Confusion is an enemy all it’s own

I really don’t know how to go about this…

It’s not that I don’t love you, because god knows just about how much
I truely do.

It’s really about what a human being goes through in life, I think probably everyone has it happen at least once. My heart, no matter how much I want to it, to contain it, to rule it’s every beat and desire, will not fully listen to me and my head. I want, honestly, to love and want only you. That’s right, just you. But no matter how I go about it, I still secretly, and shamefully, want someone else. I have to be frank here though, it’s really not about sexual needs or things pertaining to that. Honestly, I have wanted this person for years. Before I met you. How do I tell you that?

I think about leaving you because it’s not fair to you and your heart for me to be safe and selfish. I want to be able to have that chance with him. To be able to prove to myself that through all those years of hopeless yearning and fantasizing, that I was completely insane for believing that I would be enough for him. I know I’m not. He is far too young to be ready to settle, which is what I want from now on. I have had too many flings and misshaps hoping it would turn into more. I hope that I would turn into more when him and I see each other. But in all reality I know it won’t end up that way. I might get the touches that I have wanted from his hands, and I might get those looks of want from him, hell, I might even get that incredible kiss that I have been aching for for so long. And if I’m lucky, more where that came from…I know it will not happen though. That’s the thing…

Even though I know I’m not enough for him, even though I know it would be a short little romance, I want to try for the sake of being wrong. The problem is that I have so much to lose. If I didn’t have a child with you, if we didn’t have such a long history, if I had no attachments with you whatsoever, this would be so much easier. I could just say hey, we need some time apart, I could explore my dumb ass fantasy, and if by sone chance you happened to still be single or were willing to give it another shot, we could try again.

It’s hard to explain…I want to be with you because even though you sometimes upset me, anger me, down right make me want to kill you, I know I still love the hell out of you. We have fun together when we decide to try, we have conversations, and most if all we have a child that we both adore.

But I feel like something isn’t right if I so badly want to have something else with someone else, regardless of what’s going on between you and I.
It must mean that I am not happy, or that something is missing for me?

I don’t know really, except I know what I want…
It’s so complicated…
I wish I could get him and I over with and see that I was such anwasfe
kf my heart to, in all honesty, fall for him…
I’m a stupid girl, I know that.
But I am human, and I want to say that I am so sorry for what I may do to us here I the future…
I may change my mind but I won’t know that till the time comes.
I love you though…that’s what’s so hard about this all.

And I can never say this to you eiher. So I hope whatever happens is what ends up being the best for the both of us, and that we can do whatever needs to be done for our child.

I’m so sorry, in advance, if I do anything that is worth an apology.

Bitch Bootcamp: Week THREE

The Art of Affirmation

It’s time to quit stroking the ego of every loser you know by trying to validate their existence. Instead, start agreeing with them when they say they’re no good… because they are. They say they look fat? Agree – maybe even ask how they managed to fit their ass in those jeans. Their life is pathetic and going nowhere? Sucks to be them – share that you don’t even know how they go on.

Since when was it your job to listen to the woes of every Joe Shmoe?

I dare you to grow a set and give it a shot. You’ll thank me later when you free up hours of your time for other pursuits – like perfecting your bird-flying skills.

Stay tuned for Week FOUR: I’m not your mother, fucker

Dear Nobody

today i stared at what was once my life…how pathetic i was to blast myself and wished that someone cared. i read letters i wrote to myself boys that never cared but i gave them parts of my soul…friends that never mattered whether i was there or gone…a best friend i never thought i would lose based on “a friend of a friend” problem. i think to how many times i’ve wrote to you…when my life was so hard who did i have left to turn to…but you… nobody. all those years i wasted it kills me to see it…to read it… to relive it…every day perfectly preserved as if anyone would care to read it…i never did it to have people feel sorry for me but no other voice could i find. i never stood a chance in life my teachers are students themselves as we go along i become the responsible adult while the world around me crumbles…i get sick to my stomach when i see the people i have to surround myself with…my husband that ignores me except for sex…my best friend that lies to cover her own ass but steps on everyone to make her lies reality… the person that i despise for stealing my life i have to smile and play pleasant like i give a shit…and the person that has uninvited claim to what last bit of sanity i have shakes my heart that they carry on a chain in face just to leave again…false hope is what fuels my day anger is what wakes me up in the morning sadness is what holds me when i sleep…a wasted life is all i have to pass on for myself…just one question for you tonight…why is it so hard to let go…or better yet why did i reduce my life to pages that just show what little i have everyday, why can’t i just let them go…
thinking of you always…nobody,


I think you were alluding to the fact that I could have taken the initiative back then, which is entirely true. I liked you so much. I liked it when you looked at me with that smug, confident look. You could make me feel sexy just by looking at me. I liked it when you flirted with me for all you were worth. You could make me laugh like  no other boy could.

Except I was totally petrified.

But I never quit thinking about you. I’ve thought about you a lot in the last couple of years especially, and fantasized about how we would be together.

I look at your pictures and wonder how it feels to kiss you, to hold you and be held by you. I wonder how it feels to spoon with you, to look into your eyes without all those pretensions and so-called obstacles. I wonder how it would feel if you murmured in my ear, your hot breath on my neck. I wonder if you want these things too…

I’m so sorry.

I heard that your husband is dying.

I’m not sure what to say to you.  This makes me so uncomfortable because I desperately don’t want to say or do the wrong thing…but there is no manual for this.  Do I write?  Do I call?  Do I tell you how sorry I am?  All of this seems so trivial compared to the big picture of the man that you love waiting in a hospital room  and dying.

I’m so sorry.  I wish I could help.

How many times can I throw up in my mouth? Let’s count the times…

A, I’m so over you thinking you’re superior to me just because D ”picked” you over me. Let’s get one thing straight right now; I had D for two years. Not once but TWICE did he come begging for me to take him back. After I rejected him numerous times, that’s when he moved onto you. You inherited my sloppy seconds simply for the fact that you can’t keep your legs closed (obviously seeing how you ended up with 4 kids by 3 different dads by the age of 21). I honestly hope you are happy with your welfare, white trash life. You will amount to nothing and it makes me giddy with anticipation. So please, put your saggy boobs away and stop making out with D every chance you get. It makes me want to throw up. And I’m happier with T than I ever was with D.

p.s-D has a small “package” anyways. He’s all yours.

to a pretty pretty boy

HMMM I smile, I get those tingles i am so in search of. I like you pretty boy. I like your gorgeous changing eyes, those demples so deep and adorable. I love those abes you flaunt about and that cut muscular

I like you pretty boy. Not just because your great to look at, but because you challenge me intellectualy. You are my verbal sparing partner. I want to talk to you all the time, I want to trown you to the floor and take control. I want you to take control of me, my beautiful boy.

But you scare me so I will never actually let you hear this beautiful boy. you are aware of your looks and smarts and I feel like you would be “dateing down” actually I know you would. so pretty pretty beautiful boy I will talk and joke with you, compliment you and turn it around into an insult, and just look ocassionally let the flirting turn that sharp corner into sexual enuendoes (after all we both know vodka can do that to a girl) but i wont tell you i like you pretty boy I let you wonder if I’m just a flirty friend or you may actually get me. Because you may be just the type of guy I talk about wanting all the time to my friends but I wont call you by name you just fit the criteria and sadly I come no where near yours. Plus you are an arrogant little boy so pretty but so sexy with your confidence that I want to destroy, cofidence i want to shatter like i do to the other arrogant pretty pretty boys, but your differant. I think youe’r too pretty, but I still want you beuatiful boy.

Lustful Fool