I'm a Tattletale.

While I have three sisters, for the most part I grew up as an only child. I rarely seen my mom,oranyone on her side of the family for most of my childhood, and so far my entire adult life.
I did however grow up extremely close to four of my cousins. My dad and I often bounced back and forth between living with my aunt, who had two kids, and one of my uncles...who had adopted twoofmy cousins from one of his brothers whose life was spinning out of control.
Also,this aunt and uncle lived right next door to one another for several years of my youth.
Age-wise, I fit right in the middle. My aunts two kids are three and four years younger than I, and the kids with my uncle were three and (however older the other one is) years older than me.
Naturally as in the pecking order, the older cousins teased the younger cousins.
I, was typically a really good child. I got good grades, I got anything I really wanted, and never found the urge to really act out or cause trouble. The others tended to get in trouble quite often.
Also, being as some of their lives were.....complicated, and mine seemed alot easier to them, I took alot of flack from them. They'd break my toys, tease me, bully me, purposely hurt me just because it's apparently fun to do. Being as I was close to my dad, I told him pretty much everything. This branded me the "tattletale" of the kids. Granted the younger cousins were bigger tattletails than me, the fact that I hung out with both groups more than the others hung out with each other...I was privy to more information that could get them in trouble. And, I often leaked this information. Not usually with the intention of getting them in trouble, but just the fact that..my dad was...my only friend. So, when I'd tell him things, I half expectedhim to just listen, and go about his day feeling like he'd heard nothing.
Unfortunately, I think I got my being a tattletale from my dad, Cause nomatter what he'd always tell something I'd told him. It caused me many-a-tortured moments. Most of which involved them destroying my toys.
My He-Man doll that got put in the gigantic fan,chopping his poor little head off. My little Starship thingy,that got melted. A slow and painful death.
My Gi Joe figurines...that got thrown into a lake....I watched them either sink....or float away.
And, I won't even talk about the detrimental experience of losing my 3 Minute Ice cream Maker.

In a way, I guess I deserved these things for telling on them. In a way,I want my fucking toys back.
As I've grown into an adult, I'velearned to becomebetter at keeping certain things a secret. I've learned you can't live life telling on people for everything they do. I've also learned that sometimes, telling on people is the right thing todo.

To this day, if theres someone I trust (which is hardtocome by) I'll tell them anything. I'll tell them everything. It's part of who I am, it's part of who I've always been. That will probably never change.

Last night, I was faced with a moral decision.
To tattle, or not to tattle.
Usually in these situations, Imake my decision based on the old "What is in my best interest" game.
And, in this case, it was in my best interest to tell.

Last night, a fellow employee (and staple at the bar, literally...he's alwaysthere) and,the man who got me hired at Ripcord..came in, unlocked the bar that was closed while I wasworking on the other side, put a bottle ofJager in his jacket, and carried it down the street to Caesars.
Expecting to get away with it, unfortunately for him...several people seen him, and knew he'd taken something....just not sure what.
The bartender from Caesars came down after he closed early, and when I asked him (after denying it first) came clean and told me it was half a bottleof Jager, and that this coworker had told him that I gave him the okay to take it. (not true)

Being as,in the last three weeks,there have been two instances on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning where something had come up missing....I had to inform my manager of what had happened. I already had topay back money that someone else had stole, and I didn't want tohave to go through another debacle.

I love this particular co-worker. He's always been kind to me, and I hold him very close tomy heart. It half hurts me that he'd do that while I was working,and it half hurts me to have to be the one that told on him.
He'll be getting fired,and will havehis keys taken away, and while he deserves that forstealing...it hurts me to be the one that brought this to the owner and managers attention.

It serves me best, to let others know when someone else is stealing...because I can't have people thinking its me.
I guess I could have let it go,and pretended it didn't happen,..however I can't afford to take the blame for someone elses' deeds any more.

I partly feel like a douchebag....because of how much I love the guy.
But it kindamakes you wonder...if you stole that....what else did you steal?

It's about respect. And stealing underneath my nose when I'mgoing to be held responsible for it, is not being respectful to me in my opinion.
The sad part is, I'm probably going to lose my friendship with this person. And...that makes me wish I didn't have to dowhat I did.

*sigh*

Work Shit. Again.

Everyday, we face a world of different circumstances. Different people, places and things that our lives revolve around.

We are ultimately defined by these things.
The actions we choose. The decisions we make.

We are a product of the things we say. The people we stand up to. The things we back down from. The courses we follow, and the paths we stray from along the way.

These are the things make us who we are.

I find myself in a place where all of these things are clouded. Everything seems blurred.


The latest debacle in my ever-so-downward spiral called life involves work. Again.
For the second time in as many weeks there was another theft at work. A large majority of the staff was fired, including myself. Then, I was asked to return to work by the manager, who pulled me aside and basically told me that he knows me, and trusts me.

While, that was a bit of a relief, a short while later the owner came in (drunk as hell) and told me that I wasnt supposed to be there. I told him I was called by the manager and asked to work. He told me that I was "lucky" that he likes me.
Then throughout the night continued to be-little me and make me feel completely worthless.

At one point calling me a liar, and a thief. (neither of which i am...but...whatever)

At this point I'm not really sure how I feel.
I can understand management being pissed that theres a thief there. Hell, I'm pissed that there's a thief there. One person making everyone else look bad, infuriates me.

Personally, I'm upset because a) i dont steal.

I don't like people thinking that I'm something I'm not. Even though, I don't think they actually suspect me...being lumped into that group is something that bruises my ego.
It hurts my feelings.
It affects my attitude.

b) I don't like the be publicly humiliated. I don't like being called names, and yelled at. Especially in front of people. Especially when I did nothing wrong. Especially by a person so drunk that they can't even stand up.

c) I don't like people that are rude and inconsiderate, while paying you backhanded compliments. For instance "you know i love you..but...get the fuck out of here. You're fired. I don't like thieves and liars and I have too many of those. I'm sorry, and I want my computer I loaned you. Then I dont want to see you back here"

..........

At this point, I'm not sure what exactly to think. Anyone that knows my place of employment knows that the owner gets too drunk and says things that he shouldn't, and...most often doesn't mean.
I'm not sure if I have a job or don't. One minute I do, one minute I don't.
It's frustrating. It's stressful. It's...another thing on the pile of things that just have me feeling incredibly low on life.

I've got alot of pride. Too much, sometimes. I don't take well to being disrespected. And, it took every ounce of me to not unleash last night.
Instead, I stood behind the bar, with no customers (because the gas was shut off and it was freezing inside) and cried.
Alot.

I think I've finally just reached that boiling point. Everything that's been hitting me in rapid succession has finally taken toll, and I'm broken.
I'm beat.

Obviously, finding a new job is a major priority. However with my work history, finding something that isn't in a bar or restuarant (which ...I don't want to keep doing if i dont have to) is going to be difficult...

I'm tired of relying on tips to survive. Unfortunately, I don't see a silver lining.

I've been searching the classifieds...And, theres been no luck at this point.

I'm expecting a phone call tonight, letting me know if I still have a job...Which is good for the short term.

But, I realize I definitely need something better than this. It's killing my soul.

So, if anyone has any ideas, I'm open for suggestions.

Blowjobs at 2 dollars a pop is almost more self respecting at this point.

I.. can't take the insults. I'm too fragile.

Vote....or Not.

It is said, that this upcoming election is probably the most important election our country has ever seen. It will definitely be a history making event, undoubtedly.

Most people you will encounter, will encourage you to vote. They will say, it doesn't matter, everyone needs to vote. Every vote counts, etc, etc.

And, while I agree with that, I am going to take a different stance.

If you are well knowledged in the candidates. And you really honestly believe that one is superior towards the other, than by all means....cast your vote and make the world a better place, or..whatever.

But, what's to be said about those people that aren't informed of the candidates, their particular stances on different issues, and other things like that?
Should these people be voting?

Should someone vote for John McCain because they are afraid of a black man being the President of United States?
What about voting for Barrack Obama simply because he is black, and somehow the fact that he's a minority means that he's going to be the Savior of Change.

I can honestly say that I will not be voting this year. I do not prefer one candidate over the other. In fact I'm at a complete stand-still. And, admittedly, I haven't done any of the research on either candidate I told myself I was going to do.

I personally believe that while everyone is entitled to their voice, sometimes a voice is best served silent.
I cannot pick which one I like best, so my vote would be based on some sort of personal trait. I don't like Sarah Palin, and I don't like Joe Biden, so neither of them can sway a vote for their running mate either.
I feel that since this is such an important race, isn't the idea supposed to be "vote for the best candidate".

I urge those of you who, may be like me. Unsure of either one, to step back and NOT vote simply because you think you have to.
If you think you have to vote Democratically simply because you're gay....You shouldn't be voting. And, if you think you have to vote Republican simply because you're not open minded, you shouldn't be voting.
You shouldn't vote for someone based on the color of their skin, or the amount of wrinkles a man has.

Unfortunately, this isn't the world.
Assloads of black people will vote for Barrack simply because he's black.
And assloads of rednecks will vote for McCain, simply because Obama is black.

Politics is sucha difficult and confusing thing. And unless you are incredibly mature about the way you look at things, its very difficult to identify with a party whole heartedly.
Too many people indentify themselves as one political party member without really knowing what it even means.
They pick and choose the issues they like about a party, and declare that the best platform for our country to be controlled through.

Every single person has their right to vote, and pick the person they see best fit for the job of leading the free world. Unfortunately, the majority of these people aren't intelligent to look at all the intangibles first.
Politics is much more than a black and white subject. And, if you don't know who you're voting for, and how they feel about all of the issues. (including their pasts....politics lie people) I personally don't think you should be voting at all.

And, that's why come Election day, I'll proudly say that I did not vote. That way, either way I can bitch about all you assholes electing someone I dislike.

This is not encouraging people to not vote. I do believe that voting for the things you believe in, is the only way to change the problems you see in the way things are. But, I will say that if you vote one way or another because of reasons that actually have nothing to do with where they are going to direct the country over the next four years, you should be staying home on election day too.

A List

Heres a short list that I've compiled of things I want to accomplish in my life. It's just the things that came to mind at this exact moment. It's definitely not a list in completion.

• Write a successful book
• Visit a foreign country
• Reside in a big city
• Make a change in the world
• Read all of the great american novels
• Let go of the past
• Sing karaoke
• Buy a car
• Own my home
• Raise a family
• Have a day of spontaniety
• Love unconditionally
• Learn to stop worrying
• Help someone who would never help me
• Steady income
• Volunteer to help people who can't help themselves
• Have sex in an elevator
• Learn to play an instrument
• Change someone's opinion for the better
• Buy my grandmothers house
• Cry because Im happy
• Wake up every day to the same person next to me
• Go to bed every night with the same person next to me
• Lighten up on myself
• Make someone proud
• Be respected for my character
• Know someone famous
• Inspire others.

A Virus of the Mind.

After having my dog pee all over my bed, because he's dying and can't hold his bowels like he used to, I raged for a few moments, mostly because I'm out of laundry detergent and will now spend the night blanket-less, but also because of the complexity of my life these days.
As an avid reader you'd probably know that things aren't going well for Nick right now.

I've certainly been way down, for quite some time now. It's hard, making the adjustment from happy, to sad, and then working back up towards happy again. Especially when so many bad things keep blocking your path.

I definitely won't pretend I'm anywhere close to happy. But, my brain has given myself the allotted time to be depressed (and then some). So, I've convinced myself that being a complete bump on a log is, doing the exact same thing I've been upset with "boy" over.

If anything has proved certain it's that while you can't always help other people; sometimes they won't take it, or sometimes you just don't have the capability....you are always able to help yourself. It's one of those, mind over matter type dealio schmealio things.

I'm coming to terms with the fact that I can't help the person I'm in love with get through his current situation. So, in order for him to do so for himself, I have to withdraw myself from the equation. It's a difficult thing to do, especially for someone like myself. But, I truly believe it's the only way he's going to get through his obstacles right now; alone.

It's definitely an emotional rollercoaster. Doing something you don't want to do, in order to save someone else, perhaps at the cost of your own feelings, ideas, and ...dreams.
I've been through so many relationship mistakes, that it seems my relationships have never been with people, but I've been dating my own different failures.
I'm certainly not calling them failures. I mean, my personal ones. I guess it's hard to explain, however I know what I mean, so thats really all that matters.

I got nostalgic, and rummaged through my small collection of things I've held onto over the years. Random cards, and letters. Stupid mementos that remind me of people.

I ran across a letter from my first love. First loves are complicated, because it's the love in which you compare all other loves to. Possibly because it's the first, so that somehow makes it the one that felt the ....strongest.
It's scary to look back on the loves of your life over a span of one year, three years. five years, or seven or eight. Ten. However long.
You notice all the things about yourself that you've lost along the way. Sometimes you notice the things you haven't lost. Or the things you can't seem to lose no matter how hard you try.

Change is a funny thing. I use that phrase alot. "love is a funny thing". "regret is a funny thing". I don't mean funny as in hahahahahaha, funny. I mean...strange. mysterious.
Its odd the things you can remember from your past. The things that once seemed all you had and all you were. Many years later while reflecting upon these things you wonder, how the hell things went from point A, to point X. How you went from one type of person to another.
How you've managed to change so drastically, yet many of the things that made you who you were remain the same.

Appearances change. Circumstance. Needs. Desires. Goals. Ideas. Habits. The places you go, the people you associate with. Jobs, Feelings. Everything.
And, through it all, I find that I'm still the same person.
Always reaching towards one goal of just being with a person that loves me with the rarest unconditional type of love that's obtainable.

No matter where I go, or who I travel there with...underneath there are things about me that...are going to remain the exact same way for the rest of my life.
These things both make me invincible, and invisible. Defiant, and defunctional. Amazing, and A mess. Beautiful and tragic.

Some ideas are just hard to let go of. I'll forever be in search of some sorta fairy tale type life. And, I think i'll always be disappointed at not having it. Probably always unable to face the harsh reality that these things don't really exist.

At the end of going through all my keepsakes, I got a little misty-eyed. I'm not sure if it's because things haven't gone according to plan, or if it's just hard to remember your life during a different phase.

After that, I packed up all the things I've had around my room that keep me remind me of these feelings.
I can't stop loving someone. It's, not really what I'm good at. So, any constant reminder of a failed relationship is something I can't have right now.

I'm trying to think positively and tell myself that while ending this relationship is the best thing fo right now, hopefully it's not the best thing ultimately. But, it's not really okay for me to think that.
I can't put my life on hold just because someone else is putting theirs on hold. It's not fair to me and my emotions.
Moving on is, incredibly hard though. But, I've been through it before. This time, its just different.
It's not someone looking at me and saying "yeah...hey..i dont wanna be with you anymore", like I've grown accustomed to.
This is way more complicated. And, alot harder than that.

This blog is totally all over the place. Typical eh?

I thought heavily this week about moving. Just packing up, and disappearing. I have a place I could run to, and I'd probably be okay there. I'd be hundreds of miles away from everything going on. But, after thinking for hooours on end, I've come to the conclusion that moving hundreds of miles away isn't going to put any distance between me and the problems in life I face.

And, I don't actually mind having to face life as an adult. I'm not really sure I'm strong enough, but I'm sure that in some way...things will work out. Maybe not to my exact expectations.
But, maybe it's time I grew out of my old mindset, and start expecting something else.

Maybe.
Who knows.

Sometimes I feel like I have this uncurable disease that causes me to think (to over think) about everything. Instead of letting things happen how they happen, I try to make it all work inside my head first. And, I'm realizing that my virus of the mind isn't making things better. It's making it harder.

The Games People Play.

After having a really good time bowling and having dinner with "boy" on Sunday afternoon/early evening, my faith in humanity was briefly restored when a random act of kindness occured between myself and my next door neighbor.
It wasn't anything life altering, infact to most people it probably wouldn't be considered significant at all; to me it was.
Basically, he was a douchebag, and apologized for it. Some might think it's just the proper thing to do, but in todays world, being able to say you're sorry for something you did really goes a long way. Especially if you're just a random stranger.
Often times it's hard to say you're sorry to people you know...let alone someone you dont.

And, for a brief while I was in this weird state where for just a moment I got all, optimistic about things. Sometimes it's not the things the people in your life do, but the things the people not in your life do, that grab you by the gonads and shake you up.
The fact that I totally have a crush on him (only because he's pretty) didn't hurt, but still...it left me feeling good about the world and the people in it.
I even intended on writing one of those completely uncharacteristic blogs about the goodness in people, and crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap.

Luckily, just two days later, douchebaggery at the hands of people has given me the ever-so-oft opportunity to again turn my back on people and the imafuckinshitstainofasoul ways. And, it's completely reaffirmed by ideas that I simply cannot catch a break.

I swear it's like I'm playing that board game life. I got stuck with the ugly yellow car, I chose to go in debt by going to college only to land on that Lose your job space where I'm now a the bottom of the barrel, I live in a trailer, and my car is weighed down by 35436546542 little pegs that are supposed to be children, but they're probably not even mine, just random bastards suckin me dry for what little I have left.

Or maybe it's Monopoly, and all I have in the world is Baltic and Mediterranean. I'm the wheel barrel (really...who picks that?) and I've mortaged my shitty little piece of land to pay my debts after landing on Boardwalk or Park Place with three houses, consecutively. Snake Eyes are a bitch.

Trouble and I can't get outta start?
Parcheezi and someones fuckin camel is blockin me from moving? Towel heads.

Ah, too far..too far.
So, anyway.
I worked Tuesday night. It wasn't a particularly great night, but it wasn't completely shit.
And, by complete shit I mean like Wednesday or Thursday. (Two days that are so bad that I'm embarrassed to be getting paid for.)
First a fight broke out between a co-worker (formerly known as, now) and some random piece of Isellcokeandwillprollyfuckanythingwhowillgivemeadollarortwo. I won't say I encouraged the fight, but at first I did find it more pertinent to tie my unlaced shoes rather than break it up immediately.
After it ceased, then began again I figured action was in order, so i broke it up and in the process got elbowed in the mouth.
Nothing too serious, however it did cause me cut my lip, so that everytime I eat or drink...burnage ensues.
I don't know how well you know me, but...if theres two things I like doing, it's eating, and drinking. Followed closely by fornication, and sleep.

After the bar closed and everyone was out, "roomate" helped me do my nightly closing procedure, I counted out my drawer put all the money in the safe, locked up and went the fuck home to ...yup...eat.
Early the next afternoon I was awoken by phone calls from the manager and owner telling me all the money from the three shifts wasn't anywhere to be found.
Of course, knowing that I'd bundled them all up properly and put them "safely" in the safe....this couldn't be true.
So, with major grumpage I went down to the bar, and faced the realization that...the money was in fact gone.
Approximately 700 dollars.
Now, of course, I didn't lock the safe. I never lock the safe, and truth be told, most of the staff doesn't lock the safe. Most of them have worked there or been around there for at least the better part of ....forever, so trust with money is usually not an issue.

I left at approximately 2:45 am. The cleaning guy arrived at approximately 9:00 am, where he met with one of the DJs and his girlfriend, and another bartender not long thereafter.
They were the only people around the safe until the person who discovered the missing money was, infact missing arrived.
The interesting part, is whoever took it, took the money, then locked the safe, making it look like the safe was locked the night before and the money was just excluded. This is an important part, because..I NEVER lock the safe. (lesson learned..)
So, that leaves five suspects.
One being myself, whom...I'll admit im biased towards. As I said, I do not steal, but if I were going to steal, I'd find a way to steal on a night when someone else was responsible for the money, not on a night I was..lol...it's just logic.

Two and three is obviously the DJ and his girlfriend, When I gave them the list of suspects the said I cant believe they (the other two possible culprits) would steal. I said, well...if its not either of them, then it's one of you...so would you like to rethink that theory?

Four is the other bartender/manager. I can't think of any logical reason for him to do it, but...then ...it's not logical for anyone that works there to pull sucha piece of shit move.

Five is the cleaning guy. (not boner...the other one) I happen to personally love the shit outta this person, and would prefer to blame one of the others over him, however...the fact that he did spend the night at a hotel with crackheads, and was openly heard saying he had no money, then sat in the bar drinking and buying drinks for several hours afterwards.....kinda reminds me of Operation. When you go to pull out the pencil, or the fucking wishbone, and the light goes off just barely cuz you just rouged the edge of the metal thing. So lightly that the buzzer didn't go off, but the light just flickered a bit.
Yeah.
I'm not a finger pointer, and I certainly don't know. I mean, if OJ is innocent of murder, surely theres not enough evidence to crucify the cleaning guy.

As it stands now, the money is gone. Everyone's pissed. And, I...alone, am responsible for paying back the money. (which...I'm not happy with...but I accept because it was ultimately my responsibility to lock the safe.)

The bad part is that financially I've been in sucha bad spot. Business has been slow, and tips have been even slower. It's kinda like Hungry Hungry Hippos, everoyne fighting for...whatever those little things are, and I'm the defunct hippo thats like falling off the damn board thingy, all scratched up and gettin no ....whatever those little things are that everyone else is getting.

Then, the coworker that got into the fight got fired. They want me to fill in his measley afternoon shifts so that I can earn extra money to pay back the money I have to pay back. (coughimbittercough)
It's not that that's unfathomable, its just that he worked three days a week, two of which I work at night, so..this means I'll be working doubles for a bit to pay this shit off. Which, doubles can be nice if theres a reward, but...since I'm basically gonna be working my dick off to pay back money that some random asshole disguising themself as a coworker can reap the reward.

I've pictured all four of them in different scenarios, diving into a pool of the nights credit card slips, pay out notices and torn open envelopes. Counting the dollar bills one by one by one. Tossing quarters out the window, who needs change when you can just steal money cause yer a piece of shit?!

This fiasco, coupled with everything else going on, is definitely leaving me feeling a bit discouraged.
Kinda like playing Jenga and going for a piece you know you cant pull, but trying anyway cuz its your only option. Then watching as the whole fucking thing falls in your lap, in your rum and coke thats in a red dixie cup that shouldnt be near a game that falls down, but is anyway. And, then you get even more mad cuz not only do you hafta pick a little wooden block outta yer cocktail, but you gotta set up the fucking blocks all over again because some random asshole yer with insists on one more game of Jenga, when all you wanna do is go back to playing Life with yer 3526572 kids and yer piece of shit yellow car and yer rock bottom job.

The Usual Thing.

Over the last few days I've sort of been in seclusion.
Sure, I've went to work, and played cards, and sat up late watching television with the roomate.
But, while I'm normally a person saying the things that are going on with me, I've been very guarded.

I guess I'm normally like that; pretending that nothing is wrong or whatever.

I've been thinking alot. Obviously when you've got so much going on emotionally, you can't really help but really analyze things. I've gone through a list of emotions, as anyone reading my blog could tell you.
I've really been trying to look inside myself. If anything, the hard times teach you alot about who you are. What you can handle.
It's possibly the best soul-searching method known to man.

You can go through the motions of finding who you are, listing them, and providing evidence that you are this, or will become that, but I've learned that instead of convincing others what I'm capable of, who I am, and what I can handle, it's me that needs the convincing.

I'm certainly not pleased with my whiney, over emotional state of being as of late. But, deep down I guess that's always going to be a big part of who I am, because it's been a huge part in who I've been.
I've come to grips with this part of my persona, but I sometimes fail to realize that other people may not have gotten that far, so who I am sort of gets lost in translation.

I've definitely got a war going on inside of me, which again is apparent by reading my blog.
One day, I'm all optimistic and hopeful, the next I seem beaten down and ready to give up. As a reader, I can only imagine the thoughts that might go through your head reading what I write sometimes. I guess that's a huge part of why I don't proofread, or re-write anything. I write, I post, and that's it. I don't look back. Maybe sometimes I should, but...there's this part of me that has this undying urge to write what I feel, and not have any regrets or consequences.

My life is at such a turning point. And, an extreme level of uncertainty. I don't think I have one solidified aspect of my life. Everything is in an upheaved stance. Which, is definitely not good for me and my paranoid, pessimistic moods.

I'm really struggling with trying to get on the right track. It's like I'm so close to it, yet nowhere near it at the same time. It's almost like I'm in two different worlds, standing at the same exact spot, wanting to go both forward and backward.

I have decided that I need to understand what happiness is. I'm not sure I've ever known it, simply tried to create it. I'm a sculptor. And, a shitty one.

I always try to change people. I try to make them see things my way. I try to convince them that I have the answers. I know the right way. I'm learning that it's not so simple, and that my right way doesn't always align with other peoples' right way.

I have a really hard time letting go. Of memories, ideas, hopes, dreams, regrets, failures. Most of all I can't seem to let go of the past. And, even more than that, I can't seem to let go of people.

I wish I was better at that.

I've wallowed in self pity for the last ....long time. And, if I'm ever going to change, that is the first step.
Taking it, is harder than one might seem.

But, underneath it all, I really think that I believe in myself far more than it seems.
It's difficult, but I actually do have this hidden abundance of self esteem. It's just in different areas than I'd like.
I have little self esteem when it comes to making it in the world, or doing the things I need to, and I have a shit load of it when it comes to people and relationships. Which, ironically is where I fail the most.

Lately, the boyfriend has been pulling away. More than I'm really comfortable with. I know that it's something that doesn't have anything to do with me, yet it's hard to be hurt, and not feel that it's you. I keep trying, and...it seems my efforts are futile.

I've learned alot from the few relationships that I've had.
I have used the "L-word" three times in my life. And from each time, I've learned a whole new world full of lessons.
This latest one, is teaching me some of the most important ones though.

It's teaching me things about patience, and understanding. I'm not sure I'm fully grasping it, but it's teaching me nonetheless.

Love, is such a fucked up thing. It's so......confusing and complicated.
It's the most unexplainable thing in the world.
You can be with someone for years and not feel love for them, and you can be with someone for 6 days and feel more love than you've ever known.

Im not sure the rules on the emotion, though, I think the only real rule is that when it comes to love, there are no rules.
Unfortunately, there are restrictions,repercussions, and...regrets.

I've loved three times. Is that too many? Too few?
I've said goodbye to two of those loves.
I'm not sure I'll ever be friends with one of them again. I tried to patch things up awhile back, and ..it didn't really go well.
The other, I think will end up being a close friend of mine for the rest of my life. Once the awkward times fully pass. I'm glad we're in a place where we can talk.

The third. Oh the third. The third has thrown me for a loop. It was something I didn't expect. Something, I...didn't...want. (not him...as much as the whole ordeal in general) It came at such a bad time, and...turned into something that really has changed my perspective on a lot of things.

I find it very difficult to, be there for someone, when they just want everyone to go away.
But,me, being me....I hold on. It's in my programming.
I'm not sure what's going to come of this. I'm, honestly not even sure anything will. I'm starting to lose hope.

But, all in all, I'm glad to be going through this. It's hard, but it's making me a stronger person. And, I really need to be a stronger person.

I've got two major concerns, making sure my dog is okay, and making sure the boy I'm in love with is okay.

I'm just learning that in both cases...it just might mean having to break my own heart by letting them go.

P-P-F

I was 9 years old in the summer of 1991. My dad and I had bounced back and forth every few months; living with either my Aunt Beth, or my Uncle Keith. Luckily, they happened to live right next door to one another, so everytime we'd get kicked out of one place, it wasn't so difficult to move to another.
Both homes, had a set of siblings, and myself having lived most of my life separated from my sisters, my four cousins and I became a tight-knit brood. We cared for each other, in a way that you'd only really know by our love for tormenting one another.

Unbeknownst to me, during this time my father was doing alot of drugs. It took me a long time until I realized it. In fact I think it was during an argument between my uncle and my dad, that I overheard my uncle call my dad a crackhead. I didn't really know what that meant, but I knew it was going to result in us moving. Again. My uncle made my dad leave that night, and being a 9 year old, I remained loyal. So, when my dad had to leave at 2 am, and him not being clear minded, he let me go with him.
And, for 4 nights in succession, we were completely homeless.
The first night, we slept in a park. We climbed the jungle gym type structure, and my dad used the clothes he was wearing to blanket me; the only form of shelter he could provide.
When the police came through the park, my dad panicked, and instructed me to hide in a giant bush near the center of the park.
I hid in there for what seemed like hours. Bugs, prickly stems and all. Looking back, he probably went to get a fix, smoke a rock, or whatever he did. But I sat there. And eventually he returned telling me he'd been hiding not too far and watched the bush I was in the entire time.
I slept on the wood structure that night, and when the sun rose we made our way across town.
My dad managed to steal two bicycles from two different houses overnight, so we had our own form of transportation.
We rode all around town, doing whatever it was we needed to do. I'd distract the store clerk, while my dad stole cigarettes (before gas stations wised up and kept them all behind the counter)
We'd hide the bikes in random fields,walk to store parking lots and tell people sob stories for money.
My dad would go up to strangers, tell them our car was out of gas and we could use a dollar or two to put some in the tank so we could get home. I guess the story is alot easier to believe when you've got a kid with you, but I'll never forget the looks in peoples eyes as the dug through their pockets, wallets and purses, handing over what little change they'd see fit to spare. I was ashamed, so I'd often hide behind cars or trucks so the people couldn't see me. (I still have an issue with pride, and asking people for things)
It got to the point where people stopped giving my dad the money, so he made me ask them. Because people would give it to a kid. I was instructed to cry, because it would make people feel bad.
I don't think my dad ever knew that I wasn't just pretending to cry.

We snuck into an apartment complex one night, and I slept inside of a utility closet, curled up next to an old "Eureka" vacuum. I can still remember the brown-ish and white colored vaccum bag with the dingy orange cord.
My dad said he sat outside of the closet all night, to make sure noone got in there to hurt me, because I was afraid. But, I'm not sure that he didn't run off to buy more drugs with the money I'd lied for.
One night, I slept in a black womans car. She was the wife of my dads' dealer, and my dad left me with her "husband" to go "buy food". She had other kids there, alot of them, and they weren't very nice to me. I remember she didn't want me in her house, so she took me out to her car, opened it up, told me to crack the windows and lock the doors, and my dad would be there to get me as soon as he got back.
To this day, if I'm in a car by myself at night, I freak out. I lock the doors, no matter the neighborhood, and with my head I pace back and forth, waiting for whomever.

On the fourth night, we slept in a laundromat. In the bathroom. Earlier that da my dad and I had went there (laying ground work) and he asked yo use the bathroom. He took the key to the bathroom off the keychain the attendant gave him, along with the key to all the washers.
So, when we returned later that night, and that attendant was gone, he used the key to unlock the bathroom so I could sleep. While I rested, he emptied out almost all of the washers' coin slots.
When he woke me up in the middle of the night, weighing me down with quarters, I remember feeling more shame than I've ever experienced.

After that, we managed to get one of my cousins to agree to sneak us into the house late at night, where for about a week we slept in the basement.
Eventually we moved into a trailer with some friends my dad had from his teenage days and their family.
I remember walking out to pee one night, and seeing the friend of my fathers, having sex with his own daughter, who was barely older than me.

It wasn't long after that, that my aunt found where we'd been staying, and took me to live with my grandma. My dad went to jail, and things were never the same.
The loyalty I had for him, developed into resentment, which, I ultimately let go of.

I started school in a new area, and my grandparents were wonderful. During my second or third week, I was approached by a kid that had also just started at a new school, and..had previously gone to the same school I had the year before.
He pushed me, and kicked me. And told me that my dad stole his bike over the summer. He'd just gotten it, for his tenth birthday.

I made it my goal to never have to answer for any one elses' mistakes. And, I made it a life standard, to never have to ask anyone for anything. Especially money.

I swore I'd never let drugs destroy me. And, for many years refused to do them, or even be around them.

In those days when I found myself hiding in bushes, and utility closets, sleeping alone in strange cars, and begging people for money so that I could eat, I remember being afraid. I remember feeling alone.
And, it's something that's followed me from that moment, to the very moment I write this.

My psyche creates this world, where all I can do is lash out at myself. I get a moment of sadness, and it goes from one moment to a string of moments. I can't be sad at jsut one thing, if I'm sad, I'm sad about eeeeeeverything.

Last night, my dog that I've had since I was 12 years old started having seizures. One minute he's okay, and the next minute, I'm witnessing heart breaking moments as my dog squirms and yelps on the floor.
I've never really had any significant pets, other than him. And, it's been a 14 year long......friendship.
It's weird how you don't realize just how important something is until its' fixture in your life is threatened.
I guess, I've spent all this time writing about not having any friends, that I've neglected the fact that...while he's just a dog, he's been my friend. He's been with me through everything i've experienced since 1994.
Theres been times, he's been my only friend. Which, somehow equates to him being my best friend. And, I love him.
And, now that I'm worried so much...it's like I'm going through so much.
I find myself thinking about things in my life I wish I'd changed. People I wish I hadn't forgotten.
Friends I wish I hadn't lost.
Ways I wish I'd mended.

I find myself thinking back to my youth, dissecting every event, and finding ways to attribute my failures as an adult to those things. Something I've grown successful at.

I found myself balling, and praying. Funny, how you only pray when you need something.

The thought struck me again, that my path cannot continue in this way.

I spend so much of my time, downgrading myself and my life.

And there are two reasons I do this.

A) I still hate being alone. I feel like this equates to being worthless. Like I don't matter in the world.
I know this isn't exactly fact, but how does one change a lifetime of issues, when the same cycle repeats.

B) I don't like asking people for anything.
And, it seems thats all my life is these days. Asking people for favors. Or chances. Or hope.


The times when you want to be smothered, and helped, it seems like theres noone there. And, then when you don't, it seems that its available at every corner.

I look at so much of myself, and I wonder where I managed to lose the good things about me. When did I lose my sense of humor? When did I lose that part of me that made people want to be around me?
When did I become...this.

I couldn't even tell you the last time I wrote a blog that was funny.I used to be funny. Now, it seems my blog is like the example they give you of someone you need to call Charter for.
"Reach out and help"
I'm sure there's a thin line between being able to be sad and express it, and being in a depression, or needing help.
I guess I don't feel like I need help, as much as I feel like I just need a break.

I thought I'd found my break, my good thing. And it seems like it's slipping through my fingertips, and I don't know how to capture it.

And everything, piling ontop of each other, my dads medical problems, my workplace woes/financial concerns, relationship ups and downs, my health, feeling trapped at home, and now my dog about to die, is causing extreme overload.

I spend so much time trying to convince myself that I don't need people, that I fail to realize just how opposite the truth is.

I don't really know why I blogged about all the things I did.

In summary, (lol)
There's alot of really stressful things in my life right now. Theres alot of situations I wish were different. There's a person I really wish was here. And, there's a dog that I wish was doing better.
And, theres me.Whom I wish wasn't so hard on himself.


My past is scattered. It's sad, and it's been something that haunts me still. I gotta move onward.
My present, is difficult, strenuous, and hard. I need to find comfort.
And,I need to remain focused so that my future is something more.
I'd like to be someone that other people can ....love. And, I'd like to be someone that I love too.