not Burger King, you can’t have it your way…”
(that part sounded stupid to me. I just wanted more of his touch but shhhhhhhh okay shhh shhh)
So I guess I will do that.
And whatever happens just happens.
(I want good things to happen.)