What's It Like to Be Me?

It’s a bummer being a sap. Seriously. I look at other people’s blogs, and they’re so…not like mine. Maybe that’s why some of you come here, I don’t know, but I feel silly about it. They never have any errors. It’s a finished product. I can never seem to avoid those typos, no matter how many times I proofread. Typos everywhere. As far as a good vocabulary – not so much. I recycle my five favorite words, and they’re not even impressive. They’re like…"terrible" or "strange." I just find these words fit accurately to whatever I’m feeling, but I should try to branch out a little bit.

And I’m dramatic. I don’t mean that I sound dramatic, I mean that I am. I also don't mean that I create drama. Yes, there is a difference. Maybe I used to, but I haven’t recently, okay?? Shit, maybe I wasn’t being dramatic. I was just reacting to the situation. A totally difficult, bullshit, rejection of a situation, so I was hella sad about it, and still get bummed on occasion. So what? We all get that way when the really sad things happen to us, don’t we? I’m sincere though. These last posts recently have been genuine. Real pain. Real fears. It’s just when you click over to anyone else’s site, it’s so funny and happy and put together. Then you come to mine, and it’s like a picture of me with my hair messed up, mascara running down my cheeks, and sitting slumped over in a bed covered in tissues and tears. Not. What a drag.

I mean, I’m proud of myself for just laying it out there, even though it’s bizarre that I would do something like that. Expose my vulnerable side, and why? Isn’t this the shit you’re supposed to hide behind closed doors? Isn’t this the way you don’t want people to know you feel? Aren’t you supposed to pretend like he didn’t hurt you, like it was nothing? What’s funny is that the "last one" never saw this side of me. If he read this, which I don’t think he does anymore, he wouldn’t know this half. Probably a good thing, right? Yeah, no, he just saw the fun side, and though you all don’t get the chance to see it, trust me, there is one.

And then again – that’s the point. He never saw any side of me, really. I was as much of a stranger to him as he was to me. So did he really make such a sacrifice giving up a stranger for the demons of his past? I mean, would that really make any sense? Actually, yes. Because though he didn’t get the chance to find this out, I’m actually 10 times better than he got to know. No, seriously, fuck you, I’m not kidding. I know me pretty well, and it’s true. That’s right, fucker. You thought you liked what you saw? You didn’t see shit. That was just the start of it. So, you didn’t think it was worth the risk, so you went with what you already knew. Safe. Didn’t work before, but hey…it’s cheaper to repair then buy a whole new car. Forget how many times it broke down in the past, I’m sure it won’t again. Buddy, you should have gone with the whole new car. (Ugh, that wasn’t very attractive of me.)

I’m feeling better. That may be obvious. Sorry to get all, "Well, FUCK YOU ANYWAY!" but I’m feeling clearer. I hate being all I’m-the-best-and-you-missed-out when I was the one who got dumped. That does seem ridiculous. I get dropped like a stone, and I’m like, "Oh yeah?? Well, well…whatever! Screw you, man. Your loss!" Retarded. Makes me look like such an ass. Probably because if he heard me say this, which he won’t, he’d be like, "Umm…great. So…good for you. I’m going to go make love to this guy over here, so…later!" Ugh. Why did I write that? That was a mistake. I feel sick again.

Back and forth I go. I have to keep doing this. I have to keep getting myself angry and strong and shit because the bad thoughts just come on their own. I have to make the good ones happen. As soon as I let my guard down, a voice whispers to me, "He didn’t miss out. He never saw himself happy with you because he could never imagine loving anyone like he loves him. He didn’t want you. So, now you have to believe he’s not worth it, because you don’t have a choice. He didn’t think you were that special. He is happy you’re gone, and probably wishes he hadn’t wasted as much time on you as he did." That voice is mean. And it’s ever present. It’ll get quieter in time, and I know that, but…it’s still there, you know? Last night in my dream, I was driving somewhere, and his car was in front of mine. He saw me in his rearview mirror, and I waved. Not a happy wave. More like, "Well, shit. Umm…hiii." I think I cut people off to stay behind him, but he shook his head and took off. Too easy to analyze. Not going to bother. Get out of my head, bastard. You don’t deserve to be there.

And why did a mutual friend keep telling me he’s a nice guy? Are you kidding me? One – not that nice right now. Two – why would you say that to me? Why? So I feel like I’m the fucking one missing out? Damn it. I hate break-ups. I hate being dumped. I hate all this bullshit. It’s getting old. Am I really that easy to get over and forget? I kind of hoped I wasn’t.

Anyway, life is changing, so you know. I have a new focus. No, it’s not another boyfriend. Well, nothing has actually changed yet, maybe just me, but wheels are turning. I’ll talk to you about it when there’s actually something to talk to you about. For now, it’s just…hypothetical. Working on it though. Shit, it’s nice to breathe deeply again.