I have realized that this blog is really just a place for me to house my latent negativity. I'm glad I don't push this on to other people. At least I don't think I do.

Well, I am pushing it onto anyone who happens to read this. Which I'm positive is no one. Which is probably for the best.

How did I fuck things up this much? The weight of everything is making me literally sick to my stomach. I came up here to build a life, without a clear plan for my future, hoping to fly by the seat of my pants as I always have and hoping for success to come my way. But money and love and lethargy barred my way.

And now I am once again on the precipice of great change. There are a couple of ways this could all play out.

A week or so ago I was so sure - I thought I had convinced myself I knew what I wanted - and now here I am wondering what I should do. Again.

What is there here for me? What can I feasibly afford to do?

What do I really want?

What is going to fulfill me?

When am I going to stop being indecisive?

If you have to remind yourself of all the reasons you should be happy, it defeats the purpose.

Still trying to get my life on track. I signed up for sewing classes, and I may try to find some more things I can take - a business class or two. I don't know. I'm trying to work towards this goal I set for myself and I'm already getting impatient.

I've an offer I shouldn't refuse to go back to Texas and work towards grad school from Dallas. To be fair, instead of outright refusing, I made massive pros and cons lists. The cons still outweigh the pros. I can't go back to Texas. Not now. I just need a better job and things will be better.

As far as my personal life, things took a strange turn - you know those moments where something very small happens, something so tiny it almost doesn't feel worth mentioning, and then moments or hours later the actual weight of what happened sets in? The great Dane Cook calls it 'brain ninja'-ing. This guy I'm dating and I are very culturally different, and I was forced to deal with it head-on for the first time a few days ago. On the ride home, I just kept thinking "where is my simple little life?" Why can't he and I just run away from all of it and be together without worrying about who will see us or who knows or who is saying what. At what point did I sign up for everything being so damn difficult? A lot of things come easily to me, but this is ridiculous.

Sometimes I feel like I need a therapist if for no other reason than to help me organize my thoughts. Maybe to also help me from going professionally stir crazy.

My capacity for optimism amazes me sometimes - not to toot my own horn or anything - but for someone who hits lows like the one in the previous post, the slightest upward turn in things and I am back on track.

I have a LOT I need to work on - I mean, A LOT - but things are looking up in at least one area and that optimism is bleeding into everything else, breathing new life into my resolve. Which is always a good feeling.

Bring it on.

I'm at the point now where I am having dreams - no, nightmares really - anxiety attacks while I'm sleeping - of "getting my stuff back". That whole shenanigan when people have to exchange belongings that they no longer share with one another. I need my things back, but somehow in my mind, that is when it will have completely sunk in. The fact will have sunk in that I did everything that I could do and still couldn't allow myself an inch to creep back to him. The fact will have sunk in that I lost friends and time and opportunities for almost 3 years for something I clung to with every last ounce of emotional strength I had, hoping against all odds that it would work out - that at some point, all the bad things would go away and all that would remain were the good things, the great things, the things that kept me there so long in the first place.

I have nightmares - seeing a representation of my former self with him as my present self goes to collect my things. My outrage at finding him with someone else, even though I am with someone else. The double-standard of "how dare he?!" and "who does he think he is?". Honestly, I hope it fucking hurts. I hope the pain of my loss kills. I'm not that lucky, not lucky enough that karma will be a bitch for all of the wrongs done me in the past years.

I deserve to be happy. To be loved, To be cared for. To be protected. To be cherished. To be desired. I used to think it selfish of me to want for anything. It is selfish, love is selfish, but not in a bad way. I counted my new relationship as a blessing because the interest this man showed in me and the extent of it gave me the final clarity I needed to say "enough", to say "if you can't be this for me, then there are other people who can". I didn't ask for much, I don't think. I asked for time. I asked for affection and attention. I asked for commitment. What was readily given me in the beginning was withheld from me for over a year. I made life-altering decisions partially based on the strength of that old relationship and everything that I poured in, all of the effort that I put forth to make it work and make someone else happy ultimately was for naught. They say that surest way to find happiness is to make others happy. That didn't work for me.

It seems to be working for me now. Like a big, glorious Band-Aid it's working for me. All of the resentment and anger that beat the love out of my heart have been quelled for the most part, hidden in some small corner out of sight and mind. But it's times like these, when I am alone with my thoughts, that it creeps out and makes me feel as though things are still unresolved. It scares me and haunts me. I fear that if I ever have to face him again it will just come ripping and tearing its way out of my chest - and there I'll be, the happily-masked husk of who I appear to be that was finally consumed by the pain in my heart. He could be happy. I won't know - and that thought burns, not only because I won't know how he feels, but also because it is very likely that he is happy or happier without me.