Sunday, April 09, 2006

My Sunday Night Blues

I have well and truly had it with sitting around, getting fatter (I've gained twelves fucking pounds since my knee got really bad just before surgery), with frozen squash on my knee, while making circles with my toes. This fucking sucks. I can't get up and clean the apartment, for fear that I'll slow down the fucking healing process. I can't get up and exercise and try to make myself feel better, for fear that I'll slow down the fucking healing process. In the end, I can't go see D., and I can't even work on making mmyself look and feel better for him. I mean, for me. Really.

Right now, it feels hopeless. I know that's the Sunday bug having its nasty way with my mind, but that doesn't help the pain go away. We're too far apart, with established lives more than two hundred miles apart. We've been talking for over a month and haven't been able to get together...and sometimes the talking slows down, I don't feel very important, and I wonder what the fuck the point it. It feels like I'm just waiting for an "I met someone local," or "It's just not gonna work out." It's stupid. Danny would tell me it's stupid, Simone would tell me it's stupid, D. would tell me it's stupid.

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Who Needs Sleep?

Last night I dreamt of being injured, my abdomen sliced open, organs hanging out. The doctors began a repair but only gave me local anesthetic, then started talking about how there was no chance I was going to make it, as if I were really under general anesthesia. I writhed on the table, tried to get them to understand that I was in pain, and they just calmly held me down.
Then, for some reason, I was in surgery again, to fix the mess that hadn't been completed before. They put me under general anesthesia and did the job right. I remember waking up to an attractive female surgeon in scrubs, and seeing out the window behind her the light blue sky, bright sun, tiny wispy clouds...They told me I was in Afghanistan. Right.

Later on, I was out getting lost in the snow, trying to get to a farm where they supposedly had a stray Kai dog (a smallish asian breed). When I got to the 'farm,' the dog was there, beaten and starved, but with the most amazing shining almost metallic gold coat. It turned out that the dog wasn't a stray, and the husband was regularly beating the hell out of it. They had skinny horses and cows too, and there wasn't a fucking thing I could do about it.

At least my dreams don't portray some sort of feeling of powerlessness or anything.

One of the medications I take is specifically to help get rid of my nightmares. Somehow, I don't think it's working. It's been almost two months, and I'm having maybe even more nightmares than before, probably because the drug helps me sleep better. Stupid drugs.

I took the stitches out of my knee today. The incisions are more or less healed, and I don't feel like taking time off of work to have the PA wrench my knee around a little, snip out two stupid sutures, then charge my insurance company a couple hundred dollars. I'm just sick of that shit. I can take care of this myself. Stubborn? You bet your ass. Though I'd never survive in the wild.

My life isn't really that bad, when I look at it from through Vicodin-colored glasses. I have a decent apartment that I rather like, four sweet and insane cats, two dogs that I mostly like, a car that is more or less in working order, a supportive (yet insane) family, and a few really great friends. Nevermind that my friends don't really have faces, to me. But right now, I don't have love. I thought I was getting somewhere with D, but it's starting to seem like all the rest. I may be able to get to him if I work really hard at it, but if I walk away, he's not going to come after me. And, well, fuck that. I don't need that sort of relationship. I've had ten fucking years of that. I don't understand why the guys that I like end up not being all that interested in me, yet the guys I don't care for think they're in love with me. I really must have been a professional puppy-smasher in a previous life.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe D will come back, tell me he cares, be more attentive. Yet it really seems the death rattle of a relationship when I don't feel like I'm getting enough out of it and we haven't even met yet. I'm too crazy for this shit. I'm too needy for what he seems willing to give. If it's just that he's scared of being hurt...good job, man. You've hurt me instead.

Thursday, March 30, 2006


I feel so utterly useless today. I can't bend my knee enough to drive, I can't work from home, I can't sleep peacefully, I can't just wait and let things be what they will with D. This rollercoaster ride that's all in my head is making it hard for me to survive, and yet I can't just hang on and stop screaming, but I can't make myself just get off the ride. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Except maybe an unbroken heart.

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Why Do Fools...

Is it really possible to know what it is about a person makes you fall in love with them, or what makes you love them after that? Think about that for a second. If you don't have children, at least, since I can understand loving a person in part for the critters you've created.

I'm pretty sure I'm falling in love, and Danny (there's your mention, Danny...feel better?) asked me what it was that I loved about the guy. I'm attracted to him, we have some similar interests, he's fun to talk to...he makes me laugh, and makes me feel like there's a reason to bother with the future. But are these the reasons I'm falling? Can't blame it on pheromones, since he and I have never been in the same room together, yet. I don't know if there's a name for it. It's like a sort of magnetism, and I could feel it the first time we talked online. Love at first click.

And what if I'm wrong? I've been wrong before. But I'm really not worried about me. I know what I feel, and I'm pretty sure I could love this person. What freaks me out is not knowing what he thinks. So I overreact, panic, cry...stable as can be. He even has the ability to calm me down (not to mention get me worked up). I really want to do this right.

Sunday, March 26, 2006


I am convinced that in some language, Percoset means "happiness." No, not for long term use. But this weekend would have been utter torment without it, between post-surgical pain, being alone, and some emotional turmoil.

The funniest thing is that Percoset wasn't the only good part of the weekend. I think it helped me feel more secure and less panicky about D., especially since he was out of town. I really hope I can continue with my new protocol of no freaking out. It's hard for me to not freak out when I think I
am falling in love...though I certainly don't have the guts to tell D. that. But I'm pretty sure he knows. He's a smart guy, and my shirt sleeves are covered in cardiac muscle. The biggest trick is not telling myself, baselessly I should add, that he doesn't feel the same way. I don't know. I hope he does. It'll really suck if he doesn't, but I know I'm strong enough to survive it...I just don't want to have to.

And then there's the strangest thing: Tommy came back. Tommy was a big, strange part of my life many years ago. I met him online, became friends, and inadvertently fell in love with him, or the persona he portrayed. I was a really weak, frightened person then. My life was falling apart, my relationship was falling apart, and he offered me the attention, friendship, support, whatever, that helped me to get through it. It was a fucked up friendship - especially when he disappeared all of a sudden, and he's not someone for me to fall in love with...but like it or not, I care about the guy. I want to ask him about his real life. I want to be friends with the person he really is, and I'm afraid he'll never let me in. Worse, how can I ever know for sure? The internet allows people to lie, portray who or whatever they want to be. I do know, though, that if he disappears again, I'm really going to give him hell.

I don't get it. I have so much love, so much caring for other people, and still I feel that people see me as a cold, sarcastic, unloving bitch. Maybe because there's no in between. Either I'll die for someone, or I wish they'd die. I think I'm getting better at not letting people know I want them to die, unless they push me. Then they deserve whatever I have to tell them.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Deja Loser

So, here I am again. Uncertain but growing more and more sure that I've found another relationship that will just strip me bare and beat me bloody, metaphorically speaking. It's not even a relationship, this time. It's more like the karmic boomerang, relationship edition. Little Danny chased after me and I was absent and "too busy." And here I am, chasing after someone who is busy and uncommunicative and doesn't seem to mirror my emotional attachment. I'm a leech, an emotional vampire, a...something else bad that would explain why I can't put together a decent relationship to save my life.
I should be ok with this. I decided a while back that I like living alone. It's just such a damn tease to find someone that seems to fit so well...but they all seem to fit at first...or at least many of them. Danny didn't, Bill didn't, but the rest...I got that painful, anxious excitement that is the feeling of my common sense dying.

Just as I lose hope, something changes, I'm thrown enough of a lifeline to keep from going completely under. I never get back on the boat, but I never entirely drown. I'm supposed to have faith. Hah. Me, faith? You might as well tell me to have a penis, because I wasn't born with one and I'm not about to spontaneously grow one. It would take work, both for me and at least one other person, for me to obtain a penis. The same goes for faith. The only big difference is that I wouldn't mind having faith. All penises in my life should be part of other people.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Kill Me, Billy

Ya little pecker.

I don't think I'm quite cut out for this world. Bad things drag me down to the ground...and I'm finding that I'm so afraid of losing good things, I can barely stand having them at all. I hate the internet for fucking with my emotions. I hate the internet for muddying the waters there were never very clear to begin with. I hate the internet, and I can't shut it off.