the beginning?
why does it seem that once things are settled, seemingly steady, they suddenly stumble under the weight of our own faults?
why do i keep letting the same thing happen? he disappoints me, i tell him it’s fine. he disappoints me, i take him back. am i a masochist? or do i simply enjoy the complexity of the whole thing?
no. i am tired. i am tired of going over the same thing. it’s like a dry erase board……the harder you draw, the less color the markers make.
my birthday. my birthday was a month ago. my present. never arrived. was supposed to be the glue holding my week together. was supposed to go out and buy books, smell the scent of freshly bound pages. be out, pretend things are wonderful. hoping that if we pretend, then they finally will be. tonight? was an hour and a half of non-quality time with not a word to be read.
quality time has not existed for well over 2 weeks now. nothing. no scent of intimacy, not even a hint of love. we don’t say it, because it seems empty. those words are falling useless. paper airplanes in a tycoon. a band-aid on wet skin. it is not sticking.
how can it be one night and i feel back to the drawing board? how can i make no impression? i am forever caught in this limbo of loving and distress. how can you keep expecting something and never have it come? i just keep getting my hopes up and they crash back down.
my heart is tired.
truly? madly?
and so it goes.
i have thus abandoned the confining world of myspace, where people track my thoughts, movements, pictures, and general nothingness. i’m tired of uselessness of the whole thing. how much time have i wasted?
and so i start my own little baby blog for my own little baby thoughts.
today, i feel overwhelmed and maybe a dash of confused? i am also lonely. so incredibly lonely.
i transferred only halfway knowing what i was getting myself into. i knew the music would change. i knew the pressures would change. i just never expected this. going to a coffee shop on a saturday night because i know it from back home. familiar, safe, comfortable. but i am one of the singles. listening to music, doing homework. lonely. pretending i am just a busy student.
i thought a semester was enough to make maybe a couple friends. maybe just one for the weekend? instead, i have once in a while friends. and if it wasn’t for my cat, i’d be drinking by myself on my weekend. luckily, she likes the booze.
and so it goes.
i have an itch. an itch? maybe a fly. a loose hair? so……this relationship. 3 years. what is going on? it just feels like a shirt that is little tight on the arms. i feel like this is make or break and it is just running the middle line. how much dedication can you ask for? do i need to be in something completely and totally fucked up to realize how happy/miserable this makes me? i have begun thinking that maybe that is something we both need. either to know that that is it or to figure out that we are just faking.
saturday nights always make me think in sex and the city language. i think of carrie admitting she’s lonely. the loneliness is palpable. and i hear her voice break. but it is really me saying it. is it transitory or my new permanence?
this is not self-righteous. this is not like my brother, with his infinity supply of thoughts and wisdoms. i am not a writer. i think in music. i’ll work on the words, but nothing quite captures the feeling of a solo saturday like a vi to ii chord change.
