Get ready, get set

I need to stop beating myself up with this. I feel shrowded in negativity and I can feel him pulling away from me. He is a mound of problems and I think I am tired of getting beat up because he doesn't know what the hell he wants in his life. I am hurt and feel so alone but at the same time I can not continue this dance of wondering what week this is, one where he is interested or one where his mind is filled with doubt.

When I think about it, I realize that if I were to end this interlude, then I would feel hurt and alone, which is just as I do now when he decides that he suddenly doesn't know what he wants. Things would be better I suppose if I were alone, of course, minus the moments of laughter and realization that we love to be with each other.

I'm so sad and empty at the thought of it, but maybe it's the right thing to do...for myself.

Formulas and Clues

There is this element of design in a relationship that details the dynamics between two individuals. When one person knows the other cares they tend to back off, and then vice versa. It seems that there is rarely a time when the two players can come to the table with the same level of feelings.

When they do it seems that the tides some how turn and one or the other loses interest or faulters in some way, one way or another.

Did the story of the boy who cried wolf ever work out where he learns the lesson that chronic fibbing and story telling leads others to a poor reputation and a high probability that others will have a hard time believing him when he swears he is this time telling the truth?

I'm sure there must be a clue or some sort of acidic or litmus paper test to determine that this time, he is telling the truth. This time he is being honest and this time I should believe what he tells me is the truth. Or is it that the hard truth is that he can't find it in himself to be honest and not only tell the truth but maintain truthful actions.....

We all tell little white lies, sacraficing the full detail because it will hurt someone or such detail ends up being more insignificant than worthy. In my mind's eye, it becomes an issue when the behavior is untruthful, this is a habit. A process that took years to master, and will either take a mircale or a major influencing motiviation to break the mold.

Step one, two, three

Lately I think to myself, what am I going to do to get up and out of this rut that I've fallen into? Time ticks by and I am lossing more days. I feel so unproductive.

I have been thinking about B as of late, I wonder if he is really getting married...he could be married already....anything is possible. I don't know who I feel more sorry for, him or her.... Maybe him...poor guy. He settled. After all the pontificating and declaration, he settles.

Geez, I think I would rather be alone, how bad can alone be? I've been alone before. Yes, it's difficult its the little things that do matter. Like emptying the dish washer unprompted. Wow.....

I suppose at some point there has to be a moment when you think about aging and your life in the future. Do I see myself wanting to share myself with someone who equally wants to share themselves with me. I do see myself that way and wonder how we will work out all the details. How do you keep things fresh... how do you overcome the ruts, and moments of confusion and doubt?

Discomfort & Uncomfortable

I should write a book about the interactions and observations that I have come to see as my day to day experiences in this place I call my home. I seem to be surrounded by primative substance dependent people who just about make it to work after binge drinking for 72 hrs straight.
I over heard my roommate on the phone last night telling someone that she was on her better behavior last weekend as she was drunk by 1pm instead of 11am as the weekend before. Who does that?
I'm tired and wish to God that I could sleep for a bit. As the day goes on and the afternoon becomes evening, I am reminded that the day is Thursday and it's likely that everyone is out for Happy Hour. Why are the words happy hour capitalized you ask? Because around here, its a holiday and as a rightfully earned as any other holiday, happy hour thursday is written in all caps.

Its the first sign of spring outside, I hear the ice cream truck roll around the block and recall the moments of my youth when it would wander the lonely streets of my home town in hopes that some lucky kid would have pursuaded their parents to give them 75 cents for a toasted almond. Today in the city, the truck as it turns the corner looks frightenly the same as it did back then, only now the cost is 4xs what it was then, and kids are hardened and their parents likely won't let them out the house after school let alone buy and ice cream from some scrubby looking guy in an ice cream truck.

Is it any wonder that people live for Thursday Happy Hour??