There's this girl I like. I've been trying to hook up with her for awhile, but she seems resistant. Meanwhile, I fell for this man who's way too aloof and his interest in unreadable. I'm attending this session for actors and he wants me to remind him. At first, I'm thinking, "What am I, his secretary?" But what if I call to remind him and he doesn't want to attend? Anyway, this girl I like, I suggested we go for a walk on Friday, my day off, but then she writes back that she has plans! I was a little pissed off, I have to admit. This phone call to this guy could mean I'll get laid, we'll hang out or I'll feel crushed again. I'm just waiting to bitch someone out about my entire sex/love life. I can't take this anymore! I've already given up on finding love, then I'm disappointed with men, then with the whole gay community, and now....I don't know what to think. I hate dating. I hate looking for new people. I hate getting my hopes up: I'm hopeless about my romantic future. I figure the worst that'll happen to me is I either get violated again, I get pregnant and raise the child alone or I'll get an STD. A long-term relationship seems unreachable for me. I can't conceive such a thing happening to me. I've been single for so long it's all I know. I was even talking to a friend who's a serial monogomist and she envies me, saying she only knows being in a relationship with someone. She's been married to a man, had girlfriends and is trying to live on her own. Even with her, we try to hang out but she's never responsive when it comes to keeping appointments. What scent am I giving off?
I'm so disappointed in the whole thing, I want to scream or so something drastic. What? I don't know. I don't know nothing.
I've even thinking of this guy I worked with on set of this movie. I wasn't sure if he liked me, but he had a hold over me. I hope he's taken or not interested because I can't take this.
Watch, tonight I'll go wax my bikini hair.
I want to write more inspiring entries, more positive ones, but all I do is dump my toxic emotions here. That's what I think of journals and diaries. All the paper ones I have and the other online diary has my emotional toxins dumped in there. I can't read them back, for they're sickening to read and all that I didn't want in me, seeps back in with the act of simply reading the same entry. It's like chewing my cud or something. I want to feel safe to love someone but I never do. It always feels scary and dangerous; it's a high-wire act for me, it's a death-defying stunt for me.
For some odd reason, I could go for a Henry Rollins poetry book right now. He doesn't write about flowers and clouds and nature, but about emotional pain and angst. It felt good one time I borrowed his stuff from the library and I connected with it.
Why do I do this to myself?