Sitting at work on a Sunday night; not a single day off. Not until next weekend, but I will be broke then as well, so what's the point really? It always seems like the summer when the extra cash dries up, and it's too easy to blame it solely on the electric and fuel costs. It is somehow inexplicable to me. It is nonetheless depressing as hell. I want to make my friends meals; take them out; treat them to some spoiling - but I can barely afford to keep myself fed as of late. Way, way too much debt.
I haven't been to a music store in months, outside of seeking out a gift for someone. That's like a crack addict without anyway to smoke it. I am however keeping a list of the things I discover on YouTube, Last FM and through friends. It's getting quite long. It was evident that I was out of touch with what is currently radio-friendly. I imagined Gotye to be some obscure, indie artist putting out depressing but catchy pop tunes - but no. First, Glee and now 7-11 - I had to wonder if I somehow wore a badge of shame for proclaiming such greatness to my Facebook friends? I kind of feel like the virgin I was promised was actually just reborn.
Find myself without a voice, or at least a direction for that voice. Can't talk to L about H, or H about L; I can talk to K about H and L, but I only get back what I want to hear. I have very different but very strong feelings about both H and L - and it's simply not reality based to think that this can be cohesive. Romantic, Hollywood notions about friendships being these bonds that demand respect and are priceless is to an extent not just a fantasy - but people's emotions and feelings aren't fairy-tales, unless they are of a Grimm nature. Who better than your lover should be your best friend? I can attest to the reality that it is simply not enough. I can only hope to find the kind of bond and unspoken understanding that Maisy and I shared with someone else... but at the end of the day, we had to admit that the bond we had was as best friends. As friends - we never once had a problem. This paragraph is directionless, and meaningless, and pointless - I am just trying to pry the words from my synapses so other things can process. I know there will be an audit forthcoming, and I will be utterly without receipts to reflect my spending. I don't know if I am doing what's best for me, and I don't have a lot of confidence that the other parties involved are keeping an honest eye on the books. It scares me. I don't think I am nor want to be a selfish person, but I am in love with the beauty of this moment when I can hear your thoughts, feel your breath, wrap myself in the splendid intoxication of your words... and I want for nothing else. The opinions I have of myself are anything but the ones were scrawling into the subtext of our conversations. I don't see me like you do, like anyone sees me. I am so skeptical of happiness - because as quickly as I can build you an ivory tower, I can take razors to my skin and bleach my veins of sensation. It's not true that you can never be happy unless you can make yourself happy... it's more appropriate to say that someone giving you happiness will never be happy if you can't make yourself happy.
Oh fuck.... I so don't want to be here, at work, espousing these thoughts right now - it's so depressing and reminiscent of a time when my world was collapsing in on itself. Who am I to judge what someone does or is willing to do to find love for their life? Fuck, I should be so lucky to even have half that passion and drive to want love in my life. I can't even fucking define love anymore. I know what it means to love a child; a friend; a family member - but to love another? Not a clue. I have been so wrong, so often - I'm not sure I'd even recognize it's clothes at the foot of my bed. I can't judge the stress and torture someone is willing to endure for this unyielding bond. Hell, I know what I was capable of ignoring under the pretense of love - so I have nothing to say on the matter. I'd be a hypocrite to try.
Well, I have said plenty I suppose. I am a word-user.
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