Sad, lonesome little entry.
According to lj, it has been 112 weeks since my last post. Really? How can it have been so long? And whatever posessed me to get on here today?
Lately, it seems that the past has been rearing its ugly head with greater frequency - No doubt due to myspace and facebook. Every day it seems another old familiar face pops up to remind me of how fucking old we're all getting. You know, I still can't shake the feeling that I'm 20 years old and living in 1995. Does that feeling ever go away? The nagging suspicion that the past decade has all been a bizarre dream, and any moment you'll wake up young and full of promise again? Maybe it won't.
Do you know what I miss the most, besides looking and feeling great? The whole romance of that time. I was such a terrible, hopeless romantic. Everywhere I went, everything I did was rife with romantic tension. I had a deep longing that I just knew would one day be fulfilled by an equally romantic besotted gorgeous verile lover. I just freaking KNEW it.
I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. Maybe such a man did exist in the world, but he never showed up at my doorstep. Or if he did, he was already in love with someone else - Someone far more beautiful, intelligent and exciting than I ever was. A lot of guys "settled" for me, after the women of their dreams laughed in their faces.
After many long years of loving and/or marrying the wrong men, I finally met my current husband in 2003, and he has never, not for one moment, made me feel like second best. Granted, I am his second wife, and could never recapture the youthful passion of that relationship. Once that ship sails, it never returns. But I don't have to feel constantly compared to an ideal I can never hope to achieve.
What's the point of all this whining? I don't know. Guess that's why I am posting this here, where no one will ever see it. No one wants to read a bunch of blah blah blah woe is fucking me bullshit. But isn't that the whole point of keeping a journal? To whine and bitch about the terrible injustice of your life? To get all emo with yourself and wallow around in the pity pool like a drunk fucking sow? Who the fuck ever posts about how great and perfect their life is, anyway?
Based on this rambling-ass boring post, it might be another 112 weeks before I get on here again. I forgot what a douchebag lj turns me into.
Lately, it seems that the past has been rearing its ugly head with greater frequency - No doubt due to myspace and facebook. Every day it seems another old familiar face pops up to remind me of how fucking old we're all getting. You know, I still can't shake the feeling that I'm 20 years old and living in 1995. Does that feeling ever go away? The nagging suspicion that the past decade has all been a bizarre dream, and any moment you'll wake up young and full of promise again? Maybe it won't.
Do you know what I miss the most, besides looking and feeling great? The whole romance of that time. I was such a terrible, hopeless romantic. Everywhere I went, everything I did was rife with romantic tension. I had a deep longing that I just knew would one day be fulfilled by an equally romantic besotted gorgeous verile lover. I just freaking KNEW it.
I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. Maybe such a man did exist in the world, but he never showed up at my doorstep. Or if he did, he was already in love with someone else - Someone far more beautiful, intelligent and exciting than I ever was. A lot of guys "settled" for me, after the women of their dreams laughed in their faces.
After many long years of loving and/or marrying the wrong men, I finally met my current husband in 2003, and he has never, not for one moment, made me feel like second best. Granted, I am his second wife, and could never recapture the youthful passion of that relationship. Once that ship sails, it never returns. But I don't have to feel constantly compared to an ideal I can never hope to achieve.
What's the point of all this whining? I don't know. Guess that's why I am posting this here, where no one will ever see it. No one wants to read a bunch of blah blah blah woe is fucking me bullshit. But isn't that the whole point of keeping a journal? To whine and bitch about the terrible injustice of your life? To get all emo with yourself and wallow around in the pity pool like a drunk fucking sow? Who the fuck ever posts about how great and perfect their life is, anyway?
Based on this rambling-ass boring post, it might be another 112 weeks before I get on here again. I forgot what a douchebag lj turns me into.