You've got to hide your love away

Stupid. I am just plain stupid.
It's sickening how much I would give at this point to have someone care enough about me to see what I am up to. To know they would read this to check up on me.
I am a gigantic idiot. Trying to vie for attention, thinking something in high fidelity likeliness might happen. I can't believe I trusted I was a real friend. I would never do what others did, but to lump me in such a group.
It hurts, you idiot. Why? Why am I the person that needs to be forced to see the truth without any warning? Just because I'm observant doesn't make me any more prepared for something I haven't had access to see in the past week or so.
You hurt me more. Congrats. I told you. You made my basis for a good man before, now I have nothing.

Stick to your guns

Take your own advice.

Gaddamn confusion...

instant vertigo

'Cause I opened my eyes wide
-and I'm screaming at the top of my lungs.
Screaming,
I can't stop.
The world can't stop, never slows down.
Just going faster
And faster
and faster and faster and faster and faster
Till I'm dizzy
Spinning and laughing.
The blur of color
Breathing, choking, coughing,
It's there
Graspable.
Because when the booze wears off
and the ash is swirling
with ten thousand cigarettes littering the floor
You know it's done.
The smiles wear down.
Crumble, crack.
The heart stops pounding,
the eyes go cold.

And a new day must begin.

Why that one good piece of advice changes everything

So the deal, that real deal, is that I am a girl. Yes, shocker. Lo an behold, I have to fucking admit it. Oop, and lookie here, I also am slightly anxious. Surprise, surprise.

So I took that Xanax and it kicked in fifteen minutes into a conversation.

And the advice was given that I'm sure I needed to hear. "Just be honest. Just have that important conversation". It was necessary. And here's why. Not because it was right, but because it was strong. No, I'm not going to follow it. I'm going to let it lie. I'm going to let things pass. Because really, honestly, truly, I do not want to waste any more time. At all. Nope. Not doing it.

Sure if a few weeks pass and there is no word, I might think about it again. But until then, there's this life I have, see? And there's a lot of people who care about me. And if I keep sitting and moping and panicking over gaddamn nothing (because believe me, it's always nothing) then I'm not going to move forward in anything.

So here's the answer, if anyone cares to know: there's no one I am going to put more energy into any longer. If they want me, they can come and find me, but until then, I am back to being the person I would like to be. Staying productive, improving myself, and succeeding with everything that is way more important than sex and/or flutter.

Ovaries ruin absolutely everything...

So it's that moment you met someone you actually want to give time to. That moment you sit down and go, "wow, I'm not indifferent for once." That's the moment you should try and turn off your soon to be cracked out on what I like to call "ovary inspired crazy time" which isn't actually what it sounds like, just merely the moment your girl side tries to take over and makes you absolutely insane with questions like "why hasn't he called yrt?" "does he really like me or is this all a game?" "is h in this for a relationship? should i ask him now?"
All of these questions are retarded. Why can't girls just sit back and let shit happen? Why are we in a stupid goddamn rush to get into something? We scare them away, people! The minute your crazy shows even in the littlest way, we are immediately looked at in a different light.

The formula is correct

I am under this new suspicion that I may have a problem. I may have an issue with being both impatient and all or nothing. I want easy. I want honesty. I want bluntness. I want relationship.

There's this world, a fantasy world that I am living in. This world consists of people willing to be honest with me and themselves. It's a world where I don't have to sit and wait for a guy to hang out with me. It's a world where I can immediately have that flutter feeling again without the anxious uncomfortable feeling of waiting to know what's going on.

This is manic city.

The confusion/bullshit of dating. I hate it. I hate the preemptive "i want to hang with you". I hate the un-assuredness of should I say something, should I wait. Two weeks is plenty for me to know whether or not I want to be near someone all the time. Kiss them. Cuddle them. Etc.

This is where it gets more confusing.

I know someone who is blunt. I know someone who is easy to talk to, whom I like pretty much. I'm sure I could date them. I liked them before. I would have to wait forever.

Enter someone else.

This one is available. I know them less. They are more awkward. I have a flutter. I don't know how to read said person. He says he likes me, but has only said it while drunk.

I'm sure this is the part I should just turn off my brain and wait things out, but I have ovaries which means I continuously over-think and over-analyze everything.

Guy on Couch syndrome

I'm dizzy. Dizzy from a lack of sleep, lack of food, getting sick, too much alcohol, too many cigarettes? The answer is in the question.

It has been an eternity of how life has been. Letting myself settle into a routine of easy self destruction and losing faith in the opposite sex. One one night stand after the next, falling for someone and realizing the loss in a span of 24 hours.

It took me a year to learn drunk post-bar fucking is not a plausible start to a relationship. After that, it was just failed attempts at making a false connection with someone who actually wanted to be with me. It took me six months to stop. Just stop and watch everyone around me.

I am apparently an advice guru on dating. I'm not quite sure how that revelation was made of my friends, but now I am the one they assume knows the answer. I guess I have dated plenty at this point. I'm really good at dating. Not so great at the step once it turns into more than that. They asked me to hold a seminar for them. I asked for a seminar in relationships.

I was doing so well until today. Losing weight. Telling people who were bad for me to kick rocks. Stopped drinking.

I made it two weeks. Two weeks of sobriety. And you know what? It felt like a real accomplishment. Then my pseudo AA sponsor wasn't there and I wanted a beer.

It wasn't bad, drinking. Better moods supplied an easier ordeal with that. It helped that I had met someone and I didn't want to say no to a beer. But reality finally hit again today. After a three day stint of drunk, feeling sorry for myself then stoked on life. I am right back in confusion.

I don't like this feeling. I don't understand it. I had cut off feeling for a while. I had managed to cut off some sort of ability to feel more emotion than infatuation. Now that I have the ability again, this thing for another human being feeling where I just want to be near him, now comes the crazy again.

Well, the AA sponsor is back in town. A good night of sober pool and wandering will do me well.

Close your eyes, breathe in deeply, and hope the world stops spinning when you open them back up again.

The mass exodus from the current world you live in, that moment everything clicks into place on what it means to grow up just a little bit more. That sensation is like waking up hungover. Your life so far being one drunken night. Spinning out of control, too many blurry spots to really connect how once moment led to another.
It's hard to guess how many you'll alienate before you figure out it's not working.

In the age of changes and fuck ups

When you have time to sit and breathe; reflect, if you will; there might be that realization that it's time to make some legitimate changes to your life. Usually in these times it's also easy to have thoughts dawn on you that haven't surfaced in years.
Sitting on my back porch, playing endless amounts of The Beatles on repeat, smoking cigarette after cigarette, I knew it was time to change. This whole life on fast forward thing is just tiresome. To have story after story about guy to guy to girl to guy is an annoying song and dance. The redundant "man I was so drunk last night" line echoing over and over again.
The plan to quit drinking came from a two night stint of stupid mistakes. The precipice of depression waiting for me. One night leaving me angry, then another sitting on a porch rambling at a friend about my life's mistakes. He could only reply to my wailing with "just stop". That is what I needed to hear. No real advice. No interjections. Just stop.
I guess it's helpful knowing there's someone else out there not doing the same as every friend I have. Someone who will be just as fun while sobriety kicks in. Someone to make fun of me. "You drunk yet?" being the text I get other than "How are you? Holding up ok?" Because I'm not really. But I'm not drunk either.
Losing track of emotions is the first step when you decide to take away a coping mechanism. I sit and try and remember what I used to do before I discovered the liquid socialization. My honesty juice. My self-esteem booster. The only answer is the lack of all of that I had before. So changes continue. Be more honest, courageous, happy with myself.
While this may sound more like something to go into an AA journal, but it's important to keep track of all your stupid emotions. So fuck it.

STUMBLING TO FINISH LINE-INTRODUCTION

Mistakes are an integral part of any person's life. Without mistakes, we don't know how to really live. Right versus wrong, other than the obvious of “don't kill people” or “don't steal”, is learned mainly through trial and error. Everyone learns things differently and sometimes the mistakes you make don't necessarily have to be extreme, but mistakes are made none-the-less. Your late teens and early twenties are the biggest times for mistakes and self realization.
I knew at a young age I liked writing. I wrote in journals and wrote silly short stories (most notably in my mind, an extremely morbid story about a stalker in the early 1900's when I was in seventh grade). When I was little, and many times after that, my grandfather told me to write what I knew. He meant that I shouldn't try to write something I couldn't be honest about, as in writing about a man and his life in Iraq or something. Unfortunately, I was quite young and had a very strange thought process (seriously, I thought Santa couldn't exist because my mom knew how to spell his name) so I took it to mean that I had to experience as much as possible in order to write. I guess that's not so terrible, but when Hunter S. Thompson became one of my heroes in late high school, I decided to throw caution to the wind and start immersing myself like an anthropologist into any and every subculture I knew existed in my school and tried to understand the inter workings of every person's mind in these groups. That, mixed with my own young mind and its developments, lead me to getting in quite a few mishaps and shenanigans.
Let me preempt this with a warning: this is not a self help book. I don't believe in them. Yes, advice is nice, but in the end, you need to figure this shit out on your own. This is merely an account of my mistakes and my just throwing it out there that no mistake (other than the aforementioned killing someone or something just as bad) is really the end of the world. You're going to screw up. You're going to hurt people's feelings. You're going to get fired. You may even spend a night in jail. Still, you will survive and hopefully look back on things with a smile and know you learned from everything and not look back regretfully.