My mother has been "spending the night" at new boyfriends house almost every night she can (meaning, every night that leads to a day off of work.) I have been sleeping in an empty house. I guess this is good practice.
On another note:
Where are you? What are you doing? Why don't I hear from you? You're forgetting me and there's nothing I can do about it. Or maybe, you're not forgetting, you're just avoiding. But in any case, there's nothing I can do about it. There's nothing I can do about it. This will probably generate a call from you, or a small message on my facebook wall. A text. Maybe a message via facebook private messaging system. But it really isn't much. Because I know the words you say are empty. And maybe they're not empty. Maybe they are so full but you are empty. And there's nothing you will do about it. And there's nothing you can do about it. And there's nothing I can do about it. Not even this.
I'm done with that problem now. I am done. I am done. More done than that overcooked quail my father cooked me. More done than a wall that has been painted over seven times. More done than I am with kindergarten, elementary school, junior high and senior high school. More done than I am of wanting to talk to people I knew way back when. More done than I am of trying to please people and tend to their needs rather than my own. Overdone.
It may not look it (because this blog was made to complain about myself), but I am pretty gah damn self sacrificing. I don't talk to a lot of people about they way I feel because I am busy trying to put on a front and make them think that EVERYTHING IS OKAY because I want them to feel better about whatever problem has arisen in their life. But the truth is, after I help everyone, after I listen to excuse after excuse (I have heard almost all of them before, and the ones I haven't heard, I can pretty much see through them), after SITTING ALONE EVERY DAY WATCHING THE TELEVISION WITH NO ONE TO FUCKING TALK TO AND NOT USING MY VOICE IN WHAT FEELS LIKE AGES BECAUSE THERE ISN'T ANYONE FUCKING THERE, I am left... so ragged. So tired and worn, like a pair of your favorite jeans that are starting to fray where they scrap the concrete because they're too long. I am so so tired.
I hate it all.
I am second best. I am THIRD best.
Why can I not be first best? THE best?
"Oh, and you're third, Morgan," he said to me, like it was nothing at all. Being third (and a half, because number two was a shared spot) on his list of best buddies was nothing at all. (I wasn't expecting number one anyway; I never have been)
This isn't what I am zeroing in on. It's just what made me realize that I am not number one--not even in my own mind-- and have never BEEN number one.
Fucking being number one on HIS list of friends. That's not what matters the most. It hurt being third at first, and then I realized, he's not even third on mine.
I am so pathetic. That being said, I will now be even more pathetic. This is my call to the universe. It WILL be heard.
ONE DAY, I WILL BE NUMBER ONE ON SOMEONE'S LIST. I will matter most people-wise (because I know careers are important, too.). This person will genuinely care about me and do something about it (continually if it happens more than once, which it won't). He will help me pick myself off the floor for the first time, and tie on my combat boots. I will be fearless for both him and myself. He will take everyone else's needs out of my mind and replace it with his kindness and concern and helpfulness. He will replace everyone else's needs with his needs, which I will return because that's what people do for their number one's. This number one will be the best person I know, and I will be the best person I can be and have ever been for him. This number one will have a nice job that he adores. If it takes him around the world, so be it, because my career will allow me to travel with him. And my number one will request that I do travel with him, because I am their number one. My number one won't care that I look like I am being treated with chemo-therapy when I take my makeup off, because he will think I am beautiful no matter what. He will tell me I am wrong about the way I look without makeup because he will make me FEEL BEAUTIFUL, and not just by telling me. It will radiate from him. He will be so nice and so sincere. He will be honest with me. He will make me laugh and hold my hand just because he feels like it. He will insist upon taking me to fancy restaurants every once and a while even though I tell him he doesn't need to just to prove anything. And he will tell me he's not trying to prove anything and it will be true. He will BE THERE for me and I will be there for him. I will be number one on his list. I will be number one on someone's list.
Photo cred: Keltie Colleen's blog.
Also, pleasefindthis has been posting some excellent pieces lately. Please find them.
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