| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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All i have to do is mail it. Find the balls and put it in an envelope and mail this fucker. Why do *i* have to do this...? Why do i have to be strong TWICE in a fucking year. When there is no strong left.... Why do i have to draw the lines, put the foot down, make the desicion.....why??? Fuckbuddy says: "Well you chose them. You chose these guys so it must be something you're looking for in someone, some common element." This One. He saved me. He showed me what my life was not so i broke out of it. And for a moment there it was a fairytale. It was ridiculous. It was like nothing i've ever felt. Rainbows and cartoon hearts. Mad love. Hope. Adventure. Perfection. This guy. This guy, for whom i was willing to move to a country that i hate (sorry :[ ), but a city i fell in love with to be with him and his friends who love me too. Philadephia, one of my fav places on earth now and i don't know if i'll ever be able to go back. It was not even a question to me. He was worth it. It was just the kind of retarded shit that makes life amazing. I mean fuck it, why not move and try this all out. It's scary but i'm not old yet. He begged me, sometimes, to go. I love him. I fucking love him. August. Month of ruin. Worst month of my life possibly, leading up to the last weekend which became the worst 4 days of my life for sure. No question. The worst. Words appeared like "pulling away" and "distance" and "scary" and "hurt" and "something easier" and "I dont know". He said "I don't know" so many times i finally snapped and asked him if they speak english in I Don't Know. He loves me still, but he just doesn't know. I love him. I fucking love him, endlessly. But i'm begining to wonder if right now i deserve better than "i don't know". Fuckbuddy says: "If you're not worth the distance to him, then he's not worth YOU. He's just not. You are beautiful and amazing and I really worry about the eventual emotional breakdown he's gonna have when he realizes what he's done and how awesome you are." Ohhh, fuckbuddy. Why can't i just like you instead? You are gorgeous and keep grapes in your fridge because they're my favourite. You would treat me like a god. But i can't, because i am shattered and dead inside and we both know it. Kassy says: "He was meant to be in your life. even if only for this period of time. you've come a long way and maybe that's what he was meant to help you accomplish." But honestly, sitting here in my childhood bedroom back at my parent's house, broken and jobless with a deathtrap of a car and about $400 to my name, this really doesn't feel anything like progress. I just want to sleep someday and wake up feeling okay, not the 30 seconds of calm and then slowly start to hyperventilate into a near-tears panic as it gradually dawns on my groggy mind that ohshit this is my life here. Time to start a new day of it. It's his birthday on friday. Mere months ago he was still talking about him coming up here for it, since i went down there for mine. It was a big deal. Now i don't know when i'll see him again. When. If. When. IFFFF. This all hurts so much i don't even know what to do with all the pain. Lately i've been following the teaches of peaches, if you know what i meeeeean... So i put his birthday gift to me in an envelope. To mail it back to him in time for his. Envelope. Address. I don't know what i'll write as a note for it but i doubt that will even be nessescary. I'll do it anyway but it's obvious on its own. Probably something like "If you're ever ready to do this thing with me for real, bring it back to me. Preferaby in Vegas." Fuck me, this is going to hurt him. But i can't yet. I dont know what do to. Anything to make me stop thinking about this 90% of the time. End this? Hit pause for now? Continue with the vagueness and uncertainty thinking it will get better? There is no strong left. ------ side note: I would have lost my shit completely through all this if not for Kanye West. I am so fucking serious. |
happiness; happiness resides in imaginative reflection and judgment, when the picture of one's life, or of human life, as it truly has been or is, satisfies the will, and is gladly accepted. that's a quote by a dead spanish philosopher whose name i cant recall at the moment, but it came to mind when i read and reread your post. i miss having a real keypad for easier punctuation. oh wisper. at the wise old age of 40 and having been there done that there is the urge to advise and sound like i know the answers and the solution is as effortless and simple as breathing. but even breathing is difficult for you right now... so what i willmsay instead is that it sounds like you are really deep down the rabbit hole right now. it sounds like you have given all of your power away. and from the sounds of it you have A LOT of power, which is no use to you when you are giving it to someone else, particularly to someone who claims he doesn't know from a long, safe distance. |
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update? |
i didn't mail anything, yet. in another window i see he's online. Our conversations are always short and shallow. He did this, i did that, descriptions of weekend activities. Limbo. It's limbo. Every fibre holding me back from typing SO WTF IS GOING ON or WHY ARENT YOU STRONG ENOUGH YOU FUCKING CHILD or any other panicked stream of all-caps desperation. But i never bring it up because if there is one thing i am sick of over this past year, it's crying. So my chat status remains invisible. Now who's the coward. insights help |
So far I am a failure, or would be if I believed in failure. My chat is always invisible. I have an old letter from wisper. It is fantastic. I can't find the coveted creativity quarter, and that I regret. That wisper might have some words for you, too. Love you, wisper. |
But i do, sometimes. It was a rainstorm and i couldn't find him. I was chasing him through a gorgeous ocean shore town, past lovely historic buildings and parties and bars and museums full of things that i love, but i continued to ignore these things and chase after him with no umbrella or coat or proper shoes. I was freezing and soaking wet and yelling out and expending all energy trying to catch him and it was futile. i woke up crying and he was online. So i knew it was time. i thanked him for saving me. i thanked him for the happiest 6 weeks (the total time we spent together irl) that i've ever had. He apologized profusely for his behaviour since august and i told him that sorry means absolutely nothing to me when it's coming from him. And etc. It took 4 hours. The first hour was him admitting to being a broken weak coward. The last 3 hours was me telling him off for wanting to stay friends. I don't know why i'm the strong one. I don't feel like i am. I don't want to be. When it was over of course i was upset. Drained. But i realized how much energy... how much power i've wasted on this shit lately. "5 more hours," i told myself, "that's all the grief i'm letting this have. Then i'm not wasting another minute on this." And so i did. And i woke up not in agony, but relieved. No more hyperventilating panic mornings (at least not about this). No more having half my mind across the border. No more wondering what he's up to all the time. Sometimes these thoughts come and i can simply push them away now. It's great. Once in a while the good memories poke their heads in, those are harder to push away but i do it anyway for now. Blasting Missy Elliot as we go much too fast through the winding curved roads of the Smoky Mountains....it's harder to ignore those ones... I'm babbling. Sorry. ....i haven't been single since i was 18. This in itself seems like a different kind of pathetic. I went to fuckbuddy's house, he knew what happened, he bought me flowers. He remarked that with my reaction you'd think no boy had ever bought me flowers before. And it's true- no one ever had. He couldn't believe it. I've had a weird life. I don't know if it made me weird or if i made it weird or both. I grew up in a hoarder house and no boy ever gave me flowers. |
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If no one gives you flowers, shit on the ground and grow your own. |
don't want 'em anyway. Unless they're live. They're pretty but they just die. I told fuckbuddy he didn't have to buy me them again. I'd rather get sushi. And then we did. |
a) crazy insane passionate adventures b) a fuckbuddy who buys you flowers c) sushi sounds like everything's moving along just fine. |
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I think it was radiohead that got me through the end of my last bad romance. |
I like flowers on living plants. Someone could bring me a flowering shrub, that would be nice. Cut flowers always seem kinda mean. |
bonus points if you can name the reference "vegetable rights" hails from. |
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wisper, you're rad. and what's the deal with fuckbuddy? why don't you like him? sounds like he wouldn't mind being more. |
Movement after one too many squash stews. Vegetables belong in only only place, and that is my belly. |
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give peas a chance! |
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That was two years ago. He hasn't dated since. Has no wish to do so anytime soon. He's still terrified of blood. And of getting close to anyone. Its understandable. I like him just enough for this, but not enough for *that*. We started this honestly because we have the same sex drive, which has proven daunting for others to keep up with. He's my friend, we're too broken for relationships, and we use the shit out of each other. There's no feelings at all beyond that. Shrug. It keeps me from doing things that are stupid just because i'm lonely and horny. It's perfect. He was almost the only thing that kept me from falling totally apart in august. |
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that is gnarly, but my dear... we all have issues. |
eventually committed suicide. I feel for your buddy. (And you too, wisper. My "shit the flowers" comment was meant to be an expression of solidarity, though a scatalogical one... The Aristocrats!) |
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Used to be I knew so many Daves each one got a nickname as soon as he started hanging out with the group. |
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as of today i'm officially a foster mom for no less than 90 days to an 8 year old girl who, along with her 2 and a half year old half brother, literally was abandoned by her mother and dropped off on my front lawn Monday evening. as of todeay the boy's in custody of the state of Texas. the girl, she's sleeping on the futon next to TD2's crib in our spare room. social services came to my office today to drop off two plastic grocery bags containing size 6 girls underwear, socks, a pair of jeans, and an assortment of about 4 t-shirts. tomorrow i drop her off for her 2nd day of 2nd grade in her new school. tomorrow also is veteran's day, so it's red white and blue day at her school. i managed to dig up a stars and stripes bandanna for her to wear if she wants. holy fuckamoly. |
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the mother and i first met in 1997 in hawaii. she lives (lived) about an hour's drive from town, and has no other family that would agree to take her kids. yesterday CPS reported to me that she "voluntarily" checked herself into 90-day in-patient drug rehab. meth addict, with meth-induced psychosis. i had no idea she was a drug addict. i just thought the last 2 years she had fallen on some hard times being a single mother of two. i am not making this up. |
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Valentine's Day to others, but it's my Leave-aversary. I simply don't know what's going to happen to me on that day. How i'll feel, what i'll do, what i should do, what i want to do. I don't know. Will i be okay? Happy? Will i be a wreck? Will i lose my absolute shit? No decisions on if i should be alone in sombre reflection of the past year, or partying somehow. It is a monday, after all. Maybe it will be a day just like any other day, but i don't want it to be. I don't know. I look up at my previous post and the steadfast freedom i felt back in October when the american stuff ended... things changed. I was strong and ballsy and clearheaded for once in a great while, the panic sadness stopped and i was bound to forge on like a cannonball through walls, like i was wielding a sword made of flames or something. I felt like that. But things change. August of cours Life found my remaining weakness in november. A big one. Life fucked with my mom. The closest thing to god that i have. Her business and life's work passion in peril thanks to a screw up at the zoning law office and nosey neighbours (seriously who pulls that shit?) turned my infinite pillar of strength and hope mom into a crushed person spending most of the day crying at the kitchen table. Then her brother got cancer. I've never seen her like that in my life. Anyone but her. Anything but this, now, life. It broke my brain. We all fought our own battles then, to the end of the year. Me, my mom, my uncle. We all went out of 2010 fighting. Mom fought her way out of red tape and got her business back. My uncle lost his thyroid but is doing well. They are fighters. I lost my fight however. My brain-cracks remain. The flaming sword is long gone. I got worse, even worse than i was before. I couldn't control any thought. Every minute of every day was and still kind of is obsession over a guy who didn't think i was worth a fight. This sounds so pathetic, but you must understand that he was my light at the end of the tunnel. He was hope and future. I don't know what there is now. I just don't. I exist. I wait. I don't know what the fuck. I got better recently in a sense if numb is better. This all sounds really dark reading over it. I blame my writing style for that. But, these have been the events since october. I do have friends of course. I stay out of the house every weekend all weekend. I get way too drunk and go blacklight bowling. I attend queer punk dance parties. I bake scones and cookies with girls who love me and didn't even know me a year ago. I get freelance design jobs. I am lucky in so many ways. I'm sure when i look back on this time in the far future it will seem like some kind of golden age that i was too much of a fucked-up broken sad sack to appreciate because i saw one too many ads for Philadelphia cream cheese. That's why i take a lot of pictures. Sometimes fuckbuddy says things that are verging on too sweet, too nice, and it scares me. Things with him are nice, but have become so routine that i actually might be getting sick of it. Sick of fucking. Hah. If i could go back a year ago and present myself with a picture of this situation, old me would slap current me out of total disbelief. To be in a situation where i get laid enough to make me bored of it is the opposite of my past situation to say the least, but i mentioned this in another thread somewhere sometime. It is in fact part of why i had to leave, but one i bring up rarely even though anyone would instantly understand. Understand that slow death inside of constant tiny rejection. But anyway i don't want to risk shaming him directly or to our mutual friends. It is a wound though, so slow to heal that part of my self esteem after years of those tiny tiny deaths. Obviously the notion of sex 3x a day 3x a week getting dull for me would be a predicament that past wisper would only dream of. And she did. Oh how she did. |
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somewhere. Or get a tattoo. |
others can't shine to help out, but they can't be your light. Only you can be your light. Shine on you crazy fucker. |
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toboggan, because drunk tobogganing is serious business. I also bought myself a Baconator from Wendy's. Happy Anniversary, me. -------- Today i clean out my car and hand it in to the government for $300. Because it is pre-1995 and they want them off the roads. And whatever, and it's a deathtrap, and it was never going to pass the emissions test this year anyway, and it will cost more than it's worth to fix up, and i haven't actually driven it since October, and whatever, and blah. But it's my car. And so like my last thread of adulthood is going away now, and i overthink it, and i convince myself that i might as well be 15 again except instead of bright future i already fucked up half my life away and ended up in the same place. I used to have a house and a car and a job and a partner, i say to the toys in my childhood bedroom. I know i've come a long way, but in what direction? So yeah i'm crying a little bit. Car :( |
Good thing my fransciscan friend taught me to thank god for what I have, not what i want, to thank god for what he has taken away, and for what he left me with. So I end sentences with prepositions. I can do that. Where the hell can you go tobogganing? in the Kalahari, there's sand dunes. It would be warmer there. |
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wisper? |