You and Me

Here we are again. It's 3 am. I feel like I'd have about a fifth of whiskey. My head is swimmy and I'm emotional for no fucking reason. I listen to sad songs and think about everyone who has passed through my life. All the friends I've had, laughed with and had good time with, now all are memories fading more and more every day. One day all those good times will be forgotten and people will be forgotten forever. I guess maybe it's the full moon that's making me nostalgic, or maybe the fact that when it's all over for the night and I go to get into bed I'm the only person in it. I guess I'm afraid of what I miss. I am afraid of admitting what I want outloud. I want someone to care when I get home. I want someone to care if I've had a shitty day, and care if I rent three sappy movies from Hastings. I want someone to care if I go out and dance with some random guy who ends up giving me his "business card" at the end of the night. I want someone to care, and tonight when I go to get into bed it will hit me once again that I don't have anyone that cares. I want to get what I give. Fuck, I want someone to actually take possession of my heart, not just let it come and go, wandering as it chooses. I want a confident man to say "I love you, you are mine, your heart belongs to me." I know this won't happen. I doubt at times that anyone would want to say that to me. I go through phases of wanting to be loved and wanting to push love away and out of my life. I think I want to push it away when I realize I was never really loved at all. I wonder sometimes if I will be one of those old ladies sitting on the porch alone, volunteering for interaction, and playing bingo. I wonder sometimes if I will even make it that far. It seems that life loves kicking me in the fucking teeth just when I get things going properly. What will happen is I will fall in love with a wonderful man, who actually loves me in return, I'll get married, have a big wonderful family and then, pow, I'll either get cancer and die, or something horrible will happen. I feel that I am a walking fucking curse. Don't touch, I'm deadly. I know, I'm being a little dramatic. I tend to suck all the anger back inside me and it seeps out as self loathing and passive aggression.


Shortened version of the entire blog: I'm lonely and I'm scared that I've fallen in love and now that I've admitted it to myself it's slipping away from me. Typical and predictable.