What if I don’t get the happy ending I deserve, the happy ending I’ve been dreaming of? What if I carry along this sense of betrayal and abandonment and not being good enough for the rest of my life? I am happy in every other aspect of my life except this. I have good friends, for the most part. I have a job that I can really see me going places with. I am living out loud one of my childhood dreams that I never thought I’d have the courage to make come true.
So why then can’t I just shake this sense of worthlessness? On paper I know that I look pretty good, but off paper…I don’t know. There have been opportunities but nothing that has really sparked my interest for very long. Am I just suppose to take what I can get because I’m not good enough to get anything more than mediocre?
The irony of the entire situation is just to painful for words.
10/25/08
I defined myself as a skeptic romantic. I hope and wish to find that person to share my life with, that person who will want to watch my dreams come true and who I can watch his dreams come true as well, someone to witness my life. But in the process I expect to be lied to, to be used and to be manipulated.
I go into meeting a new guy with the pretense that he will say whatever he thinks necessary in order to get from me what he wants, whatever that may be. It’s not fair and not always the case but it’s the way it is.
It’s strange I don’t fully trust anyone, I always assume people will lie or be dishonest, and yes I believe there is a difference between the two, and yet I can’t help but completely honest with everyone else. I put myself out there, making myself vulnerable.
It’s almost like I want to get hurt. Like I put myself in situations where I can play victim. I know that people are going to hurt me, I expect them to but if I can claim that I’ve done nothing but be honest then none of it can be my fault. I did everything right.
11/18/08
According to physicists there are dinosaurs in my living room, Elvis is alive and I can get away with murder.
I watched THE UNIVERSE on the History channel and the only thing I could conclude is that physicists have to be on the most expensive psychedelic hallucinogens.
11/23/08
I’m not an artist. I’m not a writer either. My spelling is horrible and my grammar is probably even worse. I don’t aspire to write the next literary masterpiece, I don’t even aspire to write a thought provoking blog. I put a part of me down on paper, sometimes in word form, and I put that piece of me out in the world hoping someone worthwhile will catch it.
I suppose I look at it as a therapy tool or maybe just a romantic ideal. It’s a risk, putting something personal out in the world. Vulnerability has developed into my number one fear. I used to be afraid of tornadoes, but once I was stuck outside in the middle of one my fear just blew away, so to speak. Ironically I wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable, I was probably in one of the most vulnerable situations anyone could be in and the least afraid I had ever been.
The circumstances of how my vulnerable situation played out didn’t yield strength and bravery, rather I became more fearful and timid than ever. But I remember what it was like to have someone catch me when I put myself out there. I know the strength that can come from having someone to trust in and someone who will trust in you when it’s hard to trust and believe in yourself.
