Here's my deal. This is going to be a laundry list confession. You need to snuggle down, turn down the lights, grab a cup of herbal tea, and for goodness sake's, make sure you didn't turn on the dryer with your cat inside it.
Do you ever feel as if you may be missing out? Life may be lovely for you, but still, we all need fulfillment. It's just the basic rule for living. If this means, rocking out to metal in your car before you go to work, you should do so. Without penalty. Do you need to buy unbelievably expensive lingerie to feel amazing? Go ahead, order both. One in black, and yes, the hot pink leopard print also. Just put the electric bill first before all that bullshit, okay? Do you need one on one time with your coffee cup and to sit on the dryer for a few minutes in the morning so you can feel (kind of) human, instead of that odd I'm-an-alien-no-one-gets-me kind of ghost we carry with us? I think that's cool. I like that about you, my apologies for never mentioning this.
I don't know where you're going, and I don't know why. Sometimes, I'm caught writing a letter to someone I knew a long time ago while writing my blog. There are different windows left open in my heart and soul. I welcome any emotion to drift through. To seep through. It keeps me human. Viable. Open. Understanding. I need this to not disappear. I couldn't bear the thought of losing the raw nature of the beast. I t frightens me to think you are fearful of losing it too.
Chin up. The thing keeping me alive and not down and out is buying a Vintage dress, and drinking a vodka martini. Dirty.
You guessed it. This whole thing still isn't about me. It's mostly about you. I want you to find some kind of identity that is only yours, and cling like hell to, and hang on to. Imagine being in a hurricane and holding on to the palm tree. The wind keeps your body up and off the ground. Sometimes the most invisible thing, is the most valuable thing.
I can't take any more patronizing blurbs from stagnant ponds. This is where my insecurity kicks in. Kicks my ass, kicks me down the stairs, and I beg myself not to smoke drugs, if I can help it. This is my struggle. I am my own worst enemy.
Until enter stage right: The Freinemy. We all have them. They love ya, but love to see you fail even more. Bullocks. How do I deal with the insane crowds who tear my self esteem to bits? After I punch the pillows on my bed and scream into the mattress for a good hour and a half, I regain my composure and usually rant it out to someone. Well, I usually just confess it all to the dogs. Champ gives me the goober face and usually gives me the goober face and telepathically tells me to "chill." Tiger, of course, suggests for me to pick up a new hobby. Ya know, so everyone will STOP bringing me down. Ladybird suggests for us to run like a crazy ass, and yep, you guessed it, play in the leaves.
If you haven't figured it out, my feelings have been hurt, and it's just how it is. I'm gonna suck on my thumb and just get over it. And realize, there's not anything I can change about it. Oh yeah. Follow my own advice and dig into something only I can do. So there.
I'm not over the top obvious, nor over the top the best choice. I'm quite nauseated to be frank with you. I'm very upset and let down. Spending oodles of time alone today. Forgive me for not communicating, It's just I can't deal with any more criticism.
This has taken a turn for the worse, hasn't it? My apologies. My sparkle has been taken from me. There's not any amount of Bacteen, Princess Leia band-aids, or terrifying staples that will assist my bruised ego.
Everyone else can dream, accomplish, and somehow hold on to it. I need you to take me a little seriously, and no, I have not been drinking wine. Can't you just handle it for a minute?
If this is my condition, shouldn't validation be part of it? I guess we all have a little bit of everything we ever wanted, and everything I ever wanted I found in a deaf dog. But I still need to bitch. Air it out. Be a part of the group. I wrote on the bathroom mirror last night after plucking my eyebrows. I wrote: Fitness is a journey. Not only physically, but emotional fitness ranks pretty high also. There are surprising elements of my personality that I picked up on. I get crazy about eating. Weight. You may even call it obsession. At least I talk about it. At least I'm not hoarding all my urine in the closet like good 'ol Hugh. I just stick to things I want like Velcro. I thought and thought and tried to settle down, and after my hour and a half workout, I did chill. So see? I validated my compulsion, and this is so what I am doing right now too.
If that's not insight to this little pony, there won't ever be. I'm not healed. I'm not fixed. I'm just becoming more sensitive to what works, and what doesn't. This is my adult life. I'm glad you have made a choice to be a part of it.