A Wing and a Prayer~

The fear hasn't quiet left me yet. I've gotten good at hiding it, denying it, disguising it, forgetting it. But it still sits inside. Taking root. Growing. Spreading. Diseased.

I've made my bed...now I've gotta lie in it. I just want to go to sleep until it's over.

If I could be honest with myself for a moment I could really examine the issues. But I am sick to death of having issues. I've been preaching this life to any and all who will listen. I want to be left alone. I want it to be this way.

And yet...

What I meant was I want to eat my cake and have it too!

I have expectations for my life. Trying and failing is something I'm not akin to accepting. Which is clear by exemplary scholastic achievement in college--or rather my mediocre GPA and substandard attempts at success. Ddisappointment is something I can't live with. Getting by is an art form, a skill I've worked at and mastered. All other mid-college drama aside, graduating with my experience such as it was, was unacceptable. So I dropped out. I didn't want to finish college without any of the things I had planned to get in those four-years. It's just left there hanging... well my college experience sucked, but it's not finished, so there...

I'm just living life suspended, without having to chose a direction or move forward. Stagnant. What do I want to do, really do? Who do I want to be, really be? Well, sure, I want the happy family and kids running around in the yard. I want dogs and 4-wheelers, and a pretty little house. I want to drive an SUV and spend the summers at the lake. I want to be a writer. But I've been in relationships; they weren't good and did not end well. I know a lot of people in them now--they're not great, heartache and drama. And that scares the shit out of me. So you find someone to love--big deal, love doesn't last. I'm not sure I'm cut out for that specific disaster. I don't want to fail. I'll settle before I fail.

For now, I can always dream... from this vantage point I'll always plan and always have something else. The frustration is myself, for being content to live safely. How will I ever get more out of life if I'm too afraid of crashing and burning? Until I overcome the fear of crashing and burning, until I'm sure I can survive the disappointment and the failure... until then I can just wait. I can make the best of what I've got...

It's just hard to do that sometimes.

Bitter & Pessimistic, Party of One

I'm so fucking irritated.

Apparently this is becoming a permanent facet of my personality. At first I tried to blame it on winter and it's cloudy and depressing days. I tried to blame it on all the pregnancy hormones I've been around--quite possibly I'm just dealing with sympathy pains--IE: erratic emotions and massive hormone fluctuation. I even tried to blame it on Mondays, but since it's happening every day of the week signaling out just one didn't quite seem fair.

I'm willing to accept it. I'm just not that fond of people. And I'm a bitch.

Recently the longest period of time that I didn't wake up with a huge black cloud above my head was about 8 days. Of course I was reading enough books to rival the amount of breaths I was taking each day. Nothing like a couple thousand pages to distance you from your own reality. And I guess I accomplished my goal because I felt a lot better than I do now.

Now I want to take a hot bath with Def Leppard blaring. Or smash something into millions of little pieces. Or paint my apartment Cabernet red. Or drink a couple bottles of Cabernet. Or run away to Alaska never to return. Or eat a chocolate cake.

I don't want to talk to people. I don't want to be nice--I want to be honest, and that could get ugly. I don't want to make the effort anymore.

Because I'm supposed to be happy. This is the life I wanted right? So why am I always pissed off? Maybe nothing will ever make me happy. I've got my apartment and more books just for the waiting. The rest of the world can go to hell.