i don't know what's worse: the fact that i've been in bed the past 2 days suffering with the worst case of the flu
i've had in years, or the fact that it means i'm now suffering from massive withdrawl from THC
, seeing as my decreased lung capacity has prevented me from smoking more than 3 cigarettes
in the past few days, and weed
is out of the question with all the syrupy substitutes
i've been downing in an attempt to nurse myself back to consciousness. as my physical health starts to pick up, my emotional state
is worsening. ah, sobriety
seeing as the thoughts that have brought tears to my eyes today all had to do with love (whereas yesterday it was because I could not breathe), i'm inclined to guess that the reason i've been smoking my brains out these past few months (we're talking pot here, kids -- several times a day: wake and bake, at work, after work with friends, after work again with a friend who just got out of work after everyone else, when i get home, as a night cap, repeat.) is because i am miserable and lonely, at least in my heart.
i have friends, i have a social life, i have admirers, i have lovers, i have people who are important to me and to whom i am important. i love some. some love me. some i will love, i'm certain. but, i'm empty right now. in theory, everyone and every fucking thing can go, can disappear, and i'll get along just fine. i'll start anew. i don't need shit, i don't need false people.
and i realize how i got here in the first place.
i realize i trusted far too much.
i gave so much of my heart last year, that while establishing this outside independent-seeming shell of a dee, i've neglecting developing the inside. the weed has been replacing the need for that, really. it keeps my heart filled up with smoke, so it doesn't need to be filled up with love of any real sort. fuck all that, i don't need it, right?
where did it get me last year?
The love of my life to date taught me about a possessive love I know I don't want, but the ideals of which i still cling to in my heart. is it out of fear, or out of the fact that possessive love (not neccessarily monogamy, mind you) is inevitable that i'm always going to be a jealous fuck no matter how "polyamorous" i try to be? I will, however, to be fair, state that his love was true, and still shines.
Then last year, polyamory theory i'd stocked up on was put into action. I was actually okay with everything, my partners tolerated each other and spoke and the three of us snuggled together and life was good. I go offline because I was HOMELESS for a few months. I realize that one of them was really 5 years old emotionally. The other one I still held in my heart, still called her my FUCKING girlfriend to everyone IRL. still thought about her all the time even though it was hard to keep in contact because i was working insane amounts of hours, mostly at night, asleep by day. i finally get around to calling her more, her calls suddenly wane. She's got someone else....i didn't think it would be an issue because we were poly. I didn't think I'd be given the boot, but alas, I was. She had abandoned poly theory because a nice piece of monogamapie came and sat on her windowsill and filled that void. I've barely spoken to her since..I can't, it hurts too much. It really fucking hurts. Poly failed me. Trust failed me. This is not how her and I were supposed to end. The energy between us was just far too strong...
Then there was Poet. I dated a fucking suave, hot, street kid who fed me nothing but lies and the best sex. I wasn't oblivious, but I gave him a chance, and he ended up FUCKING someone behind my back after I had given him and this girl smooching rights (after finding out from everyong else that they were smooching), but said to let me know if he wanted more. Hell, I even smooched her. And he goes and fucks her. twice, second time without a condom. LOVELY. Oh, god, I'm a fool. I loved him.
Then there was X. I recently had a chat with his girlfriend only to find out that she found out about us from someone else, never from him directly, as he had reassured me. I thought she knew, I thought she fucking knew. He lied to me, and this surprises me? I had been warned about him. Even my roommates, who had known him prior, thought perhaps he had actually changed. And me, I always think I'm different. I always think that just because I tell people they can trust me, just because I try to be the one person that people don't have to lie to, that this will be the truth. That I can trust them. AM I A FUCKING IDIOT? At any rate, I haven't fucked him since before he told me he had a one night stand, unprotected, with a chick who was cheating on her boyfriend to get revenge for him cheating on her. Yay! I still love him.
There's more to this story, more drama, more misplaced trust. There's always more, but the only truly happy thought I can garner from it all i that miraculously, all of my STD tests came back negative. I haven't had sex in more than 2 months, though, because the stupid idiot i am went ahead and was unprotected with my last partner and ended up dealing with bacterial vaginosis, which isn't an STD, but it can come about as a reaction to being unprotected with a new partner. LOVELY. WHEN WILL I LEARN?
i'm afraid to love, i'm afraid to fuck. (the two are horribly intertwined for me)....i'm more inclined to stay celibate, smoke weed 20 times a day, not wear makeup, look all unappealing in my oversized clothing. There's very little clothing I actually look cute or sexy in right now since i lost a good 40-50 pounds in the past year, which is why you're likely to see me wearing the same 3 or 4 outfits anytime i do want to look cute...how self-esteem boosting is that? Not really at all. (I know you don't care, though, but it's my self-esteem we're talking about here, and I like to look good for me.) :/
So i've rationalized that I've smoked weed constantly out of boredom, to get through the winter. And now sobriety and sickness and tears make me realize otherwise. The worst thing about it is that I'm going to have to console myself, because it needs to be that way. (Well, the person I'd chose to console me is going away for the weekend, otherwise I'd probably wimp out on that self-strength stuff and have him come here so I could cry in his arms, which I've yet to do). It'll be a miracle if I survive this weekend without toking. As soon as I can breathe again I need a fucking newport, though.
Love, love, love.
I don't want to love.
but it's always been a part of my being.
I used to not be afraid of getting hurt, because I know hurt heals.
I still say those words, but obviously I'm choosing not to believe them, even though it's a concept i've found to be true i the past.
obviously, i'm scared.
i'd cry more, but i'm sick and can barely breathe.
am i ever going to stop being so scared?
i loved someone that was good for me once. i don't know if it's going to happen again anytime soon -- i'm more fucked up than we both thought i was, apparently. (heh, we were both stoned). i think the adventures will still be fun, so long as you can deal with me being cold hearted with warm snuggles? I know that your answer to this is that it's probably for the better and we'll be just fine and all. Thanks for keeping us rational. I can't help but wonder what goes through your head, though. i miss you, sigh.
PPS: how do i turn off these tears? it's been months since I've really cried and my lungs hurt and i can't breathe as is. Oh wait, Nyquil. Mwuhaha.
PPPS: I guess all this whining means I'm back, E2. ph34r!