Grow Up And Blow Away...

It has not been a good night. I had a great day, but the things that are good don't really need to be told. I don't know... I had a conversation with Maria. I had been really worried about her... I hadn't talked to her in a few days. Maybe it hadn't been a few days. It felt like it though. But, anyway, I talked to her... I guess I was in a more emotional state, and I had to think about things that I hadn't wanted to think about, and she said some things that really, really hurt, mostly without her meaning them to... And now I'm guilt-stricken, sobbing, with my head on the... couch. Fuck, I almost completed the lyric. Anyway, I did cry though, a lot, and then... Ergh, she left on such a low note, and I HATE that, I cannot stand a bad goodbye, because goodbyes are so important to me... She knows why. Not many people do, but she knows why. And when she left, I got so angry... Not at her, necessarily, but in general...

And when Amber came online, I had already started to withdraw into myself, beyond all help... My mind had taken over, and I hate that, when I retreat back inside myself, because I get so annoyed and mean and it just becomes impossible to help me. And Amber said some things that really needed saying, and I always feel so bad, because she's insightful, and honest, and knows what needs to be said... But sometimes, I think people, not specifically her, but in general, people underestimate how sensitive I am, all the time, and they don't have to take that into account, no, because it's not their problem... But, every bad word to me wounds me so deeply, it really does, and so Maria, you don't have to worry about this unconscious desire to see me hurt, because I'll almost never show you, but every single fucking word you say about how I failed you, or how I did things wrong, or anything else unkind, unflattering to me, every word of it cuts into my soul. Sometimes... I even forget myself how badly people can hurt me.

But anyway, I was talking about Amber, and got completely side-tracked, so none of that was aimed at her, I just left on a tangent... But anyway, every time she recognizes that I'm not such a great person, or says anything that could even be remotely construed as unkind, and it never is, but I immediately think it is... Or when I remind her of something bad... I don't know. It means ten times more, coming from her, it cuts ten times deeper. Which is not a fair burden to place on someone who never asked for that, especially someone who knows the truth when they see it...

I know that I failed Maria. I know that I fucked up, most definitely. And I had my reasons, and I hate the fact that, no matter how much people say they do, there are very few people who will understand those reasons. And, to the people that don't... I look like the bad guy here. Because I am the bad guy here, and I recognize that fact. But when other people do... It makes me angry to no end. And upset. And depressed. And all other things.

Everything makes me angry when I'm in this mood. I hate my writing, I hate this blog... I haven't explained myself correctly at all. I've made other people out to be the enemy, but it's all me, in the end. I'm not hard enough on myself, and then too hard. I can blame myself, but when other people blame me... I either go into defensive mode, or I sit back and just weakly take it, I fall silent, or just agree, over and over.

See, what was the purpose of that entire last paragraph? I should stop writing, and soon. I hate most of what I write anyway, and that's not my mood talking. I often wonder why people ever read this. I hate the fact that I'm not poetic. I love poetry, and I see poetry everywhere, but there is nothing poetic about my writing.

I had more to say too, but I've forgotten it all. I wish there was a way to show people that I'm sensitive, and prone to great pain at harsh words, even in jest, without seeming like a whiny little girl. And I wish I was the person I want everyone to think I am. I don't know... better. And I hate the fact that people are going to tell me I really am an alright guy, because the jig is up, I don't fucking believe you, and your pity isn't really pity, it's sympathy, but it all seems like pity to me right now. Tomorrow, maybe, I'll be grateful that people care. But right now, it annoys the hell out of me.