I wish you could have stuck around a little longer, it seems like you skipped out on all the things I actually needed you to be here for. So when I blow out the candles tomorrow on just another of the many birthdays that you were not around for, know that you should have been.

"Moreover, I have boundary issues with men. Or maybe that's not fair to say. To have issues with boundaries, one must have boundaries in the first place, right? But I disappear into the person I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time - everything. If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all of your debts (in every definition of the word), I will protect you from your own insecurity, I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself and I will buy Christmas presents for your entire family. I will give you the sun and the rain, and if they are not available, I will give you a sun check and a rain check. I will give you all this and more, until I get so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with someone else.
I do not relay these facts about myself with pride, but this is how it's always been."

It's a cycle of abuse and you can't fix it. And you can't take it back. The only thing that makes love stories worth telling is the pain that they leave behind. It's not the fresh, flawless beginning. It's the long, drawn-out, unbearable ending when you realize that the last five months of your life were more than likely wasted away. And you think about all the things you could have done differently and all the things you should have said. But really, it doesn't matter because what it comes down to and what shapes it all is every little thing that did happen. Retracing your steps or attempting to do it all over again wont change a thing. "It was here when you got here and it'll be here when you're not here no more." There's a reason things turn out the way that they do.

Just like Alice and her tears, I could fill the room but I'm only drowning myself.

It's just everything. All the little things. Jumping rope in the literal sense not just the kind that moves in a circular manner around your 3 foot tall body. Standing on top of tables or laying underneath them. It's like who the fuck have I become? I can't even remember where I started. Why do we always give ourselves away to the "we's"? It's just a means to an end. Or at least a hopeful end. Nothing is guaranteed. I broke it and you bought it. Stop saying no and start saying yes. Stop being someone I want to change. Stop letting me change for you. I fucking love this version of me and you have yet to know her. But that says more about me than it does about you. I'm not really quite sure what keeps me. I'm not really quite sure of what it is that I am doing or practicing, or who this person is. And I hate that. I need it still and it's not what you've got, I'm almost sure of that. But the problem, I feel, lies in the fact that I'm looking in you and her and him to find me and there's no logical reasoning for that. I'm restless. Literally without sleep or words to explain it. I keep planning and hoping and crossing my fingers and my t's repetitively. It's all worn out. No more planning or waiting. It's mine. It belongs to me and in my hands. I wanna be the fight. I wanna be the fire.

Is it better to burn out quick than it is to slowly fade away?

So it's probably going to turn out badly. And I know how great that sounds at the beginning of a blog post like this, it sets you up with the impression that I am about to ramble and rant about a shit ton of nothingness that makes little to no sense to anyone but myself. But you'll continue to read because you're curious about what it is that I believe will turn out badly. So here goes... I was sweetly awoken today, at a much to early hour, by the smooth and confident voice of my out-of- reach man. This does not happen very often and after an argument like the one we'd had the previous night, it came as a shock. He swayed me into a state of forgetfulness, which I might add, he is quite remarkable at. Short lived as those moments may be, I do thrive on them. My morning phone call was followed by a pleasant long walk along-side my loving parents and a refreshing drive home with the top down on my car in the 85 degree weather. The later part of my day was spent a few towns over with my dear friend and her boyfriend and his room-mate. We swam and played and munched on fruit and brownies and drank margaritas. Then took the dogs to the dog park and came back to the house to cook a delightful dinner together. Which I think may soon be one of my favorite summer hobbies. I want to learn to cook! The night settled down with good conversation and a few laughs with a few people that I'd love to get to know a little better. Then I headed home. And just when I thought my day was over, he called. Only this time it was not the smooth and confident voice of my out-of- reach man, it was a far different voice yet still smooth and confident and somewhat out of reach though not in the same way. Perhaps a more dangerous voice but still I answered the call and chatted away, I proceeded to boast about the amazing qualities of my out- of-reach man, purposefully forgetting to mention the not so amazing qualities. I've been here, what seems like a thousand times, before. I've played the game, I've fallen for love and been broken. So tell me why? Why in any state of mind did I pick up that phone and carry on an hour conversation with the person responsible for the breaking? Don't know and I don't intend on doing it anymore often. Some things never change. But what does that really mean? Am I destined to repeat this awful self destruction over and over every 6 months for the rest of my life? Or can I take that phrase to mean something else entirely? Maybe it's true that somethings never change, i.e. he will never be a better man and we will never have a functional friendship, but maybe, just maybe, I can change.