Meltdown

I’m losing it.  no, really.  I’m unhappy with the things that I should be happy with– and sad about the things that I should be grateful for.  Pretty f*cked in the head, right?
 
I heard Sheryl Crow’s song on the car radio– the one about the secret to life being “not getting what you want, but wanting what you have.”  I swear, I almost had to pull over to the side of the road and puke.
 
Maybe I’m just sick of life.  I don’t really feel depressed, per se.  But today, on my way home from work, I was a little spooked.  I was driving a little fast (like 85mph FAST) while approaching a concrete divider that veers sharply to the left.  Instinctively, I braked.  At the same time, for a split second, I found myself wondering what it would be like to just hit the wall– FULL SPEED.  To just be done with “things.” Honestly, that thought scared the living shit out of me– as in, where the hell did that thought come from?… and why?
 
It’s not a secret that I’ve never fully recovered from my husband’s infidelity.  And, I’d be lying if I didn’t fully admit to wanting to “mess around” with an old boyfriend I crossed paths with last spring.  You see, somewhere, in my screwed up head, I’d convinced myself that I had a “license to cheat.”  And damn, if I didn’t try hard to use that “free pass” on Mister, Mister.  
 
Then, last August, when things started to heat-up between us, I put the brakes on.  Firmly.  Told Mister, Mister some bullshit excuse about how much my husband loved me, and would do anything in the world for me.  And I’m still not certain, to this day, WHY I stopped myself. 

Well, ok, that’s not entirely true.  What stopped me, most certainly, was the promise I had made to myself to NEVER hurt another female the way I’d been hurt.  In other words, I didn’t want Mister, Mister’s wife to ever feel about her husband the way I feel about mine.  I never wanted to be that woman who made her question her whole existence/world.  That woman that made her sob herself to sleep at night.  That woman that made her question her seemingly wonderful husband’s character till the day she died.  That woman who made her think about crashing her car into a concrete highway block– on some random, f*cking hot day in early June– because her head was so messed up…
 
Yeah, that woman.

And yet, knowing all that– and having the clarity to write it all down– I still want her husband.

more about “Radiohead - Creep [Live at The Astoria]“, posted with vodpod

 

Mister, Mister

There really is no rhyme or reason when it comes to you.  For instance, why am I thinking about you again today?  What exactly is it that started this ball rolling again?

And, let’s be honest.  I want you.  And not in the “friend” way– but in the worst way.  And, I don’t really just want to sip a beer with you.  I want to smell the beer on your breath, and taste the beer on your lips.  

F*ck– I want to inhale all of you.  To know if you can keep pace with me.  If you can satisfy me.  If you like me better on my back, or on my knees… 

 

Mister, Mister

i haven’t thought about you in forever.  truly.  until last night.  i just couldn’t shake you from my head.  no sleep.  well, ok, three hours max… maybe.  and for what?  nothing.  absolutely nothing. 

i can’t write you.  i can’t see you.  i can’t phone you or e-mail you. why?  because i would rather die than risk the humiliation.  risk rejection.  again.

i’ve thought of sending you this link.  anonymously.  just as a way to stay in touch.  without really being in touch.  but, i’m afraid to show myself.  on so many levels. 

besides, i’d probably regret “showing myself… “

this is my safe haven.  my saving grace.  where i can say anything.  without judgment.  without fear…

where nobody knows my name.

more about "Augustana live-Boston", posted with vodpod

edited 6/5/08: embedding disabled on original video… had to substitute this newer one.

Mister, Mister

vul·ner·a·ble      /ˈvʌlnərəbəl/–adjective

1.	capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon: a vulnerable part of the body.

2.	open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc.: an argument vulnerable to refutation; He is vulnerable to bribery.

TOPIC:  VULNERABILITY (sexy, or total turn-off?)

Would it make a difference if I told you that I really did need help… that I wasn’t okay… and that I really needed a friend? 

(or would that just make me even more neurotic, foolish… and borderline scary?)