“Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. ”
― Carrie Fisher
Ever been tired? Not physically, but mentally. Or both. Ever been so overwhelmed with emotions that you couldn’t single one out? Left feeling. . . drained. I don’t know. I read previous posts and think that I’m pretty good at putting what I feel into words but right now. . . words escape me.
My thoughts are churning. They go from school, work, family, friends, love life. I might quit my job. I might flunk out of college. I can count my friends on one hand. I still haven’t forgiven my mother. And my love life sucks. There’s my life in a nutshell.
Why do I feel torn? There is no decision to make. It’s already been made.
I’m not sure I like this format but I think it conveys my train of thought at the moment pretty well. If only I could make it more jumbled.
Maybe severing ties would have been easier. Now I feel like a voyeur. I only experienced a momentary pang of jealousy when my prom date asked my permission to date other women. I think my ego more than anything was bruised. I didn’t really care. This is different. I’m pissed, jealous, sad, resigned, tired. Does Superman have to move on so quickly? And do I really want to be with him? Maybe I’m simply jealous because I don’t want this new chick to take his attention away from me. I don’t like competition. I’m very possessive and I’ve already claimed Superman as mine. How the hell do I let him go? Do I want to?
These are all rhetoric questions. They don’t require an answer and hopefully Superman doesn’t read this. I want to pretend to be. . . . happy for him, just a little while longer. I like having him around. I don’t know why. I don’t know why I care that he’s dating someone else. He’s not mine.
Why can’t my brain just shut up? I have a math test tomorrow, a paper due Saturday, a speech due Monday, my Computer Science final on Monday and Wednesday, and my portfolio due Wednesday. Finals are the week after next. Damn. So little time. It flew by.
I miss the long posts of olden days when I had more to say or. . . didn’t bother with censoring my words. I care about Superman. Probably more than I’m willing to admit which is probably why him dating someone else bothers me. It bothers me more than I let on. I am jealous. And I’m still in love with Batman. Batman. Is he worth it? Hell. I think a friend of mine told me today that neither are good choices, Superman or Batman.
I just want it to stop. To SHUT UP. I hate feeling like this. Damn. I can’t even say it was recent. I remember crying to my grandmother and telling her that I had a feeling something bad was going to happen. I might have been 10. Even then I was anxious. I don’t know. . . I want to say “I don’t know how to feel” but I do know how I feel, I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. I’m supposed to be 100% in love with Batman and 0% jealous of Superman’s new chick, Frenchie. Or éclair. I’ll find a moniker for her. Bitch just doesn’t. .. . seem civil. It sounds too bitter and resentful. I have nothing against her. I just feel like she’s encroaching on my territory and needs to back the hell up. I wonder if I’m this possessive of Batman. Not quite. He slept with two other women while we were broken up. I don’t think I really cared. Maybe because he wasn’t dating them. I knew he had no intention of entering a relationship so soon after me, if ever.
I think this is long enough. I don’t think it covers enough of what’s going in my head. It’s mostly Superman, Batman, and this math test I have tomorrow. More Superman than the other two. I think I got. . . comfortable with him. I’m used to having him around. I don’t know if I’d like it if I didn’t have him around. Oh. I added my grandfather on Facebook and messaged him. He didn’t respond. I’m not sure I’m all that surprised. I’m tired. My brain is tired. Thinking and thinking and obsessing won’t change anything. He likes éclair. He told me he thought she was prettier than me. Maybe that’s it! My prom date had never compared us. I thought I was prettier than her anyways. But Superman. . . . I asked and he told me she was prettier. I don’t believe it but. . . I can’t help but wonder if she’s. . . better than me? I have issues. I have baggage. I often wondered why the hell Superman bothers with me. But éclair. . . . maybe she is different; nothing like me. Baggage free. Issues free. Hell, maybe she wants to be stepmom to his son. See what I mean by better? You know, that sounds kind of boring. Normal sounds boring. I guess I’m not attracted to normal guys. Something has to be wrong with them. There is friggin plenty wrong with me.
Now I just want to delete this whole damn thing. It just sounds. . . . like it was written by a bitter ex-girlfriend. Well. I guess it shows how much or how little I care about Superman. If I don’t post this. . . . there I go censoring my feelings and thoughts for the sake of someone else’s. Or for the sake of my pride. I have a healthy dose of it. Well. I’m going to post it. I only have my pride to lose. Oh, and any affection Batman has for me. I do believe this is the most candid I’ve been in a while. I miss Batman. I went by his place today and I just got the impression that my presence wasn’t wanted. So I left like the coward I am. I didn’t insist on staying and talking to him about Monday night or how I feel or how he feels. I drove away because it was easier. Less painful. I didn’t want him to look me in the eye and tell me everything had changed. Something has changed. I can feel it. I’m done. I don’t want to talk about either of them anymore. I have a math test to prepare for.