all things meh and small

Here goes nothing...

2011-02-25T15:42:00.000-08:00

Once again I find myself sitting here in front of the computer but now I have the freedom of Dragon NaturallySpeaking. A program designed to let those of us who are completely and totally lazy write really really fast and say a bunch of stuff without actually having put our hands on a keyboard which gives me the freedom to do my nails while I'm talking. Oh, the fun of being a techy girl.

I'm starting to become a bit jaded with the whole Facebook culture. I don't know what's worse: knowing that I have people that I claim to be friends but aren't really friends or allowing myself to get caught in the social network. It's getting about as ridiculous as MySpace from a few years ago and that whole having MySpace friends. It all seems so high school as if the most signatures in your year book will make you any better or any worse than anybody else.

I'd like to think I'm one of those more logically realistic people. My therapist even tells me that. Lately, my therapist and I have been fighting over how I perceive myself and how I allow other people to perceive me and it's a fairly difficult process. I spent most of my childhood protecting and guarding myself against the entire real world. This is mostly because I didn't have hardly any friends growing up because my grandmother didn't care to take me anywhere and there were children for me to socialize with.She called it, "a waste of gas." So essentially, I spent my childhood alone. The few times I did get to play with children my own age, I didn't know how to play with them. I reacted so strangely that I was usually teased, picked on, taunted and then ignored. Eventually, I gave up playing with kids. I retracted and I isolated myself.

This isolation continues on. I keep telling myself I'm okay. Probably one of the best lies I know how to tell.

I find myself fighting with depression on a regular basis now. Most people seem to believe that I should be ashamed of the fact that I am seeing a therapist. My mother honestly hates the fact that I talk to my therapist. Sometimes, I think she's jealous. I don't think my mother could bear to see me cry though. Not the way I cry when I'm in therapy.

I notice now after I'm done with therapy, I have started getting migraines. They start shortly after my session and sometimes continue on for days. It's sort of scary. That my emotions becomes so bottled, so pressurized, so contained that with only a small amount of them is released that one hour every other Thursday that I am crippled for sometimes a weekend.I am definitely afraid. I don't want to be put on medication because there is a part of me that equates medication with weakness in myself. I guess there is a part of me that believes that I am somehow stronger and I should be able to tolerate more. And then, the vice of dread clamps down on me, and I am once again in pain. I don't like knowing that I am fallible, but I have to start accepting that sometimes everyone needs help.

There no superheroes. There are no supermen. No one is watching the watchmen.

Finally, the airing of the grievances.

2010-12-28T16:00:00.000-08:00

This is coming about a week after Festivus and considering I live by the saying, "better late than pregnant," here goes.

You know, I'm pretty tired of people who think that every time they so much as fart or eat cheese that they HAVE to tell the world. You all know these people. They're the ones that talk about every time the change their kids diaper and they have to talk about how the "poopy smells" or how they're "sooooo happy to be a mommy and wife." You know I get being happy about having a kid (for me it would be the same thing as have a corgi or a big screen tv as far as pride level goes), but, dang, shut up for a minute.

I hate people that refer almost exclusively to other people in their life by relationship titles.(i.e. boyfriend, fiance, girlfriend) Do you want to be introduced to someone like that? You are not carbon based life form number 437,654,123,956. Use the name other people's parents gave them when you are talking about someone, especially when they are standing right there beside you. I can get using the title once so that the other person knows why this other mouth breather is standing around, but after that, the title is NOT interchangeable for their name. I mean I could give a flying fig if this is your darling daughter who just won the freaking tap dance championship of greater squirrel turd Georgia, unless she is blocking the platter of sausage balls. Then, and only then, do I care, and I want her to move because I get sausage balls once a year. That time is Christmas. Now move, and take your bronze medal of a child with you. You both reek of boredom, and I wish to drink my half spiked punch without you killing my sugar high/buzz.

To those of you with smartphones that play your crappy music as you walk across campus, STOP IT. I am floored by the absolute garbage that passes for music these days. I know I am officially a grumpy old woman because I looked at a professor and said, "Remember the good old days? You know when people wore headphones and didn't think people gave a $#@* about their craptacular taste in music?" I miss those days.

I also miss the days of hip hop and rap before auto-tune. Now every dimwit with a Mac and some vocoding software can rise to ranks of Soulja Boy and Lil Wayne. Ugh. What happened to musicians playing instruments and everything not being touched up and perfected in post? What happened to talent and skill and writers that have a sense of meter and rhythm and rhyme and consonance? Oh, wait, I know. It's in the crapper like everything else in the popular media.

VAMPIRES DO NOT SPARKLE. Someone smack Stephanie Meyer before she tries to ruin some other long running literary trope. Oh and have you ever seen a picture of Kristen Stewart with her mouth closed or where she doesn't look stoned out of her mind? Seriously. Go Google image search Kristen Stewart. I'll wait.........................

SEE?!?! THERE ARE NONE.

We need to eat cows so they stop burping and farting methane into the atmosphere and messing up the ozone layer. Then again, maybe some of your brain chemicals are so messed up that you think it's ok that it's 115 in the shade and you don't mind sweating like a fat guy chasing the Tastee-freez truck during your 90 second walk into work. It would be different if you were allergic to it or your body couldn't digest protein or even if it were against your religion. (FYI, humans have a harder time digesting corn than meat. Think about it.)

Stop having kids. There are too many. Yes, I know, everyone should have the "joys" of bearing children, but humans are not brood sows. Way back in the day (like Victorian times), you didn't have kids if you weren't wealthy. Now, so many households have at least 3. Why? Who knows? It's not like birth control pills and condoms aren't free.

I can't get money to go to college because single moms are ranked higher than me for tuition assistance. I was told by the moron in financial aid at FMU that if I had kids I might get a grant. HECK NO. I already have stretch marks. I'm not getting more for the sake of getting some free money now. I'll take out a loan before that happens. A loan can get paid off. A kid is FOREVER. No, thank you.

Starbucks is not that awesome is never going to be worth sitting in that drive thru for 20 minutes or paying $5 a cup for coffee. I like my Ghetto-Mochas much more and they cost me all of $0.60 to make and that includes the cost of the paper cup I'm going to throw away because I'm too lazy/busy to hunt down a recycling bin for cardboard/#3 plastic.

Hey hipsters, stop wearing women's jeans drinking PBR and acting like Macs are the $%^&. Fixies are not the new Priuses. Your supposed sense of irony is only your own lack of maturity and willingness to grow up, get a real job and move out of your parent's house. Quit trying to be an artist/musician/barista and be a man.

Check into Foursquare or Facebook. Not both. I don't need double reassurance you're at McD's at 3am on a Thursday. (Don't you have a job?!?!)

People that don't speak English so much as chew on the words and spit them at you make me wish I could smack their parents. Learn to speak like you don't have marbles in your mouth and maybe people will think you are smart or at least not mildly handicapable (or whatever BS PC term is savvy this month).

Oh and the PC police has gotten out of hand. I'll be tarred and feathered if I'm going to learn a whole new set of terms for any race or creed at this point in my life when this all worked just fine until someone got their feelings hurt and decided everything had to have all the friendly over blown terms. Sanitation engineers were trash men. Food service staff are waiters and cooks. Those terms are supposed to sound special and give the job the respect they deserve but no one gives. I'm not going to be mean to my trash guy because he hauls off my trash, but the PC term makes it sound like he has a PhD in refuse disposal. I don't demand to be called a merchandising specialist at one job and a software support specialist at the other. I'm a stocker for the most part and tech support. Titles like that don't mean anything except for looking good on resumes.

Speaking of racism (back on a tangent a bit ago), everyone is discriminatory. If you say you aren't, you're a liar. Everyone has something about some race or creed that they don't like. Half the people I know say they aren't racists, but if you get them talking, they will say they hate Muslims or "A-rabs." Durrrr. Hey, dingus, that's being racist or at least you're a bigot. I have my moments and I think mostly it comes from my Southern semi-Republican upbringing that I have some of my ideals. We all don't like something about some culture or people that is not like us because we all want to be right. Just admit that you have moments of prejudice. You're not Jesus. He's the only person that has always loved everyone.

Finally, if you're going to unfriend or whatever me because of this, fine. I don't care. This is a long time in coming and I have been waiting until Festivus (or after it) to get everything said. I didn't want to point any fingers because that's rude and I haven't had a manicure in months.

Buy one of those little fellows above. He's cute and he's pudgy and he doesn't judge. Plus, he's squishy. Tim got him for me for Christmas and I love him. Tim and the toy. In different ways.

Happy new year.

Every once in a while, you just have to pray.

2010-10-25T15:48:00.000-07:00

I know I'm not the most spiritual person in the world, but I do have faith in something much bigger than me. It's days that start off like this that make me really dig down and hope for something more. So I pray and ask for things to get better.

I was on time for work this morning. I had just taken some more cold medicine (since I've been fighting "The Ick" all weekend) and was on my way to work. I didn't pay attention because of the OTC med induced haze and was speeding. Yeah, I got a ticket. I hadn't had one in 8 years. I started crying, but I knew it was pretty well my fault. I just hate the thought of going to court and all.

Late to work. Confusing training. Backwards, weirdly stapled powerpoint. Meh.

I get to class. I got an A on my poetry assignment. Writing for that class is like pulling teeth. It's a creative writing class where I am forced to write a certain way every time. At least I can follow the creative formula well enough and the stuff that I write always seems to be A worthy. I don't get it. Maybe the teacher has low expectations.

Spanish class produced a surprise A on an exam that I panicked over and didn't feel like I studied enough for.

English class forced me to once again hate Victorian England for all it's bassackwards-ness. Here's the lesson kids: Yay! Penis. Boo! Vagina. Women are evil because they have feelings. God is all there is until Darwin then everyone is confused. Church is everything. Yay! Jesus. Boo! Logic and reason and free thought.

Work brings me to where I am. I paid bills. I prayed for nice clients. Then this lady called in. Julie, I think. She was the sweetest most disconnected lady I had spoke to in ages. She sounded like she was utterly confused, but willing to learn and listen. I wasn't really thinking about what I was doing. I was just doing my job. I was figuring out that she was on an exchange server and she couldn't email out of the software. She broke through what I was saying...

"Thank you. I like you."

I was caught off guard. I responded in kind and said, "Thank you. I like you too."

"No, I mean I like you. You actually sound like you care about me understanding."

"Yes ma'am. I do care. I want you to understand how to use the software and feel comfortable with it."

The conversation went back and forth like that. Apparently, she emailed my boss all happy about the work I did and will be calling back to ask for me. It sort of makes me feel nice to know that I have people that are total strangers that like me that much and want to talk to me again.

Needless to say, whenever I get worried or bothered by the stuff in life that I cannot affect, I pray.

Life for Sale

2010-09-25T19:27:00.000-07:00

Boxes of our old life
scattered on the lawn.
Strangers rifling through memories.
Their crumpled dollar bills
exchange for my pain.
I watch them pack you up
and haul you away.
A little past daylight,
my pocket full of singles
and my heart empty of you.

This came from the yard sale I had a few weeks ago with a friend. Some of the ex's stuff went. Shirts, a few other insignificant things. In the end, I was so happy to know I had less stuff. That I was no longer weighed down by all these things I wouldn't use. Sometimes, you have to really let go of everything physical and sell it all or give it away to someone else. I thought about some of those things when wrote that and realized, I didn't give a damn about him anymore.

I miss his dog, though.

A breath of hope.

2010-08-24T12:21:00.000-07:00

I've been dating Tim now for what will be 6 official months today. Recently, I have had several people come up to me and tell me that they are thrilled to see me so happy. One person said, "I have know you for years, Alicia. I have seen your heart broken by some absolute trash and to see you smile now. Well, I've never seen you smile like that. I'm happy for you from the bottom of my heart."

Then, the fear creeps in. It's long fingers close around my throat and I am choked by it. I guess a part of me still lives in the past. That terrified part of me that believes all I will get is pain back for the love I gave out. Deep down, I'm a little scared of getting to know his friends for fear I will lose them the way I have lost friends before.

There's actually a part of me that is scared of making friends anyway. Fear of getting close, trusting people, letting people see me as I am inside. I have made so many friends only to have them fade away like scars. Then, I make new friends and they fade away. Eventually all that is left is the light pain from where they were when my thoughts graze the scar of memory. Some scars are still too fresh and tears fill my eyes.

When I arrived at work today, I walked in with Tim as he was coming in from his break. We spoke briefly of our little anniversary and smiled over it. I'm lucky to have someone like him that remembers what some people would consider so insignificant. Someone that brings me a diet soda without me asking for one when he goes on break. Someone that sees me despite my efforts to keep up a wall of protection from the world. Someone like him.

So even though the fingers of fear reach out to choke me from time to time, I still manage to keep a breath of hope within me. Somehow, I'll survive.

The fury and the sadness

2010-07-24T11:38:00.000-07:00

The people that have gotten to know me, really gotten to know me, know that I can be a very furious person. I wear my aggression (passive as it may be) like a coat at all times. I find myself balling up my fists and biting my lips till they bleed some days. I get so angry that I cry.

In my Tuesday couch trips, I talk about this anger and how it stems for a sadness within me that I am finally coming to terms with. It's a pain I have hidden for years. Sadly, I have known it almost as long as I can remember. I first felt this way when I realized I was different from all the other little kids my own age. I was in kindergarten and they were going around the room asking what our parents did for a living. I knew my mother was a secretary for a judge, but I had no idea what my father did at the time as I only saw him a few times a year.(My parents had been divorced since I was 2) As I got frustrated to the point of crying because I didn't know the answer, the other children laughed and pointed and taunted me. "Alicia doesn't know what her daddy does!" I felt like I would never belong because I knew my family was broken and part of me probably was too. That's a horrible revelation for a child to come to at 5.

As I continued through school, I was always separated by teachers because of my intelligence and behavior. Other children were special because they were smart. I was...different. Part of me grew to hate that word.

It didn't really help that I was the only child of a woman that fought every man that stood in her way. Her anger and distaste for the way men treated her in the past rubbed off on me. Even now, I have a hard time trusting men. (Also when you consider my horrendous track record with some of the "winners" I have dated over the past 5 years, it sort of makes sense.) Still, I have a flicker of hope within me.

For 23 years, I have dealt with an anger and sadness that I have never known how to let go of. Sometimes, I wonder if I will always be this way. During my last couch trip, I looked over at my fellow voyager and said, "I think we're going to be doing this for the next two years." I want to get rid of this. I really do. I want to one day be something other than angry.

I want to be happy.

Me within me

2010-07-11T17:27:00.000-07:00

I spent a lot of time fighting myself when I was with someone from my past. I warred with myself to be someone that I wasn't. I tried to squeeze myself in a mold and into a size 8. I'm not that person. I can't be bent that way anymore. I damn near broke in two when I tried. I have learned that if someone does not accept you as you are when they first get to know you, you will never be happy with them. My happiness from that time was a farce and a show. I know that now and it's taken me a year to come to terms with the lies I told myself.

Now, just about every weekend for the past four months I have spent time with Tim. We talk about a little of everything and a good bit of nothing. I find myself sitting across the table from him or on the couch and I lose all track of thought. I start noticing the slope of the bridge of his nose or the way his eyebrows curve or the peony shade of his lower lip or how his mustache is a lighter shade of brown than the rest of his beard. I then have to force myself to listen to his words again because I found myself lost in the finest details of him. In those moments, I feel like I am experiencing a high school crush all over again. I am not after him for his looks, mind you. I rarely date people that I am physically attracted to. I find his heart and his mind most attractive.

We sit together, and even if we are not touching, I feel him there. I have been around people that I can be in a room with for hours and not feel their presence. It's comforting to feel someone's presence again. Without that sensation, a cold creeps into your soul that takes far too long to get out. That part of me had only started to thaw when I started to let Tim in. Now, when I sit with him, there is a warmth and a glow in my heart that I honestly cannot remember.

I think I once told Tim, "I forgot what joy was." The truth is, I never knew it. Not with the others. I spent so many years living for someone else's happiness, someone else's whims. I tried to be the woman they could love at the sacrifice of being able to love myself.

Then there was Tim. Someone I found myself being myself around and I scared myself by doing so. I found myself laughing, singing, living...being. Being me. I found myself being a person I had forgotten existed. It was hard at first because I was scared of myself and what Tim would think about me being me. He didn't realize I was still feeling my way in this new, but old, skin. The more I am with him the more I get in touch with myself. I don't want to let the feeling slip away.

Meeting someone like me.

2010-06-09T21:33:00.000-07:00

Have you ever not known someone at all and been so jealous of them for no real good reason? No? Maybe it's just me. This person was a total stranger to me. I felt for them and wanted to keep them from harm deep down. Part of me hated myself for wanting what they had. Looking back, it was so stupid.

Yeah, I know, I'm being ambiguous again. So sue me. I'm allowed.

Anyway, back when I was still working through all my hate and anger for my ex, I blogged about the relationship and downfall. Well, crap, you know that, you've been reading. Some people read and got mad. Some people read and were disturbed. Some people read and felt sorry for me. I never thought for a second that the one person I originally wanted to help would be reading.Christy, his girlfriend at the time, had been reading my blog. She had been learning about me and learning about who she was dating. I was just writing to clear my heart and mind of all that had been weighing it down.

When I saw that F's relationship status had changed, I didn't think, "Hey, I have a chance," or "It serves him right; I hope she left him." I thought, "She is probably hurting. I wish she wasn't." After all my jealousy over her, I felt myself crying for a stranger because I knew how alone she felt. I have been told I was wrong for reaching out to Christy after their break-up. I knew in my heart that I would probably lose friends or have people turn on me for it. I didn't think about how it would affect me. I thought about her. I wrote her and told her I was sorry about everything and that if she needed to talk, I was there.

I didn't think for a moment that I would hear anything. I thought I would be called crazy by this stranger that I felt a certain sadness for. She responded and I was stunned. She was stunned I cared. We messaged back and forth that day, and we both happy to have a like mind and heart to talk things though. We spoke that night on the phone at length. We talked about how we were treated behind closed doors. We talked about how we felt. I felt like I had finally found someone that understood what I had dealt with. I was relieved and utterly thankful.

In our own ways, we both believe that God had a reason for us to speak. For us to become friends. Our interests are far apart and varied, but deep down we are very much the same person. We said we would like to meet up one day.

That one day was last Friday. I was in Sumter after a gift for Tim, and I figured I had a good chance of getting to meet the person that had helped push me over the last few hurdles of getting over F. We agreed to meet at a bar behind the mall.

Honestly, I was terrified. I felt fatter than holy Hell and knew I looked like shit. She wasn't alone. She was with her mother and a friend. My social paranoia set in and held me in it's grips. I'm not a very easy going person around people I don't know and especially other people's parents. I had to keep myself from slipping into nerd mode.

Somehow, my veil of fright slipped as we started talking about our least favorite person. I let myself be catty as all Hell, and it was fun. I remember how he used to admonish me for being catty with Becca. At that moment, as I was taking verbal stabs at him, I felt liberated. I felt like I was with a new friend, and we were enjoying a conversation about something we both agreed on. We experienced a lot of the same troubles, and we found solace in each other's jokes. We were healed by laughter and lifted up by each other's hopeful words.

We have spoken about other things other that F. We have talked about our lives and where our hearts are going. If we are seeing someone. How we are dealing with our emotions now. We talk things out and we listen to each other. We know in small ways how the other one is feeling or how they are thinking. Let me tell you, talking to someone that has experienced a similar relationship with the same partner gives you a whole new insight. Even though we still don't know each other that well, it's almost like we understand each other without really having to change how we look at things with our heart.

I regret nothing. The people that don't speak to me anymore; we weren't really that close. I've made my peace with that. The people that think I am wrong; they are allowed to think what they want. I prayed about it and I did what I felt was right at the time. I got my heart and my mind right and clear. I also gained something out of it that I never thought possible. I gained friendship from a total stranger. I will forever be thankful to Christy for helping me. She and I have helped each other in ways I don't expect people to fully understand.

I know that our situation was weird. That girls don't become friends after getting hurt by the same guy. Not normally. She and I aren't normal young women. We're made of stronger stuff. Somehow, we were meant to get to this point and become friends.

In a stupid way, I almost thank F for leaving me because I am better off without him. I have found myself and I am happier without him around. In a way, I have a new friend because of him too. Let's not give him any of the credit though.

God works in mysterious ways. He gives us what we need and takes away what we don't. He let me make a new friend and she helped me get rid of my pain.

I don't know where this will all go next, but I know I'm right where I should be.

With fingers interlaced.

2010-06-08T20:39:00.000-07:00

I always was one of those people that thought hand holding was sort of sweet at times. To see a couple holding hands. Young or old. It's one of the simplest displays of affection and in my opinion, it's one we truly take for granted.

I always knew a relationship was done for when I couldn't get the person I was with to hold my hand. Frank was never one for that with me to begin with. I once made a comment about my fingers being longer than his and ever since then, he wouldn't hold my hand for anything. I hated that I said that, but most of the time, he only touched me when he wanted something. Anyway, I have been with people who I couldn't stand to hold their hand. Scaly hands, wet fish hands. Ugh.

I never realized how much I liked that smallest sign of affection until Tim and I were watching IronMan 2 a couple of weekends ago with Chris and Becca. We were sitting there in the dark and I felt his hand wrap around mine at first. Then, our fingers interlaced. Them, I forgot to pay attention to the movie.

For almost 30 minutes, I sat there, completely bemused and concentrated on our hands. The way he would open his fingers and run his fingers along the sides of mine. The way he'd let just the tips of his fingers dance across my palm and the back of my hand. The act was so innocent and so sexual at the same time. I truly couldn't remember the last time I held hands with someone and felt them there. Sometimes, you hold someone's hand and it's like holding anyone else's hand. This was different. I knew it was Tim holding my hand.

I almost burst into tears at this. There was something so amazing and tender about him just touching my hand and holding it. I was so caught up in that moment that until something on the screen exploded and startled me I forgot I was supposed to be watching a movie.

I started thinking, "Why is this so fascinating to me? We're just holding hands. This is so ordinary." I was standing in the shower the next morning and I was struck with the thought, "It was anything but ordinary." I got out of the shower and watched Tim doze as I towel dried and brushed my hair. I sat down on the bed and he stirred. He looked up at me and touched the side of my face with his slightly rough hand. He took my hand in his and kissed my knuckles. Every time he does that, my heart is a little more healed than it was the time before.

Looking back on past relationships, one in particular as always, I don't remember those actions, that tenderness. I don't remember being shown affection for affection sake. I remember being smothered, held down, forced and ignored. Tim does none of that.

I keep telling myself to live in the moment and to not have any expectations. I really don't. I mean, hell, I haven't even really changed my all important relationship status on Facebook. As if that were the all important barometer of how true and real the relationship really is. We spend Friday and/or Saturday night together. Sometimes we see each other during the week.

We keep it simple. We tell each other, "I like you." We make each other happy by doing something most people don't remember to do in a relationship: we are OURSELVES. I have found more joy within myself by being who I am when I am with him than I ever found by trying to be the thing that my exes tried forcing into molds. I like Tim very much, and that isn't going to change anytime soon. I like who I am, and that isn't going to change either.

I never thought I'd get to say that.

I like who I am.

Is this what true happiness is?

The fallacy in Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicals: The Crystal Bearers.

2010-05-25T11:21:00.000-07:00

So I know I was complaining about this game on my Facebook page a while back. I'm still trying to mull over my anger for this game. I have always had a strong affection for the Final Fantasy series, despite having not played that many of them.

There are a few good points to the game. It's short and the story is very direct. There are not too many side quests to get lost on. (Granted I didn't find that many, so who knows.) The game has a quick jump-in style of gameplay that is great for people that aren't huge RPG fans. The game looks great for a Wii title, but at times it has that PS2 smell to it. The music is pretty solid and not too kiddish at times.

Onto the bad stuff. The in-game battle is on a flipping timer. If you don't beat all the critters around the miasma stream in a certain amount of time, a dinger goes off and you have to wait till the stream opens again. The critters come back and you have to kill them all to close the stream and get the mythril shards to add to your health bar. There is no level grinding. The controls are for the birds. You have to aim with the Wii remote and target to pull, push, hit, flip or whatever you have to do. It is a pain in the ass for sure. The map blows. You can't tell where you are on the overworld map because it's so small and lacking any and all detail. I got lost for 45 minutes and walked in circles to find a location.

Onto the even worse. The game is short. Like shorter than my ex's...oh, the jokes are no fun now. Anyway, I went into the boss battle after having only fabricated one of each armor class and only getting two additional mythril shards. The whole game took a grand total of 13 hours and 18 minutes. Honestly, if you don't account the 4-5 hours of cinematics and the estimated 2 hours I spend walking from place to place until the rail system opens up to SLIGHTLY speed up travel, I didn't really play for 13 hours. More like 7 hours of game play.

Ugh. This game is SOOOO not worth $50. Rent it from Gamefly or wait till it hits the $9.99 clearance bin and pray it trades in for $7. Seriously.

I give it a 4.5/10. Not unplayable, but it is not a Final Fantasy epic. A good waste of a weekend, but not good enough to keep and replay.

Prayer and the unbeliever.

2010-05-18T21:31:00.000-07:00

I have dated my share of unbelievers. Been friends with a lot of them too. Still are friends with them. I've had my faith questioned and been laughed at when the only thing I can say about why I believe and pray is, "I just do." I thought about prayer over the past few days a good bit and how it affects me and my perceptions of reality.

I was raised Baptist. Eventually, I stopped buying into all the preaching and singing and whatnot. I started seeing myself as someone that believes but isn't actively practicing. When I feel like everything is on top of me, I will stop, breathe and pray. I don't know is someone is listening, but as an only child from a less than normal home life, it's nice to think that someone out there can hear me and cares.

I began praying more lately, mostly at the request of a friend. She was having some guy troubles and wanted me to keep her in my thoughts. When I pray for her and the situation, I pray first and foremost that she finds peace of mind and heart. Then, I pray that the young man will have a moment of clarity and do what is best for him and my friend. I find that prayers work best when you really pray for the important stuff first and the extra things that would make the primary request that much better. I want her to find happiness very much because she and I share an odd bond, so in a way, it's a bit of my happiness, too.

Don't get me wrong. I am very happy with Tim. If you had told me 4 years ago, before my last long relationship began that I would be dating Tim; I would have laughed. As we all know, time and pain changes people. I am not the girl I was 4 years ago. I am harder and braver and stronger. My heart has not faltered though. I had misplaced faith for a period of time or two, but I am always working to have my heart and mind in the right place.

I still have friends ask me about how time and people have affected my faith. I have thought about it a lot. Some people have to see things to know they are real. Some people have to feel things to believe. Some people can look into the void and see boundless potential. Some people will only look if they have heard something strike the bottom. No one is right or wrong. It all boils down to what helps that person sleep at night.

Me, I still pray that my heart will one day be fully mended. I pray my friends are safe. I pray my parents are ok. I ask for the simple things. In return, I have been blessed with the chance to go back to school and do it right for the last time. I have friends who care for me and parents who, in their own way, love me. I have a boyfriend who doesn't care if I answer the door in pjs or a dress because he's just happy to see me.

I think for all the pain life can give, if you just believe that there are better days ahead of you, life will turn around and give you moments of happiness that scrub away the dark tint of pain. If you believe in a Higher Power, then thank Him. If you believe in the fates, thank them. If you believe in nothing, then, well...thank chance or whatever.

Never be ungrateful though.

Life in the rear-view

2010-05-15T16:13:00.000-07:00

I keep having people bring up people (one person really) from my past. I feel weird about it because I'm constantly wanting to ask them to stop saying their name or bring them up. I feel like I'm always being tethered to a point that I can't really escape from. Yes, I know how you feel. Yes, I know you think they are being stupid. No, I don't want to know what was said.

It's like trying to drive by looking at the road in the rear-view mirror. You stay on the road only so long before you veer off or end up in oncoming traffic. I lived like that for too long. I feel like unplugging myself from everything and everyone that would tell me these things. That's not really the answer though. I just have to bear down and deal with it. Block it off.

I start online classes at Tech this week coming. Oh joy. It's a lot cheaper than FMU and I'm just trying to get caught up on my gen ed stuff that I'm still missing. I realize I'll be going to school almost three years, year-round. So much for breaks and vacations. It's like I tell my best gal Becca, "I'll rest when I'm dead." Two jobs and school and a boyfriend.

Most people would crack under my level of self imposed pressure. I just harden, like a diamond.

God, I have missed Daria. It's like my high school years and a bit of my college. Total bitter nostalgia. I'm still a cynic, but at least I have reasons to be so now.

Stuck in the middle with a Jew. (well, he looks like one)

2010-05-14T11:27:00.000-07:00

Tonight's menu:

Lo Mein (Beef and chicken because I don't have enough of either one)
--The Lo Mein will consist of Asian mixed veggies tossed with a orange honey marinade and the marinaded meats.--
Whatever ice cream I pick up when I get the noodles for the lo mein.
Woodchuck for him and vodka/cranberry for me.

Tonight's plans:

Try not to accidentally beat up my roommate while trying to teach her to cook Lo Mein. Small kitchen and I typically work alone. (Hers will be minus the meat.)
Eat dinner with Tim.
Watch Heavy Metal with Tim (not my first pick but, oh well, I haven't seen it yet).
Play board and card games and drink with Tim.

You know, if this is the rut I get stuck in for the rest of my life, I couldn't imagine a better rut to be stuck in and with a better person.

I really just like him.

Today...well, today sucked.

2010-05-11T21:04:00.000-07:00

Some people make me wish slapping and public assault were legal when justified. When you are visibly stressed to your limit, other people should have the common sense to not say, "Why aren't you getting this? It's not that hard to understand." You are assuming the other person is thinking with a clear head and has not had a hard day already.I had been misinformed by three different offices at Tech. I had to drive to FMU twice because nothing was explained to me about the transient student procedure. I locked my keys in my car and had a small nervous breakdown in the parking lot.

Fuck you, insanely obese lady at Tech. You suck because you angered me to tears and treated me like I'm stupid.

I have thought about speaking to your supervisor but realized that you deserve your pathetic job because you are a miserable human. Your station in life suits you.

I hope that one day you see the error of your ways. And, if you're lucky, one day, your feet.

I beat CSI for the Wii though. I give it a 7/10. Rent, don't buy.

I can't get the song out of my head now.

2010-05-10T08:50:00.000-07:00

So yesterday was Mother's Day. Therefore, I was obligated to see my maternal figures. I drove all the way out to BFE to visit my mother and grandmother. It is just as much fun as it sounds. Thirty minutes away from Florence and I am "home".

Now, whenever my mother finds out I'm dating someone new, she tends to ask questions. She thinks that I am a golden child and that few men on the planet are good enough for me to date. She honestly believes that I date beneath me. I think she thinks too much of me, her kid or not.

I started telling her a bit about Tim. Now much though. I don't want her to start being all condescending as usual.

She asked, "So how tall is he?"

I told her, "Tim is 6 ft 2."

She sighed with relief. I looked at her with a look curiosity.She smirked at me and said, "Well, at least you're no longer dating a member of the Lollipop Guild."

Now I can't stop humming that stupid song from Wizard of Oz.

I love my mother because she has my same awful, bitchy sense of humor.

I'm trying not to make cracks about my ex, but I will repeat funny crap other people say.

Small things that mean so much

2010-05-08T11:05:00.000-07:00

Tim told me last night before we went out that he had a surprise for me. I knew from the sound of his keys striking the box in his pocket that I was getting jewelery of some kind. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and he sat there in the dark on my bed. Even in the dim light he looked nervous. I couldn't help but smile and try not to drip toothpaste on my polo dress.

After finishing up, I stepped into my room and snapped on the light. He held out a box to me and I hugged him before I even opened the box. I opened the brown cardboard box and tried not to burst into tears. They were little Triforce shaped earrings, studs. They weren't gold or silver, but that that moment they were the most precious thing I had held in a long time. I just kept hugging Tim to hide the fact that I was tearing up.

I've had boyfriends give me jewelry of all kinds. Silver and gold. Earrings, necklaces and bracelets. I'm not much of a jewelry person, but these earrings meant so much to me in that moment. Tim knew of my affection for the Legend of Zelda game series and my love for all sorts of gaming crafts. This was something I never expected.

I finally let go of him, apologizing profusely for starting to cry. I told him how much I loved the earrings and how I never expected it. I can't remember the last time someone I dated surprised me with a gift I truly loved. I felt so special and cared for and appreciated by him in a way I haven't felt in years. I suspect Tim teared up a bit too because as a pulled away he looked down and wiped his eyes too.

For the first time in ages, I know how my friends must have felt when I did something for them for no apparent reason, other than I cared and remembered them. I didn't know I could still feel this way.

It's amazing.

The "L" words.

2010-04-24T14:31:00.000-07:00

I'm talking about "like" and "love."

I'm pretty sure I've said I love you and didn't mean it quite a few times. I'm pretty sure I said it because it was expected of me. I believe there were times I thought I loved people I was with because they stayed with me.

I went out with guys because they asked me out. I kept going out with them because I didn't want to be alone. I laugh at this now.

I find myself sitting with the one I'm with now and I hold his hand. In public. Without wondering if people are watching. Not caring if they are.

I look him square in the eye and say the most innocent and wonderful of phrases. "I like you." In public. Out loud. Proud of saying this perfect expression of simple affection. He says it back and it'e better than the last 1,000 times I heard a guy tell me, "I love you." I know it's not rushed and I know it's not forced and I know he means it. At this point, I don't care about hearing, "I love you" anytime soon.

We aren't ready to say it yet. We are terrified of saying it. We know the implications of it. We know the destruction that it can bring when spoken too soon and with too little emotion with it.

I finally feel like I'm with someone that understands the brevity and weight of words. I like it when we sit and talk and listen to each other and we forget where time goes. I like that we don't have to say much to convey everything at once.

He doesn't care that I'm overweight right now and likes me for who I am deep down. I can hardly remember what that feels like. I became used to being loved to liked with exceptions as a child. My parents only really paid attention to me when I did well or screwed up. Nothing unconditional. I got into relationships where I only felt like I was truly loved under set criteria. I had opportunistic friendships. He did all the same things and we're both tired of it.

We started hanging out and we just connected. Most of my relationships as an adult started as drunk hookups. So did his. This didn't start that way. The first time we spent any time really talking away from work, we actually talked. No awkward silence. No stilted laughter. A very nervous goodbye kiss. I went home with legs of Jello and a stupid grin on my face. I can't remember the last time that happened. Years ago.

Now I get that stupid grin every time I see him. He hugs me and I feel really hugged. Sometimes, I have to wait all week for that hug. It's worth waiting 5 days. In that instant that he hugs me, I know I am accepted. I am appreciated. I am finally ok.

The end is the beginning of every great thing.

2010-04-20T11:43:00.000-07:00

I sat for some time thinking today. Today is the anniversary of the break up that has in so many ways defined me. Transformed me. Made me fall down for the last time. Made me stand up for the first time. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and I'm physically no different than I was last year minus a few pounds.

There's nothing wrong with me. There was everything wrong with who I was with. I was with someone who didn't love me as I was because they don't love themselves. I am a wonderful person deep down. I have so much to offer and they took from me constantly without giving back. I'm done. He can and will never have any of me or all that I am ever again. He will never take from me again.

I have changed so much for the better so quickly. I'm not as broken as I was. I'm stronger than I was. I'm finding the more I live with myself as I am, I am everything that everyone who has loved me and supported me over the years have said I am and so much more.

In a conversation I had with my friend Curtis in regards to my blog,

I can't take those words back because they have been read by too many people. I won't apologize. I won't back down. If push comes to shove, I'll say it to his face, "You hurt me. You tried to break me. You degraded me behind closed doors because you hate yourself. I am not you. I am not that empty. I don't need you or anyone else to make me into something I am not."

I was looking through my PS2 games a couple of nights ago and I saw something deep in the back of the cabinet. Something I hadn't looked at in months, but I always knew it was there. It was the remote to Frank's Pioneer amp. My breath caught in my chest and my tears choked me for a second. This was the last thing I was stupidly holding onto of his. Everything else of his had been thrown away or given away.

That hunk of plastic symbolizes the last of the control he had on me. I have thought about that remote off and on over the past couple of days and as I was driving home from class today, I realized something. In order for the last of this to be over, for me to be rid of him, I have to get this out of my hands. I have to get rid of this.

I have forgiven myself for all the stupid things I did when I thought I loved him. I have forgiven myself for being stupid and blind to the pain. I have forgiven myself for believing it would get better. I have forgiven myself for letting myself be changed and hurt and degraded. I'm not that girl any more and I forgive her. That girl didn't know better because she had held her head down so long she forgot what it was like to see something other than the ends of her own shoes.

She is the last of my innocence and there's just enough of her left that keeps the tears in the corners of my eyes right now. She is the part of me that always wants to be angry and bitter and hold on. There's not enough of her left, though. She's tired and so am I.

Now that I can forgive myself for all that I was, I know that I am ready for all that I will be for the rest of my life. I don't ask for pardon and regret nothing said or done on this year-long journey to the place I stand now.

Just as I forgive old self, I now forgive Frank for hurting me. I expect no response from him on this ever. Part of me will always be hurt and a little angry, but as time goes on that part will fade like a scar or a memory.

It's done.

Stepping to the end.

2010-04-16T19:49:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting here thinking about what is going down in four short days. Three really. It will be one of the hardest anniversaries I have dealt with. The day my heart was broken for the final time by my ex,Frank. The day I finally got to the edge of all that I thought I was.

Looking back, I wasn't that person I am now when I was with him. I was living a half life. Constantly trying to be someone for him and for me. It was like dancing on the edge of a razor; no matter what I did, I got hurt. I've finally healed enough to where I can walk on my own again, but some days, it still hurts.

There are days when I am reminded of him and how he hurt me in the end and I am still haunted by that. When someone says something hateful or does something hateful. When someone says someone hurt them. I still have too much empathy.

People have asked me if I still have feelings for him. The only part of me that still cares about him is the part of me that is still broken. That fractured part of me only loves the memory of what he was when I knew he loved me. When the words didn't fall dead from his lips to my ears. When I didn't feel judged. When I didn't work three jobs to try to escape him and stay at my apartment just to get away. I hardly remember those happy times.

Like it or not we know a lot of the same people. I'm friends with most of his friends. There is a sadness to that. There's a part of my life that will always have a part of him in it. I will always hear his name. The only way I would be rid of him would be to pull the plug on a few of the very few friendships I have. Even then, Florence is a small town.

In many ways, I'm thankful I'm not with him. If I were still with him, I probably wouldn't be in school right now. I probably wouldn't have found my solace in writing again. I wouldn't have my voice back. I'd still be silent. I have found a strength and happiness in myself that I didn't know existed.

I had never broken up with someone before Frank left me. Because of me being able to see things as they are, I was able to walk away from the one after him when I knew that he would always drink too much for my liking. I was able to look at what the one after that one was doing behind my back and knew when he lied to my face that he was no good for me. I will never be strung along again. I am many things, but a damned fool is not one of them.

Looking back, I wish people had been harder on me. Told me not to have hope and to walk away. Maybe I wouldn't still be the way I am. After this bout of stupid hope, I'm never going to deal with relationships this way again.

I wish Frank would one day come to grips with himself. I wish he would stop thinking he has to be tall or smart or any certain way. His constant oneupsmanship is tiring and arduous. I've just gotten to where I accept myself as I am. I am so much more than what I was and I will get better every day.

Now I have Tim. Sweet and bumbling and terribly affectionate. A geek after my own heart. I hung out with him for two months before we actually considered ourselves really dating. We'd sit and watch movies and hold hands. I liked his company. He never asked anything other than my time and attention. Then we started dating, but still kept everything from most of the world. We've only recently been seen together in public and identified as a couple. I feel like we've been running some crazy spy game. I sort of like it though. We keep to ourselves. We don't really hang out with anyone.

Reasons I know I'm a dork, nerd or geek.

2010-04-05T07:29:00.000-07:00

I know what a Batliff is on sight and knew what it was before my Trek loving boyfriend.

I think Noubo Uematsu is more talented that John Williams.

I understand most of the humor on Big Bang Theory.

I got crazy excited when I heard about the Hello Kitty and Lego MMOs.

I think it's kind of hot that my boyfriend can play boss battle music from Final Fantasy on the guitar.

I collect Domo Kuns.

I have a slight obsession with Pocky and Ramume soda because it's tasty and Japanese.

I own a set of used Blue Man Group drumsticks and I'm extremely proud of it.

I get stupid excited every time I hear about a new comic book movie coming out no matter how lame the concept.

I believe that Zack Synder, Joss Whedon and Peter Jackson are the new holy trinity of sci-fi film making. They have usurped the thrones of Lucas, Roddenberry and Scott. Just saying.

I believe Han shot first only because Han can do no wrong in my heart.

I find Ron Perlman attractive, but only as Hellboy.

Masi Oka is the most adorable Asian alive.

I have dedicated the first 6 seasons of Family Guy to memory and can recall entire sections of dialog with only a few key words. This works best when I have my friends Becca and Jon to play off of.

I hate Matt Groening for taking this long to get Futurama back on the air while he has let the Simpsons run into the ground.

I have been told I would be "a good person so have around" in case of the Zombie apocalypse.

I'm 28 and I don't find it embarrassing to wear t-shirts with goofy sayings, logos or cartoon characters on them.

I can hear CRT monitors run, and I like it.

I celebrate May 4th every year as Star Wars day. (May the "fourth" be with you.)

I have an intense urge to build things out of Lego once in a while.

I realized that Mario 3 came out 20 years ago. I was overjoyed.

I own an 1976 original paperback of the Star Wars novelization, and no, you can't touch it.

I sleep with a Mario plush and often in Mario pjs.

There's a part of me that will always want to honeymoon at Disney world.

I have wanted to work for Nintendo since I could hold a controller.

I took this much time to write this list.

Back handed compliments and my screwed up nature.

2010-03-28T17:43:00.000-07:00

I give lousy compliments because I don't know how to take them because of my self-loathing nature.

I was sitting on my couch with Tim on Saturday night. I looked at him and said, "I know this is going to sound stupid, but you are the best parts of everyone who ever broke my heart. You are so much more than just that though." He hugged me close and I tried hard not to cry. I let myself tear up. In a whispered voice, I spoke to him and told him how in so many small, but wonderful ways he makes me feel better about myself. I know my voice broke half a dozen times from choking back tears, but I didn't care. I was speaking to someone that could hear me. I can't remember the last time someone heard me, or I let them hear me.

I think that over the years, I lost the ability to speak. I mean I talk all the time. Ask anyone that really knows me. I talk a lot. I guess I normally don't really say anything. There's talking and there's talking. I know that in the past I tried to talk to guys I was with. I would say, "Let's talk." And then the dreaded, "What do you want to talk about?" would come up. I would die inside. Also whenever a guy would tell me, "Let's talk" that's douche bag code for, "You're getting dumped and I'm thinly veiling it with the premise of conversation." (I swear I could write a book on moron code.) I think that alone as scared me from conversation.

How is it that the people that hurt us most make us who we are? I mean my dad basically ignored me for the first 16 years of my life. Just about every guy that has ever dated me has left because of my parents, his parents, my friends, his friends, his inability to commit, his lack of self esteem, his unwillingness to stick with a long distance relationship, and his general stupidity. In some funny way, I almost thank them. ALMOST. Not really. Then again, it's those stupid assholes that break our hearts, cheat on us, break us down, and treat us like crap that make us better people. I mean if it weren't for the fact that I had gotten tossed out more times than my grandmother's fruitcake, that I wouldn't be who I am. I mean I think I got a little better every time I got passed over. God that's a fucked up way of putting it.

I guess I have to laugh about it now. I'm dating the nerdiest guy I've ever known. I'm dating someone who has to be so much of me equal and the whole time I've been dating my opposite. I mean he talks and I hear him. I believe that there is such a thing as speaking in a language that others can hear. Every once in a while we find that person that we hear. Maybe I finally have someone that I can hear and he can listen to me. Only time will tell.

Standing in the rain

2010-03-27T14:20:00.000-07:00

Ever watched School Ties? You know the movie with Brendan Fraser and Matt Damon about the Jewish kid that goes to a private school and gets the crap beaten out of him for not belonging? (He was Jewish.) My favorite and most memorable scene from that movie is when Brendan's character is standing out on the lawn of the school to challenge the other guys to a fight. It starts to rain and the guys are all looking out the window at him and he's standing there staring up at the dorm window screaming, "Cowards!"

How many times have you ever wanted to do that? I know I have. Lately, more than ever. I want to stand up and point my finger in the face of all that I have been frightened of and say, "You will hurt me no more. You will not ignore me. I will finally be heard." It's a little late for that now.

I wish I had done this long ago. I wish I had stood out in the rain and called out in a voice that would be heard no matter what. I wish I had been stronger sooner.

Tim listened last night as I talked to a friend on the phone and recounted some of the events of the week in no specific detail. The truths I knew. The stories exchanged. The lies and back peddling. Tim seethed. He was amazed that I stood for so long through so much. Some would trivialize it. Some may never believe it. I knew in my heart it would happen again. It did. It will again.

I think I've finally moved into the final two stages of grief. I'm sitting in between anger and acceptance. I'm ok with where I am, but somehow I'm finally really angry about how I was treated. It's a very confusing state to be in. I'm happy without him but at the same time, I want to vent my anger as vocally as I can.

Looking back at some of my blogs, I hope he doesn't think for a fucking second any of my poetry was about him. Someone as emotionally hollow as him could never bring those words out of me. I never wrote anything outside of a handful of cards the entire time we were together. The poetry was the gateway to my emotional blossoming. The more I realized I was feeling again, the more I came to terms with my anger and pain and I was able to start writing this blog in the voice you now here. The voice that is ready to scream in the rain.

For the record.

2010-03-27T07:23:00.000-07:00

I'm not in love with Frank. I have not been for months now. I dislike him. I do not like what he put me through, what he has put others through and how he behaves.

How does one politely say "fuck off?"

I know I won't ever get to see his dog in person again and you know, that's fine. I'll have a puppy of my own one day. I'm just partial to Fritz.

Perhaps recent events have let my true anger come to light.

I was good before him. I'm great without him. I miss his family and the time I spent with his friends. I don't know him anymore, nor do I think anyone else really does.

Frank Davis, if you can read this, get over yourself. You're not that hot. You're not that smart. You're not that awesome. You need people to feed your ego. You need to hurt others to make yourself feel better. Grow up, you twit.

I'm done. I will continue to write for the sake of my own heart and mind which is why I started writing to let people know me and see me for who I am. I need no one to validate me. I am a good person.

37 Reasons to hate a guy. Yes. 37. In a row.

2010-03-25T11:12:00.000-07:00

Being:
(1) Confrontational
(2) Close-minded
(3) Easily Angered
(4) Sodomite
(5) Superficial
(6) Hypocritical
(7) Underhanded
(8) Condescending

(9) Wearing his ass on his shoulders (and I don't mean his face.)
(10)Thinking the world owes him
(11)Thinking a degree made him better than others
(12)Judgmental as all get out
(13)Thought his car made him better than others.
(14)Thought all people who were not thin should not be seen, but likes chub pron.
(15)Breaking up with a girlfriend by saying, "I care about you, but I don't think I can ever love you." (Not once, twice. Two different people; same line.)
(16)Claims to have feelings so that they don't just to sound less like a douche. (This backfires.)
(17)Thinking that a slap on the ass is a physical expression of the phrase, "I love you."
(18)Talking openly about how he taught someone to service him properly.
(19)Gets so drunk they would try to sleep with friend while you're in the other room asleep.
(20)Thinks they are except for behaving inside established norms because they are "special."
(21)Puts personal ads online while they are with someone and using to contact what one can only assume is a back up to who they are with and let themselves get caught.
(22)Cheats on the person they are with and lies about it when confronted.
(23)Lies about their height.
(24)Tells their girlfriend not to wear high heels when they are wearing lifts in their shoes.
(25)Talks down to anyone with a degree lesser than theirs and if they do not have a degree they really get treated like a toddler.
(26)Ignores people that don't think like them.
(27)Thinks that they are always right about everything even if they have no fucking clue.
(28)Putting up personal ads before you break up with someone and trying to make it seem like it's the girls fault or that the girl should beg to stay with them.
(29)Drinking so much that they try to have sex with your friend on the couch while you're sleeping in the other room.
(30)Hitting on a girl at a party while your girlfriend is tending to her drunk friend and telling people that she's not with you.
(31)Thinks it's perfectly acceptable to get piss drunk and rub up on every girl in the room while you're in the bathroom.
(32)Claiming to want to get married and have kids because everyone knows the only person they love is themselves.
(33)Thinks certain sexual acts are erotic. (I will not disturb you with details.)
(34)Lying about petty shit.
(35)Acting like he's sooooo hot when he's marginally cute at best.
(36)Thinking a tooth whiting kit is an acceptable surprise gift. (REALLY!?)
(37)Being a douche. (Just in general.)

I need to stop before I get really angry. Done!

In love with a ghost and unknown allies.

2010-03-21T16:03:00.000-07:00

I realized something very important last week. I was sitting in this overstuffed armchair that I'm always in every other Tuesday. I was crying and the realization struck me like an open-palmed slap on the face. I looked up and knew why all my relationships had failed. I had tried so hard to be in one for the sake of not being alone.

That's a harrowing thought when you really get right down to it. I was with people so I wouldn't have to be alone. Even after I realized how much, at times, I didn't love or like the person I was with. I stayed. Just so I could say I had someone. Just so I would know I wasn't alone. Christ.

How stupid is that?

I guess I had become clichéd. I was in love with being in love or being with someone and not the actual person. How many times have people done that? How many times have I done that? I stopped to think about it and I sobbed harder. I had allowed myself to stay in places and with people that were poisonous to me for the sheer sake of escaping my loneliness to another place all together. A place that was worse.

Now, I find that another person has been blighted by him. She was given the same damned contrite lines I was the first time he left me. You would think he could come up with better material for a new person. I reached out to her in that moment because I had heard stories of how he treated her and I felt like I was reaching out to me from a year ago. God, how I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted for the longest time to just save her from what I knew would happen. Him leaving her. Breaking her heart. That by somehow saving her would save me from myself. Instead, I waited until I knew I could be of help rather than potential harm.

Meanwhile, she has been looking at my blogs all this time. So without me knowing, she knew of me. Life's funny like that. I want to help her the way others have helped me.

We both deserve better than him. He deserves nothing.