I confuse myself. I try to lay everything out on the table, - especially on this blog, for example - but constantly feel as though I fall short. I do my best to be real, but at the same time I feel like I’m hiding. Hiding from what, exactly, I have no idea. Other peoples’ opinions? My own opinion? My loved ones’ opinions? Probably all of the above, or none of the above.
I wish I could write so freely on my personal blog, but I feel like people - family, friends, employers, future employers, etc. - would judge me, and I don’t want that. Even though every single person is fucked up in his or her own way, I know that while reading my thoughts, he or she would probably think otherwise: I’m the fucked up one, not him or her.
Right now it’s 3:20-3:50AM and I’m watching drunk girls come home and fight with the security at their residence. I’m working graveyard at the front desk, although it’s not really working (hence this blog post). I’m tired. I don’t like this job. There’s no stability. My schedule changes week-to-week and I have such a “If I can just get through today” mentality that there is no room for play. I only see my boyfriend (because I live with him), and that’s about it. I rarely see my friends, rarely leave my apartment. I don’t wear any of my clothes other than my two uniforms (job + internship). I’m exhausted all the time, which makes me even less motivated to schedule a doctor’s appointment (for the third time) to deal with the UTI I’ve had for the past two months, making getting through my shifts at both jobs incredibly strenuous and painful. I would quit my paid-job right now, but it’s the money I pay the over-priced roof over my head with. It’s also the money I can slowly pay my credit card back with after I’ve blown it on over-priced food, gifts and dinner so that my boyfriend can have a some-what memorable birthday (it was yesterday). I live paycheck-to-paycheck, have no money to replace all my technology that’s on it’s last leg, and especially do not have any money for nice things. I scrape the insides of my old lipsticks out with the lid of my eyeliner because I can’t afford a new one, my eyeliner is almost out, and don’t even get me started on the amount of concealer I have left.
Now speaking of current boyfriends, and ex-lovers of the sort:
I can’t get over my ex boyfriends.
I know that this sentence at surface value sounds bad, but it’s not what you think. I can’t get over them in a sense I can’t forgive them or myself. I’m mad, I’m angry, and full of regret. I’m mad at myself for giving my heart to two people who could not handle what came with doing so. I’m mad at my first boyfriend for lying to me for two and a half years. I’m mad at my second boyfriend for not taking me out on dates and not doing anything remotely decent for me. I’m mad at my first boyfriend for cheating on me. I’m mad at my second boyfriend for using me. It’s like I don’t even know where my frustrations begin and where they end.
Granted he is the most recent ex, my second boyfriend is the one who is haunting me the most right now. I can’t fucking stand him. I check his Facebook everyday. Every fucking day. We’re not friends, but everything he posts is public (purposely, I’m sure, for me to see it). He met a girl, and they seem to be dating quite seriously. I look at her pictures, send them to girlfriends, waiting for them to text me back to tell me I’m prettier and better. Like what the fuck? Why do I care? Why am I so hung up on all of this?
I know it’s over, I don’t want him back (I’d rather die), but yet I check his page.
I want so badly to go ape-shit on him and yell at him and demand money from him (all that he promised to help me with my rent for over a year), and yet I know I can’t. I have to just let it go. I want to kick and scream about how he emotionally and mentally abused me with the on again/off again dynamic. I want him to cry and say he is sorry - which he did, but then he took it back via insulting me over text. He blames me for it all crashing down, “Yeah, but you stayed,” so he says. I’m the one who was promiscuous and a loose-cannon. Whenever he called it off, I was, and I quote, “always so quick to give myself to someone else. What does that say about me?” He is a judgmental prick and still lives with his mom and little brother in a one-bedroom apartment (the mother has the room). He’s a recovering addict from alcohol and weed, refuses to stop watching porn everyday, and has a main hobby of going to the gym. What the fuck I saw in him initially, I don’t know. Well actually, I do know. I met him at a time in my life where I was depressed beyond measure (thank you first ex boyfriend). I saw him merely as a hook-up, a one night stand, for that matter, and it somehow developed. I wasn’t even sober until our sixth “date” or so. I was a train-wreck, with an even lower self-esteem than I have now.
Maybe I just have to get it all out on electronic paper. I’m just mad and frustrated. I feel like I wasted so much time with both of these guys. I made myself so vulnerable to them. I tried to love them as much as I could. I wanted nothing more than to really fall in love (like I am now).
I guess I better start really tuning into what’s good in my life, because I have a destructive tendency to obsess on the negative. I need to block this idiot on Facebook, and move on completely. I need to focus on my amazing, beautiful boyfriend who means the world to me and me to him.
But yet I have these demons.
I have two hours left of my shift until I get to crawl into bed with my loved one. He is my angel and I look forward to seeing him whenever we are apart (even though we live together). I don’t know why I don’t get sick of him, maybe because he is so perfect. I’ve never met someone who has cared for me so heavily (other than my parents). I didn’t even know such love was possible. I’ve always been chasing for something of the sort, whining and screaming at my exes to give me just a fraction of the love - they never did.
I have it now, and I need to protect it and not let my masochistic behavior sabotage it in any way. I need to be real, but I’m like, not.