Beer and rockets

I loved you. I couldn't admit it. My actions proved this, and you know that. I don't know what you thought, but I know what you didn't think. But it's okay.

I want to rocket right out of the universe. I want to learn guitar, write songs, and become a rock star at local venues while I keep a day job. I want to be 60 years old with huge rolling waves in my hair and wear shiny sparkly swinging 50's party dresses and jeweled cowboy boots and play at cocktail lounges on a nostalgia tour. I want to sing until my voice runs dry and I want to give back all that I've perceived.

There is such an incredible energy when two spirits meet who operate on the same frequency. When that harmony doesn't exist, both of you can feel it, and it's a struggle. Yes, love can be work, but it actually isn't, at all. Not fucking at all.

It's nothing you can arrive at by thinking yourself to. It's something that would just happen naturally, like a force in the universe, written into its code, like gravity, or electromagnetism, or respiration, or mitosis. It would just happen. It is action, it is movement, it is a line drawn because one thing was done and another was not. This is how you can tell the nature of a person's character, and what, literally, comes out of them when squeezed, and what they are when at rest, and what they are when in motion.

I cannot fucking believe that two of them accused me of not having much going on, and used it as an excuse for their own behavior. Is it insecurity on their parts? Did they have their eyes closed to my situation? And why? Well, we all know why. For the past two years, I happen to have been in a period where I can't do much. Literally, am incapable. I have survival at hand. But this was all known on your part from the beginning. So the question I have for both of you is, why the FUCK did you waste my time? THAT'S on YOU. And you fucking know it.

I'm so sick of treating men as charity cases. Of silencing the best parts of myself to make them feel more at ease, more secure, more wanted, more attended to, more more more and all I became was less less less. "There are no victims, only volunteers." You're goddamned right about that. It's over. From now on, they can bend around me. I want to leave them all in the fucking dust.

The only reason you would ask "You're used to being the dominant one in a relationship, aren't you?" is because your last girlfriends were doormats. And you fucking know it. And that shit is on YOU.

Man, I love beer. I never, ever, ever used to drink it, I hated it, hated the taste, the feeling, everything. Now, I actually get thirsty for it. My AA friends would probably tell me to watch the eff out for that, but I'm cool. It's a great taste. I'm glad to have spontaneously developed it all of a damn sudden.

I went to my apartment tonight after having spent a few days at my mom's house. My place smelled...stale. Absent. Absent of me, of human life, of human breath, and human interaction in a basic manner: the smell of shampoo and shower gel having been wafted through steamy air; the absence of the smell of my perfume. It's sad, when people aren't around. This applies on so, so many levels. I miss my people.