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Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud. And I know that you'll use them, however you want to ...


So. I've been kind of quiet lately, eh? The truth is I've been doing quite a bit of thinking (and then immediately distracting myself in anyway possible once the thinking gets too scary). There have been a number of things bugging me - and normally I'd of course come here and spill my guts and start to feel better, but in a lot of ways - this place isn't really the sanctuary it once was. I know I've said this before, and it's quite likely I'll say it again at some point. Since this blog is a record of my life, as I change, it evolves - or at least I hope it does. Or it should. Or something. It also forces me to change. As people started reading I had to make different choices as to content - start figuring out what or whom in my life I could still openly discuss in such a public forum. I've learned to bite my tongue on occasion, I've learned that my words can wound, even unintentionally. And mainly, I've settled on "me" as a subject. My projections, my emotions, my reactions to my world and the people in it. And that seemed safe enough for a while. Only perhaps that was the most risky topic of all. I know that many of you prefer to think of what you read here as fiction, but it's not. For all intensive purposes, this blog is a reflection of me - distorted at times for sure, but a mirror nonetheless, and I'm holding up this image to the world, and I've only just realized that in said image - I'm naked. And it's horrifying. Like one of those naked dreams where you don't realize you're not wearing anything until the spotlight blinds you and even though you can't see into the darkened house, you suddenly feel the boring stares of everyone you've ever met. Scary shit. And that's where I am right now - naked up on that stage, wondering how in the hell I got there.

Some part of me is an exhibitionist, some part of me loves to leave my life, my heart open for the world to see... but being that candid, allowing myself to be exposed like that leaves me acutely vulnerable. My flaws are out there for all to see - the ones I've grown comfortable with, the ones that send me shrieking from the mirror, even the ones I haven't fully discovered yet... and boy howdy, nothing can make you so keenly aware of your vulnerability as a stranger walking up to you and exposing your worst fears. And that's pretty much what happened to me two weeks ago. I know a lot of you don't bother reading the comments here (which is probably in your best interest since there aren't too many and the few that exist generally amount to a heap of inside jokes and snarky/teasing comments from my friends). But I think this one is worth sharing:

That's quite a self realization you've made there. Realizing that you're not "the one" to almost of the men you like signals something deep inside. Apparently, from reading your journal, you're good enough for a drunk hookup and an occasional follow up hookup, but it never progresses from there for a reason. Sometimes in life there are girls who are the one's men take seriously and want to build something with and then there are the one's they have moments of weakness with and hook up with because they are horny and available. I think from everything you write, you are most definitely the latter. Men are not taking you seriously -- and you can't blame it on them. The blame, lies within you. There's something about you -- something you are sending out that is not making the men you want this fairy tale love with take you seriously. Becoming the other girl, the ideal in a man's eye takes a lot more maturity and self respect than you currently seem to possess. I wish you luck. In order to change, you need to stop doing what's easy and what you know will lead to a bad/sad place for you and you need to work on you and make hard grown up choices. Everyone goes through heartache and bullshit in their lives, but the one's who are able to get over it and not make the same mistakes and are honest with themselves (as it appears you are) and with others (which it appears you're not) are the people who find that happy place where they can move on and stop constantly seeking love and affection and get to a place where they are deserving of that at the highest level.

Right. So. There it was. I'm not going to even bother explaining how Mr. or Ms. Anonymous completely misinterpreted the post they were responding to, because really that's not the point. The point is, I was furious. How DARE anyone attack me personally? How dare they wade around in MY thoughts and then use them against me? And then I immediately started hazarding guesses as to who this mysterious commenter might be. Yes, of course my first thought was K... but it was such a heavy thought, a tired thought, a how can we possibly still be so cruel to each other thought. And ultimately, a fleeting thought. I know he didn't write it. Firstly, he doesn't have it in him anymore. B) He's a much better writer than this and furthermore - he would never ever say that I'm not the forever kind of girl... if only because a million years ago he thought he saw a little "ever after" in me. The guesses moved on to other, more likely suspects - there were frantic emails and polls, ip checks and consultations... and there was a unanimous decision as to who must have been the author of the unsigned note. About 4 hours later, I threw out that suspect as well. Face it... you're just never going to know for sure who wrote it. And I railed against that thought for a day or so - i HAD to know. I HAD to know who thought these horrible things about me. And then all of a sudden... it didn't matter. I realized that what bothered me most wasn't the condescension. It wasn't the smarmy, piteous tone. It was the fact that this person may have uncovered some small and very ugly truths about me. And the truth hurts, right? I do make the easy choices, take the easy way out far too often. I don't believe in myself, in my self-worth enough. And those are things that I desperately need to work on. But I'm not entirely sure that I can make any real progress with my life under a microscope. And so I sit at an impasse again. Wondering if being open with you (which, despite comments to the contrary I AM) keeps me from being open with myself (which, it would seem, I'm not. At least not entirely.)

So... seeing as I'm still naked up here - I've been seriously considering ducking behind the curtain for a bit. Or at least grabbing a costume. Or something. I mean, it's a tit bit nipply up here folks... toss a girl a robe would ya?