The Counter-Post To The Previous One

I used to sit around crying.

Not anymore.

I was treated to yet another parade of here's-every-person-I-like-that's-not-you. On the last day of my spring break, no less. It was precious, and this time I couldn't leave because he drove me to our little get together. So I sat there for an hour and a half, rubbing bruises into the palms of my hands and trying not to tell her to her face what an idiot she sounded like. On top of that, I smelled like a damn chimney because he and she were partaking in the sacred pastime of smoking around an asthmatic person. The asthmatic person was me, of course, so it was fun.

After this lovely escapade, the ride to his house was excruciating. He kept asking me if something was wrong and if I was okay. The fact that he had to ask only further solidified my newfound idea that he truly was a dumb ass and not worth my time for reals. He knew why I was upset and I knew he knew, but he was too much of a pussy to tell me straight that he knew what was wrong. I was pouting, I'll admit. I knew this was going to happen because he's been given numerous chances to pursue a relationship with me and had chosen to abstain. So he should have slapped me upside my fool head and told me there was nothing there. But he let me choke myself on the rope of hope he gave me. He didn't do anything, just let me believe a lie. And didn't see anything wrong with it. That's when I decided to stop it once and for all.

We said goodbye briefly and awkwardly. His new slut was waiting less than ten feet away, ready to go inside with him. Oh, did I mention why I call her his slut? No? Well it's because a part of the conversation we had in that hellhole of a restaurant was about how much they had been having sex and all the hickeys she left on his body. That was probably my favorite part of the conversation. Anyway, we said goodbye. He gave me one final hug and I let myself smell his amazing cologne one more time, knowing it would forever remind me of him. He desperately asked me to text him when I got home, sensing my withdrawl. I, being the sap I am, said yes to keep him from feeling any pain when he was so obviously getting ready to spend the night with his slut. But I didn't mean it, and I didn't text him when I got home. In fact, I haven't texted him since.

It's time to focus on how I can get over him. Because I'm done with waiting, but that doesn't mean I don't want him anymore. I still do, and frequently ponder whether or not I really want to sever my contact with him until I get my shit together. The answer is always the same though. I'm not going back to being his friend until it's all I want from him. I'm not going to destroy myself anymore for him.

So it's with a light heart that I now turn to the man who has captured my interest. The one who likes to read and is actually me in male form. It's time to give him a chance, and if nothing comes of it we'll at least be good friends. I put him on hold foolishly because of new information that came to light. But that information is no longer relevant, so I'm closing that book and opening a new one with a fresh, blank page that smells like the really good books do. You know, like paper and not the chemicals they treat it with now. That smell that is only found in the older books. It's time to write a new story, this time with a happy ending.

I feel the need to point out that this is all from my point of view. I don't know who's reading this, but please don't take this as fact. It is fact in my opinion, but there is always another side to a story and unfortunately the only person who knows it is the one I'm writing about. So keep in mind that this is all me, no one else.

I Just Want To Cry

I'm tired. I'm so tired.

I'm in love with someone who doesn't love me back. And I'm trying not to let it get in the way of a new relationship that looks like it has merit. But I can't separate myself from this. Everything feels wrong when it's not about him. And when it is about him, I'm eternally disappointed because it's not the way I want it to be. I want him to love me back just as much as I want to not love him anymore.

He's not who I'd imagined I'd want to be with. And my world is fine. I'm fine. I have no reason to be crying...but I am. And he's not who I wanted to end up with. He isn't even someone I thought I'd be attracted. He's immature and he's annoying and his jokes aren't funny. And I'm not with him. But I want to be, and I shouldn't want to be. Somehow, someway, he got in under my radar. I turned around and there he was, already at home in my mind. He's not my ideal man, not even close. But he's perfect for me and I want him.

But I can't watch him go through girls and be the supportive friend he thinks I am. I can't do it anymore. And it hurts because the day I tell him I can't do it will be the day he turns away and walks out of my life.

I shouldn't care about this. He's rude and he's not worth my time. He's everything I'm not. My siblings don't want me to care, and I've tried. I've tried so hard. But I can't stop loving him. And it makes me pathetic. I look so silly waiting for something that will never happen. But I can't pull myself away. And I just want to cry.

Because I Haven't Been Blogging Enough Lately

I'm doing another one. I know, three in a week is a little extreme, even for me. But there you go. It seems that I've got quite a bit floating around in my mind.

So this guy...I feel like I'm irrationally excited. I don't know if he thinks I'm a cool person too, though I assume he does because we're still talking. And I'm happy that I found someone with the same interests as me. But do I want to travel down this road? I feel like I should. I've been telling everyone of my friends how excited I am to meet him, and I am. I really am. But why am I excited?

I can't tell. I've been talking to Peyton for one week and I can tell we're going to be good friends, if not more. But I've still got someone else in the back of my mind, and I think about him when I least expect it. Like today, I woke up and immediately thought about Peyton. But I was sitting here, doing nothing, and that boy back home popped up. This was made even more strange by the fact that he texted me right after he appeared in my mind.

I can't stop thinking about how he feels about my interest in this new man. The loud, girl power part of my brain demands that I stop thinking. He had his chance, and he blew it. He asked me to give him a chance and give him time to get to know me, only to hop in bed with the next girl to come along. And I wasn't even the girl he chose after he broke up with that one. And now all he says he wants is a purely sexual relationship. Which is kind of a dick thing to say. So I should be done with him.

But the other part of my brain that doesn't have control over my mouth and what I say to others keeps casting doubt on my decision. Why would he tell me he wants a purely sexual relationship after spending two weeks lamenting on his lost love and claiming that sex means something more to him than a physical release? And he told me this lovely tidbit of information after I told him about Peyton.

So he could be doing two things: revealing his true dick head nature, or posturing to cover the hurt he feels that I'm no longer waiting for him. I want with all my heart to believe that option one is true, but I can't shake the feeling that option two has merit. Either way, I don't want him to be hurt and I still care about him, which is casting doubt on my rush to meet Peyton.

We have a lot in common. There's no doubt about that. But why does that suddenly appeal to me, when just a few months ago I was trying to find someone who wasn't like me? Am I a drowning man, grabbing onto whatever I can reach to pull myself out of the whirlpool that is my feelings for this boy at home? Do I really want to pursue something with Peyton, or is this a friends-only situation?

I don't know, and I wish my brain would shut up and give me some relief. I don't want this to be a big deal anymore. I don't want to over think this to death. I want this sick feeling in my stomach to go away. I want to take a nap. Yeah, I think I'll do that.

The Moment When You Find Someone Just Like You...

And he's not gay. HE'S NOT GAY.

He loves Shakespeare right along with me. He loves Disney movies. We both read anything and everything we can get our hands on.

I never thought I'd find someone like him. Ever. I thought my Prince Charming played video games and liked to brood. It turns out he was just another crush. A serious crush, mind you, but I'm listening to sappy love songs and his face isn't in my mind anymore.

Which doesn't mean I don't like him anymore. I still do. But he's not here and he didn't wait for me. This new man is actually a man and shares the same interests that I do. He's mature and spends his days around books. We can have intellectual conversations. The list goes on...

I can't keep my insides from glowing. I can't stop smiling when I think about him. And we're meeting this weekend. I thought I was the only person like me in the whole world. And I've been joyously proven wrong.

Thank you God for putting this man in my life. I was starting to lose hope.

Just When I Thought I'd Have To Wait Forever For You...

Someone came right up and stole your spot. I mean, I've spent so much time waiting for you to realize I'm in front of you, patiently holding up my list of reasons why you should date me. I never thought I'd find someone better than you, but...

I mean, he's into DISNEY. He loves reading. He works in a library. And he's recommended by a viable mutual friend. Plus he's nice and we have lots to talk about and he's mature. Which is nice. I'm going to meet him this weekend, and I have a feeling it will all go better than I hope it will.

And you're finally looking at me, but I think you're too late. I think I'm looking at something better than you can give me, and I think I'm going to take it.

So, sorry you've finally pulled your head out of your ass. I don't want to crush you, but I'm not waiting for you like you thought I would be. Better luck next time, kid.

FUCK THIS

Fuck all of this. I fucking hate everything.

You go be a teenager with your teenage friends and leave me out of it. I'm not your sister. I'm the girl who's tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and see what's in front of you. It's me. I've been here forever.

So you go. Go be a teenager. Grow up. Or don't. Just quit gushing to me about how happy you are. I'm not happy for you. I just want my heart back, and you're keeping it hostage.

So fuck this. And fuck you.

I'm Falling In Love...

With Shakespeare. It's not like I wasn't already in love with him. But...it's getting worse.

I'm doing research for my senior project, which just so happens to be on Macbeth and Titus Andronicus. Not that I planned that or anything.

Anyway, this man is beautiful. His insights on the human psyche are beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Maybe he MADE us human. Maybe he just wrote about it. Maybe he didn't mean to do anything but make money. Regardless of what he meant to do, he has touched my life with his works, and I love him.

And I'm blogging about him instead of doing my homework, which is due tomorrow morning, and awaiting a phone call. Yes, I'm aware of the fact that it's almost 1 in the morning, but that's typically how Steven and I operate. Late night/early morning calls are our specialty. Anyway, I'm going to wrap this blog post up so I can at least try to finish my homework before he calls and I get caught up in talking to him and making fun of his gooberish behavior.

Farewell, dedicated readers.

If there are any out there, that is.