i didn't sign up for this.

That awkward moment when somebody in your family asks to use your computer, and you get nervous like

OH GOD, SWIPE THE HARDRIVE. OH GOD, BURN THE WHOLE THING 

(Source: where-ismymind, via lizdeactivated2011043)

this is your blog.

Yours, not mine.  ‘Cause I don’t use it to write about anything else.  I was supposed to see you tonight.  Just like last weekend.  But this time, this time I can’t be angry with you for blowing me off again.  This time, it was the weather.  This time it was God telling me to stay the hell away from you.  I mean you were halfway there, and you had to turn around.  That has to be a sign from somewhere.  That there’s some reason we’ve been apart and I just need to move on with my life.  Until when, you call me again?  ‘Cause I’m not sure I have the strength to tell you no.  My sense of curiosity and hope for all things that might be is far too great to turn down an opportunity.  Even though I love him, I wonder about you.  And wonder is such an important component to the life I lead.  There is no wonder anymore with him.  I know him and he knows me and I should appreciate it, and the truth is, most of the time I do appreciate it, and if there wasn’t you I’d be perfectly happy. 

But I’d almost rather you had blown me off tonight.  Because now God’s stepping in and trying to tell me something, and that must mean it’s pretty fucking important that I listen.  I can’t tread in those waters.  I have to stay away from you.  I have to stop pretending we have this forbidden love that cannot be and see the situation for what it is:  you being a really shitty friend.  Because you are.  You don’t call when I need you, you don’t visit when I want you to , I even try to operate on your time and that’s still not good enough.  I hate the bitch that’s done this to you, but I hate you more for letting her do it.  I’m afraid to leave him because I don’t wantto be alone, you’re afraid to leave her because you know you’d have to commit to someone else.  Far be it for me to call you on your bullshit, which I will.  That’s one thing I’ve always been with you: honest.  We have certainly never sugar-coated our friendship.  I tell you like it is and then you tell me I’m crazy.  Crazy, yeah, for allowing myself to fall in love based on a few kisses and a night spent in your arms.  That’s the crazy part.  That I can’t regret it.  I need to regret that night.  I need to feel bad and dirty about it so I can feel that you aren’t good for me.  But i’ve always been that way.  I’ve always lived life with my head in the clouds refusing to accept the situation for what it really is.

I wish I could say I was done with you, but then how could I explain the fact that I called you the second I got into my car tonight for the five minute car ride home?  How could I explain that when you told me the roads were flooded, I came thisclose to telling you I’d meet you halfway.  So we could what?  Drive around, get high in your jeep, forget for a moment the tension between us and the way we feel about each other?  I guess I wouldn’t be trying so hard if I didn’t think you felt it too.  But I can’t understand why you’re so unwilling to piss her off.  Make her leave.  It’s not impossible.  I hurt, too.  She’s not the only one.  I would make you crazy, but I would make you happy.

And then there’s the part of well what about if we just aren’t right for each other.  Well, so what? Don’t we need to know.  Isn’t the certainty the most important part?   I just finished saying that the wonder was the most important part for me.  This is what you to do me. I have no idea who I am and I never questioned my relationship until you kissed me.  I never thought for a second about being with you until you kissed me and we fell asleep entwined.  And since then, I haven’t been able to get the magic of that night out of my f ucking head and it’s making me crazy.  I want it again and I know that I can only have it with you.  I want all these movie moments and passion and stuff you always have in the beginning.  I want the beginning again.  The beginning of me and you that’s yet to begin.  Where are you?  Why do you have to do this shit to me?  And sentence after run-on sentence isn’t going to help me understand the innerworkings of your mind in all its drug-induced splendor.  Why is it that I’m drawn to somebody whose lifestyle embodies all I’ve tried to escape my entire life?  Maybe eventually everything does come full-circle.  Even me.  Maybe this was my fate, being like my mother. 

Or maybe not, and maybe we’ll never know.  So when am I just going to put it the hell away and treat it for the random, fucked up night tat it was?  So yeah, it was beautiful.  So yeah, I felt like I was flying the entire time I was with you, but maybe that was just the Xanax and vodka talking.  Maybe it was never you because you’ve never been there.  Only when drugs and alcohol are involved are you around, and then you disappear and I don’t see you for six fucking months and we pretend that’s a friendship?!  It’s more my fault than yours, though, becase I’m inclined to call it more.  And if it’s not a friendship, then I certainly can’t call it love.  No, I don’t love you.  I am infatuated with you.  I am entranced by the life that we could maybe possibly lead together (but we never will, because I’d be bored after two years with you, too).  I am dazed and confused by the notion of us.  But it will all only ever be hypothetical.  And I need more than that.  I need a sre thing.  I need exactly what I have.  So stop trying to take that away from me and I’ll stop allowing you to.  THe only part I regret about that night is that I can’t forget it.  I can’t chalk it up to being young and dumb.  Because it involved you.  And you are every mistake I’ve ever made times ten, a burnout, wasted potential, my father reincarnated as a modern vesion of the absolute worst guy for a girl like me.  So maybe I’ll get that.  I need to get that.  I’m done.  I’m done with the calls, with the texts, I’ll be here when you’re ready, but not to leave him.  I’ll be your friend, but don’t come near me otherwise.  These are lines I have to draw so it makes it harder for us to cross them.

Time will tell, but for now, I’m gonna stop wondering. 

I guess another day’s gonna go by and we’re not gonna get to talk about this thing between us.  Not until I can look you in the eyes and tell you I’ve loved you all along…

I fell in love with my best friend again tonight.  He said we were soulmates. How is that something I can’t love? There are no words for the trapped I feel.  Just the dreams of you and I and a world made only for us.  I’ve always dreamt of that person, a person sacred only to me, and to whom only I am sacred, a person who fits only me, who only I fit, a human being who just gets it, like he gets it. 

“Someday we’ll get out of here.”

I’m such a romantic, and this is so wrong.  But you’re so perfect.  And I’m in love with you.  I want to tell you that, because I think you’ll say it back.  But where do we go from there?  What do you say after you’ve said it all?  Do you rip down all the things you’ve built up in your life for three little words and have no idea what direction you’re headed in?  See, that’s the thing, I’ve got my shit figured out and you don’t.  I know where I’m going and I don’t think you ever will, so why am I letting you in here, why am I allowing you to push my mind and my heart in different directions?  So many whys and you surely don’t have the answers.  The only thing you’ve got to give is a few minutes of your precious day when I can pray you’re not fucked up.  But you know I love you, right?  You know the shit I give you, that’s me loving you.  That’s me craving you and resenting the fact that I don’t have you and the truth that I never will.  I get that, too.  Because you want to go left, and I’d prefer to stay right.  Because you don’t want commitment, and I want the entire mind, body, and soul of another human being.

And the most fucked up part of it all, is that I thought I had that in someone else.  And in many ways, I do.  I am very fortunate, I am completely blessed.  So then why are you still haunting my dreams?  Why does my heart jump whenever you say stuff like “I know you get me like no else, I’ve known that for a long time.  That’s why we’re best friends/soulmates/whatever”.  Yeah, whatever.  Whatever, here’s my heart.  Whatever, I think I’d give it all up for you.  Whatever, I think I’m crazy for thinking all of this, but you know, whatever.  I’m in love with you.  But hey, whatever. 

“ Republicans don’t want their grandkids to pay for the Cash for Clunkers program? Okay, tell you what, let MY grandkids pay for the program if THEIR grandkids pay for Bush’s war against Iraq! ” - A Huffington Post commenter on this article (via apsies) (via robot-heart-politics)

“ Republicans don’t want their grandkids to pay for the Cash for Clunkers program? Okay, tell you what, let MY grandkids pay for the program if THEIR grandkids pay for Bush’s war against Iraq! ” - A Huffington Post commenter on this article (via apsies) (via robot-heart-politics)

“ That’s because the America you grew up in… was segregated. ” - JON STEWART, responding to Sean Hannity saying that President Obama is “literally ripping apart the foundation of the America we knew and grew up in”, on The Daily Show

I bailed my mom out of jail today, that’s a first.

Oh yeah, and I want a typewriter.

Daddy.

I talked to my dad for the first time tonight since he’s been out of prison.  He called to tell me he has a brain annurysm.  My heart felt for him.   To be honest, my compassion kind of pisses me off.  Because I’ve taken the time to know and understand addiction and that it isn’t a moral disease, but rather, a real, true, affliction with the ability to be diagnosed, it’s hard for me to be angry at the man.

He could’ve tried harder, I know.  But I know he loved me.  I wish all the pictures I have of he and I together weren’t from days I can’t remember.  I wish I could remember him loving me.  I see it in his eyes in the pictures of us together, I made him proud, I was his baby girl, and the rest, well, the rest I can attribute to his habit.

I want to give him a second chance, but I don’t know where to start.  All the lost time is almost too overwhelming.  I would rather it be more cut and dry, if he’s out of my life for good I don’t have a reason to think of time lost.  But when I talk to him and I hear him now, sober, all I can think about is why the hell could he not have been this person when I was a little girl?  Why now when I don’t need him anymore?  I don’t, I really don’t.  I have built my life just fine without him, so any ways I let him in my life now are because of a want, a curiosity about the man who helped make me, but not because of a need.