- Mental Junkyard… mind the dogs

untangling	Jan 5th, 2008 12:14:26 pm - Subscribe
Hey blog world. This is a random rantage... so use your seatbelt... and remember that if its not on, its not on. I'm floundering again. Rising out of the mire with my grand life plan, scrawled out on a piece of paper thats been made to look old with coffee and burnt around the edges for effect. Relics are priceless... only its not real. its not a relic. Its a fake. And I'm losing confidence. What is buried at the X? What the hell is that spot marking? Is it really a treasure? Domestic bliss my arsehole. I've got a revelation for you blog world, I am NOT a domestic goddess. There I said it. I'm more sylvia plath than martha stewart. I found an old picture of me today... 15 kg lighter. Somehow, I feel like I was better off before. Sometimes I want to just sit down with her and have her hear me... You've got a man who saw me go through an eating disorder and said nothing. Who watched as I fell apart and instead of helping pick up the pieces ran away with you. Do you really think that he won't do that again? There's something about seeing into the blackness of other people's souls... you never really shut that door again... and you might know how light he can be... but I remember the black. That never dies. But that was only sparked by the picture. Actually I looked extraordinary! I looked great. I wasn't mundane. I was free. Now I'm trapped by fat. I'm going to get the hell out of this cage if it kills me! I spoke with mine about kids a couple of times lately. I waiver between wanting them... soon... and wanting them never. I don't know. Until promises are really made, I'll never feel secure. I don't place enough stock even then to feel 100% safe... never... Am I writing in riddles? And half formed sentences... What I'd give to have you back from europe... I wish I'd been single when we met. Not so that we could hook up... god that would have been a mistake, but that I could have spent more time with you and gotten to know you better without fear of retribution and shame... without the stigma of deceit. I wish that i felt like there was someone out there who was listening to the story and actually cared. As I get older I realise that we're all simultaneous narratives, and very rarely do we actually care what other people around us are saying, its just luck and good fortune when we find someone who's story we actually want to read. Its exceptional luck when they want to listen back... God... I need people who will listen, who will know, who will care... I need a group again. I need stupid sit coms NOT to have lied to me and there to be some kind of real bond between women and men beyond sex... somewhere to be free... Maybe my older brother is awake...
mood: withdrawn	(2) comments

	rburton76	January 06th, 2008
	You've seen Pulp Fiction, right? "Are you the sort of person who listens or do you wait to talk?" Listeners seem to become more rare the older you get. But, as compensation, the desire to be known and understood subsides too. Hold in there for the bond.

	rburton76	January 06th, 2008
	If you're talking about contentment, it's out there somewhere in the mind-numbing daily grind of life. It just never seems to last. You won't find it by following the pleasure principle though. Trust me on that.