Turning Pages

I must have started a dozen diaries growing up thinking one day Id look back for some sort of wisdom that I somehow lost. What a crock.

So why now? Because I find myself up late a night with way too much time on my hands. I am tired, make no mistake. I can never sleep. My need to write becomes stronger and stronger and I a fear that if I don’t I will lose it and do some stupid things.

Can you have a mid-life crisis at 32?

How to express myself, hmm. That’s hard. Iv been told I’m passive-aggressive, which is fair. I don’t like drama but rest assure if you push me to far I will bow up and you will just get aggressive. I am half statist half  Masochist, no idea where it came from. I don’t get along with other females, mostly because they annoy the hell out of me and I feel like I’m an Alfa female, though I have met a few who are way more alfa than me, I don’t like them either. I blame middle school for my disconnect, no I won’t be at my 10,15 or 20-year reunion I didn’t like them then and I don’t care about them now. If you’re on my facebook, congratulations you made it.

I’m more of a long distant friend, I’m good at arm’s length. But here is the thing, I am totally outgoing and talkative, I like human connection. They just don’t have to be long-term ones. I am a lonely person even when im surrounded by people, can you tell?

I am a bipolar Nympho. I know you’re raising your eyebrow right? My moods are totally bipolar but I’m not bipolar. I go through heats, yes like an animal. Mind you this is very hard for me to write I don’t like the whole sitting in a circle sharing our feelings kinda thing. I don’t cry.

You know what, whats that Alanis Morissette song?

I’m a bitch, I’m a lover
I’m a child, I’m a mother
I’m a sinner, I’m a saint
I do not feel ashamed
I’m your hell, I’m your dream
I’m nothing in between

Yeah, that’s me right there. But most everyone around me doesn’t have a clue. It’s not that I am ashamed I just, I guess I just lost myself at some point. My desires, my passion, my goals I lost them all and now, it’s slowly creeping up on me. I’m not sure you can call it regret more of what if. Life, sometimes life just creeps on your and doesn’t give a damn about your wildest dreams and plans.

Some days I just want to say F it all. Some days I starve for some outside conversation from a stranger and somedays I have desires that are dark in nature of the sexual kind which are made worse by my lack of sex life ( not from the lack of trying for one on my behalf)

I guess my point is I have started this diary now because somewhere along the way I lost myself and somewhere along the way I think I found it but pushed it aside as hormones or sin or regret but really it’s who I am. I am afraid.

It’s only after midnight when I am alone in the dark away from kids, away from the house, away from the husband that my fingers itch to type, to express what I’m really desperate for because if I don’t I fear I will enter a deep depression an really who has the time for that. That or I’ll break my vows for a night (here or there)of normalcy and physical expression that I have long since drowned because hey, I’m married with 4 kids and I should not be a horney teenager with fantasy a little less intense than 50 shades of gray.

Sigh, this opening was not supposed to be this long damn it, nor this complicated.

I’m just, frustrated. I need to write so that I can keep living my outward life, while secretly turning the pages of my very real hidden inner being.

Brandy, 32.

It’s nice to meet you too.