these currents are still killing me
"i'm wide awake, it's morning."
sorry, but i had to throw that in here amongst...well, nothing really. i hate re-reading my entries for i feel i've been so completely selfish and ridiculous and childish even. but, isn't that what venting is? what writing is? the one thing i care most about in all the world. so, shouldn't it be selfish? and i don't mean just a little...i mean wholly.
i think i may be going to rowan in the spring. ask me about it. it's far to complicate to try to decifer within the next five minutes...as that's all i have, for i should be sleeping.
i've finally been granted my drive for reading back. and it has been greatly missed. ah, and i cannot seem to remove my fingers from the keyboard. also, i'm entering a couple writing contests for five hundred dollar grand prizes. it's little, but i'm getting there. i firmly believe i am. and this is the only thing i've ever firmly believed in.
dare i say i'm being a bit optimistic?
but, when i look at it, i have no future plan, no guarrenteed living situation, a job that's above decent, but not nice enough to merit contentness, and a family in such disarray that it is dubious that it'll ever re-piece itself. so, honestly, what have i to lose with all of this optimist talk?
now, now, i'm not playing the pity card. in fact, i'd like to spit on the pity card. i have an amazing boyfriend. i really mean that and fully understand the depth of the meaning now. i've always pictured my ideal guy being an artsy wordsmith whom dabbles in shakespeare and flaubert, and argues in favor of Chekhov's idealistic yet flawed romanticism, with just a dash of psychological banter to keep me swimming in wonder. Well, I met that guy, and the haughtiness of how well he percieved knowing me, as one with all of those talents likely would, was laughable, really. darren's good for me. truly. we compliment each other. i'm so crazed and living life in the future, worried about every possible miscalculation or mistake or what if? and he's so relaxed and patient and laid back. it's irritating how much we almost don't have in common, but yet, do. he mellows me out, calms me down, helps me focus in on what really matters.
i.e. him questioning why i worry about the future of our relationship and my now seeing him, when it's four a.m. and he's right next to me.
conclusion: i worry to much about not enjoying the fullness of relationships in the future and in the meantime do not actually experience them, due to said anxiety.
that's a problem.
i know where it stems from, but oh, what good does that do me.
all right. i've said to much. i should have been in bed hours ago.
thebadatoyourbing.
sorry, but i had to throw that in here amongst...well, nothing really. i hate re-reading my entries for i feel i've been so completely selfish and ridiculous and childish even. but, isn't that what venting is? what writing is? the one thing i care most about in all the world. so, shouldn't it be selfish? and i don't mean just a little...i mean wholly.
i think i may be going to rowan in the spring. ask me about it. it's far to complicate to try to decifer within the next five minutes...as that's all i have, for i should be sleeping.
i've finally been granted my drive for reading back. and it has been greatly missed. ah, and i cannot seem to remove my fingers from the keyboard. also, i'm entering a couple writing contests for five hundred dollar grand prizes. it's little, but i'm getting there. i firmly believe i am. and this is the only thing i've ever firmly believed in.
dare i say i'm being a bit optimistic?
but, when i look at it, i have no future plan, no guarrenteed living situation, a job that's above decent, but not nice enough to merit contentness, and a family in such disarray that it is dubious that it'll ever re-piece itself. so, honestly, what have i to lose with all of this optimist talk?
now, now, i'm not playing the pity card. in fact, i'd like to spit on the pity card. i have an amazing boyfriend. i really mean that and fully understand the depth of the meaning now. i've always pictured my ideal guy being an artsy wordsmith whom dabbles in shakespeare and flaubert, and argues in favor of Chekhov's idealistic yet flawed romanticism, with just a dash of psychological banter to keep me swimming in wonder. Well, I met that guy, and the haughtiness of how well he percieved knowing me, as one with all of those talents likely would, was laughable, really. darren's good for me. truly. we compliment each other. i'm so crazed and living life in the future, worried about every possible miscalculation or mistake or what if? and he's so relaxed and patient and laid back. it's irritating how much we almost don't have in common, but yet, do. he mellows me out, calms me down, helps me focus in on what really matters.
i.e. him questioning why i worry about the future of our relationship and my now seeing him, when it's four a.m. and he's right next to me.
conclusion: i worry to much about not enjoying the fullness of relationships in the future and in the meantime do not actually experience them, due to said anxiety.
that's a problem.
i know where it stems from, but oh, what good does that do me.
all right. i've said to much. i should have been in bed hours ago.
thebadatoyourbing.