But here's the kicker. Perhaps here is what's bothering me more than feeling like Im some sort of silent psycho. (Which bothers me a GREAT deal and fills me with dissapointment with my character.) I could possibly live forever with my sadness. In fact, know that I could because I have done so quite well over the past 8 years. It's one thing to date and forget and break up and move on. Beginnings are such glorious and sparkling things: their own gardens of eden if you will. Full of promise. (Ah, hah! maybe that's why i havent settled down yet!) But,I know that at some point, my BF is going to propose to me. We've talked of the future and kids and where we would want to live. It's inevidable. I imagine that I have another year or two figure my shit out. I'm hoping. I know that I love Dave a great deal. I know that it will be hard to find someone better--that when the sex breaks down (never!!! :) ), I'd have the perfect lifepartner to hold my hand at age 80. I know that I would be a fool to say no. But how do I determine if Im making the right decision based on all this bullshit that I've just spilled? Is it fair to him? Is it fair to me? Will I regret saying yes? Will I regret saying no? It's not like me and M. are going to ever work out. But every time I hear certain bands, or even go to a show, stand under an archway in a garden, see a drive-in movie theater or a greyhound bus, think of St. Louis, chucks, X-files, or David Lynch, autumn, sweaters and coffee...or a million other random and small things, at those moments, my heart strays and I feel guilty. Does it go to M, or to an ideal? I've been telling myself it's an ideal, but it pretty clearly wasn't last night. I need some time to think. Hopefully more than a year. I thought I'd been fine last night. But I wasn't. I was so happy. and nervous. He has a quote on his MySpace page --something about making yourself look stupid for the things you want. But it doesnt seem to apply to me. I made out with some guy I didnt care about when M was on tour. I was SO stupid and 19. I told him the next day because I didnt dare live with the secret, and it was him I loved. Truly and completely. The beginning of the end. We went on a couple dates when he came back, but he took a day off of work to write and think, and then he called me to end it. I drove over to his house and waited for hours outside, and when I finally knocked, he was there and I begged and pleaded on my knees. But I think he knew I was only 19 and supposed to be leaving Ohio after graduation. And later that year when I wrote a long and psycho email about how I supposed he didnt care about me, he informed me that I didnt know anything about his heart and the reasons he did what he did. Id like to think it was because i was 19 and and leaving ohio after college. But I'll never know for sure. As you can see, I stabbed my own back. Anyway, my stupid moves on a limb didnt work out. That was my point here. And I'm writing in my journal all the things that I dont dare say to the BF or M. They don't come here. I need to figure all this out. How long will it take? Why is 8 years not enough time?
-
- Nekomimi Lisa (
lisagoddess) wrote,
Nekomimi Lisa
lisagoddess
But here's the kicker. Perhaps here is what's bothering me more than feeling like Im some sort of silent psycho. (Which bothers me a GREAT deal and fills me with dissapointment with my character.) I could possibly live forever with my sadness. In fact, know that I could because I have done so quite well over the past 8 years. It's one thing to date and forget and break up and move on. Beginnings are such glorious and sparkling things: their own gardens of eden if you will. Full of promise. (Ah, hah! maybe that's why i havent settled down yet!) But,I know that at some point, my BF is going to propose to me. We've talked of the future and kids and where we would want to live. It's inevidable. I imagine that I have another year or two figure my shit out. I'm hoping. I know that I love Dave a great deal. I know that it will be hard to find someone better--that when the sex breaks down (never!!! :) ), I'd have the perfect lifepartner to hold my hand at age 80. I know that I would be a fool to say no. But how do I determine if Im making the right decision based on all this bullshit that I've just spilled? Is it fair to him? Is it fair to me? Will I regret saying yes? Will I regret saying no? It's not like me and M. are going to ever work out. But every time I hear certain bands, or even go to a show, stand under an archway in a garden, see a drive-in movie theater or a greyhound bus, think of St. Louis, chucks, X-files, or David Lynch, autumn, sweaters and coffee...or a million other random and small things, at those moments, my heart strays and I feel guilty. Does it go to M, or to an ideal? I've been telling myself it's an ideal, but it pretty clearly wasn't last night. I need some time to think. Hopefully more than a year. I thought I'd been fine last night. But I wasn't. I was so happy. and nervous. He has a quote on his MySpace page --something about making yourself look stupid for the things you want. But it doesnt seem to apply to me. I made out with some guy I didnt care about when M was on tour. I was SO stupid and 19. I told him the next day because I didnt dare live with the secret, and it was him I loved. Truly and completely. The beginning of the end. We went on a couple dates when he came back, but he took a day off of work to write and think, and then he called me to end it. I drove over to his house and waited for hours outside, and when I finally knocked, he was there and I begged and pleaded on my knees. But I think he knew I was only 19 and supposed to be leaving Ohio after graduation. And later that year when I wrote a long and psycho email about how I supposed he didnt care about me, he informed me that I didnt know anything about his heart and the reasons he did what he did. Id like to think it was because i was 19 and and leaving ohio after college. But I'll never know for sure. As you can see, I stabbed my own back. Anyway, my stupid moves on a limb didnt work out. That was my point here. And I'm writing in my journal all the things that I dont dare say to the BF or M. They don't come here. I need to figure all this out. How long will it take? Why is 8 years not enough time?
- Post a new comment
- 4 comments
- Post a new comment
- 4 comments
