Fuck Thom Indeed.

I've always felt a bit bad about Tom. Or Thom. He was a lovely boy whom ate samosas and sent me silly pictures of him reading the paper at university. I was madly in love with him, but I fucked him over badly for a stupid relationship with IAN - Gross.
I of course, realise now that my relationship with Tom was doomed from the beginning. More so by the Atlantic Ocean, and not Mr. Ball.

Obviously I'm very bad at being in long distance relationships. My own with Andrew is a teeter totter of confusion, frustration, and down right madness. With Tom, it was an idealistic romance with a man-boy that I barely knew, but wanted to very badly. He was incredible to me, and I suppose the end of our relationship bothers me because he was never anything but incredible to me. He's the John Lennon of my love life, so to speak.
But now, with Rob returning to my literal existence, I find Tom very awful. I'm saddened that he would dump two of his friends for the sake of his girlfriend. Or rather, he would use his girlfriend as an exscuse to dump two of his best friends.

Mr. Taylor was always an "I-am-pyschologically-brilliant and constantly-right-period" type. I found it absolutely awful hearing his opinions of his friends from time-to-time. He expected so much of them, and in return, gave them accusatory commentary and moral and emotional guilt trips straight from his pyschology textbook. I never knew how bad at he was, until Rob told me he no longer speaks to him. How awful that is.
I'm afraid Tom will one day be very lonely unless he learns to understand that the rest of us stupid and silly mortals are very far away from perfectly sane.
But I am ever so happy that Rob has returned. He's told me in an email that he's dating a "proper boy" who has published two books on Wiccan culture. That is fucking rad. I'm terribly enthused by this coupling. I suppose his relationship with an author also compliments the fact that Roberto wears a proper tweed jacket, as he roams around the libraries of Glasgow. I am so jealous!

Tom is missing out on an excellent fellow. I'm glad that Rob doesn't mind his absence and I'm glad that Rob has found his corner of paradise to exist in.

1/3 of the Dynamic, Dynamic Returns.

Rob has returned to me. I am so happy.

Glug, Glug

I'm drained. So drained that I called in sick to prevent a breakdown. I feel like such a jackass when I call in to work, but I knew I couldn't handle the eight thousand skids of Christmas toys that awaited me on Saturday night. I just couldn't.

The worst part about this feeling is that I don't know why it's there. I can't think of anything that's overly awful right now, just Christmas shopping for the perfect presents and making time for my family when I don't have enough of it. I hate being this fragile, and I seriously think, I may loose my mind if everyone doesn't just leave me the fuck alone.

It's obviously my family that is making me go nuts, my family and Josh. It's actually quite funny that one of the major roots of the problem gave me the most solid piece of advice yesterday:

"Anna, you can't feel responsible for the situations people put themselves in. Stop being so nice to everyone."

HA! If only it were that easy.

Tonight I was moody. I can't imagine that I was a pleasure to work with, but that really doesn't bother me because the people I work with are moody 95% of the time. I deserve an off day.
Josh was quick to point out my nasty behaviour. He was also quick to avoid me and make me feel stupid for being so frustrated and crappy. He said that, I was supposed to be nice and he was supposed to be mean and when I asked if I was allowed to have a bad day, he said, "Of course."
After break, when I asked him what he would do if I acted like this all the time, he said, "I guess I would just mind my own business."

Does it ever occur to anyone that when people are in bad moods, they sometimes want people to be generally nice to them, and not indifferent and mindful of their own business? I don't want to run my problems constantly at work, especially to Josh because I've realised now that he just chalks my insanity up to problems with my parents and my inability to, "train them properly." But at the same time, it would be nice if Josh attempted to make an interest in my frustration. It's there for a reason, even if it is my family. His solutions to their problems don't work for me, they're MY fucking parents. Adults. People who have lived through the majoriy of their lives. They don't need some know-it-all twenty-three year-old lighting the way down a egocentric path of teenage bullshit and quick-fix-how-tos for their shitty existences. I'd be an awful fucking person if I was actually stupid enough to think that everyone's life would fit into the mold that I so comfortably enjoy.

Either way, Josh was oblivious to my bad mood tonight, but I'm not surprised. Afted I pointed out that I generally put up with his mean self every night, he casually commented, "You don't have to put up with my shit, I'm not holding a gun to your head."
Thanks a lot for that uplifting and carefully thought-out gem of wisdom. I feel so much better about our friendship. Gee, I guess now we're even better friends since you don't seem to give a shit about how I feel, or whether or not you're around during my moments of discomfort. I really appreciate your friendship man, I sure am glad that you clarified how much I mean to you too.

But of course I realise that Josh probably couldn't comprehend the impact of such a stupid comment.
I'm just so tired of him. Not because he's bad or because he's mean, or because he says careless things to a girl who cares about him too much but just because he's so oblivious. One day I, "mean more to him than almost anyone ever has." And the next I'm a disposable cum rag that he discards with such stupid and careless comments and they FUCKING HURT.

They fucking hurt.

The wall that exists in me that divides me from all the presences' in my life that have fucked me around has finally been constructed high enough to keep Josh out. No more flirting, no more rubbing feet under the table. No more concern for his relationship with his wife, no more internet chats, no more Taco Bell runs. If I am someone that means so much to him, he's gotta fucking start acting like it.

Gobble, Gobble The Spanikopitas are Nice.

It's hard to account for the things that have happened this week that I probably want to write about, but can't be arsed to. Recollecting past emotions that seem so powerful in a minute seem so dull now. Perhaps I should try to fix that.

It was 'Merican Thanks Giving on Thursday and my belly has been stuffed by lots of Turkey and mashed potatoes. Stan and Step-Mom-Miriam had to push the celebrations back a day for the sake of their half-finished home. Funny that they would go to such an extent for a holiday that only one person in my half-family considers worth celebrating. Silliness.
I made two pumpkin pies and wicked good spanikopitas, which I was tremendously proud of. Sticking your hands in hot and slimey spinach is some sick shit. Watching the green juice run down your arms as you squeeze all the excess liquid out is worse. I was slimed by a vegetable. Blech.
Andrew came for the fesitivites, so did my Aunt Ruth and Uncle Paul. It was the average Oster TG, with my Uncle's constant complaints for the distaste of his job and his disturbing fart comments, that made me quiver with disgust. Oh the Oster clan. Top notch individuals, I assure you.

My father. What an idiot. I of course am the only person with the priviledge of admitting his stupidity openly and honestly. Talk shit about my mom, but as soon as you mark my father's reputation, you're done for. I suppose this sympathy for a man that doesn't deserve it, is the root of all my misdeeds with men, who don't deserve me.
Mir and Dad are attempting to finish and furnish the upstairs portion of the massively expensive addition to their humble cottage on Pleasant Ave. The entire procedure is completely counter-productive and quite stupid. It's also very hard to sleep through. Why someone decides that it's a good idea to hang paintings before the room has been painted, is beyond me. Deciding to furnish the room, before the floor has been laid, also a puzzle. But such are the ways of middle aged individuals with no realistic grasp on life and it's quirks.
And of course, Pappa O has finally neglected his computer enough to make it break. I've been telling him for over a year now, "Fix your god damned lap top. Your porn viruses are going to make it obselete." Obviously, they did and now diddums ain't got no computer to access her blog. I feel like less of a person for doing so. I love you blogger. Tickle. Kiss. Hug. Etc.

My relationship with Josh has turned a strange and cold corner. Where as before, my feelings for him were so strong and ample, they seem now to be nothing more than a sole coal, burning bravely in a sparse fire.
The desire and drive that was there for whatever reason seems to have faded drastically and I think I do the things I'm doing just to keep that passion glowing because it's a sad thing to loose. I expected these feelings to calm, more so because they're obviously one sided and neglected. Also because there's no reason to continue having them. Also because Josh can't figure out where he stands in our friendship and his inability to understand is making it difficult for me to continue being so consistant.
He told me once that he couldn't give his wife a reason as to why he loved her when she asked him why. I suppose now, Josh can't tell anyone how he feels about them; not because he doesn't want to, but just because he just doesn't know. He's told me this a million times, but I'm just realising the impact of his emotional and verbal disability. I think perhaps, he'll suffer more than me, in the long run.

At the end of the week, I managed to make sixty dollars by running a box of, "How to Become A Profitable Investor" pamphlets to Buffalo. Sixty bones, I'm fucking loaded.

Squeaker's Sxity-Four-Thousand Dollar Question.

Oh cripes my feet are so cold.

This weather is mad. Thirty hurricanes in one night in the South. I'm sorry America. You've been fucking with the rest of the world and God has finally decided that he hates you enough to do something about it. Quite tragic, really.

Drama is the word of the day. If Fergie was in my presence, she would be shaking her lady lumps and flexing her muscles to ward off evil deeds. I wish my lady lumps were that offensive.

It's the head games man, the head games do you in. I wish people had the balls to call 'em as they see 'em. None of this, I'm going to be something, so you'll be someone else, so I can hate you, and forget about our relationship because it makes it easier for me. Be a man, be humane - deal with it.
I got a great deal of sympathy for Josh. Saying things like, "I've gone twenty-three years without social interaction, I can go another twenty-three without a problem" and acting like he sincerely means it, has to be tough. I don't think Josh meant that, but he made it sound like he did. That stung. In turn, I threw the, "Man, Mike told me that you were no good, and I spent a whole load of time telling him you were. Who woulda thought he would be right" back. I think that stung more, I don't know why though. He walked away then, walked away and punched a box.
Did it hurt because I sided with Mike? Did it hurt because I was mad enough to say it? Or did it hurt because you realised that you were bailing on me and that you lived up to the expectation that Mike had set out for you? Why were you so mad and why did you walk away? How badly did you want to hit me? Or were you trying to hide a different emotion? And where did you disapear to for you so long and why were your eyes so tired when you came back? What was is it that I did to make you so quiet after? I wish I knew.
Turns out that I'm not as expendible as he thought I would be. I don't know why that is either. I'm a persistant little mouse. I don't like leaving people emotionally flustered by thoughtless comments in the midst of mindless arguments. That feeling sucks.
He said that he tried to be rude and hoped that I would stay away, but it seemed to be failing. Seeing him that miserable, made me desperate for a solution. Knowing that I made him that miserable, broke my heart. I never wanted to be that to Josh, ever. I just wanted to be a decent friend. I know now, that I'm a major cause of frustration. I got too emotionally attatched. Again, I fell in love too quickly.
He told me he wanted to hate me because it would be easier for when I left. I don't really know why it would be harder on him then and not now. Now is so frustrating. So confusing, so unclear and so awful. I hope later, we'll be more at peace with our relationship and less concerned about the time limit and more concerned with the time well spent.

It's hard though. Very hard. Yesterday, I was ready to write off Josh completely. Walking into work and finding a completely ridiculous situation turned all sorts of backwards and upside down made it worse.

Josh, I never write anything to intentionally piss you off. I never want to say anything to intentionally piss you off. You're my fucking friend, the only one I have here. I don't want to loose you, I want to keep you. You mean more to me than you think and I wish I could express it better, but right now, the state of our affairs, leaves that part of me numb.
I wish we could go back to the first day we got to be together. That day when we existed as friends and nothing else. Getting lost in the Tercel, eating disgusting food and making fun of my rotund furballs. That's all I want now.
But at the same time, I need you to tell me that it's ok. That whatever it is that happened between the two of us, is ok with you and that we can be ok together, as friends. Give me a huge hug, attempt to be interested in spending time with me, ask me if I'm ok, be anything but so cold. Or is it that hard to be around me? I don't know how you feel about me, I just don't know. And right now, I just think you hate me and from what I understand of you, that's what you want. You have to make the effort and I know you know this. So where is it?

Make me believe that you want me around, or eventually I'll just slip away. But maybe, that's what you want. Josh, I'm trying to be right, but you have to give me something to stand on. Please don't let this friendship die.

Squeaker's Sxity-Four-Thousand Dollar Question.

Oh cripes my feet are so cold.

This weather is mad. Thirty hurricanes in one night in the South. I'm sorry America. You've been fucking with the rest of the world and God has finally decided that he hates you enough to do something about it. Quite tragic, really.

Drama is the word of the day. If Fergie was in my presence, she would be shaking her lady lumps and flexing her muscles to ward off evil deeds. I wish my lady lumps were that offensive.

It's the head games man, the head games do you in. I wish people had the balls to call 'em as they see 'em. None of this, I'm going to be something, so you'll be someone else, so I can hate you, and forget about our relationship because it makes it easier for me. Be a man, be humane - deal with it.
I got a great deal of sympathy for Josh. Saying things like, "I've gone twenty-three years without social interaction, I can go another twenty-three without a problem" and acting like he sincerely means it, has to be tough. I don't think Josh meant that, but he made it sound like he did. That stung. In turn, I threw the, "Man, Mike told me that you were no good, and I spent a whole load of time telling him you were. Who woulda thought he would be right" back. I think that stung more, I don't know why though. He walked away then, walked away and punched a box.
Did it hurt because I sided with Mike? Did it hurt because I was mad enough to say it? Or did it hurt because you realised that you were bailing on me and that you lived up to the expectation that Mike had set out for you? Why were you so mad and why did you walk away? How badly did you want to hit me? Or were you trying to hide a different emotion? And where did you disapear to for you so long and why were your eyes so tired when you came back? What was is it that I did to make you so quiet after? I wish I knew.
Turns out that I'm not as expendible as he thought I would be. I don't know why that is either. I'm a persistant little mouse. I don't like leaving people emotionally flustered by thoughtless comments in the midst of mindless arguments. That feeling sucks.
He said that he tried to be rude and hoped that I would stay away, but it seemed to be failing. Seeing him that miserable, made me desperate for a solution. Knowing that I made him that miserable, broke my heart. I never wanted to be that to Josh, ever. I just wanted to be a decent friend. I know now, that I'm a major cause of frustration. I got too emotionally attatched. Again, I fell in love too quickly.
He told me he wanted to hate me because it would be easier for when I left. I don't really know why it would be harder on him then and not now. Now is so frustrating. So confusing, so unclear and so awful. I hope later, we'll be more at peace with our relationship and less concerned about the time limit and more concerned with the time well spent.

It's hard though. Very hard. Yesterday, I was ready to write off Josh completely. Walking into work and finding a completely ridiculous situation turned all sorts of backwards and upside down made it worse.

Josh, I never write anything to intentionally piss you off. I never want to say anything to intentionally piss you off. You're my fucking friend, the only one I have here. I don't want to loose you, I want to keep you. You mean more to me than you think and I wish I could express it better, but right now, the state of our affairs, leaves that part of me numb.
I wish we could go back to the first day we got to be together. That day when we existed as friends and nothing else. Getting lost in the Tercel, eating disgusting food and making fun of my rotund furballs. That's all I want now.
But at the same time, I need you to tell me that it's ok. That whatever it is that happened between the two of us, is ok with you and that we can be ok together, as friends. Give me a huge hug, attempt to be interested in spending time with me, ask me if I'm ok, be anything but so cold. Or is it that hard to be around me? I don't know how you feel about me, I just don't know. And right now, I just think you hate me and from what I understand of you, that's what you want. You have to make the effort and I know you know this. So where is it?
Make me believe that you want me around, or eventually I'll just slip away. But maybe, that's what you want. Josh, I'm trying to be right, but you have to give me something to stand on. Please don't let this friendship die.

The Good Things.

Coming home this morning, I realised that "Bruised" isn't a sappy-sad love song, but a really fucking angry song about love. That last Bah, bah, bah, if you sing it with Ben, is actually full of frustration. Of course I sang and that amplified all the hate that was radiating out of me after work today.

I can't express myself verbally unless I'm angry. It can't be a piddly little pisser of an angry either it has to be a, "The words that are coming out of your mouth are making me want to put my fist through your face, shut up, shut up, shut up. Why are you making me suffer to the core? Why are you hurting me this much? MAD." It takes a long fecking time for me to reach this point, or usually, five minutes alone with my mother.
I had written a huge post in a book downstairs, highlighting my frustrations with Josh, yet again. Every Tuesday morning, I come home from work, my head reeling from being so confused and upset. Every Tuesday morning, at precisely 9:15am, Andrew gets a phone call from me, blethering like a little baby who just had her lolly ripped out of her fingers by an awful and rude man. I naturally, hate putting Andrew in this position.

Josh says that I never say anything nice about Andrew, so now I will start. Andrew is the greatest boyfriend in the world, because he puts up with my ridiculous phone calls, every Tuesday morning, at precisely 9:15am. Some may say that this is a duty of a boyfriend. I say that someone either has to be completely in love or completely mental to put up with that sort of bullshit.
Andrew has a list of reasons that he runs off from time to time regarding why he loves me. I know number two is because I never pull the door handle prematurely while waiting to get into his car. All the other numbers and reasons are not definite, I just remember that one because I like that one best.
I am Andrew's flour and he is a muffin. I hold his banana and nuts together. Clever and kinky at the same time. Only the work of a true master.
Andrew and I had sex the first time we met. When he saw me for the first time, after hearing a horrible account of an awful description of the girl he was conversing with, he thought, "This girl doesn't realise how beautiful she is." He told me this today. He also attempted to convince me that I had a face that could rival any super models, and suggested looking in a magazine to prove it. He did fail at this task, but of no account of his own. I have no confidence and that he says, is the one thing he wish he could change about me. Andrew made me feel beautiful.
Andrew will go to musicals with me, just not Cats. He actually thinks he would like musicals and would like to see Mamma Mia because he likes Abba. I never knew this and frankly, am a little ashamed that my boyfriend likes Abba. I think I'll manage to get over it.
He told me that I am the whole package and that while other girls maybe drop dead gorgeous or stupidly intelligent, I was the girl that won his heart because I had the right mix of everything. He said that I changed him, convinced him that being in a relationship was the best thing there is to be in and that he is the happiest he ever has been.

Andrew told me all of this and then I told him that I had feelings for another man and his response to that was:

"I understand. This relationship is hard for a lot of reasons and I wish I could be there for you to help it and make it easier. Your feelings for Josh, well, you have to figure those out for yourself. You just have to let me know if being in this is worth my time."

And that was it. He handled it with so much maturity and dignity I was completely overwhelmed and completely positive of why I want Andrew, the thing I need, that's been waiting down below.

He ended the conversation with a warm, "I love you... but please tell me that you'll never not let me play hockey because you're mad at me cause I didn't bring home bread. I would look like a pussy in front of all the guys." And the only thing I could do was smile.

Telling him about Josh released all the burdens of this mess and I feel a thousand times lighter.I've decided that I'm going to persue a transfer to a different Wal*Mart for the month of December. I think it would be in the best of interests for a lot of people and I think I'd genuinely enjoy it.

The Alternative.

I cannot articulate my thoughts verbally unless I'm really fuckin' mad. Not, "Oh my god, I can't believe you just lost my Ben Folds, Songs for Goldfish Album," I mean "Jesus Fucking Christ, I want to put my fist through your face 'cause what you're saying is burning me to the core of my very being, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, why are you making me hurt like this? MAD.
"It's not my fault that I'm this way. I blame it on God. He was the one who made me feel bad for opening my mouth.

Nights when there are no trucks are the nights when I go mad. Procrastinating in the isles leaves my mind idle and that is always the perfect time to solve all of my problems. Idiot. Josh read my angry post about his wife. I asked him before if he had and he said, "He would never do such a thing." I guess he lied.
He apparently has no comment or any recollection of any sort of feeling pertaining to my point of view. What he did say is that it's stupid and generally just laughed my thoughts away, while I tried to explain them better, something of which I am incapble of doing. Bottom line though, JOSH DOESN'T MIND.

FINE, I GIVE UP.

I will not ever be able to be alone with Josh again because of justified feelings from a third party.

FINE, I GIVE UP.

I'm not trying to break up his marriage, I'm just under the impression that someone seriously has to hate themselves something fierce to be FINE with fading into the shadow of someone else. And if the reason as to why you don't want to be alone with me is because you don't trust it, then JUST TELL ME THAT, 'cause that means this friendship has to end because I'm sick and fucking tired of being rejected for: 'CAUSE.

So I, JUST FUCKING GIVE UP.

If you want to be with me, you figure out how, and if you want to talk to me about this, you find the time to do it, and if you want to be my friend, go find the definition of friendship and apply it to whatever it is we have because you're seriously sucking at it right now.

Josh had also read yesterday's post. Apparently he's left a comment, but I haven't read it yet. He said that if was confusing and that it ultimately seemed that I was trying to justify my relationship. OF COURSE, I'm trying to justify my relationship. I need to figure out why I'm in it. I'm not a god-damned Beatle, Love isn't all I need. And love sure as hell isn't the sole ingredient to a properly functioning relationship.

Anyway, he said that maybe if I hadn't dated so many idiots, I wouldn't have such a problem now with finding a good man.
Andrew is a good man, he's just not your type of good and while you fuddle about with thousand dollar cameras to cover up the sickness in your marraige, I'll be happily slurping up some chicken soup, trying to remedy the problems in mine. I don't want money to be a representation of my love. And good gravey, I'm not dating Andrew for the bling. That is one of the reasons I wouldn't date him. I hate not being equal.
He then pointed out cleverely that the state of my confusion regarding men was probably some Freudian fuck up regarding my father, but couldn't tell me why.

THAT, burned me to the bone.

My father has hurt me more than anyone I have ever known. I don't need my mistakes in my relationships to fall on his shoulders as well, 'cause THAT I cannot fix.
He also said somewhere in this ball of hysterics that, "Someone who really cared about someone would MAKE them fix their problems." Well. Sorry everyone, I tried to fix everything for you, but apparently I'm coming up short. Somewhere along this road, I've forgotten how to take care of myself and now I'm in an awful fucking state. I'm such a selfish, selfish girl.

SO I JUST HAD TO FUCKING GIVE UP.

And then my thoughts turned to Andrew.
Last Friday he told me that he was proud of fucking a stripper. He had told me once before about how a stripper had left work to be with him, but neglected the rest of the sexing bit.
I do not want to date someone who is proud to have fucked a stripper. AND THAT, hurts more than all this mess because the only thing I can think of now is Andrew watching a half naked woman dance for him and the lust that I see in his eyes is making me ill.

So now, I've just given up. On everyone. On my dad, cause I'll never not be able to make him anything but a manic depressive alcoholic with a bad spending habit. My mother because she doesn't want to be anything but a victim. My sister, because her anger is a complete enigma to me. Josh because I never will ever truely exist to him. Mike because I can't tell him anything anyway. Katie because she lives in B.C. Rachel because I can barely keep my life together and Andrew because I'm not enough of anything to love him the way I should.

I'm done. I give up.

The Difference.

This post is going to suck to write.

It seems that the past handful of entries that I've committed to have been cryptic accounts of events from my twisted and all too surreal life. I guess I've been too nervous or rather, in too much denial, to actually post an honest one. I'm sure coming to terms with these reasons is why I think I'm borderline morally bankrupt.

It turns out that Josh had tried to respond to me this weekend, but his wife kept getting in the way. Three whole days to send me an email, and 105% of that time was an inapropriate time. I didn't get mad, I don't feel anything pertaining to his absense. Well, that's not true. I'm angry, but not because he didn't show or make an advanced effort to talk to me, but rather because I will never be able to make him have the time to show, or talk to me.
I suppose I wouldn't mind if the reason why he couldn't be concerned for me was because he didn't know how to, or because he just didn't want to. Those reasons I could easily deal with. Unfortunately, the reason is his FUCKING WIFE and while my blood boils when I think about being cutoff from Josh for stupid, fucking reasons, it turns out this time, his wife, has done me a fucking favour.

Being twenty-three, being in love, being on the border of becoming very committed to a man that seems like the perfect one, sucks.
Six months ago, I was completely sure that the only thing I wanted was to be with Andrew. Living in our little house in Toronto, painting the bedroom and talking about what to make for dinner. There is a large part of me that still does. I want that life, I want it very badly, and up until just recently, that little part of me that says, "what if?" has been hushed by my happy-go-lucky state of mind.
And then Josh had to walk in and muttle everything up. Of course it's not his fault. This scenario is the epitome of making the first/last mistake and having the world crumble under your delicate footing.

This situation is delicate. It's real fucked-up. No, I'm fucked up. This situation is delicate because I'm a fuck up.

There's no sense dodging around my relationship with Josh any longer. I've hid the meaning in it to protect the meaning of another and I think, keeping the shadowy account on here, is more frustrating than the actual relationship.
Josh means a lot to me. I don't know why.
I know why I like him. His smile makes me smile, his laugh makes me laugh, his cleverness makes me want to be clever and he, makes me feel beautiful. This, is hard to admit to anyone but him - Even my blog.
So now, that "what if" is ringing in my head. WHAT IF, relationships are supposed to make me feel the way Josh makes me feel? WHAT IF, I'm missing something in my relationship with Andrew? WHAT IF, Andrew isn't the one?

WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF??

It's not that Andrew makes me feel bad, it's just a different feeling altogether. Do I persue a risky relationship with any man for romance and paperback adventures, or do I settle into a warm love with a man who can provide and make a comfortable life for me? Which is the better and why am I crazy enough to even consider these feelings?
I love Andrew, it just seems that whenever something different is presented to me, I always opt for the difference.
The three days that Josh was not in my life was a big fucking slap in the face. Josh does make me feel different, but he doesn't make me feel right.
I know the circumstances of his life make it difficult for him to be available to me and I suppose I should be more sympathetic to his situation, but I'm not. I hate that he's made to be segregated from me. I hate that he has to hide me from his wife. I hate that the only way I really exist to him is through work and msn. I hate the way our relationship makes me feel about my relationship with Andrew and I HATE that it puts doubts into my fickle, fucking head.
But again, I'm not angry at Josh. I love him in my own little way. I just realised the importance of his distance and how much it needs to exist in order to keep both of our relationships at the right speed.

I'm sorry Josh, if this is cruel.
We didn't get to finish our conversation today, but this is how it would have ended:

"It's completely my fault for all this mess with Andrew. I feel awful for it."
"I don't think so."
"Why?"
"You think that all of your problems with Andrew are because of me?"
"Josh, you don't cause me any problems with Andrew. It's the way you make me feel, that causes all the problems with Andrew. To be very lame and quote Ben, 'Sometimes, everything you ever want floats above, sticking out it's tongue and laughing while, everything anyone could ever need is down below, waiting for you to notice.'"

Andrew, is all I fucking want. I just have to be smart enough to remember it when everyone makes the differences seem like the right fucking thing.

What the Hell is Wrong With You?

Coming home to my mother's is an act of immense vexation and impractical amounts of self-loathing and disgust. Only a faultless fool would dream of parading back into her home after experiencing how expertly she dishes out bullshit. Dealing with Dianne, as my sister so eloquently places it, makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a melon baller.

I suppose existing here for a day and a half wouldn't ultimately be so awful if my sister could put a leash on her attitude. Chelsea is rude and uncaring. She's the stereotype of an uninterested and self-absorbed twenty-one-year-old and my mom manages that in the worst of ways.
While Chelsea wants to be independant and her own blooming and knowledge-filled individual, my mother wants to keep her a stagnant and remarkably dull child. This whole scenario plays out over and over. Through phone calls, emails or visits, it's a habitual circle of she-said-she-said and petty actions that usually turn around and slap the actor across the mouth.

Chelsea thinks that it is the best of ideas for her to get laser eye surgery while she has the money from our wonderful, Ontario Student Loans System. My mother, being a representative of a Financial Aid office for one of Ontario's Colleges, quivers with abhorrence when this sort of nonsense dribbles out of my sister's stupid mouth. So obviously, Mamma O is completely shocked and disgusted by the decisions of my sister, the sister who wants to be a respected adult in the home, but owns a thought process that parallels a two-year-old monkey with Down Syndrome.
So while Chelsea dreams of being able to see without those fashionably out of date things we call glasses, Mummy stirs over what she should do about the situation because Chelsea needs Mummy to co-sign a loan agreement because her OSAP doesn't actually cover the whole procedure. My logical conclusion to such nonsense would be a giant NO stamped on any dream of my sister's, but Mum says she'll think about it. She thinks about it, and then agrees to co-sign and then, a week before the procedure, tells Chelsea she's SOL 'cause Chelsea has been acting rude for the past week and she needs to be punished.

IDIOTS. JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, YOU ARE IDIOTS.

This of course, has set the wheels in motion for an eruption of shallow thinking, unfounded commentary and a crap load of stupid, stupid events. I heard Chelsea's side of it on the phone yesterday when she pleaded for a loan of five hundred dollars. I told her my banking system wouldn't allow that sort of withdrawal by the time she needed it. That was a lie. So now, my step-mother has taken the burden upon herself. She is also, a very stupid woman.

Today, over quilting my mom decided to expel her frustrations regarding the events of the past week. It was virtually the same story, but with a lot more lines of self-humility and circumstances where she was a lowe and broken victim of my sister's actions, aka, a load of complete shite.

"So I told her that I wouldn't co-sign, but if she got her father to give her the $250.00 needed, that I would find it somewhere too." She said, as she casually placed the stonewear mugs that she had just purchased from Home Sense in the cupboard. It had been her second trip to the store in the past two days. But oh the deals she found there!
"I think that's rude."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I think it's rude that Chelsea would even consider asking anyone for money, especially you mother, since you seem so destitute." I casually eyed the glasses at this point. "But I think it's considerably much worse for you to put my father in that sort of position."
"Well I..."
"No, you wanted Chelsea to go to Dad for the loan, and if he said he couldn't give her the money, than you would say that you just couldn't find the money either, making Dad the bad guy. How cunning of you Mum."
"That wasn't my intention at all, you warp things."
"Maybe if you treated Chelsea like an adult, and let her fix her own mistakes instead of righting them for her all the time, the two of you wouldn't have such an issue. Maybe she needs to fuck up before she realises what it entails to be a properly functioning and responsible individual."
"Don't use that language in this house."
"You're avoiding the point."
"I'm not avoiding anything, you don't understand the conversation that her and I had. You don't know anything about it."

Of course I don't. Exscuse me while I expel my frustration by exiting your life, yet again.

***

On Wednesday last week, Andrew and I had a long talk about our state of affairs. He came down yesterday. It got better.

I realised earlier today that while distance makes relationships very difficult, absence makes the options very fucking clear. Sometimes presences muttle everything up. I don't know why that happens, or why I'm stupid enough to engage in thought processes that muttle everything up even worse, but I suppose it has everything to do with quick fixes for bad feelings in the pit of my belly.
I've never done anything bad enough that I eventually couldn't forget about. Being conflicted emotionally so often with people that I love in the past has made it tremendously easy to shut off the valves of common sense, dignity and selfrespect. I'm afraid that sometimes I'm dangerously close to becoming morally bankrupt because usually the outcome of my mistakes only leaves a faint impression on me for a couple of months. Then I make the same mistake all over again.
I realise now that my relationship with Andrew isn't sucking because of the distance or because he can't show me the feelings that I think I want him to show me. It's my fault. It's my fault 'cause I can't keep my eyes and mind where they're supposed to be.

I feel awful. I don't think this feeling is going to fade either. What the hell is wrong with me?

***

Josh hasn't been around for three whole days. While that's not out of the ordinary, it's quite strange considering the terms we parted on.
If he's decided to fuck off because he can't handle me acting like a deranged pyscho, I'd prefer if he told me instead of using his annoying hideandseek method. He owes me more than that. But I'm probably just overreacting. I'm sure the reason why he hasn't sent me an email, or been around, or even asked how I've been doing is because of some asinine complication regarding his wife.

Yes, I'm sure that's it.

Missing: Friend and Severed Head. Fifty Dollar Reward for Friend.

Hood still reads my blog.
How the hell has Hood found my blog?
After all the changes, deletions and constant construction of my literal life, Hood has found me, yet again. You are a crafty woman, Hoodie.
But yes, Hood still reads my blog. I feel a little dirty. A major shadow from my past has dipped into my very personal life and I'm a little astounded and dumbfounded by it. Hood has possibly read a very explicit account of asssex - DIRTY. I don't feel dirty about the sex bit. There are few things that I'm good at and sex just happens to be one of them. Katie however, just knew me in a time when I was anything but... singular with men.

Dirty!

Katie was my best friend through the majority of highschool. We met in grade nine band class and soon after, became good friends, even though she was weird and wore skull rings. Our friendship blossomed over clarinets, QT films and her mother's tattertot casserole. Now that I've come dangerously close to being old and responsible, I can sincerely say that I miss the days spent in her basement, learning about exotic things like ICQ and what would eventually become the greatest love affair of my life: Ben Folds.
I unfortunately, stumbled into an awful fit of love with a less than deserving jackass soon after. I don't blame Jeff for the demise of our friendship, but I do hate him for it. Jeff was always someone I couldn't say no to, and while Katie was strong and independant, I was weak and stupidly naive - I still am. My ability to be a good friend faltered, and I can only imagine how awful I actually treated Katie and that is one of the things that I deeply regret.

When we left highschool, Katie was wisked away to magical BC to persue acting. We kept contact, but like many distant relationships, the effort was lost. I eventually came to terms with my actions in highschool, and I think, pleaded for months and days and years for her to forgive me for being such a tool. I know she's forgiven me, but no amount of forgiveness could ever replace the friendship that I forfeited for a shit relationship with a boy who was in love with his guitar and hair.

I am an idiot.

I don't miss Katie now, not like I used to anyway. But I think about her from time to time and wonder what she's doing and how her life is working out for her. She is an oustandingly loyal, creative, and driven person and anyone who has the pleasure of meeting her is either spellbound, or in complete envy of her. She truely is remarkable.

Katie, if you read this, I do miss you. I'm sorry for the awful feelings you're dealing with and I wish I could help. I however, loathe the awful cliches and the horrible loads of bullshit that seem to follow the words, "breakup." I don't want to frustrate you with sympathy for a feeling that I will never understand, but I am sorry.
I know it don't mean much, but I still love you in my own little way. And while it may be nothing more than a way to hold onto a past that I miss very badly, I hope you can take the smallest of comforts in it.

***

Andrew.

Reading over my blog entries, I've made him sound like a complete asshole. I wish a buzzer would go off every time I opened my mouth to talk about him because I always seem to fuck it up.

Andrew is nowhere near as awful as I make him seem.
I never wanted a relationship full of roses and chocolates. I don't want overbearing romance, poems and all that other love-sappy-crap... gross. It's always everyone else that seems to get in the way of my opinion of him - my weakness revisited. Who woulda thunk that there's a stereotypical "perfect boyfriend mold" into which all males are supposed to fit? Who woulda thunk that any man who doesn't supply his girlfriend and/or wife with all the qualities that are listed in the perfect boyfriend stereotype paperwork would be considered a bad egg? Andrew was not a bad boyfriend, he just functioned differently. And while he never said the things that ooze out of idiots when they are in love, I know that they are in him.

"I don't want to do this anymore. Crying, all the time. I hate it."
"I do too."
"So what am I suppposed to do?"
"Wait for me, just trust me. It will work out, we just have to wait."
"I can't wait anymore. It hurts too much."
"I love you."
"Sometimes I don't know how much."
"What do you mean?"
"You say it, but I never feel it. You say you want me with you, but you never sound like you're dying inside because you can't be with me. Why aren't you saying to me, 'I want you now. Now. NOW?' And why isn't there any pain when you talk to me? Why is it so easy for you?"
"It's just the way I am. Baby, I miss you so much."
"But it hurts."
"I know. Please, just wait. I need to know that you'll wait."

***

I need to staple my head to my neck. I think that way, my brain will be forced to work properly. For now though, I enjoy the fact that it's anywhere but where it needs to be.

Missing: Friend and Severed Head. Fifty Dollar Reward for Friend.

Hood still reads my blog.
How the hell has Hood found my blog?
After all the changes, deletions and constant construction of my literal life, Hood has found me, yet again. You are a crafty woman, Hoodie.
But yes, Hood still reads my blog. I feel a little dirty. A major shadow from my past has dipped into my very personal life and I'm a little astounded and dumbfounded by it. Hood has possibly read a very explicit account of asssex - DIRTY. I don't feel dirty about the sex bit. There are few things that I'm good at and sex just happens to be one of them. Katie however, just knew me in a time when I was anything but... singular with men.

Dirty!

Katie was my best friend through the majority of highschool. We met in grade nine band class and soon after, became good friends, even though she was weird and wore skull rings. Our friendship blossomed over clarinets, QT films and her mother's tattertot casserole. Now that I've come dangerously close to being old and responsible, I can sincerely say that I miss the days spent in her basement, learning about exotic things like ICQ and what would eventually become the greatest love affair of my life: Ben Folds.
I unfortunately, stumbled into an awful fit of love with a less than deserving jackass soon after. I don't blame Jeff for the demise of our friendship, but I do hate him for it. Jeff was always someone I couldn't say no to, and while Katie was strong and independant, I was weak and stupidly naive - I still am. My ability to be a good friend faltered, and I can only imagine how awful I actually treated Katie and that is one of the things that I deeply regret.

When we left highschool, Katie was wisked away to magical BC to persue acting. We kept contact, but like many distant relationships, the effort was lost. I eventually came to terms with my actions in highschool, and I think, pleaded for months and days and years for her to forgive me for being such a tool. I know she's forgiven me, but no amount of forgiveness could ever replace the friendship that I forfeited for a shit relationship with a boy who was in love with his guitar and hair.

I am an idiot.

I don't miss Katie now, not like I used to anyway. But I think about her from time to time and wonder what she's doing and how her life is working out for her. She is an oustandingly loyal, creative, and driven person and anyone who has the pleasure of meeting her is either spellbound, or in complete envy of her. She truely is remarkable.

Katie, if you read this, I do miss you. I'm sorry for the awful feelings you're dealing with and I wish I could help. I however, loathe the awful cliches and the horrible loads of bullshit that seem to follow the words, "breakup." I don't want to frustrate you with sympathy for a feeling that I will never understand, but I am sorry.
I know it don't mean much, but I still love you in my own little way. And while it may be nothing more than a way to hold onto a past that I miss very badly, I hope you can take the smallest of comforts in it.

***

Andrew.

Reading over my blog entries, I've made him sound like a complete asshole. I wish a buzzer would go off every time I opened my mouth to talk about him because I always seem to fuck it up.

Andrew is nowhere near as awful as I make him seem.
I never wanted a relationship full of roses and chocolates. I don't want overbearing romance, poems and all that other love-sappy-crap... gross. It's always everyone else that seems to get in the way of my opinion of him - my weakness revisited. Who woulda thunk that there's a stereotypical "perfect boyfriend mold" into which all males are supposed to fit? Who woulda thunk that any man who doesn't supply his girlfriend and/or wife with all the qualities that are listed in the perfect boyfriend stereotype paperwork would be considered a bad egg? Andrew was not a bad boyfriend, he just functioned differently. And while he never said the things that ooze out of idiots when they are in love, I know that they are in him.

"I don't want to do this anymore. Crying, all the time. I hate it."
"I do too."
"So what am I suppposed to do?"
"Wait for me, just trust me. It will work out, we just have to wait."
"I can't wait anymore. It hurts too much."
"I love you."
"Sometimes I don't know how much."
"What do you mean?"
"You say it, but I never feel it. You say you want me with you, but you never sound like you're dying inside because you can't be with me. Why aren't you saying to me, 'I want you now. Now. NOW?' And why isn't there any pain when you talk to me? Why is it so easy for you?"
"It's just the way I am. Baby, I miss you so much."
"But it hurts."
"I know. Please, just wait. I need to know that you'll wait."

***

I need to staple my head to my neck. I think that way, my brain will be forced to work properly. For now though, I enjoy the fact that it's anywhere but where it needs to be.

Missing: Friend and Severed Head. Fifty Dollar Reward for Friend.

Hood still reads my blog.
How the hell has Hood found my blog?
After all the changes, deletions and constant construction of my literal life, Hood has found me, yet again. You are a crafty woman, Hoodie.
But yes, Hood still reads my blog. I feel a little dirty. A major shadow from my past has dipped into my very personal life and I'm a little astounded and dumbfounded by it. Hood has possibly read a very explicit account of asssex - DIRTY. I don't feel dirty about the sex bit. There are few things that I'm good at and sex just happens to be one of them. Katie however, just knew me in a time when I was anything but... singular with men.

Dirty!

Katie was my best friend through the majority of highschool. We met in grade nine band class and soon after, became good friends, even though she was weird and wore skull rings. Our friendship blossomed over clarinets, QT films and her mother's tattertot casserole. Now that I've come dangerously close to being old and responsible, I can sincerely say that I miss the days spent in her basement, learning about exotic things like ICQ and what would eventually become the greatest love affair of my life: Ben Folds.
I unfortunately, stumbled into an awful fit of love with a less than deserving jackass soon after. I don't blame Jeff for the demise of our friendship, but I do hate him for it. Jeff was always someone I couldn't say no to, and while Katie was strong and independant, I was weak and stupidly naive - I still am. My ability to be a good friend faltered, and I can only imagine how awful I actually treated Katie and that is one of the things that I deeply regret.

When we left highschool, Katie was wisked away to magical BC to persue acting. We kept contact, but like many distant relationships, the effort was lost. I eventually came to terms with my actions in highschool, and I think, pleaded for months and days and years for her to forgive me for being such a tool. I know she's forgiven me, but no amount of forgiveness could ever replace the friendship that I forfeited for a shit relationship with a boy who was in love with his guitar and hair.

I am an idiot.

I don't miss Katie now, not like I used to anyway. But I think about her from time to time and wonder what she's doing and how her life is working out for her. She is an oustandingly loyal, creative, and driven person and anyone who has the pleasure of meeting her is either spellbound, or in complete envy of her. She truely is remarkable.

Katie, if you read this, I do miss you. I'm sorry for the awful feelings you're dealing with and I wish I could help. I however, loathe the awful cliches and the horrible loads of bullshit that seem to follow the words, "breakup." I don't want to frustrate you with sympathy for a feeling that I will never understand, but I am sorry.
I know it don't mean much, but I still love you in my own little way. And while it may be nothing more than a way to hold onto a past that I miss very badly, I hope you can take the smallest of comforts in it.

***

Andrew.

Reading over my blog entries, I've made him sound like a complete asshole. I wish a buzzer would go off every time I opened my mouth to talk about him because I always seem to fuck it up.

Andrew is nowhere near as awful as I make him seem.
I never wanted a relationship full of roses and chocolates. I don't want overbearing romance, poems and all that other love-sappy-crap... gross. It's always everyone else that seems to get in the way of my opinion of him - my weakness revisited. Who woulda thunk that there's a stereotypical "perfect boyfriend mold" into which all males are supposed to fit? Who woulda thunk that any man who doesn't supply his girlfriend and/or wife with all the qualities that are listed in the perfect boyfriend stereotype paperwork would be considered a bad egg? Andrew was not a bad boyfriend, he just functioned differently. And while he never said the things that ooze out of idiots when they are in love, I know that they are in him.

"I don't want to do this anymore. Crying, all the time. I hate it."
"I do too."
"So what am I suppposed to do?"
"Wait for me, just trust me. It will work out, we just have to wait."
"I can't wait anymore. It hurts too much."
"I love you."
"Sometimes I don't know how much."
"What do you mean?"
"You say it, but I never feel it. You say you want me with you, but you never sound like you're dying inside because you can't be with me. Why aren't you saying to me, 'I want you now. Now. NOW?' And why isn't there any pain when you talk to me? Why is it so easy for you?"
"It's just the way I am. Baby, I miss you so much."
"But it hurts."
"I know. Please, just wait. I need to know that you'll wait."

***

I need to staple my head to my neck. I think that way, my brain will be forced to work properly. For now though, I enjoy the fact that it's anywhere but where it needs to be.

Missing: Friend and Severed Head. Fifty Dollar Reward for Friend.

Hood still reads my blog.
How the hell has Hood found my blog?
After all the changes, deletions and constant construction of my literal life, Hood has found me, yet again. You are a crafty woman, Hoodie.
But yes, Hood still reads my blog. I feel a little dirty. A major shadow from my past has dipped into my very personal life and I'm a little astounded and dumbfounded by it. Hood has possibly read a very explicit account of asssex - DIRTY. I don't feel dirty about the sex bit. There are few things that I'm good at and sex just happens to be one of them. Katie however, just knew me in a time when I was anything but... singular with men.

Dirty!

Katie was my best friend through the majority of highschool. We met in grade nine band class and soon after, became good friends, even though she was weird and wore skull rings. Our friendship blossomed over clarinets, QT films and her mother's tattertot casserole. Now that I've come dangerously close to being old and responsible, I can sincerely say that I miss the days spent in her basement, learning about exotic things like ICQ and what would eventually become the greatest love affair of my life: Ben Folds.
I unfortunately, stumbled into an awful fit of love with a less than deserving jackass soon after. I don't blame Jeff for the demise of our friendship, but I do hate him for it. Jeff was always someone I couldn't say no to, and while Katie was strong and independant, I was weak and stupidly naive - I still am. My ability to be a good friend faltered, and I can only imagine how awful I actually treated Katie and that is one of the things that I deeply regret.

When we left highschool, Katie was wisked away to magical BC to persue acting. We kept contact, but like many distant relationships, the effort was lost. I eventually came to terms with my actions in highschool, and I think, pleaded for months and days and years for her to forgive me for being such a tool. I know she's forgiven me, but no amount of forgiveness could ever replace the friendship that I forfeited for a shit relationship with a boy who was in love with his guitar and hair.

I am an idiot.

I don't miss Katie now, not like I used to anyway. But I think about her from time to time and wonder what she's doing and how her life is working out for her. She is an oustandingly loyal, creative, and driven person and anyone who has the pleasure of meeting her is either spellbound, or in complete envy of her. She truely is remarkable.

Katie, if you read this, I do miss you. I'm sorry for the awful feelings you're dealing with and I wish I could help. I however, loathe the awful cliches and the horrible loads of bullshit that seem to follow the words, "breakup." I don't want to frustrate you with sympathy for a feeling that I will never understand, but I am sorry.
I know it don't mean much, but I still love you in my own little way. And while it may be nothing more than a way to hold onto a past that I miss very badly, I hope you can take the smallest of comforts in it.

***

Andrew.

Reading over my blog entries, I've made him sound like a complete asshole. I wish a buzzer would go off every time I opened my mouth to talk about him because I always seem to fuck it up.

Andrew is nowhere near as awful as I make him seem.
I never wanted a relationship full of roses and chocolates. I don't want overbearing romance, poems and all that other love-sappy-crap... gross. It's always everyone else that seems to get in the way of my opinion of him - my weakness revisited. Who woulda thunk that there's a stereotypical "perfect boyfriend mold" into which all males are supposed to fit? Who woulda thunk that any man who doesn't supply his girlfriend and/or wife with all the qualities that are listed in the perfect boyfriend stereotype paperwork would be considered a bad egg? Andrew was not a bad boyfriend, he just functioned differently. And while he never said the things that ooze out of idiots when they are in love, I know that they are in him.

"I don't want to do this anymore. Crying, all the time. I hate it."
"I do too."
"So what am I suppposed to do?"
"Wait for me, just trust me. It will work out, we just have to wait."
"I can't wait anymore. It hurts too much."
"I love you."
"Sometimes I don't know how much."
"What do you mean?"
"You say it, but I never feel it. You say you want me with you, but you never sound like you're dying inside because you can't be with me. Why aren't you saying to me, 'I want you now. Now. NOW?' And why isn't there any pain when you talk to me? Why is it so easy for you?"
"It's just the way I am. Baby, I miss you so much."
"But it hurts."
"I know. Please, just wait. I need to know that you'll wait."

***

I need to staple my head to my neck. I think that way, my brain will be forced to work properly. For now though, I enjoy the fact that it's anywhere but where it needs to be.

Josh: To Remain Happy, Don't Read This.

I've got black sharpee marks all over my arms and my right ear is oozing some sort of yellow ick. What is it that I have to do to make my ears not infected? My body needs to deal with being pierced, it's just the way it's going to be. These hoops, are not coming out of my head.

And lookie, Kilian has just plopped his fat, cat ass down on the pile of bills. I suppose he plans to join me for my random blog entry of the day. He is purring. Kilian, the only consistant male in my life, even if he is only using me for pats&scritches.

Josh, Derek and I were supposed to go to Taco Bell this morning, but the trip was cancelled because Josh couldn't come. That absense, or the inability to be available is starting to piss me off and it sucks because Josh is literally stuck between two annoyingly stubborn women and he can't please both of them at once.
The more I think about the situ, the more annoyed I become with his wife's stance on his life. Before it used to bother me that she wouldn't allow him to hang around me because I was a woman. Now it annoys me because she's not allowing Josh a life at all. It seems to me (in my humble and terribly highandmighty opinion), that Josh has a big fucking OWNED branded onto his forehead and THAT grinds my gears. Not only because it's stupid and fucked up, but because it's disgustingly unhealthy and the exact opposite of what a properly functioning marriage should consist of.
I don't know how he does it. I can't possibly comprehend how he deals with the paranoia. How he lives through the accusations of affairs and the massive lack of faith she has in herself, which projects unknowingly onto him. I think it's nice that he is so dedicated to his marriage. I think it's nice that he wants to be a true husband to his wife, and make up for all this mistakes her previous one committed. The only problem is that they're not his fucking mistakes to fix and SHE, out of all people has to come to terms with that.
I wish I could walk up to her and rattle her with my bare hands, pleading to let the child exist comfortably in all aspects of his life, and for once, not for my sake, but for the sake of their god damned marriage. He says that he's not upset about it, that he doesn't mind and that I don't know the whole situation. Obviously he's right. Unfortunately, from what he tells me and from what I see for myself, I just think it's a giant fucking waste.

It is so strange, to see someone who seems so independant, have his independance ripped away from him, by someone who doesn't even realise that she's doing it.
And I fear that this may sound selfish to the people who understand my relationship with Josh, but I'm afraid that his life is going to be consumed by the fear of keeping his wife in a happy place. I'm terrified of the day when he realises that he alone, will never be able to keep her there. I don't care how much of a heart of gold anyone has. Time either heals all wounds, or breaks tired hearts.

So in the midst of this giant crap-fest of frustration, I realised that Josh and I are not at all that different with our inability to just fucking talk. I dodge the important stuff with all sorts of words, he hides from it with his silence. Funny how frustrated he becomes with me. I wonder if he understands that I own the same frustration with him.

All I know now is that this relationship is getting easier to loosen my grip on. There are days when I think that him and I are as close as sardines and there are others, that make me feel like the biggest of idiots for thinking that I could ever have a meaningful friendship with him.

I never will abandon him, I've promised him that much already, but that invisible border of intentional distance is forming and it's probably for the best. I just wish he would figure out what the fuck he wants out of me before the last brick is laid.

No Show.

I raced home today. I think I may have broken my car. My dad told me not to go that fast with it, that it would probably blow up, but I did it anyway and now it's broken. My car, has more similarities to my personality than anything else I think. A child of the 80's, red, compact, squeaky and broken. I'm an old fucking car.

So I raced home, hoping that the result would be a positive one, but it's not. It's a giant fucking no show. So far anyway. Maybe it's a good thing 'cause I'm so fucking tired, but that doesn't matter, 'cause I know that I would stay up all night if what I wanted was infront of me. I'm stupid like that. The only thing that's keeping me up now is the coffee. The two massive cups of coffee that I drank, so I could sort things out, even though they were making my stomach turn cartwheels.

What the fuck am I doing? This is so fucking stupid. I need to cut myself off. Every day, I get home and my stomach is in my throat, my head is pounding and I'm more confused than I ever have been. Of course then, I can't tell if it's because I'm tired or if it's actually because I'm confused. Either way, I'm sure it's not healthy and I'm sure it's making me mildly insane. Maybe very insane. I feel insane.
I guess it's getting easier. It's not difficult when you're so limited by so many things, especially the things you want most.

Ahh. And the eternal "pessamist" is proven wrong, yet again. That's good. So why don't I feel better yet?

Lost Cause.

"I went because you said you'd be there, a box of candy, smoke in your hair..." I can't get it out of my head man, this song. It's driving me crazy, but I love it 'cause the song's so good. LOVE just leaves you bruised... And I got the scars to prrroooovee it.

Mike was a fucking dork at work last night. I could tell by the way of his sideways glances that he didn't approve of my constant minute conversations with Josh, but I really didn't give a shit. Not last night anyway.
At the end of the night he just dropped the pile of skids between pets and toys and left miserably, like an old, disgruntled man with hemroids. After that he didn't say dick to me, in fact, the only thing he said to me on the way home was, "I'm so tired." I didn't say anything, I just bopped my head to the Ben Folds, thinking of how nice it would be to boot him out of my moving vehicle.
It occured to me after, that Mike, after all of his bitching about Josh, is more of an asshole. Josh has never, truely made me feel bad about myself and he doesn't press his highandmighty opinions on my naive person. I'm not scared of Josh, and I'm definitely more impressed with his character than Mike's. I can't think of one time where Josh has outrightly told me not to be friends with Mike, or even that he was a bad person. What it boils down to really is that Josh, knowing full well that Mike hates him, has never said a bad word about the boy.

I had a long blether with the wife today on the phone. I can barely remember punching in the numbers to call him, that's how tired I was. I do remember, bitching about the situation at work and feeling very annoyed afterwards.
We talked about the financial situation of my family and how it's stressing me out. Yesterday I found two saved messages on the voice mail that had been left by angry store owners, demanding the heaps of money my father owe's them. I also found red bank statements and unpaid bills and the worst part of it all is, that I'm not even trying to find them. They sort of just fall into my lap. It's almost as if my father wants me to find them, but what the fuck am I going to do about it?

Unfortunately, the conversation made my fears of my relationship with Andrew grow. It's not particularly fair to him, since what I need, he is incapable of giving. Of course though, they still grow and the bigger they get, the more difficult it is to calm them.
I realise that the only way for our relationship to work is for me to move to Toronto, but I know I can't do that now, I have to wait. A couple more months, eight to be exact and I should have a home with him, but what if the relationship is already too damaged to salvage? I think that is my biggest fear, moving away to find that what I moved for is dead.

I can't tell if the reason why my fears are currently so strong is because of how miserable all this money business and family business is making me. I can't tell if I'm falling out of love, or if I'm just flat out, making this mess by my own accord.
The only person that makes me remotely happy is Josh, but I can't have him either. The limitations that are set on him because of my sex and his wife's lack of faith are becoming emotionally draining.
I told Andrew today that Josh was a good friend and that out of all the people who I'm supposed to hang around with, he is the most loyal. Andrew seemed a little unsettled and I guess he should be, but he told me that he trusted me and that he knew I wouldn't put myself in a situation that would make him angry.

Of course I wouldn't do that.

I think maybe, I've just fucked everything up for myself. That seems to be the most basic of answers and probably, the most honest. My relationship is probably fading because I lost my footing. My friendships are diminishing because I expect too much from my friends. My life is a lost fucking cause, for so many reasons.

WTF.

Andrew came over yesterday. I thought it would be a hard day, now that I've come to terms with some of the reasons as to why I'm so miserable, but it wasn't at all. That bliss-filled person returns whenever he does and I realise very easily that I'm a big mother-fucking-fool to discredit the man that I love for his absence.

We had a horrible breakfast at Nanny's. It was full of pancake powder and spilt coffee. We meandered in and out of moments of sleep and moments of sex in my tiny bed and then randomly took my friend Rachel to dinner.
It was weird, the dinner. Not because it was with Rachel, but because she thought that we were such a good couple. My sister tells me all the time how perfect we are for eachother, but I never think anything of it. I don't think we're perfect for eachother, I think we're two responsible people who somehow manage to function properly together. Actually, that's the perfect description of Andrew and I.

I feel so strange now. I don't know what I have with Andrew or if it's supposed to last. It just feels so dead, so silly, so vague.

Worst feeling ever.

On The Side of the Road.

I listened to it at two o'clock yesterday and cried till three. Who the fuck knows why. I wish I could get off this birth control. I wish I could get off this woman scenario. It's making me fucking crazy.

I can't get these feelings out of me. They're bouncing around like a teenage idiot, hopped up on acid. I probably can't get them out because I don't know what they are. I don't know what they are 'cause I don't know what I've done or what I'm doing to cause them. Well, I do, but I can't tell if it's justified, or if they're spasms of insecurity.

I miss my boyfriend. This three-day-a-month visitation bullshit is starting to piss me off. I can't keep functioning like this and if he can, than I need to reevaluate what the fuck I'm doing in this relationship. Maybe that's why I feel so utterly void of consistenancy, 'cause I don't fucking have any.
I wish sometimes that he would be sweet... Or even, attempt to lie about how desperately he misses me because I don't believe him when he tells me. He's too busy living his chaotic life to remember his girlfriend two hours away. He's too busy telling stories about work, and silently slipping out of phone conversations to have a laugh with the people that pass by when I'm trying to tell him that I'm breaking inside.
But then he randomly appears on a day off and I am foolishly in so much bliss for a couple hours that I forget my discomfort, just long enough to keep my mind from thinking about breaking up.

Breaking up. With Andrew. There goes everything.

But now I can't tell if these decisions are because of the distance, because of who I keep in my mind, or because of who I keep in my heart. I can't tell if I'm concerned about finding a different kind of love to hold onto, or being bored with the one I have now. I want to know if I'm going to live in a happy farm house with kids and a husband. I want to know if being with Andrew is always going to be a staticky phone conversation with no emotional communication.

I've been with him for two years and the most he can commit to me is by letting me come up for weekends for compatibility tests.

He keeps me stable, he keeps me amused. He keeps me safe and he gives me endless opportunity for a future. Unfortunately, I can't find any adjectives to describe that future. It just is one.

I feel so bad for being so unsure.

I know I want what I can't have, but I can't decide if that means I should take what is here now, or if it means that I need to find something else or if I should just try to take it anyway. Maybe I just need to be alone again, but then, I'm alone now - I just happen to have a boyfriend hanging from the rafters.