she’s been everybody else’s girl…
Here I am. Awake since 5am. Sitting on the couch on a rainy Tuesday. A black cat asleep on my shoulder. Silence except for the sound of my typing and a restless dog who wishes that Ducky would wake up and feed her.
I was thinking. Amazing, right? I was thinking about how I don’t feel listened to by my “significant other”. I took off my engagement ring. I don’t know what we are. We could be anything we want to be.
I’m starting to think marriage is a joke. A legal documentation. There is nothing romantic about marriage to me. Marriage=chains. I kind of want to be alone. I want to feel comfortable in my own space. I definitely want to be with someone who values the arts as much as I do. I swore to myself it would be better this way. That one crazy person is enough. Guess what? Ducky is turning about to be far crazier than I am.
On one side of the coin- I am worried about him because I love him. On the other side, I am angry. I’m angry that I feel like I now have to take care of someone. I’m angry that I do all the cleaning and laundry and that if we want a half-way decent diet, I am the one who has to say hey- this is the 3rd time we’ve eaten pizza this week. And it’s just too much for me. Too much stress.
I am smoking so much pot lately. Wake and bake to bake to sleep. While yes, it does relieve some stress and inspire creativity in me, sometimes life gets far too fucking real. Is that even possible? For life to get “too real”? I think seeking the truth is the most important thing we as human beings can do. And everyone’s truth is different. Mine is turning out to be the most liberating thing ever. Liberation combined with intense pangs of failure and pain. I don’t actually want to be alone. Because then I would have to know myself.
I am still talking to Raven. I have told Butterfly that I need to chill out on hanging out with him for a while. This is more because of my own feelings. I don’t want to get hurt. He is the most beautiful person. Absolutely beautiful. And, he will always be with the woman he is with now. This I know. This isn’t high school. So I move on. Slowly move on, and see the light.
Who has taken care of me? Who will always be there? Who will have to deal with my shit? Can he? Can he do all of this and I can I accept all that *he* is as well? He and I need to do some serious talking. Without me being high. Fuck..
lengthofascarf 