I can’t find that orange website with your name on it, but it’s making me itch to look for it.
I googled your maiden name, there isn’t even a picture, just some article about women that have been sexually assaulted in the music industry.
You’re right, you aren’t the same person anymore, and google not only confirms it, it acts as if who you were, doesn’t even exist.
It’d be nice if my musings, my curiosity, stopped here, and I went on my way, but no, I do know who you are now, you and your “wonderful” husband. You with your child.
That sounds brooding and ominous but I don’t mean it to be.
I woke up this morning and thought, maybe even said to myself “yeah, she has a life of her own with someone else, better than you, maybe he makes a lot of money, who knows, better than you (me) anyway.”
I got dressed.
I went to work.
I’m at work.
I took my medication.
Not even certain why I’m blogging this, why this needed to be let out.
The voices haven’t been as bad these last few (two) days, but that doesn’t mean much. I had a few years when they weren’t as bad and look what still happened…
You’re the second girl I’ve dated thats blocked me on everything.
I wonder if its me, or if I just know how to pick them.
But I also thought, I don’t want anyone that’s going to try and dominate me.
I remember a while back, when we were talking, that you said you liked “bitches”
men that had a, for lack of a better term, more “submissive” personality.
I’m anything but that.
Yeah I want to make my partner happy, but I can be a scoundrel.
There must be other reasons as to why we’re no longer compatible, but its a one sided debate, argument.
Since I’m so obviously head over heels about you, and at the same time I’m not.
I’m angry too.
I don’t want to hurt you, but I am hurting, not being heard.
and even if I was, then what? What comes next? a check-in once every few months?
You won’t tell me anything I can’t do anything about.
I’m sure you have confidants that understand the puns in your dying language, the nuance, the idioms.
And should I really be this bent out of shape because you were some person from halfway across the world that I met?
When I’ve gone to London to meet a girl from Costa Rica, when I’ve met a girl from Turkey? Bulgaria? Sweden? Denmark?
Yeah, because you wanted to meet me, I was desired, it was exciting, something in me changed…
I don’t know, it feels so commonplace now that I’m an adult, now that I have money to travel, I wonder if it’s always been that way for you.
Like how Americans, unless unsupervised, don’t drink alcohol until they’re 21, and in Europe you might as well have been born supping on a bottle of wine.
Cultural differences like that, seem big, but the gap closes really quickly, so what’s keeping the gap open between us?
Why couldn’t we be friends?
I feel like we could have, I feel like that for everyone, and more of ten than not, I’m wrong, but I try.
I love.
So why?
Right right right, that old tried and true xanga saying:
“Relationships are a two way street.”
And only once of us is driving.
Word.
Palabra.
