my office cube already looks like a Twihard/Twilighter’s tween bedroom. and i am not even kidding. i was looking for new computer wallpaper the other day and since i practically drooled over this pic, i chose it. because RPatz is fuckin’ gorgeous. which reminds me, i better go print this and tack it up on whatever wall space i have left at work.
A present to anyone who sees this. A wish for the gal posting it.
Happy Christmas
Robert Pattinson
ok, so i pretty much can take it that the baby thing won’t happen. i’m not saying i like it, but fine…
so please work on sending me a boyfriend/husband instead. please note that i am asking for ONE male, who will totally love me and who i will love back and we can be happy together. someone who will not only put up with my quirks (and love me all the more for them) but also call me on it – no one ever does that. please let him be intelligent and into books and film so we can be compatible and talk stuff that i have no one else to talk to about. and please let music mean something to him.
also, please let him be available and wanting to be with me and not change his mind about that. the last time i asked you for a boy, i got an unavailable norwegian who still doesn’t think he lied to me or did anything wrong. i will not survive another heartbreak like that. i’ve yet to fully survive that one, dear universe, so you truly have your work cut out for you. i want real love, real unconditional love (i know it exists and is possible) and i want that someone who will fit with me. someone who will love me. someone who won’t throw me away and leave. someone who will stay b/c he does love me (and if he says he will marry me, he will mean it; and if he says i am the love of his life he will mean it; and if he says i need you and will do anything for you, he means it; and if he simply says i love you and want you, he means it.) i cannot stand being alone much longer – it doesn’t bode well for me and my future. and again, i will not survive another heartbreak, especially on the monumental scale i did, the kind that changed me forever and broke me in a way that wouldn’t even seem possible. i don’t want to break again. i can’t. i want someone who won’t break me. who even the mere thought of doing something to hurt me would be impossible. i don’t ask for nor want “perfect.” i want “real.” and real means someone who loves me and won’t play games and then after i fall in love with him, will not end up changing his mind, esp for no reason whatsoever. real as in real love. real person. true.
also, please let me lose weight so i can get the guy. b/c no one likes fat girls, least of all me. also, since i don’t have any self-confidence at the moment, hate the way i look, and do not leave the house (mostly out of embarrassment), please somehow make this miracle work.
almost forgot, would love it if the guy wants to go exploring with me. i have no knowledge of where i live and all the area near it and i want to go on day trips and discover fun things. (oh and a lovely european accent would be the best bonus ever, but that is soooo not a requirement.)
and now i will go crawl into a hole for the shame i feel having written these words. i hope that for any of the above to happen, it doesn’t involve my having to fully believe it and exert positive thinking. because i am nowhere near that, and yet i am doign the best i can.
i just found out that YET ANOTHER ONE of my coworkers is pregnant. It’s not like we are a giant department. We are, apparently, a very fertile one.
Angelina, Wendy, Melanie and some chick named Jen. All pregnant.
Carrie – had her baby a month ago.
Chrissy – had her baby this week.
Jaime – wife is being induced today so little Olivia should be here soon.
Apparently there is always someone pregnant around here. People make the usual joke of “don’t drink the water” and all that. Well, i personally would like to know exactly what water they are drinking and where i can find some – because barring an immaculate conception or a free baby appearing on my doorstep – i’ll never have the little girl i want so much. If i had money i swear i would buy one.
yes, i would purchase a baby.
i bet lots of people would think i’d be totally incompetent. but i know better. this is an actual area where i KNOW i can do it. i’m trying to get used to the fact that it will never happen (apparently sperm has to be involved). now i’m going to go off on a funk that i am childless and husbandless – and that makes me feel shitty and OLD. it wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.
having had a headache for about 3 days now (a somewhat comes and goes “atypical” migraine-ish sort of thing; happens maybe twice or 3x a year)… i had to put the air conditioner wed night and thurs :( and take meds.
this morning i woke up with a headache. again. so i got serious about it (i’ve been walking around generally really pissed off so the headache needs to die.) i went to the random pill bottle, the one with a mix of pills JP has gotten from people, and i took one of the pink pills, which i believe is darvocet (ends in ‘cet, must be good). now i am not headachy. but i feel just the right amount of slightly high. so i have actually smiled. that’s my xmas gift to the world: one smile. you got a problem with that? (scowl)
apparently narcotics is the only way for me to be in a decent mood for the holiday season. the gift on my desk helped. so did the free donuts. but mostly, the magic of the pink pill.
though i still shake my fist at the weather. i have actually been so angry at the weather, which is stupid i know, but c’mon already. 80 in December SUCKS. [63 for a high, 40 for a low - ahh, now that would be awesome. fuck you, florida. fuck. you.] the one redeeming thing today was that there was actual fog out there. it’s probably all sorts of abnormally and abominably hot again now, though.
*shakes fist. stupid sun.*
That I am dangerously in BPD Crazy Girl territory. I know what I sound like. I cringe at every word. I want everyone to know how bad I feel, feel bad for me, and do something about it, even though I know it is my responsibility. And even though I am at my most annoying and shitty self, the one that drives everyone away b/c who wants to be around such negativity. I get that. I do it anyway, but I get that.
It’s not an easy battle. If I feel really, really bad, I can so easy spiral into really, really worse. And into the usual “no one loves me” and “i suck” and “i am a total fuck up” mode. Problem is, when I do feel that way, and the thoughts do come, I actually believe them. I deeply believe them when I say them. It’s not a ploy for attention (not that I am getting any, haha). When people with BPD say they are worthless, they truly believe it. And while there have been much better moments when I haven’t, it doesn’t mean that when life kicks my ass, even just a little, and i get scared shitless, I will no longer go to the dark place. I can work on it. ANd shit, look at me actually doing better all employed and stuff. But that dark spot in me, it is stronger.
And that scares me for so many reasons. because how can I fight it or get rid of it. It’s been with me for so long. I has been emphasized by so many harsh words hurled my way and so many hurtful actions. It’s my default mode when I feel overwhelmed and unable to be in control of things. It is my safety mechanism, my fortress.
And ok, I don’t want to say this, but I will. I thought about K when I wrote the stuff yesterday and the other day. And what I thought was not “omg, write me, show concern!” It was, damn, this is the kind of things (if it still mattered to him) that would so piss him off. It’s exactly the kind of thing that would make him mad at me and not want to deal with me or talk to me (he would see it as me being negative and not trying to get out of it). Of any boy I have known, now and who knows for who long, he is still the one that matters. But who I am here in these last posts is pretty much the same thing that keeps boys away. Who would want to try and deal with that? Who would want the pressure, the instability at the time, the ability (most likely) that my mood might change in seconds and ‘he’ won’t know why but what makes it worse is that everyone will think it’s on purpose. Truth is, I myself do not know why. I swear to god i don’t do this on purpose. I’m not here to manipulate people or guilt people and of course the last thing i ever want to do is push people away, and yet i have this amazing talent for it.
so here it is. i feel like shit. i acknowledge that i feel like shit. i am aware that i feel like shit. and now what? i don’t have a fuckin’ clue. i know i’m messing up big time. i know it’s worse b/c damn it, i know better. but this is not something i do on purpose. i get overwhelmed, i don’t see a way to achieve any comfort, i cry b/c i have no one to talk to, and then i make it all worse. it’s pretty hard to explain. why make myself so awful to be around when what i crave most is companionship? thoughts come. feelings come. and when i’m really down, like i am now, the fight becomes not to battle those things asap, but just to survive. i should know. i’ve lived in “survival mode” for almost all of my life.
i don’t know what to do. i though yesterday, omg, how horrible that i wrote i hate me. no one wants to hear that. no one responds to that with anything but ugh, get over it or with omg stop already or wow look how messed up she is. i know, b/c i myself have told myself those things. and if i hate me, i sure as hell can’t expect anyone to love me. who would want to be around someone who is dwelling in self-hatred at the moment, who is jealous of everyone, who carries an unbearable sadness that she shields with all this bullshit. no one. i mean, not even me, and it is me.
when i decided what to write a block of words to the right of the posts, I wrote, long ago: I Want Love. I Want to Matter.
I may sabotage that all the time. But it’s still what I yearn for most. I hate how vulnerable and naked it makes me. I hate that, in my eyes, in not getting the things I want most, I can only look like a big fat failure to everyone.
This is hard. It is harder than it should me. And I am so stuck. It’s not as easy as “pull yourself up from your bootstraps” when I don’t see any bootstraps. I say over and over that BPD is my condition but it is NOT who i am. but whoever i am is swimming in the dark and dirty mire of all this sewage. i can be good and kind and i can laugh and be generous and loyal and loving. I can. I know I can. But right now, at this moment, it doesn’t really seem possible. It doesn’t seem like I will find my way there. And, in classic BPD fashion, “why bother to try, nothing works out anyway…”
I still feel that I want most in life will always be out of reach for me. And that does make me sadder. And that does make everything worse. But that’s where I am. And today, at this moment, it is, unfortunately, who i am. A person with such loneliness that the only “logical” reaction seems to be to be really venomously harsh on herself, blame herself, see everything as a mistake, and use “hard evidence” of events past and present to PROVE beyond a reasonable doubt that she is RIGHT about being a fuckup. And yeah, it’s messed up, but there is some bizarro thing where hey, look, I was right! I proved it! See how awful I am?! Ha!
And how can a relatively intelligent, analytical and sometimes competent person, me, KNOW these things and still get stuck in them?
The hardest thing is to make my way out. It’s really hard to do and I haven’t had much practice. And of course, I convince myself that if I wasn’t alone, if I truly had something to live for, I WOULD get out of it. Part of me seriously knows that is true. But likely a larger part of me knows it is up to me, regardless. And the sooner I feel worth it, like I would feel a husband or a child would be worth it (so much easier to see others as worth something, worth the effort, worth me being the best i can be out of unconditional love for others)…maybe things can shift. problem is, it relies on me feeling worth it. Bigger problem is, it is really hard for me to see that if I look around and see no one helping me in this struggle. I keep thinking oh if someone would only love me, I would try so hard, I would be so good, I would make it. I need a reason. And if the only reason is Me, then how can I honestly see the point in that?
I’m just being honest. Anyone who reads this can now feel free to throw shoes at me in protest. Just please let them be a 7-1/2 and with high heels.
