Honestly...
I've been doing a lot of thinking about blogs lately, which shouldn't be that surprising, because I'm practically addicted to mine (albeit pathetically so). It dawned on me that I've gone through all these efforts to be anonymous so I could have less self-disclosure when I write on here.
Somewhere in there, my signals got mixed. My friends read my blog, people I like read my blog- and somehow I started censoring myself again. Not vastly, I mean, there's only a certain amount I can really censor my lewd character outside of my blog even, but it bothers me that I am afraid to talk about certain issues or something. But I realize that it's all a self created thing too. So, no more withholding.
With that, I also realize that some of my readers, one in particular, get a little antsy and disgusted when they see me dribbling on about personal matters, and at first I put a lot of constructive thought into that question of "why are you telling me this?" But then I realized that this has never really been about other people, and never will be. This is the only on-the-record me time that I will ever get, and I'm sorry if that is upsetting to some. I am not going to be inhibited anymore.
So I suppose you can see where this is going... ANGRY EMO POSTS! ALL RIIIGHT!! And perhaps, if I ever have sex ever again- just kidding. Sex life = still personal and non-existant.
First topic on the agenda. I need to change the status of things with Mr. Pink. In light of what has recently occurred with a scholarly gang-member friend of mine, I realized that what Mr. Pink and I have is completely fruitless, and completely not what I want. I'd rather die alone then be trapped in the cold Lake area for my whole life. Which would happen. I'm having a real issue with parting ways though, because
a) it isn't really so bad, and maybe I just expect too much from people- maybe that's been my problem all along
b) I am not cut out for Uni boys,
c) I'm afraid of what it would do to him,
d) I never see him, and I don't want to end it over the phone. It's too easy to yell and hang up. I love the guy, but I don't think he knows what love even is. What's been happening, is nothing. I phone him. I make the plans to go see him. I write him letters. No letters. No phone calls. No plans. No fucking expression of "hey, I do give a shit" past, "oh, I miss you." But is this one term of endearment that I hear every second phone call or so, worth my time and energy? Don't say "I love you" every second sentence, but do something.
I had a talk with Fenton yesterday, and told him that I feel abandoned. And that was an embarrassing concession, but it's true. Meanwhile Mr. Pink told me last week about "this awesome girl at work" who asks him to smoke up all the time, indirectly hinting that "it really sucks that you aren't around, and don't like smoking up all the time." I should have told him to fuck off right then and there, but I didn't because I felt guilty. What if this is what long distance becomes to us both though? A perpetual game of making the other jealous? Because I know he gets absolutely enflamed whenever I mention any of my non-gay guy friends, notably a more recent one, and he knows that I get irked when he tells me about all the girls are falling all over themselves for him out there because he's got his highschool diploma. And therein is another conflict in itself which is pretty self-explanatory...
Godzilla made me cry today. I've had so much on my mind that I forgot to take the food crumbs out of the drain-catch and wipe off the stove, and she nailed me for it, and launched into the litany of, 'you're so immature...selfish...I don't like having to call you on all your mistakes- you think I enjoy it? God why can't you just think of other people for once, because I have better things to do then chase after you." Luckily enough, nothing slid out of my eyeballs until she left. I've found that if I just stare really hard at people when I think I might cry, that I can hold it in. But it makes me gassy. I am getting tired of litanies.
In conclusion- I discovered yesterday, that me and a friend of mine are not so different again as far as aspirations for our current personal lives, but- that doesn't mean I'm up to making any more stupid mistakes. If someone ever likes me again, they're going to have to slap me in the face and call me 'Johnny' because I'm not going to sacrifice my mutton for a hell of a long time. I was going to pay said friend $10 to be the advocate of this said motto for me a while ago, but perhaps he'll get his opportunity in the future.
I've been in a really strange mood all day. I chalk it up to hormones- but I've been all distracted and glum, and probably not good company. Plus, I forgot to meet Bento for coffee, so now I'm dead meat.