i throw my hands up in the air sometimes

Anyone who blogs is secretly hoping somebody will read the pieces of their lives and feel something. Shameless confession: I'm definitely one of those people. I don't sit here hoping that my computer screen will flash wisdom at me. The difference between a virtual journal and a paper journal is that you're expecting an answer from the former. Unless of course, it's Tom Riddle's journal. More on my HP fever later.

So.. basically, I came here to escape. It's one thing to write with this subconscious intent of having people, or at least a specific person, see what you have to say (usually about them), but it's another in knowing that people you see IN REAL LIFE might see what you're saying, especially if it's about them. Make sense? I don't know. It's a rhetorical question that I am posing to no one.

I've always maintained the idea that I am content with my life. I am. I am thankful for all that I have, and I cannot say that enough. I truly appreciate my family, my friends, and my health. However, when it comes to romance, I am shamelessly unsatisfied.

Here's the thing: I've fucked up before. I have regrets. It's human. I don't believe anyone who says he or she does not have regrets. Either you're lying, or you're extraordinarily lucky, and the thing about luck is, it's hardly ever extraordinary. Impressive, perhaps.

Well, in any case, despite my lapses in judgment, I feel that I have adequately made up for anything I may have done in the past.

I hurt someone's feelings. In return, I've been on the other side plenty of times to know exactly how it feels, and never have I ever intentionally hurt someone. Nor do I think I've actually had that many chances to do so.

I hooked up with someone inappropriate... but only slightly. They were really only inappropriate because I'm a girl, and that means when other girls find out, the claws come out and they like to remind me how they used to date him back in the sandbox, or how they once shared a meaningful look, and that's why I'm not allowed near him forever, unless they grant me special permission, which they won't. To make up for this, I inadvertently bring people together at my expense. I make a poor, but fun, decision--> word travels because that's just the way it always happens --> I get shit for it for days, weeks even --> I bring two people who should have been together anyway together. One must wonder, without my temporary sluttiness, would they have gotten together in such a timely manner? It's questionable, certainly. '

So why fucking be a bitch about it? Something about me seems to make it easy for these girls to be mean to me. If it were reversed, I am pretty sure that it would not be the same situation. I would be shunned for thinking that I had any right to be possessive, or angry.

Whatever. I guess that's what I get for being nice, or at the very least, nicer than some of these girls can be.

I believe in fairness. Last summer, I had fun for a week with someone I didn't even think I had a chance with. It was refreshing, but short-lived. I knew it was short-lived, I just didn't know that it would come to an abrupt end because of my best friend. Classic teen movie scenario--boy meets girl, boy meets girl's best friend, boy likes girl's best friend a little better... But that was just bizarre, and in any case, months later it was back to square 1 for an hour or so.

Sooooo.....


What is my point? I have no idea. I'm just writing about pseudo-problems because that is honestly what blogging is for. Not even CNN cares about actual things more than they do about Lebron, so why should I? This is for my self-pitying, my self-indulgence, my self.

And people I hope are reading. Like that boy.


Hi,

I don't understand you.

Goodbye.