Once.

For one time, I would like to remember. Sometimes remembering can be terrible, but often it is filled with nostalgia, with passion, with contentment. One can look back at memories and elaborate on how they are pleased with what happened, because they gained something from it, whether it be from a lesson, or from a single moment, whether simple or complicated. I have become so accustomed to forgetting, to letting go, to moving on. It's okay that I dated him when I barely liked him at all, I can forget about it. I can move on and let go, because I didn't get attached. Or at least I can lie to myself about it convincingly enough, for long enough. It's okay that I let him get the best of me, because the best wasn't even really that great. I can forget. I'll live. It's fine that he doesn't like me, don't worry, I can move on. I can let go, and I can forget how I felt, how I clung to his sweater in hopes that maybe something would happen, how I hung off every word, trying to read as much meaning into it as possible. But I can let go. I can forget. I can move on.
And I don't. Letting go is possible, but forgetting really isn't, because things such as these occur far too frequently. I can move on, but really, how far am I moving, and in which direction? In retrospect, I might even be back where I started: scared, and not trying. For once, I want to remember a lovely ex boyfriend. An ex boyfriend that would bring me flowers, which were not roses, and my favorite type of coffee. Not the Tim Hortons shit that tastes like battery acid and nicotine, stagnating in a reddish plastic cup. If only I could remember multiple males courting for my attention, making me happy in a way that would make ME happy, not being degrading in a way that would make them happy. But I look back, and it's not like that. It's not like that at all.
I dated a bunch of people I didn't like because I was lonely, or felt sorry. It didn't get me many places, except to a place where I know I shouldn't be doing stupid shit like that. But that doesn't help me move forward.
I am so, so, so, scared. Please somebody help me, in a way that actually makes sense in my difficult, peculiar, unusual mind.

ugh.

Normally I don't write such angsty little directionless rants, but I'm mad, and I'm depressed, and I'm annoyed too, which makes for someone/something not so very happy.
It's really interesting when your entire life is going pretty darn good minus a few little things, and then something comes up, and fucks it up, and it's your fault. It's my fault for liking this person. I let myself do it, and now I'm depressed because I won't do anything pertaining to making a move or such nonsense, therefore I get to accept they don't feel the same and move on. Accept they don't feel the same, and move on. Accept they don't feel the same, and move on. What a disgusting, shitty little sentence. So why does it keep popping up? Oh right, because it keeps happening. Over, and over, and then over again. For some reason, I must have really horrible taste in people, as they just never seem to like me back. I am not honestly that bad of a person. I've fixed my negativity. I'm not hideous. I'm smart. I can listen, and I can talk, and I can be funny too, sometimes in multiple ways. So honestly, what the fuck? I am sick of this. Oh wait, that's a fucking understatement. I am sick of it happening not once, or twice, but over and over again. And because I'm so sick of it, I end up settling for less, which is also my fault, and then I get treated like shit. And then it gets worse, and I feel worse about myself, and I am back on the same stupid low-self esteem rollercoaster, and then it repeats. Some stupid 18 visions song is repeating in my head now--- obsession/desire/depression. Obsession/desire/depression. They never wanted me.... Sounds familiar, does it not? I am so goddamn sick of being stuck in this depressive black hole. And I am so sick of not being able to/just not doing anything about it. I keep forgetting my meds too, which is double not cool, because then the mood swings just get worse. Anyway, i'm going to write this, and no one important is going to read it,but I'm STILL waiting for the day when the smart girl beats the pretty girl. I better sit back and put my feet up.
Oh yeah, and maybe make a goddamn latte.

eleven fifty two ponderings

Some days, I really do think I want him staplegunned right to my side all of the time. I know I don't, but somehow it might be comforting.
Why is it so hard to let loose with how one actually feels?
Why can't I say anything?