Apply

I'm such a moody, flip flopping individual. No wonder he thinks I am insane, but how much longer am I supposed to be his nurse, maid, mother, girlfriend? This isn't working for me and I am getting absorbed, forgetting the path I set out for myself. This isn't working for me, which is kind of funny because I actually put that I was in a relationship on Facebook and now I feel kind of silly if I take it down. He put it first, but what we have I wouldn't necessarily consider it a relationship.

I gave him a second chance to prove himself, to show me what he is capable of. It went well at first, but he quickly reverted back to his Neanderthal ways. Isn't that the clause I put on myself?One last chance but if he blows it, it is over. I don't care about material things, I didn't ask him to get a car, I just wanted some semblance of a relationship, one that is caring and loving and non-judgmental and one that makes ME a better person, where it is mutually beneficial. I don't want to be absorbed into a relationship, I'd like something relaxed and laid back where things aren't a complicated shit storm.

Simplicity.

And I build the road to your heart, blindly hoping that it will be a worthy effort.

I believe in past lives. I believe in suppressed memories, long forgotten and hidden away in some cob webby corner of your soul.

WHY CAN'T I TRUST YOU?

It's in you where I find my shelter,

in the hollow of your clavicle,

deep and encompassing;

in the essence of your skin,

masculine and lingering on my sheets;

in the stubble of your beard,

rough and assuring;

in the shape of your digits,

creatively gifted and elegantly tapered.

I should rush rush rush rush right now. I should work my ass off and kick the pavement, work my bone weary body and pulverize my bones. But all I want to do is lay in white sheets, your hands burning straight through me.

I fall and I embracing it, fall in love a million times, must be divine.

I'm feeling so incredibly positive and upbeat, almost giddy. I wonder how long it lasts till the little birdy slams into a plate glass window.

How many things I can blame on the full moon: lunacy, tender breasts, emotional awkwardness, over dramatization, forgetfulness, anger, lust, insanity, mood swings and many which have yet to be tested. Gives me an excuse to act all crazy at least a couple of times a month. A time to vent.

My family has always been a band of lunatics and took me some time to develop my own lunar tendencies which I am learning to embrace. Sounds very Mother Earth type scenario, but we are creatures that feel and we should learn to deal with that. I don't know if everyone gets sensory overload, but maybe that is what sadness is: a sudden sensory overload that we don't know how to process and which if not handled carefully can lead to depression.

I suffered from SAD while studying abroad in a colder climate. I had never suffered from depression before that, but was able to piece together my diagnosis without any help from doctors. I gained wait, slept constantly, missed classes, was overly sentimental. The minute Spring burst in, the cloud of sadness that had been weighing me down was lifted suddenly.

This is how unhealthy relationships start; its a push and pull of who can be more manipulative, who can get more, who gets or has the upper hand, control. I should have said no. I should have stood my ground and fought the on coming darkness by myself. But I'm a coward, an easy to please beggar, I have this insistent desire to please like a waggy tailed dog, so I texted him and he's coming back after he left not an hour before.

I blamed it on the moon which is not much better than blaming it on the rain. I still feel like crying. What an emotional mess I'm in.

I do research on the net regarding my personality type (ISFJ), agreeing on most of what they have to say. Am I vain for always trying to figure myself out more and more? I have always been curious as to why I do certain things, but to have it spelled out in such a detailed fashion is quite interesting.

Maybe I'm just dating him because he makes good fodder and by fodder I mean he gives me something to think about and chew on. I lie. I'm dating him because there is a stupid fucking connection that I am good at ignoring sometimes.

I just fell into the most hilarious time consuming vortex ever (that would be Facebook). A guy added me. I checked our mutual friends and it was a bunch of random people that I'm not very close to, so I clicked to see his photos and what I found was hilarious. The guy plays competitive ping pong, I couldn't tell if he was a pro or not, but he plays ping pong at tournaments and competitions. His house is filled with the oddest furniture, and he tends to smoke hookah in his livingroom while watching tv; he has no cable tv. He looks like a stoner and might even be one. His jet black hair is grown long down to his shoulders. I can't tell if he is Asian or not. I am almost certain I have never met him, so why would he even add me?

I feel like a huge fatass lately. It's like I'm going through puberty all over again; zits all over my face, sudden weight gain, fuzzy headed, irregular period, bigger tits, what the fuck. I hope I'm not preggo 'cause how much would that suck? I don't think I'd be the worst mother ever, but I would be sort of unstable and overwhelmed for sure.

And I would do anything for love... and I would do anything forrrrrrr, buttttt I won't do that. No I won't do thaaaaaaattttt (taking our the trashhhhhh).

A deserted street, the streetlights casting angels and demons around us. He stopped abruptly and faced me, cupped his hands around my face, whispered a question into the night. The smile didn't quite reach my eyes, my thoughts on a different smile, different eyes, different teeth. I said yes, but my thoughts blared a warning, something is off.

I won't lie and say there aren't brilliant moments when the very fabric of us is threaded around the world we create, are creating. Moments when your eyes laugh and you find life interesting again. Moments when you forget yourself and become the little kid hidden deep inside you somewhere. Moments when you catch me off guard in a moment of vulnerable openness and respond in such an instinctive, natural way that it's hard to think anything is really wrong with us.

I must publish a book, a novel and I must become an acclaimed author. Just so that a book about me can later be published (once I'm dead, of course), explaining this part of my life. How would it be described and would any of it be of any real importance when faced with the entire landscape of my life. Maybe this guy I'm dating would be just another dude I dated in the story of my life. Just another dude. And that makes me smile and take things with a certain grain of levity and rapid assurance. It somehow makes me feel better about everything. Every story has a beginning and an ending and that is assuring.

OK, so it isn't that I am a nympho, but Jesus H. Christ, if we're dating and it is the beginning of the relationship then I don't see why we shouldn't be fucking like rabbits in Spring. I want you all the time and I want you to want me all the time, capisci? Bend me over and fuck me stupid. I don't think I am asking for too much.

I met his family last weekend; mom and dad, even his grandma. "Hi family, my name is PJ and I'm fucking your youngest son. He's not my boyfriend, but we've been tangling since December.". Nice folks, down to Earth, practical people. I also met most of his close friends. What does this all mean? It means nothing and I shouldn't over think it. Instinctively my biological clock starts shouting shit and injecting my brain with images of children, happy endings, white clapboard fences. FUCK NO. How easy I forget to be the woman I've been steadily marching towards when a man comes into view.

I'm caught up in the suspense of it,

the aching moments spent holding my breath,

expecting a misstep and finding solid ground,

afraid of falling I hold my hands in front of me,

cradled in my arms like the infants I dream with.

Halloween costume: duck mask and bikini. Dance around a bit, freak people out.

This UTI is killing me. But I am going to kill it before it kills me. Drinking cranberry juice by the gallons.

I just had a really good idea, which in effect might be a really bad idea in the end. Right now it sounds just about fabulous. I've never had sex in a very public place, but today I am wearing a skirt with a red blouse and pretty little red shoes that would look real good in an indiscreet situation (up in the air, white thighs flashing).

How about I have an eating my words sandwhich right now along with some I could be wrong sauce and down it with a I might be falling for him milkshake all with subtle reference to the booty call. Yes, the same crazy, audacious, irreverent, fun, lying, creative, unnerving dude I've been boning on the side for the past 10 months. So, how have you been? Fuck me.

I consciously decided to give him another chance. It was a blatant decision to either step it up or erase it all together. He kept chasing after me. He was phoning, texting, e-mailing me stupid fucking shit that I found terribly endearing. We've been hanging out non stop since last Friday. At this point I haven't slept alone for a week now. It has been so easy and so normal and it is scaring the panties off me because he is not what I envisioned in my life, for my life, but in a strange way I can see him in my life with me. I see it very clearly. There is this feeling I have in my throat and it feels like a pleasant nausea. Like a string pulling down into my navel and filled with jittery apprehension and happy unease. I'm walking on a tightrope and I'm afraid of heights. I'm about to fall and I am not heading the warning signs, speeding straight ahead into oblivion.