Exodus
Okay so it's been a while. What's news and views? Well I left him. It's been three months of pain of suffering without him and sometimes I feel like I messed up my entire life. And for what?
Am I happier?
Of course I've been through the stages now, denial anger, you know the drill. He doesn't return my calls anymore, he doesn't write. I suppose he has to do what he has to do.
I don't know where I am anymore. And to top it all off I am whining again. Sheesh, does it end? I need to be asleep, but I've drank way too much caffiene. I wanna be held. You ever feel that way, like you just wanna be held?
I wanna be heard, like I've got so much inside me and I just want to share it with the world.
I chickened out. I was supposed to go check out this school for massage therapy and I chickened out. I am afraid that I wouldn't be able to handle it. You know, touching people without touching them.
I can't seem to just be happy. No matter what direction I take, I find a way to mess it up. I'm not thirty yet, yet I feel like this is the end. The end of me, the end of life, the end of the road, and I just want to get started. I'm so afraid most of the time. Afraid of being alone, afraid of failing.
Where are all of the strong men? Where are these guys that, I don't know...where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise hercules to fight the rising odds. All the good guys I know are taken, or their really close firends...that are also taken. I need to slap myself silly or something. I mean I promised myself before I met my ex husband that if I met someone, I would hold on for dear life and never let them go. I would never let what happened between me and my ex fiance or my Pally happen again, and sure enough I did. I allowed myself to believe that what I had wasn't good enough, and maybe it wasn't but if it was. Why can't I ask myself these questions when I can still do something about it.
Here we go with the novel again, maybe if I wrote you more often these letters wouldn't be so long. And let's not even get started on writing. I can't remember the last time I wrote something. The last time I had an original thought. I thought by leaving I would suddenly feel so inspired. Bulloney!
I just wanna be held, hell I settle for someone just to lay down on top of me. Clothes on, who cares, just to be near him. I dream about him. Once he was a bouncer, tall, rough, sexy. The time before that a bear, just a big ol' papa bear. I am such a hypocrite, I hold guys to these impossible standards and then wonder why I always end up alone. I just want someone who is real, and not GFU (generally f***ed up). I should sleep now. Okay really.
Thanks for listenin'.
Am I happier?
Of course I've been through the stages now, denial anger, you know the drill. He doesn't return my calls anymore, he doesn't write. I suppose he has to do what he has to do.
I don't know where I am anymore. And to top it all off I am whining again. Sheesh, does it end? I need to be asleep, but I've drank way too much caffiene. I wanna be held. You ever feel that way, like you just wanna be held?
I wanna be heard, like I've got so much inside me and I just want to share it with the world.
I chickened out. I was supposed to go check out this school for massage therapy and I chickened out. I am afraid that I wouldn't be able to handle it. You know, touching people without touching them.
I can't seem to just be happy. No matter what direction I take, I find a way to mess it up. I'm not thirty yet, yet I feel like this is the end. The end of me, the end of life, the end of the road, and I just want to get started. I'm so afraid most of the time. Afraid of being alone, afraid of failing.
Where are all of the strong men? Where are these guys that, I don't know...where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise hercules to fight the rising odds. All the good guys I know are taken, or their really close firends...that are also taken. I need to slap myself silly or something. I mean I promised myself before I met my ex husband that if I met someone, I would hold on for dear life and never let them go. I would never let what happened between me and my ex fiance or my Pally happen again, and sure enough I did. I allowed myself to believe that what I had wasn't good enough, and maybe it wasn't but if it was. Why can't I ask myself these questions when I can still do something about it.
Here we go with the novel again, maybe if I wrote you more often these letters wouldn't be so long. And let's not even get started on writing. I can't remember the last time I wrote something. The last time I had an original thought. I thought by leaving I would suddenly feel so inspired. Bulloney!
I just wanna be held, hell I settle for someone just to lay down on top of me. Clothes on, who cares, just to be near him. I dream about him. Once he was a bouncer, tall, rough, sexy. The time before that a bear, just a big ol' papa bear. I am such a hypocrite, I hold guys to these impossible standards and then wonder why I always end up alone. I just want someone who is real, and not GFU (generally f***ed up). I should sleep now. Okay really.
Thanks for listenin'.