Dealing with the noise & haste.

Because right now someone needs to cunt punt you.

So you want to ruin relationships? Good fucking job.

Get a life.

There are many blog posts about lying and how it hurts or how it seems like a good idea at times.

I cannot tell whether I’d want to be lied to or not.  Sometimes I feel no, I wouldn’t want that. Don’t fake it, don’t drag it out to save the feelings that are already hurt.

Other times I think yes, just let me feel happy for a bit.  Let me not care about how someone could disagree and worry about how offended they might be.  

I know the correct choice is to not be lied to, and to not lie in return.

I lie.  Quite a bit. I’m pretty good at it.  Need someone to say what wants to be heard? Find me, I’ll speak the nice and the soothing all night long.

Need someone to state what obviously needs to be stated? Unless you are one of three people, which I can guarantee anyone who reads this isn’t, I’m sorry but I can’t do that for you.  I would rather make someone feel more secure for a moment rather than hurt someone with the truth and deal with that.

Some don’t handle the truth well.  I don’t really, so I don’t expect others too either.

I’ve never had an anxiety attack before.

I’ve never felt miserable with such absoluteness.

I’ve never been afraid of myself before.

I’ve never felt like this before in my entire life and I am afraid to be alone.  I’m so close to driving back to my house, dropping out of college and wrapping myself in every blanket I own until I have no access to the outside world.

This is such an abhorrent feeling. I just; it’s blowing my mind right now. It’s almost laughable.  I didn’t even feel like this when my dad died, I’ve never felt so unhappy and hopeless and useless.

I’m losing it, I think I’m slipping.

I’m sick of getting dropped on my face.

So tired of just dangling and losing opportunities because I’m waiting on something that isn’t coming.

I’m done with it. It fucking hurts.

There is a lot going on.  Not even with me, but with other people all at once.  It’s shitty, life is sometimes the worst things all at once.

I’ve realized I’m not as good at helping as I use to be.  I’m not as good at reading into actions or anything like that.  I got so desensitized from it that I just forgot about people being indirect.

I got spoiled on the bluntness some people have.  I also stopped caring about some people, blocking out all of the in-between-the-lines clues so I wouldn’t feel guilty about not wanting to talk to them after the 17th breakup with the same guy.  

I didn’t want that so I ignored it, selfishly, and now I’ve lost it almost completely.

I will do something about this.  Maybe not about my communication skills or my extreme need to be shallow but this, this, I will do something about.

This is a different cycle and I’m ready for it. 

I don’t communicate.  That is the problem.

I think I can just roll with whatever and maybe everything will fix itself or even out. 

Lies.

In the end my agitation festers and boils and then I let it all out at once in a very classy, very mature way.  Note my sarcasm, that part is important (How about these communication skills?).

My relationships fail that way too.  I got into the whole,”Oh no, you shouldn’t change for me.” Ever. No change.  Except for when it’s just little things like calling me baby or making obscene moves in public.  I should be able to tell someone not to french me at the mall, call me old fashioned.  I should be able to tell people what I do and do not like.

What I’m afraid of is these people getting defensive. That’s what I’m use to.  Blowing me off and deciding that we can’t hang out because I don’t like being called bitch or that sometimes your “party mode” isn’t kosher with the rest of the population who likes hearing things in a couple decibels under oh-dear-god-I’m-deaf.

I say these things here in ways that vague can only pine after but I honestly doubt this revelation will give me the volition to do anything. I’m still scared. I’m still a coward who would rather seethe and lose someone in the end than confront them and figure everything out.

Endless cycles.

These frustrations keep mounting.

It is ridiculous.  I need an outlet.

Preferably a physical one, but at this point I don’t see my being picky benefitting me.

I can’t find it in myself to spell check that. Sorry.

There’s this feeling, everyone knows it, when someone else is staring you down.  At a bar, a cafe or even the grocery store.  You can just tell, you feel it.

I feel it now.  This girl is sizing me up, looking like I have the potential.  I am a possibility, however there are others to size up as well.  Many others; she knows there will always be a full stock of options.  I need to know if I’m what she’s looking for though, like maybe I could get something out of the situation too. This happens too often I feel.

Then I see it, this flash of decision bolt through her eyes.  She knows what she wants and the way her eyes set on me are all the answer I need.  We meet, she makes idle chat with the bartender and we head back to her table. There are others there. The competition.  Some of them are way too flamboyant. Dressed to impress with bright colors and pointless accessories.  They can’t get noticed any other way, they’re cloying and sweet but weak in the end.  I wonder what she sees in them. 

Almost immediately she comes at me, mouth ready, and finishes me off like I’m nothing she hasn’t handled before. Nothing new, nothing worth waiting for.  She didn’t even wait to sit at the table.  All of her friends approve.  This kind of thing makes her look intense to them, more experienced.  It’s like she brought me over there just to show off or something.  Like the stumbling didn’t attract enough attention.

All I’m left with is this empty feeling now, like I’ve been drained of myself.  It happens all the time it seems.  It’s never any different.  They get what they want from me and leave me to sit alone, waiting for the next round.

Thus is the life of a cheap shot of whiskey.

I’m not a writer. I just liked the idea.

There is nowhere for this to go.  Not a place, not a time, not an emotion for this to head towards.

Saying change, and staying the same often coincide. Sad facts but facts regardless.

Apologies don’t dwell here either.  They don’t even hum or whisper. Neither does acceptence or forgiveness.  This place is nowhere.

There is nothing here so stop digging up the foundation.

I hated playing dodgeball.

I was always the last person out.  I could dodge all day but I could never throw, and in the end someone would catch it and that would be that.

I feel like it relates to many things now, life and all that.  I can reach endings just fine but I can never actually end anything.  I don’t complete things, they get done by someone else at the very cusp of the end.

It is the epitome of unfulfilling.  It leaves these raw edges; never-quite-finished-feelings brooding in the back of my mind.  Those feelings suck.

I hate dodgeball.

I do little more than occasionally feed them and put them on a leash outside to take care of business.

One has been redubbed “Tuna” after having the names Todd and Oliver. Tuna is forever. Also he sleeps like a fox baby.  We think he’s part something-untamed-and-vicious because he’s an asshole.  No really, he’s an asshole.  A coniving asshole of a dog.

The other one is a lazy diva.  He has the worst timing ever. EVER. I sit down to eat, his head is on the table and he then proceeds to leak a small ocean of slobber onto the table.  Also he runs in his sleep, thus kicking things and causing a rackous.

I love both of them. Most of the time. 

I’m also thinking of a children’s book… The Tuna and the Saint… Work in progress.

“I’m just being honest.” = “I’m just being a bitch and trying to justify my bitchiness.”

Honesty is not a shield to hide behind.  Honesty isn’t for cowards and the tactless.

Honesty is what spurs trust, and confidence and security in other people.  To damage it; to twist it into something less than what it needs to be is beyond offensive.  To damage someone’s perspective of honesty is worse, because then it just drags more and more people into that vantage point.  Suffer alone if you’re set on suffering, man up and deal with it or do something about it if you’re not.  Don’t settle for being petty and keeping people miserable with you. Feeling lonely doesn’t feel good, but hurting people to feel better about yourself feels worse once you realize it.  Or even better when someone rips you open with that fact and walks away.