ANGRY

I am so angry right now, I'm talking about it here, when I know I shouldn't. But I have GOT TO GET THIS OUT.

Acrosticus, questioning the generalizations here is not a good idea, not for a week or so anyway. And no, it isn't one in particular, which is what amazes me.

What the FUCK is it with men? No, boys, because clearly they are all in some goo-goo world where they're fifteen and it's cool to think of every woman you don't want to have sex with as your mother. Yay, I have an MBA and the universe owes me everything I've ever wanted. Grow the fuck up. Seriously.

Your think you are entitled to some playstation version of adult life where wooo you get points for going to some college or school, doesn't mean shit if you don't have the responsibility to wake up and go to work, or make an effort to talk to people you don't know, or take the time to organise the details of things instead of producing an idea and expecting someone else to do the work.

You think that because someone puts up with your shit time and again, and always forgives you, they will keep doing so.

No.

Not even pathetic, needy, desperate for approval, and will do anything to make people like me MinCat.

Eventually, it will come around and bite you in the ass. You might lose the only person you could talk to in your city. You might end up with piles of dirty clothes. You might find yourself never seeing some people you liked to see. You might find that suddenly, gasp, plans do not revolve around you, where you are willing to go, and who you are willing to see.

You might find yourself, in short, in the real world.

And I'm done enabling your SIMS world.

Seriously, grow the fuck up.
Or go back to your mommy. I'm not her.

I'm done.

I've changed my mind.

I think you should just go away, because I don't need you, and I don't want you to stay, so the next time you come around my way, forget it you selfish child, the door's closed.

I won't be your doormat anymore.

Home

Tonight I can write the saddest lines... 

Naw. Not even if I tried REALLY hard.

Tonight I realised I'm home. No, really. This city has always pulled me back to it, in some bizarre, cruel, twisted joke (yes yes many adjectives = bad writing I know), only it turned out to be truly life-altering. I don't think I could be the person I was in March 2008 again, and I think that's not a bad thing at all.

I found a home tonight. And rediscovered another one.

The bar we often go to on Friday nights, usually crammed to bursting point with our friends and their friends and their friends, ad nauseum. As a corollary, the people who the bar stand for. I walked in, and sat down; grinned at the bartender and said no, I'm not drinking tonight, I'm driving. I ate my momos and giggled with PK, swung by to say hello to the DJ (my current musical HERO), and it hit me that whenever I walk in, I'm home. It doesn't matter how mad I was before that, how crappy my day/week/month has been, it doesn't matter who's there or who's not - I'm home. I'm lost in the warmth that lingers in your sheets on a cold winter morning. You know, that whiff of perfume from the last time someone slept over, the wrinkles on the sheet and the fantastic shapes in the quilt. It just makes me smile. Something rushes through me and pushes at me, whispering "THIS place".

And then I drove home, to the parental house. I swung by the turns and pulled up on the driveway. I got out of the car, and the breeze brushed past me. The house twinkled at me greyly, and the moon turned the clouds to jewels. The gate creaked open, and after the appropriate wiggle, the door opened. The wind though the house covered me with the jasmine that my mother planted under my window, and over my first dog's grave. I smiled. The feeling rushed through me again and murmured "THIS place".

Yes, indeed, THIS place.

Rag Doll

I turn, once again, to the delectable Mr. Levine.

You are not what you seem, you are a mystery to me, sometimes I just wanna scream.

Of course, I should follow that with:

I think you should just go away cause, there's no necessity for you to stay and, next time you come around my way, forget it baby, I'm not comin in.

Instead of which I have (no longer Mr. Levine):

Some people live with the fear of a touch, and the anger of having been a fool. I know you don't wanna hear what I say. I know you're gonna keep turning away. But I've been there and if I can survive, I can keep you alive: I'm not above going through it again. You know you only hurt yourself out of spite; I guess you'd rather be a loner tonight. That's your decision. 

Thankfully though, I don't have:

I'm not above being cool for a while; if you're cruel to me I'll understand.

Though I guess I did.

Funnily though, I always thought I'd be on the other end of that one. Must have happened when I wasn't looking!

However, there is so much I have learned from you, you wonderful, wonderful, unexpected boy, things about me that I really did need to know to keep the future together. And there is so much you can learn from me, only you don't really want to. Can't help you there. I wonder, did I do that too? Was there someone desprately calling out to me and tossing me lifebelts when I thought I was whirling in my pool of loneliness? I don't think so, but if someone was, I'm sorry. I'll keep better watch next time. Hopefully there will be no next time!

It makes me sad though, more than everything else, because there is so much you can be if only you'd let go. Then again, one thing I've always hated is people trying to make me the best they think I can be, which might have nothing in common with the best I want to be, or just plain who I want to be.

However, there's a fine line between accomodating someone and enabling them and their effect on your life. I'm teetering right now, but I got my OOF and Pnjubbi Kudi yanking very hard to stabilize. Thank you for reminding me OOF, that I'm a kitteh, not a puppy. 

Life is a very strange thing. So I shall let my darling Adam sum it up for me.

But I cannot forget, refuse to regret, so glad that I met you.

But no further.