big pile of sobby goo. yep.

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It seems like lately, all the perfect words, blogs, poems, and phrasing come to me all at once. While I’m driving.

Either that or two seconds before I fall asleep. Either way, it does me (and you, my readers) no good at all. If I was able to post everything I think about while driving, you’d have enough content to read for the next six months.

Ahhh…if only.

Most of my thoughts lately have been about relationships and love and stuff like “feelings”.

This year has been a tough one, in a lot of ways, with a lot of emotional stuff happening. Something I realized (while driving) the other day is that I’m not great with that kind of stuff. Like, really not great.

Like, I totally suck at it, okay?

Some days I feel like if I let myself feel anything, anything at all, I’ll just explode. So it’s easier to keep it on a back burner and just avoid thinking about it because I just…can’t….deal some days.

All of which leaves me constantly feeling like there’s something I should be doing, or thinking, or feeling but I don’t want to think about it because thinking about one thing always leads to the next, and the next, and the next, until I’m a big pile of sobby goo on the floor.

I spent Christmas without a partner this year for the first time in a very long time. On the surface I did okay, I spent time with family and friends instead, but beneath all of that there was this…empty spot. To use an overused metaphor, it was like that empty spot where a tooth falls out and you can’t help but stick your tongue in there over and over again to feel out the shape of what’s missing.

I don’t know if I’m missing being in a relationship or the one I was in the relationship with. I can’t tell, and I can’t trust myself enough to feel sure about anything, because how I feel about something or someone is apt to change from day to day, it seems like lately.

And any time I try talking about what I’m feeling, I get angry. Sooooo angry. At everyone, whether they deserve it or not. I don’t know if that’s because it’s like a teakettle on the boil for too long, or what, but I try to figure out what’s bugging me and all that comes out is…bitchiness. Then I cry, and it all just goes downhill from there.

And of course I hate having people see it, so I stuff it all down as far as it will go as often as I can. And then I drive people away in order to not have to deal with changing myself or how I feel. It’s stupid and embarrassing and hard, and very, very lonely.


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