debutaunt.com

There Once Was a Girl from Nantucket

Deleting the over 200 spam comments that hit me. I'm closing all the old entries to comments, but damnit. I need to have a MT blacklist installed, but am too sucky to ask for it. Its embarrassing that I don't know shit about how any of this works, and I tried the help menus and websites and read and read and goddamn it's like it's all Greek to me. A few cool chicks have helped me out, but I don't want to keep asking. I wish I could figure out how to do all the cool stuff that others do to their blogs, but I'm just not quite getting it.

So if you comment, and it gets deleted, it's because I still have over 100 comments to delete off of here, and MT is so fucked up that you can only do it like one at a fucking time. Or at least that's the only way I know how to do it.

You'd think I have PMS or something with all this whining bullshit.

Old entries. Old headlines. Old men and their memories.

Same old feelings of stupidity.

I allow men to treat me like crap.

I get involved way too soon.

I tell people how I feel.

I don't want to take things slow because for some reason I always think I'm going to be dying soon. Still.

I am attracted to emotionally or physically (location) unavailable men.

I should go see a therapist to find out how to change this.

But they all want to give me drugs. Which I refuse to take. I already down 20 pills a day and do two shots of insulin. I'm a walking pharmacy.

I should figure out what the fuck is wrong with me that I can't see what everyone else says they can see about me. That I'm funny, pretty, smart, and cool. And I embrace my inner dork.

I am in love with someone who doesn't love me.
I am in love with someone who doesn't love me.
I am in love with someone who doesn't love me.
Like maybe if I read it over and over again, I'll finally stop doing that.
I always love all the men that don't love me.
I want to be in love with someone that loves me.

Here's to the men that we love
Here's to the men that love us
The men that we love aren't the men that love us
So fuck the men, here's to us

I'm lonely. It's late. I should be asleep, but I'm not. I'm tired and am being sentimental about stupid shit right now. Stupid men. Stupid men. Stupid trucks.

I miss my mother. I miss my friends. I miss the goddamn IRC and all the peeps.

I miss a life with someone in it, and someone that isn't going to be an emotional vampire.

I love the Boy for Sex. There. I said. it. But it's more than that. It's the sex. He threw down some mojo on me, and I'm fucked up. He's perfectly adorable. Funny, smart, and great to look at. But for some reason, it's not about that and it's all about that.

He knows how to fuck with me. He knows how to fuck me. Me. Fuck.

I swear it. When we are together, it's something I have never in my 20 years of fucking experienced before. Jesus Christ. I've been fucking now for 20 years. Shit I feel old.

It's the way that it should be. Passionate. Hot. Giving. Loving. Tender. And it takes me 1,000 miles away from my life which is why I know it's just bullshit.

Because he cares for me, but just isn't that into me. I'm not his girlfriend. I'm not his lover. I'm a call he makes when he wants to see me. I'm the girl that does amazing things to him.

But I'm the nice girl. I'm nice to them all. I'm nice and soft and round and willing and there.

And just for once I'd like to get the guy in the end of the movie. I'd like to be the one that was "it" for someone. To be someone's it. To be the person *they* think about and want to see all the time.

And no, I know. Shut up already. I plead temporary insanity on that one. I think I was playing house just to play house. I want to be someone's it that isn't an abusive asshole.

I am sad and feeling like there never is going to be that one for me. Because I really do think that I'm not happy with something in my life. Something is off right now, and I can't figure it out.

And I need to dump him and not be sad. But I am sad. I'm tired of losing men that I want to keep. Dr. Egypt and now BFS. I love them. I still love Dr. E. But he's long gone. A distant memory. Nearly two years since I have seen him and I still think about him. My God. What is wrong with me. I'm pathetic.

And now. The BFS. He makes me laugh. He makes me come. He makes me smile and cry and laugh all at the same time. I so adore him, but it's not good for me. He's not good for me.

Don't date an insensitive man when you are a sensitive woman.

I am the crab.

I wish that there was someone here because I need a hug from a big person.

I need to just shut the fuck up and go to bed already.

Posted by debutaunt at January 25, 2005 11:39 PM | TrackBack