It started days ago. It started this morning. It started one year, many years ago. The point is, it started.
Today I awoke bright and early at the strike of nine, staring at the gloomy sliver of sky I can see through my bedroom window from beneath covers weighing me to the mattress so lovingly situated directly on the carpeted floor. I woke, albeit sore and worried, with a certain hope for the day. Today was Christmas shopping day. Today might be all right. I rolled out of bed (eventually) and stumbled dizzily to the living room, flipping open my laptop and attacking my normal morning internet routine with fervor.
There were comics and e-mails to check. There was stuff to be done before I had to leave and begin hunting for Christmas goodies. Lo and behold, my kangaroo, my Popeye, my favorite person, was online. The conversation began innocently, as usual. Things were entertaining. I even got him to agree to allow me to buy and send him a Christmas present, as we talked and joked. As usual. But, as usual, there was a slightly sober tone this morning. As usual, the conversation turned sour suddenly. The conversation is long, and quite painful, so I'll skip over the majority of it and just touch on the juicy morsels.
"I should go to bed before I start bitching at you" he proclaimed, after a short conversation about my pouting, and emotions that should be left unstirred. I apologized, as I am wont to do, and he replied "It isn't your fault I can't talk to you without getting upset." Of course I, like a moron, didn't leave it alone and responded with "Would you rather stop talking to me?" I meant it honestly, I really did. There wasn't anything sarcastic about it. He replied with a clear no, and I went on to ask if I could help, if I could make it better. He continued with no, and "Just keep doing whatever it is that you do. I'll be fine." I must admit, I was just slightly hurt by this statement, but I ignored that, and simply told him that I couldn't just not worry about it. His response? "Bleh, I'm turning into (TYOB)"
I was confused, completely blown out of the water by the statement. Aside from the surprise at the suddenness of it, guilt returned to gnaw at me like ravenous ticks, and the slow burn returned to my chest. He went on to tell me that Chris was obsessed with me, that, regardless of how much we talk, he rarely goes by a moment without thinking about me, and that the only way he knows is because he's the same way. Which, of course, stabbed at my heart. Not only am I still hurting people by being here, but I'm hurting my best friend...still.
He then brings up my...well, at the time, my current boyfriend. I hadn't told him we were dating, simply because I knew he'd be upset, and I knew he'd worry over nothing. He, of course, found out, and goes on to tell me that I'm scaring him, and that I'm going to get myself killed. We have a tussle over lies.
He tells me that I'm slowly destroying myself. He says that I've changed a lot in the past year, and that I haven't changed for the better. Woah, low blow, eh? I want to make excuses. I want to scream and yell about how hard life's been, about how many new things I've had to deal with, about how every day is sheer terror attacking me, every time I walk through the front door. But, plain and simple, he is right. I have changed, and not in a good way.
It ends, long story cut very short, with this:
You've spent hours telling me that I'm a moron, basically, and talking about how much I'm hurting you, and everyone around me. And you're mad at me because I'm done listening to it? It's pointless. It's going nowhere and, quite frankly, it hurts like hell. I'm taking your advice. I'm done talking to (my ex). But I don't see how sitting here and listening to you drip poison in my ear is helpful. And you're not there, are you? You logged out. *sigh* Bye
And later:
Don't be worried; I'm not dead. The thing with Jon went beautifully, we barely said a word between the two of us. But I'm taking a break from the internets, and I'll probably not be online for a while. You're right. I'm sorry.
I dumped my boyfriend, but not solely because of this situation. I've had a similar conversation with my mother about him. He's dangerous, he's a liar, he's far too violent for me, and he raped me. He just isn't right for me. I was really only with him because I knew I could keep him at arm's length. The last boyfriend left me in tears, tattered and broken without him. I refuse to be that again.
So, this is my "break from the internets." Have to love that, don't you? Regardless, as much as it hurts to face it, he is right. So, I am making a resolution, the new year is quickly approaching, and I will change to meet it.
1) I will stop this self-sabotaging guilt and self-esteem issue. There will be no more "I'm not doing it because it might go wrong." If I don't try, I won't get anywhere.
2) I will make a conscious effort to be more involved with my family. When everyone else has abandoned me, they will be there for me, and so I should be there for them.
3) I will make a more conscious effort to spend time with those who want to spend time with me. This does not mean dating, this does not mean making deep lasting connections. Please do not misunderstand. But I will make friends.
4) I will be a better person. I will save the money I make for school. I will volunteer my time with charities, instead of sitting on my behind all the time.
I do not need anyone.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Fork Me With a Spoon
So...guess what? It's Thanksgiving! Or, well, it WAS Thanksgiving today. Which means everyone sat around with families, blood or otherwise, and ate copious amounts of food for no good reason, and then gave copious amounts of thanks for the amazing things in their life. Right? Of COURSE! And afterward everyone farted strawberries and shat rainbows and glitter. Life is amazing like that.
Honestly, who among us has a non-dysfunctional family? Let he who is without sin...
Actually, though, my Thanksgiving ended up being pretty awesome, comparatively speaking. My family got along; we sat around all day watching TV and movies together, eating, and making fun of nearly everything that danced across the plasma screen. Yes, we have a massive plasma screen TV now. I'm sure it has nothing to do with our stunning goodwill toward each other. We didn't, however, make it to my grandparents' house, unfortunately. We'll be there soon, though. I miss them terribly.
There are other issues, though, that factor in to my general feeling of malaise this evening. I have even sat down and cried, fighting against the urge to snatch the silver Swiss Army Knife as my temporary salvation from pressure and frustration, as is my tried-and-true method of control. I don't deal well with pressure, it seems. I am a weakling.
My boyfriend, on the other hand, spent Thanksgiving at his friends' house. The friends that don't like me, as well they shouldn't. I'm not exactly good enough for him. But I digress, he spent his entire Thanksgiving over there, and is still there, because his dear sweet uncle showed up at his house for Thanksgiving dinner. I have problems with his uncle, just as he does. Though I've never met the man, he seems rather...nasty. Just today, he dislocated the boyfriend's shoulder. For no other reason than he was capable. So, I surely can't blame Jon for wanting to spend more time at his friends' house, the very same friends who saved him from a far worse beating from his semi-evil uncle.
However, I looked forward to the evening phone call with him the entire day long, as the frustration and the pain grew. It finally topped off when my license-less father informed me that he would, in fact, be driving himself to work tomorrow. That it would be FINE, that it was his life, and that any repercussions he would receive upon being caught were "not that bad." I know, I'm freaking out for no reason. He is an adult. But he could also go to jail, or lose his license for life. Call me crazy, but I really don't want to cart my father around forever. A year is plenty of time for such stress. But bah, it is not as if I'll ever leave this place; my life here seems set in stone because I will do nothing whatsoever to change it. Regardless, the "evening phone call" was the length of time it took for my boyfriend to get from his friends' apartment to his own. Which is, approximately, nine minutes. Most of it consisted of him reassuring me that he was never going to dump me, but that he'd accept my verdict if I decided that it was "game over." Because of my retardation last night. But we won't get into that.
I am a self-sabotaging moron.
Honestly, who among us has a non-dysfunctional family? Let he who is without sin...
Actually, though, my Thanksgiving ended up being pretty awesome, comparatively speaking. My family got along; we sat around all day watching TV and movies together, eating, and making fun of nearly everything that danced across the plasma screen. Yes, we have a massive plasma screen TV now. I'm sure it has nothing to do with our stunning goodwill toward each other. We didn't, however, make it to my grandparents' house, unfortunately. We'll be there soon, though. I miss them terribly.
There are other issues, though, that factor in to my general feeling of malaise this evening. I have even sat down and cried, fighting against the urge to snatch the silver Swiss Army Knife as my temporary salvation from pressure and frustration, as is my tried-and-true method of control. I don't deal well with pressure, it seems. I am a weakling.
My boyfriend, on the other hand, spent Thanksgiving at his friends' house. The friends that don't like me, as well they shouldn't. I'm not exactly good enough for him. But I digress, he spent his entire Thanksgiving over there, and is still there, because his dear sweet uncle showed up at his house for Thanksgiving dinner. I have problems with his uncle, just as he does. Though I've never met the man, he seems rather...nasty. Just today, he dislocated the boyfriend's shoulder. For no other reason than he was capable. So, I surely can't blame Jon for wanting to spend more time at his friends' house, the very same friends who saved him from a far worse beating from his semi-evil uncle.
However, I looked forward to the evening phone call with him the entire day long, as the frustration and the pain grew. It finally topped off when my license-less father informed me that he would, in fact, be driving himself to work tomorrow. That it would be FINE, that it was his life, and that any repercussions he would receive upon being caught were "not that bad." I know, I'm freaking out for no reason. He is an adult. But he could also go to jail, or lose his license for life. Call me crazy, but I really don't want to cart my father around forever. A year is plenty of time for such stress. But bah, it is not as if I'll ever leave this place; my life here seems set in stone because I will do nothing whatsoever to change it. Regardless, the "evening phone call" was the length of time it took for my boyfriend to get from his friends' apartment to his own. Which is, approximately, nine minutes. Most of it consisted of him reassuring me that he was never going to dump me, but that he'd accept my verdict if I decided that it was "game over." Because of my retardation last night. But we won't get into that.
I am a self-sabotaging moron.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
On Lemons
I'm pretty sure most of us have heard the old adage "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade", right? A simple mantra touted by the "silver lining"-ists, the optimists of this world, quoted and re-quoted until it means absolutely nothing important, to remind humanity in general to "keep it positive." Great, fantastic, wonderful; a wondrous message of hope in the dreary hum-drum of the world.
Now we take someone like me; when life gives me lemons, I eat 'em. And I like it. Or, at least, I do my very best to enjoy the sour along with the sweet. I don't try to make a bad situation better. I wallow in the bad situation, because I know that it could always be worse. That it will always be worse. I wouldn't consider myself a pessimist; I do believe in life in general. I believe things work out, eventually, if you're patient enough. I believe there's good in every situation, be it good intention or good outcome, through learning or otherwise. But I also know, from personal experience, that there will always be something else waiting around the corner. There's always another rush of issues, another avalanche of drama, if you will. Plus, I like lemons. The real fruit, not the philosophical one.
Now what happens when life gives you lemonade? An optimist would, of course, take the lemonade as a sign that things really are good. They would drink up without question. Right? But someone like me? No, I take the lemonade and commence searching for lemons. If none appear, I make said lemons up. Yes, imaginary philosophical lemons. Does it get any more redundant than that? Bear with me.
What I'm saying here, in a roundabout way, is that I sabotage myself and my happiness because I'm too busy looking for the drama, looking for the issues. I'm too busy looking for the heartbreak. There always is some, of course. For the most part, however, it is for one reason and one reason alone; I make it so. So these imaginary philosophical lemons become real philosophical lemons.
I'm sure by this point you're wondering what relevance, if any, this has to anything. Trust me, my dear sweet non-existent reader. There is a reason for this. My lemon-searching seems to have dissipated in one instance. I have this boyfriend, you see. For once in my life, I am happy with something, with someone, and I am not looking for the issues. I am not anticipating hurdles. I am happy where I am, and I am not looking for a reason to go anywhere else. I find myself taking the situation as it comes, and dealing with it. I'm not consistently terrified by the idea that perhaps, someday, he will realize I am not worth it.
I am content here. Lemons or no lemons.
For once, I am not afraid.
Now we take someone like me; when life gives me lemons, I eat 'em. And I like it. Or, at least, I do my very best to enjoy the sour along with the sweet. I don't try to make a bad situation better. I wallow in the bad situation, because I know that it could always be worse. That it will always be worse. I wouldn't consider myself a pessimist; I do believe in life in general. I believe things work out, eventually, if you're patient enough. I believe there's good in every situation, be it good intention or good outcome, through learning or otherwise. But I also know, from personal experience, that there will always be something else waiting around the corner. There's always another rush of issues, another avalanche of drama, if you will. Plus, I like lemons. The real fruit, not the philosophical one.
Now what happens when life gives you lemonade? An optimist would, of course, take the lemonade as a sign that things really are good. They would drink up without question. Right? But someone like me? No, I take the lemonade and commence searching for lemons. If none appear, I make said lemons up. Yes, imaginary philosophical lemons. Does it get any more redundant than that? Bear with me.
What I'm saying here, in a roundabout way, is that I sabotage myself and my happiness because I'm too busy looking for the drama, looking for the issues. I'm too busy looking for the heartbreak. There always is some, of course. For the most part, however, it is for one reason and one reason alone; I make it so. So these imaginary philosophical lemons become real philosophical lemons.
I'm sure by this point you're wondering what relevance, if any, this has to anything. Trust me, my dear sweet non-existent reader. There is a reason for this. My lemon-searching seems to have dissipated in one instance. I have this boyfriend, you see. For once in my life, I am happy with something, with someone, and I am not looking for the issues. I am not anticipating hurdles. I am happy where I am, and I am not looking for a reason to go anywhere else. I find myself taking the situation as it comes, and dealing with it. I'm not consistently terrified by the idea that perhaps, someday, he will realize I am not worth it.
I am content here. Lemons or no lemons.
For once, I am not afraid.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Dizzy
Last week was...something. Something strange and alien, and yet familiar. I'm heading to the middle this week reeling; dizzy from the uncertainty, confusion, and fear. Guilt gnaws at me and nerves choke me.
Let us start with the good news. Or the semi-good news. I have acquired my driver's license with my first try of the test every. Because I am awesome, and had an awesome instructor tester guy thingy. Maneuverability was a bitch, but I got through it and am now fully able to drive by myself. I don't drive well, but I do drive. Oh it is fun! I love driving, as nerve-racking as it is.
My brother stabbed himself in the arm the other day. He had a fairly deep wound. It was gushing blood, from what I hear. My youngest brother says that the older one passed out for a second on the back porch. His friend bandaged him up, his girlfriend and friends knew about it. He told them. But he refused to tell us. He told me that he had been "bitten by [the next door neighbors'] fucking dog." I figured that it had quit bleeding, so I should just let it go, but I honestly could tell he was lying. Later that day we found out about it, and he was taken to the hospital to get stitches. My mom was going to throw him into an institution, and was yelling at him and calling him names and saying that she "didn't know [him] anymore" from what I hear. However, that was a secondary source. My dad told me that my brother had said that was what happened. However, my brother could easily have lied to cover his own arse.
My brother blabbed to his counselor about my mother yelling at him, and our caseworker was sent out again. From what it seems, she has not decided my mother is unfit, and my brother did some covering up. You see, my mom caved yesterday and allowed him to see his girlfriend, even though he wasn't supposed to. She had forbidden it. I think she was sucking up to him so that he wouldn't tell on her to the caseworker.
I hope he doesn't get upset and take it further because of the lack of help he's getting.
There are two guys who are fighting over me right now. It is an odd feeling. The one I met the day we moved in, and he decided then that he liked me. I don't like him, though; not in that way. He is mentally unstable and violent, on top of being in trouble with the law. Frankly, I've had enough trouble with the law. I don't need any more. I don't mind being his friend. I like being his friend, he's fun to be around, but he is not right for me.
Well, this other guy I met just a couple weeks before my ex dumped me. He is a liar; he has a thousand fish stories. He has been jailed on rape charges, though he was cleared through DNA testing, and has been accused unofficially by an ex girlfriend. I hope that it's just circumstance. He and I get along fairly well; we can debate for hours, and it's tons of fun. He's sweet. But, he is also violent. He is highly competitive, also, which makes me wonder if I'm nothing more than a trophy to both of them.
On top of this, the first guy is upset at me now. Things have been going well with guy number two, though I don't know that I really like him as much as he likes me. The first guy is upset because he thinks that I'm being unfair. He told me last night that he thinks I like playing with people's heads. I can see how he would say that. However, it kind of bothers me. I know he's just upset, and I shouldn't listen. Instead, though, I'm thinking that I just should extricate myself from the situation. It's not really worth it to me for them to be fighting over me. I don't want to wedge myself in between them, and I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to. I just need to tell guy number two no. Even though I don't want to.
Confusion and frustration.
Let us start with the good news. Or the semi-good news. I have acquired my driver's license with my first try of the test every. Because I am awesome, and had an awesome instructor tester guy thingy. Maneuverability was a bitch, but I got through it and am now fully able to drive by myself. I don't drive well, but I do drive. Oh it is fun! I love driving, as nerve-racking as it is.
My brother stabbed himself in the arm the other day. He had a fairly deep wound. It was gushing blood, from what I hear. My youngest brother says that the older one passed out for a second on the back porch. His friend bandaged him up, his girlfriend and friends knew about it. He told them. But he refused to tell us. He told me that he had been "bitten by [the next door neighbors'] fucking dog." I figured that it had quit bleeding, so I should just let it go, but I honestly could tell he was lying. Later that day we found out about it, and he was taken to the hospital to get stitches. My mom was going to throw him into an institution, and was yelling at him and calling him names and saying that she "didn't know [him] anymore" from what I hear. However, that was a secondary source. My dad told me that my brother had said that was what happened. However, my brother could easily have lied to cover his own arse.
My brother blabbed to his counselor about my mother yelling at him, and our caseworker was sent out again. From what it seems, she has not decided my mother is unfit, and my brother did some covering up. You see, my mom caved yesterday and allowed him to see his girlfriend, even though he wasn't supposed to. She had forbidden it. I think she was sucking up to him so that he wouldn't tell on her to the caseworker.
I hope he doesn't get upset and take it further because of the lack of help he's getting.
There are two guys who are fighting over me right now. It is an odd feeling. The one I met the day we moved in, and he decided then that he liked me. I don't like him, though; not in that way. He is mentally unstable and violent, on top of being in trouble with the law. Frankly, I've had enough trouble with the law. I don't need any more. I don't mind being his friend. I like being his friend, he's fun to be around, but he is not right for me.
Well, this other guy I met just a couple weeks before my ex dumped me. He is a liar; he has a thousand fish stories. He has been jailed on rape charges, though he was cleared through DNA testing, and has been accused unofficially by an ex girlfriend. I hope that it's just circumstance. He and I get along fairly well; we can debate for hours, and it's tons of fun. He's sweet. But, he is also violent. He is highly competitive, also, which makes me wonder if I'm nothing more than a trophy to both of them.
On top of this, the first guy is upset at me now. Things have been going well with guy number two, though I don't know that I really like him as much as he likes me. The first guy is upset because he thinks that I'm being unfair. He told me last night that he thinks I like playing with people's heads. I can see how he would say that. However, it kind of bothers me. I know he's just upset, and I shouldn't listen. Instead, though, I'm thinking that I just should extricate myself from the situation. It's not really worth it to me for them to be fighting over me. I don't want to wedge myself in between them, and I don't want to hurt anyone more than I have to. I just need to tell guy number two no. Even though I don't want to.
Confusion and frustration.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Nerves
My ex-boyfriend came and got all of his junk the other day. Nobody but my brother saw him. He said that he almost went out there, but decided against it. I have a feeling that my brother was helping the ex get the stuff into the truck. He learned the last time to be supportive and pissed off, but only when we're looking. Because Mom had a conniption last time due to the fact that my brother still wanted to be friends with the douche, and was still on his side of the situation. What can I say, right? He prefers his friends to his family. Who could blame him? Most certainly not me.
It is my youngest brother's birthday today. I find it terrifying that he is almost a teenager. My baby brother, who I've always thought of as...well, a baby for lack of a better term, is now almost to the teen stage. I can only imagine what my parents feel like. Or my grandparents. Their youngest grandchild is nearly of an age that he could be reproducing, and in many cultures would be undergoing the rites of adulthood. He would be preparing for marriage. On top of this, their first great grandchild is quickly nearing his first birthday. I hope that they live to see many more of the next generation.
One of the women at work has decided that she is going to help me find a new boyfriend. Immediately, of course, because that's what I need in my life right now. So, if any guy that is even remotely close to my age (read: within fifteen years), there she is behind me, whispering in my ear as covertly as possible and nudging my back until I stumble forward and ask if he needs any help with anything. Well, there just happens to be this one guy...a wonderful way to start a story, no? Anyway, he came in the other day dressed in his work clothes, no doubt, though I have no idea where it is that he works. He was in the store for a total of maybe twenty minutes absolute tops. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for; he made a bee-line for the Ohio State stuff, snatched up a keychain, paid, and left. Well, for twenty or thirty minutes afterward, this co-worker of mine and I argued about whether or not he was ogling me. So I finally just said that, if the guy came in again (he didn't look at all like someone who'd come into this shop, though I have seen him before), she would win. Well, last night, surprise surprise, he came in again. This time, though, with some girl who seemed to be his girlfriend. But, I still have to tell the co-worker that she won. As he left, I looked at him and smiled really big and said "G'bye, have a great evening." He smiled back, and we locked eyes. Of course, my heart went a-flutter. He has very dark eyes, black hair, and dimples. The dimples are adorable. So, I must say, I have developed a small crush based solely on looks for the first time...no, for the second time in my life. For I am an evil human being. I know it's wrong. But the dimples are so cute! I'd love for him to come back in some time so that I might be able to talk to him, even though he doesn't look at all like someone who I'd like. Though, I shouldn't even want to talk to him. He has a girlfriend, it seems, and I don't want to be a man-stealer person. That's just wrong. We'll just see how it works out, I suppose. But I thought it was funny, personally.
Isn't it hilarious how quickly I digress into nearly normal teenaged dialogue? It's...incoherent, and disgusting. And yet, it's natural.
It is my youngest brother's birthday today. I find it terrifying that he is almost a teenager. My baby brother, who I've always thought of as...well, a baby for lack of a better term, is now almost to the teen stage. I can only imagine what my parents feel like. Or my grandparents. Their youngest grandchild is nearly of an age that he could be reproducing, and in many cultures would be undergoing the rites of adulthood. He would be preparing for marriage. On top of this, their first great grandchild is quickly nearing his first birthday. I hope that they live to see many more of the next generation.
One of the women at work has decided that she is going to help me find a new boyfriend. Immediately, of course, because that's what I need in my life right now. So, if any guy that is even remotely close to my age (read: within fifteen years), there she is behind me, whispering in my ear as covertly as possible and nudging my back until I stumble forward and ask if he needs any help with anything. Well, there just happens to be this one guy...a wonderful way to start a story, no? Anyway, he came in the other day dressed in his work clothes, no doubt, though I have no idea where it is that he works. He was in the store for a total of maybe twenty minutes absolute tops. He seemed to know exactly what he was looking for; he made a bee-line for the Ohio State stuff, snatched up a keychain, paid, and left. Well, for twenty or thirty minutes afterward, this co-worker of mine and I argued about whether or not he was ogling me. So I finally just said that, if the guy came in again (he didn't look at all like someone who'd come into this shop, though I have seen him before), she would win. Well, last night, surprise surprise, he came in again. This time, though, with some girl who seemed to be his girlfriend. But, I still have to tell the co-worker that she won. As he left, I looked at him and smiled really big and said "G'bye, have a great evening." He smiled back, and we locked eyes. Of course, my heart went a-flutter. He has very dark eyes, black hair, and dimples. The dimples are adorable. So, I must say, I have developed a small crush based solely on looks for the first time...no, for the second time in my life. For I am an evil human being. I know it's wrong. But the dimples are so cute! I'd love for him to come back in some time so that I might be able to talk to him, even though he doesn't look at all like someone who I'd like. Though, I shouldn't even want to talk to him. He has a girlfriend, it seems, and I don't want to be a man-stealer person. That's just wrong. We'll just see how it works out, I suppose. But I thought it was funny, personally.
Isn't it hilarious how quickly I digress into nearly normal teenaged dialogue? It's...incoherent, and disgusting. And yet, it's natural.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Useless
So here I sit, after just over a month of relationship goodies. Alone. Again. I feel useless and unwanted, again. It hurts to be told you're not worth it. The fact that I'm not worth his time, or his effort bothers me. Yet, at the same time, I find myself strangely unaffected. I am both disturbed by this, and unsurprised. I have been expecting this for a long while.
It started today with a call to work while I was at Taco Bell getting food. He talked to Brenda, just calling to notify me that he couldn't pick me up after work today. Fantastic, right? I was upset at his unreliability, but mostly fine. When I got home, my mom informed me that he had taken all of his stuff today. All of it. Except, of course, his bed, his television, his fan, etc. So he still has to come back with his parents' truck. I told him when he brought the bed that, when he dumped me, I was keeping the bed. I'll give it back, of course. But I wish I had the balls to keep it.
He says it's because he is stressed with child support payments and school, so he can't be in a relationship. Of course, while mentioning that he found out that Popeye and I were dating less than a month ago...which is a lie. But, y'know, whatever. So I am psycho girlfriend once again.
I'll miss the snuggles, I'll miss the kisses...I'll miss him. Because I do love him, even if the feeling isn't reciprocated.
Part of me is scared that I'll have no other chances. Yet, part of me is glad that I don't have to deal with his baby-ish-ness anymore. I don't have to take care of spiders, or pay for food and gas, or even worry about how he's doing. But I will worry. I will obsess. Because I am a creepy stalker chick.
I find myself wondering why I am so useless. Why am I so hard to get along with? What is so wrong with me that I can't get a boyfriend in real life who's not a complete loser by others' standards. He is the only real-life boyfriend I have ever had, to be honest. Yet, he doesn't have a job, he's annoying, he's a pussy, he's a scaredy cat. But he smirks and I melt. I love him. That will never change. Gah, I hate being a girl.
It started today with a call to work while I was at Taco Bell getting food. He talked to Brenda, just calling to notify me that he couldn't pick me up after work today. Fantastic, right? I was upset at his unreliability, but mostly fine. When I got home, my mom informed me that he had taken all of his stuff today. All of it. Except, of course, his bed, his television, his fan, etc. So he still has to come back with his parents' truck. I told him when he brought the bed that, when he dumped me, I was keeping the bed. I'll give it back, of course. But I wish I had the balls to keep it.
He says it's because he is stressed with child support payments and school, so he can't be in a relationship. Of course, while mentioning that he found out that Popeye and I were dating less than a month ago...which is a lie. But, y'know, whatever. So I am psycho girlfriend once again.
I'll miss the snuggles, I'll miss the kisses...I'll miss him. Because I do love him, even if the feeling isn't reciprocated.
Part of me is scared that I'll have no other chances. Yet, part of me is glad that I don't have to deal with his baby-ish-ness anymore. I don't have to take care of spiders, or pay for food and gas, or even worry about how he's doing. But I will worry. I will obsess. Because I am a creepy stalker chick.
I find myself wondering why I am so useless. Why am I so hard to get along with? What is so wrong with me that I can't get a boyfriend in real life who's not a complete loser by others' standards. He is the only real-life boyfriend I have ever had, to be honest. Yet, he doesn't have a job, he's annoying, he's a pussy, he's a scaredy cat. But he smirks and I melt. I love him. That will never change. Gah, I hate being a girl.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
And the Verdict Is In: April Showers Bring May Showers
It has been a while since I've been here. A lot has happened since then, as it should in any normal person's life. However, the circumstances around the "a lot" are far from normal, methinks. It has been crazy, and I find myself alone in all of this. In a way, though, I've found more friends through all of this than I ever knew. It is a strange situation. Let me start at the beginning, perhaps?
It was about a month ago, I suppose, just after the last blog post, that my father and my brother were fighting. My brother's girlfriend had dumped him, and he wanted to go hang out with friends. My father wouldn't let him go. My brother decided to sneak out while Dad was asleep. So, understandably, Dad got angry. However, the situation escalated as Dad yelled and my brother talked back. Dad eventually screamed something to the effect of "why are you acting like this," as if it was my brother who was the issue. See, we usually just shut up and let him talk. You can't really get a word in edgewise, and if you do it's insubordination if he hasn't asked you a direct question. Regardless, so my brother, who had been told that he and Dad could go for a drive at any time to talk about things that my brother didn't want us to hear, basically told Dad that he wanted to go for a drive to talk about it. Well, Dad was under the impression that he was "stealing the car," or so he claims. So, Dad went out there and ripped Scott out of the car, slammed him into the Probe next to it, and tossed him on the ground, and then began to yell at him. Suffice to say, it was a pretty nasty situation.
Well, a couple days later word got around to my aunt, who called from North Carolina to report the situation. So, rap rap rap on the door came Detective Overly and another officer, our "uncle." We went and reported the situation, figuring that we had no choice but to go down to the station. My brother and I were there for eight hours total, because he supposedly had to go back to the hospital to have an approved examination. But wait, we don't have to go. Oh wait, yes we do, with Overly herself. Wait, no, yes. We got the run around the entire day, nobody could tell us anything or give us a straight answer about anything. Mom and my youngest brother left earlier because they didn't have to be there, but I didn't want my brother to be there alone. Regardless, so that sucked. Then, they put him in jail overnight. There was a bond hearing and stuff, but that's unimportant. Just frustrating, and painful for my grampa.
My mom has been back and forth to court over the past few weeks, for this one, and for a CPS case that was opened because Dad went off half-cocked and told them that she was unfit to care for us because he was convinced that she had called the police and gotten him in jail. She was going to the day before, but didn't end up doing so because he agreed to do anger management counseling, though he never did go. However, our attorney for the CPS case (us being the kids) said that the case there is silly, and he is recommending it closed. He is really nice, and seems to want to help us, and to look out for our interests, not those of the court system. Which is odd, because my dad's attorney doesn't seem to want what's best for us. No, he seems to think that we're the bad guy in all of this, and he's a complete ass to us. As were the police, really, or at least the ones involved with the case. The rest of them were really kind to us, and they fed us and bought us drinks and stuff while we were there, which was wonderful.
Today we had to go into court early and stayed until about five o'clock. Which was insanely annoying. We could have been out of there earlier, but Dad wouldn't take a plea deal. Here's how it went. We arrived early, and waited. Then, the prosecutor came to us at about noon and said that he was offering a plea to Dad to try to keep the kids off the stand, because he really hates putting kids on the stand, where he would force Dad into probation and make him go to anger management, and a parenting class. However, this plea means that he'd plead guilty to Disorderly Conduct. Instead, he rejected the plea, going up against Domestic Violence and Assault, which could land him in jail for up to a year, and putting us on the stand. All to keep Disorderly Conduct off his record. Which was absolutely retarded, though he claimed he had been lied to. Disorderly Conduct, which, by the way, is a level four misdemeanor; it is the same charge as urinating in public. Regardless, so he declined this, which would have allowed us to leave at one thirty or two o'clock. Instead he risked putting us on the stand and had us waiting for another three hours. However, the prosecutor, who is supposed to be trying to convict him, which is why this surprised me so much, offered another plea deal where he'd dismiss the charges if Dad goes to counseling and stuffs, like before. He said that, though he wasn't comfortable with the charges being dropped, he really didn't want to put us on the stand. That man is an angel! I am so thankful to him for it. Dad did take that plea deal, but only because Mom was mad at him I am sure. Mom is crying divorce, sorta, though I am not sure that she'll go through with it.
Also, my boyfriend dumped me. First, he whined that it was because I didn't have time for him. Next, he told me that he never really meant it, and that it was for me, because I didn't have to deal with his stuff anymore. Which I still do. He just made it harder for me because I know I can't trust him. Silly bones can't make up his mind. I'm still getting whined at for that, and for TYOB, too, now. It's stressful, to say the least.
But! I have a job now, which, though stressful (I don't want to go tomorrow!), I do like. Though I'm pretty sure I'm going to fail out of school, which is not good at all. Regardless, I'm gonna shut up now. Bye!
It was about a month ago, I suppose, just after the last blog post, that my father and my brother were fighting. My brother's girlfriend had dumped him, and he wanted to go hang out with friends. My father wouldn't let him go. My brother decided to sneak out while Dad was asleep. So, understandably, Dad got angry. However, the situation escalated as Dad yelled and my brother talked back. Dad eventually screamed something to the effect of "why are you acting like this," as if it was my brother who was the issue. See, we usually just shut up and let him talk. You can't really get a word in edgewise, and if you do it's insubordination if he hasn't asked you a direct question. Regardless, so my brother, who had been told that he and Dad could go for a drive at any time to talk about things that my brother didn't want us to hear, basically told Dad that he wanted to go for a drive to talk about it. Well, Dad was under the impression that he was "stealing the car," or so he claims. So, Dad went out there and ripped Scott out of the car, slammed him into the Probe next to it, and tossed him on the ground, and then began to yell at him. Suffice to say, it was a pretty nasty situation.
Well, a couple days later word got around to my aunt, who called from North Carolina to report the situation. So, rap rap rap on the door came Detective Overly and another officer, our "uncle." We went and reported the situation, figuring that we had no choice but to go down to the station. My brother and I were there for eight hours total, because he supposedly had to go back to the hospital to have an approved examination. But wait, we don't have to go. Oh wait, yes we do, with Overly herself. Wait, no, yes. We got the run around the entire day, nobody could tell us anything or give us a straight answer about anything. Mom and my youngest brother left earlier because they didn't have to be there, but I didn't want my brother to be there alone. Regardless, so that sucked. Then, they put him in jail overnight. There was a bond hearing and stuff, but that's unimportant. Just frustrating, and painful for my grampa.
My mom has been back and forth to court over the past few weeks, for this one, and for a CPS case that was opened because Dad went off half-cocked and told them that she was unfit to care for us because he was convinced that she had called the police and gotten him in jail. She was going to the day before, but didn't end up doing so because he agreed to do anger management counseling, though he never did go. However, our attorney for the CPS case (us being the kids) said that the case there is silly, and he is recommending it closed. He is really nice, and seems to want to help us, and to look out for our interests, not those of the court system. Which is odd, because my dad's attorney doesn't seem to want what's best for us. No, he seems to think that we're the bad guy in all of this, and he's a complete ass to us. As were the police, really, or at least the ones involved with the case. The rest of them were really kind to us, and they fed us and bought us drinks and stuff while we were there, which was wonderful.
Today we had to go into court early and stayed until about five o'clock. Which was insanely annoying. We could have been out of there earlier, but Dad wouldn't take a plea deal. Here's how it went. We arrived early, and waited. Then, the prosecutor came to us at about noon and said that he was offering a plea to Dad to try to keep the kids off the stand, because he really hates putting kids on the stand, where he would force Dad into probation and make him go to anger management, and a parenting class. However, this plea means that he'd plead guilty to Disorderly Conduct. Instead, he rejected the plea, going up against Domestic Violence and Assault, which could land him in jail for up to a year, and putting us on the stand. All to keep Disorderly Conduct off his record. Which was absolutely retarded, though he claimed he had been lied to. Disorderly Conduct, which, by the way, is a level four misdemeanor; it is the same charge as urinating in public. Regardless, so he declined this, which would have allowed us to leave at one thirty or two o'clock. Instead he risked putting us on the stand and had us waiting for another three hours. However, the prosecutor, who is supposed to be trying to convict him, which is why this surprised me so much, offered another plea deal where he'd dismiss the charges if Dad goes to counseling and stuffs, like before. He said that, though he wasn't comfortable with the charges being dropped, he really didn't want to put us on the stand. That man is an angel! I am so thankful to him for it. Dad did take that plea deal, but only because Mom was mad at him I am sure. Mom is crying divorce, sorta, though I am not sure that she'll go through with it.
Also, my boyfriend dumped me. First, he whined that it was because I didn't have time for him. Next, he told me that he never really meant it, and that it was for me, because I didn't have to deal with his stuff anymore. Which I still do. He just made it harder for me because I know I can't trust him. Silly bones can't make up his mind. I'm still getting whined at for that, and for TYOB, too, now. It's stressful, to say the least.
But! I have a job now, which, though stressful (I don't want to go tomorrow!), I do like. Though I'm pretty sure I'm going to fail out of school, which is not good at all. Regardless, I'm gonna shut up now. Bye!
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