I hope we can still be friends

It's amazing. I could've almost written the speech for her. I knew what was coming; for the most part.
Right up to the traditional "still be friends line."
Only she spun it a little bit differently.
"I really like having you as my friend. And don't want that to end."
Some flattery to soften the blow. Tell me that I am special to her, to make the pain of rejection a little lest severe.
As if.
Three months. THREE MONTHS of shit and a one-sided love affair and she expects me to just smile and pretend that everything is ok.
Why?
So she doesn't have to feel so guilty? Is that it?
Is that why they do that?
As if we want some kind of consolation prize?

How can someone be so insensitive as to use a line so trite and cliche'?
You know perfectly well, we cannot be friends!
We don't want to be friends. We want to be lovers. We want you to give to us what we have so willingly handed over.
To go back to being friends is IMPOSSIBLE.
Once you cross that line, there is no turning back. There is no return.

I have to heal. I'm hurt. I'm hurt in ways I never knew were possible.
My whole world has collapsed.
There is no more sunshine.
The last thing I can possibly handle right now is her presence. I cannot even think about her without panic passing over me.

We were never just friends. I wanted her. I always wanted her. I can still remember the first time I saw her. I had to have her. I didn't know why. Instinct. I had to be with her. I was never interested in just being friends. I always wanted more. We were never just friends.

How selfish. How selfish to ask that someone who has given you so much and asked for nothing in return, be willing to lay his heart aside and pretend to not be broken up inside, just so you can have what you desire. Or so you can feel better about yourself.

Not every relationship was meant to last forever. Every one of them is a gamble. But when they are over, they are over. We tried. It failed. There is no blame. It isn't anyone's fault. It simply didn't work out. Why can't that be the end of it?
It pains me to think I will never again enjoy a smoothie, a sandwich or fall asleep watching a movie with her. But I have to get over her. I can't just wait for one of us to move away or something rediculous such as that. It hurts too much. I respect myself too much.

I remember my response. I told her "we can't always get what we want."
Inside I was screaming "are you insane?" I wanted to say so much more. I wanted to shout and scream and cry. But what good would have come of it? None.
She wanted to avoid drama. I spared her the drama.
It was a very diplomatic breakup.
Now I am left with nothing but a permanent reminder, splayed across the west wall of my living room.

Wake up in it.
Early, alarm hasn't sounded.
Time to think. Time to relive it.
Every second, every action, everything.
All of it perfectly replayed inside my head.
From 5:30 to 6:30 every morning I relive the nightmare.
Cannot stop. Cannot shift focus.
It's right in front of me.
I am a slave to my inner deamons.

I never could have forseen this.
The heart doesnt anticipate disaster.
It only sees potential. Glory and Perfection.
Even when I knew

I went running this evening.
Almost immediately my thoughts turned to her.
So i ran faster. Still she kept up with me.
The faster I ran, the more apparent it became that I was not going to escape.
She is inside me. She swims in my veins.
I cannot escape it.
Over and over, my mind replays our last conversation, and a million conversations that never occurred.
Never will occur.
But should occur.

I have so many questions. So many unresolved issues.
I don't know what to do.

The pain is relentless.
Almost undescribable.
Sometimes I just brood on it. It sits on my mind.
I just get so down, I can't even function.
I find myself just lost in it, staring.
Staring away.

I miss her. I miss her more than I thought I would.

I'm tired of beating myself up.
Tired of playing out scenarios.
The "what if's"
So many things I could've done differently.
Would it have mattered?
Of course. Because right now inside my head, I did everything wrong.
Everyting I said. Everything I did could have been done differently.
And it would have made everything perfect.
Inside my head, everything would be perfect.

In time, this will get better.
I will get better.
But for now, I'm hurt.
And I will stay hurt, until I realize it wasn't me.
Until i realize she just wasn't right for me.
I'm not a victim of timing.
I just followed my heart.
I will do it again.

Bring on the Meyhem

Went to the last Art on the Rocks event of the year. I'd link it for you but I cannot remember my html.
Anyway, night out with the boys.
Art on the Rocks is a classy event. Therefore it is full of chicks who went shopping for the event. Dressed to the nine. Hair in perfection.
Started the evening off right. Knocked down about 3 bourbon and cokes before I left. My buddy Rick had a drink. Justin helped himself to a beer or three.
Raymond had a shot. Everyone was good.
We get there. I'm blitzed. Eat something. Smile at some girls. Don't talk to them. Then you just look stupid.
So, things were fun. Talked to some girl from Norway. She is a Psychologist. Thomas liked her. They talked about thier fiance's. I just sat back and enjoyed the views.
Missed the best part of the evening.
The title of this is Meyhem, if you recall.
Well.
Rick, apparently had about seven shots before he got to my place. Seven.
Yes, seven. And a mixed drink.
Then he had beers at the event.
Did I mention seven shots?
Yeah.
Best explanation for his performance?
Justin said, "it was like watching a guy fall on a rusty sword....over and over and over again."
I cannot possibly describe for you his behavior on paper and give it justice. But i will do my best.
Imagine, if you will. A guy, barely able to stand. Drunk as a skunk and proud of it. He is fearless. When it comes to women, he holds nothing back.
So he busts out a couple of cookie cutters or something. One is a "T", the other a stegasaurus. He sees something else. He sees a penis and a bush. Following me?
Yeah.
"Hey ladies"
Look at these" I stole them. What are they? No, its a penis. Now look. The dinasaur is eating the penis "mwarrr, mwarrrggghh, marwerer." Those last bits are to suggest a monster eating.
"Look, the dinasaur is eating the penis."
This does not impress women at an art museum who went shopping last week specifically for this event.
So, Rick typically stayed a good, five, six minutes longer than he should have. Some of the times, the girls literally had to walk away from him!
But, did all of this rejection phase him? NO. NOt a chance.
He would literally get shot down, pivot on a heel, find a new target and move in. All in one continuous motion.
Marvelous. Lets fall on that sword one more time.
I like to picture a car wreck on an interstate that leads to a 50 car pileup. Only, it has to happen in slow motion, like, over the course of 20 minutes or so.
The worst part about it was, you couldn't like step in and be the good guy, and take advantage of his rediculous behavior. He was so wasted, he couldnt even get names. Let alone numbers.
The night continued like that. We hit a few bars. GOt REALLY drunk and somehow managed to get home before the sun came up.
I woke up at ten yesterday and started drinking by 11. What? Its football season.
I hooked up a second TV and we had three games going on at once! too bad i was so drunk i couldnt enjoy the games! oops.

Why I don't Blog

I stopped blogging recently. You may have noticed. Maybe you have never been on this site before. Chances are you have as with so little activity, its pretty much fallen off the planet. Well, that suits me just fine because I haven't enjoyed my blogging for a while.
I like to try and divulge things that upset me or anger me or frustrate me, etc. This is my page. I can do what I want with it, right? Well, that is what I figured.
But, as I look back on some of the comments received after a few of my posts, I notice that I get punished for openning my life to the public. Rather than just reading my work and appreciating it for what it is, I get shit. Constantly. Over and over. Everytime I put something in here that isn't jolly and full of kingly goodness, I get some asshole who is supposed to be my buddy who gives me some one liner about how "I need to quit feeling sorry for myself" or "My problems are nothing compared to someone elses."
Well guess what. I don't want you to make me feel stupid for what I write. Why on earth would I be motivated to write something just so I can get beat up for it?
My last post was something I wrote nearly 6 weeks ago. Two days after I wrote that, something marvelous happened to me.
Use your imagination, I am sure you can guess what.
Anyway, I reread the prose, and I really liked it for its artistic value. I think it's pretty good literature. Or pseudo poetry.
Well, I posted it, and got the following comments:
"Stalker"
"Your a psychologist right? Have you've been reading what you wright? You'll never find happiness until you stop over analyzing everything. It's a new girl enjoy the new beginnings before your fears ruin it for your penis."

These comments came from buddies of mine.
Thanks guys. Thanks for your worthless opinions. Don't read my blog if you are going to write shit like that.
And don't yell at me for not updating my blog.

And don't write some jack-ass comment on this post just to spite me, either. Fuckers.

Here's Something I Wrote pt. 2

There is nothing so frustrating as early feelings. It is supposed to be an exciting, passionate time, full of flirting and teasing. But there is much more to it. The stories fail to remind you of the fear, the indecision, the wondering, wanting.

Doubt.
How closely do you study her?
Searching for hints.
Searching for sings.
Am I seeing things that aren’t really there?
What if I’m misreading the signs?
What if I am too obvious? Am I coming on too strong?
What is she thinking? Is she afraid? Nervous?
Is she anticipating?
I can’t sleep. I can’t concentrate. I can’t make a move.
Too risky.
Think of the repercussions.

How will she respond? How will I respond?
Am I not so transparent? How can that be? I’m throwing myself at her!
With each passing day; window; it seems to be closing.
There comes a point in every one-sided love affair when you pass beyond the point of actions.
Paralyzed.
That cannot be. How could she give up so quickly?
But it seems the case. I should have said something tonight. I should have. Why didn’t I?
Because its risky.
Too many variables. What will people say?
Will I bee looked the fool?
Epictetus would say “so what?”
I say it is more complicated than that. There was a critical aspect of his philosophy.
Improve.
If I try and fail, did I improve?
How foolish.
How foolish to find yourself in this state.
Why now?!
Why all of a sudden does it come to this?
Why must it always be like this?
Same situation, just a new girl.
Same awkward wants and behavior.
Find a distraction.
Find a solution.
Find someone else!


Just be mine.