lundi, décembre 27

Cleaning house

There comes a time after the end of almost every relationship (of the romantic variety) where you have to step  back, take stock, and decide whether or not that person still brings value to your life. Like after you break up and you cling to the pedestrian notion that you can still be friends. Can you? Can you really? Or are you just holding on clutching the final shreds of whatever it was you had together?

I've kind of had those moments a lot in the last couple of months - sure with the architect*  but also with the guy I was hanging out with when I was separated the first time. He's kind of a moody bitch and I quit talking to him a while ago and felt blessed utter relief at not having to deal with the drama. Yesterday he started texting me again.. said he loved me and missed talking to me. We texted back and forth for a while but sure enough it soon degraded into him admitting to something he'd been lying about to me for months, me getting pissed off & telling him so, him getting self-righteous (as though the confession should absolve him of the actual act). Do I look like the fucking catholic church? Nuh. Anyway, I'm going back to the not talking to him thing because it really REALLY was better for me. He doesn't actually bring value to my life and the more he opens his mouth the more I realize (as you do in these sorts of situations) that he's not the person I'd hoped he was.  And that's ok - you can't blame someone for being who they actually are. You can only feel sort of disappointed in yourself for not realizing it the first time they revealed themselves.

samedi, décembre 25

All the drunks they were singing

I'm unnaturally attached to "fairytale in new york" this holiday season. Like, I keep listening again and again, and it reaches deep inside of me and plucks on my heartstrings in ways that nothing else has been able to do this December.

Well consciously, anyway - I admit that there are moments when I encounter a random news story, or watch a commercial, or hear a song, and start bawling my eyes out. Nothing, though, nothing comes close to filling me with the sense of melancholy and *LONGING* that this frickin' pogues song does.

I'm back in my old room (rebuilt into guestroom extraordinaire), back where I started, no farther ahead than I ever was. Shit if we could drop back four years and do it all again I'd be almost exactly where I started.  That's fuct.

I'm hiding down here getting drunk by myself b/c if anyone tries to scratch below the surface of my shiny happy exterior I'll start bawling my eyes out because of how royally I've screwed up.

And I don't nec. mean the architect- seriously we didn't have sex for 5 months and you guys *KNOW* me - there's no way that could have ended in anything but tears.  I just mean in general.

Le sigh. I'm drunk. I'm sad. I'm lonely. I genuinely *really* like a boy who's probably really really really bad for me - who's a consumate con artist and who (deep down I know) is probably just practicing his own agenda for being with me. Tonight's one of those nights where I think to myself that I've spent time with the kiddo; I've spent time w/ my family.. if ever there was a moment to walk in front of a truck and put everyone out of my misery it's right now.