soapboxdiner

Nobody does it better . . . than me (unless he 's has his shit together. Then he's just too good).

The hardest thing for me is waiting. The SIL tells me waiting is for no-gumption-having losers who don't have the courage to persist. I disagree. I think that mentality is proposed by the elite class who have never faced rejection over and over again, who haven't had to look failure in face, who haven't had to do battle with fear and rejection time and again and again, and lost time and time again.

God, I wish I were one of those people. But I am weak, and I am scared, and I live in a perpetual tunnel of fear. I am human, and I have flaws, and I am tired of fighting for every last scrap that the world see fit to toss my way. And I don't know my way out.

I am tired. Emotionally. Mentally. I weary of the constant struggle, and the notion of using courage and deception to rise above it is . . . above me. I no longer have the mental strength to go there. At least right now.

I want to be wrapped in protective arms and comforted. I want those arms to be strong. I want to feel secure in the fact that I can do this, but I don't want to be alone. I want to hear someone who loves me say that they have faith in me. I want to believe them when they say it.

I want to believe again.

Wood called me tonight. He misses me. I miss him too. But he is not ready. I'm probably not ready either. I am too eager, and he is too cautious, and so we accept each other, and we give each other time. Time to grow into more, if more is to be had. Or is it my hopeful imagination?

The world may never know. But it is a certainty that it will not happen if I let my Aries shine, and try to rule over the relationship. I lead, I rule, I conquer. That is my natural way. It has never served me in the way the stars belie. I am too forceful, even if my intent is benign. I scare people with my depth. At least that's what my intuition and the spooked eyes of others who engage me tell me. But for all I know, that's a bunch of bullshit some star-gazing asshole pulled out of his rectum in an effort to dispossess me of $14.99 a phone call.

You know, once upon a time, my therapist said I was destined to live life alone. "You're too independent," she asserted. Bullshit. I just need a man who has enough of his shit together to show me that I don't have to take care of his shit, too. If that were to happen, I could relax and let him lead the way, and be happy doing it. The problem is, men who have their shit together scare me, because then my own shit comes into focus, and no one who has their shit together wants to handle someone else's. And that's the truth of the matter. Anyone strong enough to take my shit is too good for me and therefore, I will never have the joy of experiencing a man get on bended knee to tell me he thinks my shit's OK, and that he wants and will stand by me to be my rock when I get scared as well as when I trimph.

THAT is why I will always be alone, and that is my own burden to overcome.

10:44 pm - 03.07.08
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