The women of my life are--well--why even go there? Why do I behave the way I do: It is for the sex, For kicks, Because I can, Or am I so lonely that I'm just taking on any person I can, being with one after the next--becoming the guy I swore I would never be--to be satisfied for a night and feel a little bit better about myself, while escaping the emotion for another day and eluding the pit of guilt and shame within my stomach to fall asleep and wake up with a fake, coated smile?
It should go as no surprise that I'm afraid to be alone. Yet as most things are, the more I think about it the more it seems to come to fruition. I feel enabled to push everyone close to me away, then bitch and moan to myself that I'm not a good friend, saying that they deserve better. A quick fact about me: I've never kept a close friend for more than 3 years. How can that happen? How can I even explain that? Better yet, why do I keep doing it? Lots of reasons.
I know what you're thinking--and you're more than likely right--that this is another self-pity, guilt trip that I'm putting on for myself: another whine; another bitch and cry; another look-at-me-I'm-sad-give-me-sympathy-help-me plea. I'm not denying it. I've been doing it a lot and I haven't stopped. My confidence has been so low that it's pretty much nonexistent. It's hard to find anything positive anymore that I'm willing to jump to the first positive notion that comes (whether it really is or not) because I'm afraid another one won't come again anytime soon.
Does this make me desperate? I don't know how to answer that. I ask myself that question expecting to give a yes or no answer with maybe some explanation, but I keep getting nothing. All I can do is just stare at the question and wonder, "Maybe this is an example of how lost I really am." I'm a poor decision-maker. I'm so afraid to make another decision because I worry that it'll get me into a bigger mess than the one I'm already in. So, I came up with a pathetic way to try to get me out of it, by trying to find someone to make decisions for me. I've never felt so dependent before. I don't know how to react, or cope.
What's worse: someone who lies, or someone who lies to himself? Is there a difference? Is it too late being honest when everyone, including yourself, doesn't believe a single word I say anymore? I use so much ambiguity that my life seems to be stringed by one embellishment after another. Hell, for what it's worth, this whole post could be an embellishment. I promise to you it's not, but who am I to be a reliable source.
RANT RANT, ramble, ramble,
Life is just a gamble.
There's so many women I wish I could have--ones that really would have been good for me. Yet as the cliché goes, the ones you always want the most are the ones you can never have. In my case, they're the one who are either married, deeply committed to a relationship, or worse of all not even interested. This is one reason I dislike having crushes. It never goes well and it's very discouraging. It's pointless for me to even have a crush because I can never keep it secret. In fact, I'm very sure that my crush knows that I have a crush on her. What's more frustration is that thinking of her makes me wish that I had never left KC. The thought of "what-if" always comes to mind. But why dwell on the what could have been, especially when I am nowhere near her type, nor even a speckle of interest to her? No matter how much I swell whenever I see her, think of her, or have the rare occasion to talk to her, I have to push myself away and say that it will never be anything more. Even if there was anything between us, it'd just become the same as all my relationships become: an easy attraction that eventually leads me to having you, I think that I'm falling for you as I try to make you my everything, then I start wanting more, I become bored and move on.
There is the Truth,
And there are Excuses.
And with excuse after excuse, flashing a smile and a dimple, I stare cold into your eyes and lie without flinching to have you feel safe and comfortable, letting you think that everything will be OK--that I can be trusted--regardless of the countless times I've admitted how much of a bastard I am. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't feel guilty doing it, but apparently guilt doesn't stop me from doing it more and more. I could tell you why I do it but I'd just be making more excuses. You've already heard enough, as it is.
So, what can be said about the women of my life?
