I have been alive for nearly a quarter of a century. Okay, "nearly" might still be somewhat of an exaggeration, but I'm nearly, nearly a quarter there. I have not learned a single thing. Well, that's also a big of a hyperbole, but to be honest, I don't think I've learned the right lessons in terms of romantic interests.
Earlier this year, as in sometime during the summer as I was lamenting my unpaid existence and my lack of a social life thanks to my daily 6 FREAKING AM wake-up call, I went through some of my old blog posts. You know, on el-jay and stuff. And lo and behold, I was struck by a frightening realization. I could have been talking about anyone. Those pathetic, angst-ridden posts about the Boy of the Year/Season/Week were devastating, and so, so apropos, even now. Of course, I like to think that as I go on, I do make progress. Which I do. It's just that, along with the progress comes an increased level of insanity. I guess I wouldn't actually consider myself to be mentally unstable, or anything like that, but I would like to admit that it is unhealthy, to follow patterns this way and have no intention of really changing things because I have a hard time truly convincing myself it's bad for me. So I just spend the time conjuring up horrifying scenarios and glaring at people with preemptive suspicion and indignation. Completely uncalled for...Most of the time. But you never know.
I guess I should just openly come out and say that I apparently do have jealousy issues. I always fancied myself one of those girls who would be above it all, who would have the greatest of faith in all her friends, to the point where I can sit back and relax, and honestly believe that none of my girls would go for the Guy. Then I hit puberty, met some bitches who changed my views for the worst, and decided that I actually trust no one. Also, it's been done before. Yeah, girl who is the BFFFFFF, not going to halt something she thinks might be real for your benefit. Lo siento, mamacita, pero novios estan mas importante que sus amigas. No matter what your coffee mug says. Hos over bros? Yeah. Right. Enter Bro. Sure, I'm a little biased by my bitterness, but I don't think it's too far from the truth.
The truth is, girls will, for the most part, do anything for a guy. She won't admit it, but it's completely true. Of course, she'll still be there for her drunk and crying best friend, but right after she finishes holding her hair as she pukes up the last of her vodka shots and puts her to bed, she will go find the guy. She will stay up for him, no questions asked, until whenever. If she really can't keep her eyes open and it hasn't reached that level of sleeping on the shoulder, possibly sleeping over/under, then she'll reluctantly say a prolonged goodbye. But that's only if shereally, really can't stay awake. She will not stay up for her friend, who she knows will be there in the morning, probably, and who also cannot give her the action she so desperately wants, except under extreme circumstances... i.e. a drunk crisis. This is awful. This is the fulfillment of a stereotype that makes feminists cringe. This is basically built into girl DNA. As for the exceptions, it's just because they haven't given into their nature. That's my firm belief. I stand by it. Guilty until proven innocent.
As hypocritical as it will make me sound, I'm sick of talking about boys. Mostly because I don't want to, (read: can't comfortably) think about boys. Thinking about boys means thinking about negative things and thinking about negative things means staring blankly at a wall/ceiling/computer screen waiting for the melancholic nostalgia to wear off. It means not being able to concentrate on the anatomy of the brain and the functions of each part, something I very much need to know for my upcoming class, which I did not take the prerequisites for. Which I will probably certainly regret, but I'm willing to give it a shot so that I might possibly gain some insight as to why people do the things they do. Why I do the things I do. I'm very good at psychoanalyzing myself, or so I like to think. I think I'm very aware of what I'm doing wrong, which Aristotle would say makes me closer to morality than the fool who doesn't know.
I'm ranting a bit at this point. I haven't done it freely in so long, and honestly, I'm still holding back. If I let everything just free fall from my fingertips into the ether of the internet, well, I don't know what I'd do. I'm trying to figure out what I want.
I want reciprocity. I want ease. I want passion. I want something that far transcends mediocrity.
Earlier this year, as in sometime during the summer as I was lamenting my unpaid existence and my lack of a social life thanks to my daily 6 FREAKING AM wake-up call, I went through some of my old blog posts. You know, on el-jay and stuff. And lo and behold, I was struck by a frightening realization. I could have been talking about anyone. Those pathetic, angst-ridden posts about the Boy of the Year/Season/Week were devastating, and so, so apropos, even now. Of course, I like to think that as I go on, I do make progress. Which I do. It's just that, along with the progress comes an increased level of insanity. I guess I wouldn't actually consider myself to be mentally unstable, or anything like that, but I would like to admit that it is unhealthy, to follow patterns this way and have no intention of really changing things because I have a hard time truly convincing myself it's bad for me. So I just spend the time conjuring up horrifying scenarios and glaring at people with preemptive suspicion and indignation. Completely uncalled for...Most of the time. But you never know.
I guess I should just openly come out and say that I apparently do have jealousy issues. I always fancied myself one of those girls who would be above it all, who would have the greatest of faith in all her friends, to the point where I can sit back and relax, and honestly believe that none of my girls would go for the Guy. Then I hit puberty, met some bitches who changed my views for the worst, and decided that I actually trust no one. Also, it's been done before. Yeah, girl who is the BFFFFFF, not going to halt something she thinks might be real for your benefit. Lo siento, mamacita, pero novios estan mas importante que sus amigas. No matter what your coffee mug says. Hos over bros? Yeah. Right. Enter Bro. Sure, I'm a little biased by my bitterness, but I don't think it's too far from the truth.
The truth is, girls will, for the most part, do anything for a guy. She won't admit it, but it's completely true. Of course, she'll still be there for her drunk and crying best friend, but right after she finishes holding her hair as she pukes up the last of her vodka shots and puts her to bed, she will go find the guy. She will stay up for him, no questions asked, until whenever. If she really can't keep her eyes open and it hasn't reached that level of sleeping on the shoulder, possibly sleeping over/under, then she'll reluctantly say a prolonged goodbye. But that's only if shereally, really can't stay awake. She will not stay up for her friend, who she knows will be there in the morning, probably, and who also cannot give her the action she so desperately wants, except under extreme circumstances... i.e. a drunk crisis. This is awful. This is the fulfillment of a stereotype that makes feminists cringe. This is basically built into girl DNA. As for the exceptions, it's just because they haven't given into their nature. That's my firm belief. I stand by it. Guilty until proven innocent.
As hypocritical as it will make me sound, I'm sick of talking about boys. Mostly because I don't want to, (read: can't comfortably) think about boys. Thinking about boys means thinking about negative things and thinking about negative things means staring blankly at a wall/ceiling/computer screen waiting for the melancholic nostalgia to wear off. It means not being able to concentrate on the anatomy of the brain and the functions of each part, something I very much need to know for my upcoming class, which I did not take the prerequisites for. Which I will probably certainly regret, but I'm willing to give it a shot so that I might possibly gain some insight as to why people do the things they do. Why I do the things I do. I'm very good at psychoanalyzing myself, or so I like to think. I think I'm very aware of what I'm doing wrong, which Aristotle would say makes me closer to morality than the fool who doesn't know.
I'm ranting a bit at this point. I haven't done it freely in so long, and honestly, I'm still holding back. If I let everything just free fall from my fingertips into the ether of the internet, well, I don't know what I'd do. I'm trying to figure out what I want.
I want reciprocity. I want ease. I want passion. I want something that far transcends mediocrity.
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