Three awkwardly pasted together topics

Disoriented this afternoon. Class was decent, but I realized I'm the girl who talks too much, which was a little disheartening. Home to Moppet, then back out to work. I fell asleep on the bus in, but fortunately my hindbrain now snaps me awake when the stop before mine gets announced (and yes, if I take a bus with a broken announcer-voice, I do miss my stop.)

I'm having a hard time kicking this crush. And I get so angry at myself for not being able to just decide to be done with it. (and my crush may or may not be reading this, so I've been striving for what feels like months to make sure that each entry isn't actually a passive aggressive dispatch from the front). I've quit so many things, why can't I quit this? On the one hand, I'm not certain I've ever been hugged in such a delightfully pornographic way, on the other hand, I will someday find someone who likes to talk, in the same way I do, and it's okay for that desire to go unsatisfied for now. I'll find somewhere else to put this energy.

It would be so much nicer to be able to let go of things. Like some unfortunate insect, I feel like I'm sinking my jaws into everything and refusing to let go to my own detriment. I'm still working out the wrinkles from Asshat's leaving, and in a conversation with Purple, I tried to sum up something like ten years of life with and without Lesson into a paragraph, and I realized even if it's now a scar and not a scab, it still aches, and I still want to know why I wasn't good enough for him.

Put it down, lady. Put the damage down and step away slowly.

( Gratuitous Edna St. Vincent Millay poem )

And intellectually, I remember that I haven't actually managed to quit thinking about anything, I've only ever managed to quit doing. (and I don't like talking about the things I've already done, because it feels like I'm trying to rest on my laurels, or trying to get credit for something I've already gotten credit for once).

I have to take all my jewelry out tonight, and I know that it will freak me out, and I'll go back to the piercer to put the ones I can't back in, and just like the tattoos, I never feel like I'm cool enough for my piercings, and I'll want more. And there's ativan for the anxiety, but there's nothing in this world that will make an MRI fun. And then there's the time between test and result. And woe betide the person who tells me it's going to be fine, because all I will do is ask "but what if it's not?" with the implied "again" and then there will be anger and sobbing.

And this is part of the reason I'm opting for surgery. Not because I want to avoid the mammograms and the MRIs, but I want to avoid this feeling that I'm buying back my life in six month chunks. And in my darker corners, I'm a little bit afraid that I'm going through with this, I'm focusing on this because I only know how to be a victim, how to suffer or how to struggle.

I've never quit thinking about cigarettes, I've only ever quit smoking them.

Three awkwardly pasted together topics

Disoriented this afternoon. Class was decent, but I realized I'm the girl who talks too much, which was a little disheartening. Home to Moppet, then back out to work. I fell asleep on the bus in, but fortunately my hindbrain now snaps me awake when the stop before mine gets announced (and yes, if I take a bus with a broken announcer-voice, I do miss my stop.)

I'm having a hard time kicking this crush. And I get so angry at myself for not being able to just decide to be done with it. (and my crush may or may not be reading this, so I've been striving for what feels like months to make sure that each entry isn't actually a passive aggressive dispatch from the front). I've quit so many things, why can't I quit this? On the one hand, I'm not certain I've ever been hugged in such a delightfully pornographic way, on the other hand, I will someday find someone who likes to talk, in the same way I do, and it's okay for that desire to go unsatisfied for now. I'll find somewhere else to put this energy.

It would be so much nicer to be able to let go of things. Like some unfortunate insect, I feel like I'm sinking my jaws into everything and refusing to let go to my own detriment. I'm still working out the wrinkles from Asshat's leaving, and in a conversation with Purple, I tried to sum up something like ten years of life with and without Lesson into a paragraph, and I realized even if it's now a scar and not a scab, it still aches, and I still want to know why I wasn't good enough for him.

Put it down, lady. Put the damage down and step away slowly.

( Gratuitous Edna St. Vincent Millay poem )

And intellectually, I remember that I haven't actually managed to quit thinking about anything, I've only ever managed to quit doing. (and I don't like talking about the things I've already done, because it feels like I'm trying to rest on my laurels, or trying to get credit for something I've already gotten credit for once).

I have to take all my jewelry out tonight, and I know that it will freak me out, and I'll go back to the piercer to put the ones I can't back in, and just like the tattoos, I never feel like I'm cool enough for my piercings, and I'll want more. And there's ativan for the anxiety, but there's nothing in this world that will make an MRI fun. And then there's the time between test and result. And woe betide the person who tells me it's going to be fine, because all I will do is ask "but what if it's not?" with the implied "again" and then there will be anger and sobbing.

And this is part of the reason I'm opting for surgery. Not because I want to avoid the mammograms and the MRIs, but I want to avoid this feeling that I'm buying back my life in six month chunks. And in my darker corners, I'm a little bit afraid that I'm going through with this, I'm focusing on this because I only know how to be a victim, how to suffer or how to struggle.

I've never quit thinking about cigarettes, I've only ever quit smoking them.