Written Vomit

Terrible imagery, isn't it?

But this post is sort of like a thereupitic verbal diarrhea that I spewed out today. To keep to the authenticity of it, I think I'll just keep the words and improper grammar and terrible word usage as they are.

Aftermath

Sometimes it feels like a scar

A wet wet scar

A sensitive scar

And when fingers run over it, it shivers

but the fingers are my own and I tease it because I like the pain of remembering

Sometimes I don't like the pain of remembering but I figure I might have to remind myself

I haven't fallen in love again. 

Well, sort of. It was brief and I ran before I could accept it

I'm a coward, the real kind.

I do cowardly things and then flaunt it proudly so that I can call my own faults

before anyone else's does

Sometimes in the books I read, the girls who call their own bluffs are the ones who get the worthy guy in the end.

This is really not a book...or a movie...or a love story.

And it's hard sometimes to wake up even four years later and think...hm...what happened? Where did I go wrong? Was it me? Wasn't it me?

Was it him? Wasn't it him?

Wasn't it both?

I dunno. maybe that's why I love romance novels so much. I;m wising up to the idea that you have to be someone's cup of tea.

You're not nobody's cup of tea

So there's gotta be someone out there but in the meantime, can't I find a nice torrid affair to while away the time? 

Do I have to be the kind of person who buys so deeply into the whole 'sex is love' idea that it's hard to envision one without the other?

It sucks to be a throwback to an era where no one monkeyed around with someone who wasn't marriageable.

It also sucks to consistently be the single one in a group of friends as interesting and more confident than me

It's like overcoming a phobia, you know how they say that the more you're confronted with the thing you are terrified of, the tougher your skin is regarding it?

maybe it's true. i'll never know.

i spend about 5% of my time crying over someone who i can't seem to completely put behind me

i spend about 5% of that time wondering if i was wrong, 10% of it making up dramatic day dreams in which we reconcile and the remaining 75% thinking of ways to get around and over and under the feelings that seem to spout from the neverending fountain of God knows what.

No real words to sign out...I suppose.

Just dreaming.