Nobody doesn't like Sara Lee. I said NOBODY.
The surprise party went off without a hitch, and I had an excellent time, up until it was time to crash. Everyone else passed out within five minutes of lying down, but I suffered through one of my usual tormented nights which involved me silently crying myself to sleep for two full hours. In my friend's parents' living room. Why? A number of reasons. The same reasons they've always been. "Same shit, different day" has never been truer.But, on a brighter note, seeing Rajya for the first time in two months was awesome. I love that girl to death. She bought me an ashtray and coaster set from India, and Dawn and Tiff got me stuff for my birthday (five months ago) which was a total surprise. A Beavis and Butthead tee shirt and a cookie jar embossed with a hen (instead of the cock/rooster Tiffany had been planning on) will make 31 even homier.
J and I recently discussed how fucking wishy-washy everything has been. I thought I had finally made some progress! Unfortunately, here I now sit, firmly believing that not a damn thing was accomplished, wishing more than ever that I was capable of shutting something/someone completely out of my life for the sake of my sanity. I know that's the best option for me, but that doesn't mean it'll ever happen. I know that once I return to New York it'll be easier to separate myself, but until then, I foresee my sorry ass continuing this depressing blob state of being because my spine (which I fully believe is alive and well) apparently likes to disappear at the worst times possible. I have a very strong (and unusual) sense that something isn't right in this situation, and I'm not being given the 100% truth, yet I will continue to act like the pathetic love-sick monkey that everyone knows I am. Really, this has got to end.
The scariest part? Realizing that J comes closer to Jay than anyone else I've ever met. I've had a few flings and experiences since Jay, but this is the first return to *that* state of being. He pisses me off to no end, I have reason to believe he's been dishonest, yet when I see someone at the store who looks like him or see something on tv, I stop and gently sigh and start to think about how much I miss him. That's not right. I am 95% sure he does not see me in the same light, so why am I doing this? Why do I suck so fucking much? He went to Velvet last night for the first time, with a buddy of his. I text messaged him while sobbing in my sleeping bag, knowing I shouldn't, but even more, knowing I shouldn't stop myself from doing what I feel inside. I had asked him to please not forget about me among all the guys drooling over him at the club. His response was, and I quote, "I promise I'm not the commodity I was hoping to be." That hurt. A lot. I responded with something along the lines of "well maybe not to them, but I guess that's all that's important." Knowing that he was pouty over the lack of interest from every primofag in DC, and doing so while ignoring the fact that he's all I think about, was just too much.
The worst part of it all is knowing that there is one option which has the guaranteed results I'm looking for. The "only" catch is that this option just so happens to be my worst fear, my crippling disability. Loneliness. Being forgotten. Being unwanted. Those are the things that haunt my dreams on a nightly basis. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. The only way to get rid of the pain is to guarantee yourself a life full of self-induced misery.
Am I missing something here? God I hope so.
I'm Listening To:One Thing I Did Today:
