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Here We Go Again
Dec. 2nd, 2002 06:22 pmFriday, I spoke to Ryu. At least, I'm pretty sure it was Friday. Got off the phone at 1 am, was woken up with Wakaranai ringing in my ear around about two? Well, what I didn't mention about that conversation was that he basically said that I should stop needing him or whatever because he wasn't going to last long. Oh, thank you so very fucking much. I don't know how I love him; I just know I do. Probably in a familial, brotherly way -- fuck, I don't know. I don't want to sleep with him or anything; I just want him around! I don't want him to die! Is that wrong?!?
So then I get in touch with him on Sunday. Things still aren't great, exactly, but I figured they were holding up relatively well, given that we were making tentative plans for me to turn up in California on and around the 6th of March to catch a Sharks/Habs game. I think he wants someone who can help him hockeygeek out at a friend of his. I figure, "this is good; this is fine. This is planning for the future. This is healthy..."
Then I read his own online journal.
FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, RYU, DO YOU WANT TO DRIVE ME INSANE?!?
Well, whether he wants to or not, he's gone and done it. And to think I spent this weekend trying to unwind so I wouldn't be likely to do something like start fights in the seediest bars I know or throw myself into the Thames/onto the tracks outside Tooting station or do any of the other stupid things I used to contemplate all the time. It's going to be one step forward and two steps back until one of us dies, isn't it?
God, how does this get to be over? I know that some advice would be to back off until he gets some perspective, but he's not fucking going to and I'm not that way inclined. So I'm pretty well feeling trapped. Anyone know how I take to being trapped? I'm the type who'd rather chew her own arm off.
Which is why I'm going to cancel on the second meeting up with ex-fiance number two. I can't be around people when I feel this way. I have a hard enough time dealing with the ones who are at a safe remove of several thousand miles right now; I can't hack real honest-to-Christ people who were freaked out by me before I accepted that I was an utter fucking lunatic.
I hate being an utter fucking lunatic. I like being weird, but it's not the same damn thing, is it.
Oh, fuckit; venting rots.
Thess
So then I get in touch with him on Sunday. Things still aren't great, exactly, but I figured they were holding up relatively well, given that we were making tentative plans for me to turn up in California on and around the 6th of March to catch a Sharks/Habs game. I think he wants someone who can help him hockeygeek out at a friend of his. I figure, "this is good; this is fine. This is planning for the future. This is healthy..."
Then I read his own online journal.
FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, RYU, DO YOU WANT TO DRIVE ME INSANE?!?
Well, whether he wants to or not, he's gone and done it. And to think I spent this weekend trying to unwind so I wouldn't be likely to do something like start fights in the seediest bars I know or throw myself into the Thames/onto the tracks outside Tooting station or do any of the other stupid things I used to contemplate all the time. It's going to be one step forward and two steps back until one of us dies, isn't it?
God, how does this get to be over? I know that some advice would be to back off until he gets some perspective, but he's not fucking going to and I'm not that way inclined. So I'm pretty well feeling trapped. Anyone know how I take to being trapped? I'm the type who'd rather chew her own arm off.
Which is why I'm going to cancel on the second meeting up with ex-fiance number two. I can't be around people when I feel this way. I have a hard enough time dealing with the ones who are at a safe remove of several thousand miles right now; I can't hack real honest-to-Christ people who were freaked out by me before I accepted that I was an utter fucking lunatic.
I hate being an utter fucking lunatic. I like being weird, but it's not the same damn thing, is it.
Oh, fuckit; venting rots.
Thess
