09/04/2012

if i could keep track of when i go crazy in relationships, i’d factor stress, weight, goals and insecurity. it’s like some scary date monster comes out of me. i’ve sucked you in with my good moods, constant smile, upbeat and bubbly personality, and the good sex. i warn you that there’s a bad side, but you’re so caught up in what i’m throwing your way that it’s too late by the time you realize there actually is a bad side.

and it’s brutal and consuming and manipulative. it’s calling and hanging up and not answering and giving myself in some ways and being standoffish in others. it’s chasing you and recoiling when you come around. it’s mornings on the scale, diet books, counting calories, watching what you eat. it’s nagging and pressure to be something you may not be capable of, but it’s what i’m having so you better get it or ultimatum, ultimatum, if you loved me you would, do you love me? am i fat? are you sure? why did you pursue that? how could you want me if that’s what you wanted then?

i’ll tell you what i know you want to hear. i get that from my dad. at my parents’ first real court hearing, my dad shoots off at the mouth, telling the judge and my mom’s attorney what they want to hear, and it’s now just beginning to settle with my mom that my dad is that way as a person. painting a pretty picture and ultimately doing whatever works best for him.

i want this and that but not at the same time. i want this part of you and this part of what i had and if you could not want me, that helps, too.

if i could jam together puzzle pieces in ways they aren’t supposed to fit, if i could write a love story that’s mostly a tragedy of wanting what i can’t have and fending off and picking apart things that are actually good, i would, because that’s how i feel.

there are so many opportunities in front of me and i think about this every time i put money into the box in my closet. i’m thinking about snow boots, patagonia, bare trees, pink cheeks, and menver. that’s what it’s called, you know. the ratio of men to women is…more men than women, and they’re likely all bearded with a terrible weed or snowboarding habit and a dog.

what i’m getting at is that i’m feeling cruel. i’m feeling like i’ve taken a habit of pulling people in and pretending it’s them when maybe it’s mostly me.