Delia (novembershivers) wrote, @ 2012-02-29 17:56:00

So much, so little.
I have so much to stress about.
But at the end of the day, what difference does stress make?

I feel like I have a tight grip on reality.
Maybe I'm just strangling it.

Creating my own.

Will I ever find an exception?

All I ever do is dream about being happy.
But all this that swirls in my imagination could just be unattainable thoughts.

With my family's past of marriage, it's no wonder that I'm terrified of being in love.
His conversation last night has me thinking.
I keep wasting days dreaming of the pursuit of happiness.
I keep wanting to fast forward and see the end of this story.
But isn't the journey where the fun is?

I'm content with lonliness.
Right?
Deep in my soul, I'm convinced love doesn't exist.
I'm convinced no one could love me the way I require.
The way I love.
Fully.
Not neccesarily forever, but fully.

When I love someone, I would die for them.
A sentiment he shared last night.

I hope one day I can feel as I once did.
I hope I can put my jaded past behind me.
I feel a deep depression coming on.
Today, I feel as though I'll never find my one.
I feel like I don't deserve it, almost.
I've been here so many times before.
I'm hurt, I've hurt myself again.
Like so many times before.

I just want unconditional.
I just want someone who treasures me.
I want someone who is captivated by me.
I want the Disney fairy tale, basically.
Once again, an inaccessible ideal.
A repetitive theme in my life.

And still, I can't help but wonder if it will come to me.
I can only believe that I'm intimidating for so long.
It must be something else.
That's why the gentlemen don't come calling.
I'm not delicate, gentle enough.
I'm not feminine, sensitive enough.
I'm not available, open enough.
I'm too frightened.

I miss Phillip, again.
All this talk with my Santa Cruzian is nice, but not satisfying.
There's no point to the Santa Cruz talk.
It's all pillow talk, essentially.
It's going nowhere, even if I want it to.
And, I might.
But, it doesn't matter anyway.

I want someone new to give me the things I gave away with Phillip.
That was such a messy, disgusting relationship.
Yet, still, I crave it.
No matter how mutated, sick, or twisted it was.
It was still mine.

I feel my heart blackening.
Hardening.
After being through so much with so many people.
I feel as though there is no hope.
People treat me like a mental patient when I say this.
But, men don't respond to me.
I want that romantic, whimsical, and frolicking triste.

I suppose I just miss someone thinking of me.
It's like I could tell.
Could tell someone was being considerate of me.
But now, an empty void where that light was.

And now, I'm left with friends.
Good friends, but I crave a deeper understanding.

Single, like this, is good.
But being understood, taken seriously, and cherished is highly demanded.
Perhaps Phillip was my one shot at satisfaction.


And I gave up.
I gave up.
Me.
Not him.
He'd still take me if I wanted him.
But, it's just not my desire.
I hope this wave of sadness passes over me like an ocean wave.
Troublesome but short-lived.

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