A Matter of Reflection
You know, I don't really talk about me, as in the parts of me that I keep locked up, in case someone won't love me for it. I have fears that run bone deep, ones I won't utter because I'm afraid that if I do, I'll bring them into the light, causing them to become real, to happen. See, there are parts of me that I don't want to admit I have, but I don't run from trouble, I tend to embrace it. I'm confrontational, coming out with claws unsheathed. I had to growing up, and I’m keeping it up, even though it’s a really a bad idea. It doesn’t endear me to people, well strangers at least since family and friends just kind of know I’m high maintenance The thing of it is I’m not that hard to upkeep. I just…know what I want and won’t settle for less. Honestly, I just refuse to be like my family, to be whatever they are, all their faults and need to poison each other, in order to stay on top. It’s a hard life, one that’s made me world-weary at twenty-five. I’m not like most people in the age range, either. I don’t date, go off with friends, hell even have friends in physical proximity if I did want to, go to movies or eat out alone. I’m so damn tired of being alone. So tired of it. I can’t help that. I want someone I can talk to, share a joke with, be around without having to entertain.
I saw my cousin A, and well, technically we’re really not cousins but her family adopted me into it. Her grandmother is the one that used to get me from middle school and high school when I was sick because my mom couldn’t be bothered. Her gran’s sister is the one that was in her late seventies and wanted to kick my stepmom’s ass on a regular basis. I’d also put a bet down that she’d win. Woman was a hellcat. A was telling me about her boyfriend, The One, and god, do you know how alone I felt? I felt…so, I don’t even know what it was. Empty maybe. I’m happy for her, I am, but I can’t help but be really envious. I’m twenty-five and just now realizing that being the person I am, maintaining this inapproachable attitude beyond mild flirtation, isn’t going allow me to date. But how can I possibly date when I’m pretty emotionally bankrupt right now? The thing is that I’m never not. I’m always in turmoil over something. Sometimes I think that drama is not something that finds me, but that I find it. I hate that idea because I’m not big on the drama. I can laugh, mock, whatever, but I like to stay firmly out of the spotlight. I’m happiest in the background, chilling out, just existing and watching from there. I don’t need to be front and center, or want it. I just…the last date I had was in 2003, I think. With the peach of boyfriend that dumped me because his mommy said too. I get it, I know he wasn’t the guy for me, and thank god for that, but it still reminds me that I’m so very anti-social. I don’t want to be anymore, but I know that I won’t be happy getting out and meeting people, either.
I’m the tough girl, the one that doesn’t break down, or if I do, it’s usually in the privacy of a select few or myself. I just don’t that in front of people, nor am I good at pretending to be something or someone I’m not. It’s just so tiring to be that person in order to keep someone. The longest I’ve dated was three months. That’s…pathetic. The reason why makes sense to me at least. It’s not being comfortable in the relationship, not really enjoying the other person. Why waste their and my time? I could be doing what I want.
Still a virgin, to boot. I know, it shouldn’t be a big deal, but in this day in age, it totally is. I’m not waiting for Mr. Right. I’m waiting for Mr. Someone Worth Trusting. Hell, there may never be a Mr. Right. As picky as I am. There aren’t many people in my life that I can on to catch me when I stumble. And I do, often. I just don’t talk about it because why add my burden to someone else’s already full plate? I learned that lesson in the crib. My mother made it abundantly clear that I wasn’t going to stop her life, or add to it. I was just there, like a log or car that wouldn’t start. I took up space, nothing more or less. It’s a shitty way to feel, but how long am I going to excuse my behavior with that? I can’t do it forever. I could say I have issues, and I do, believe me, but it’s more than that. It’s like as long as I run scared, don’t fix whatever’s broken, then I can blame someone else. That’s another shitty realization about yourself, too. I’m scared to death of so many things. I pretend to be strong, and I have a lot of people fooled too, but I’m not. I’m just a quivering little mess that doesn’t want to let anyone in because that leads to hurt. I’m really, really, really tired of hurting.
Been in love once, to someone that saw me as friend only. And wasn’t that a lovely introduction to the state? Sure, that makes me want to face my fear, really. I mean, why wouldn’t it? Been in like a couple times, but of course like isn’t as close as love. It’s a little easier to hurt that heart wounds, and hey, I’ve got so many on it, why worry about a few more? God, I’m so jaded and cynic at times. I hate that, too. I shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t be whatever is in my life that makes me that way. I should be a little more impressed with it, still have a little shiny edge to it, but I don’t hold a lot of faith in humanity. Sad to say, but it’s the truth. The world is a fucked up place.
I don’t even know the point of this, since I keep missing the parts I want to talk about. I guess I just needed a good ramble. I chance to let something out, not that I’ll help me none. I don’t want pity, or anything similar. Seriously, that’s a waste of energy on your part. I just…I don’t even know what I want anymore. Maybe it’s time I found out, but what if I discovered I don’t like what I find? Another fear to add to the piles.
What an utter mess I’ve allowed myself to become.