clumsily unconditional

I'm always scratching my head when you call me jealous. I'll stop and tune in for a sec just to make sure, but it never is Ric. I can't even call it insecurity because I know who I am and I know I bring life into your life and I know I'll never stop trying to be the best life partner I can be to you. I'll take care of myself/my body/my appearance til I'm dead. I'll never give up on my dreams. I'll always have passion. I'll always have that creative itch to write and play music and it'll always be important to me to be financially secure and self sufficient. Most of all I know I'll always always care about others. As long as I'm always giving it 100%, I have no reason to be insecure. It's who I choose to share all that with that I need to reevaluate. Who I trust.

Then, the attitude, disrespect and demands to come to my place where you would dump the remains of your dirty work.

Then bitching about the scent of incense burning along with a handful of other rude unnecessary commentary before even a hello.

Then purposely putting off paying me back for who-the-fuck-knows what reason. Control, likely-- what smithereens of it you have left. Talk about desperate.

Then, taking pictures of the shit at my place with my cat and lying about erasing them.

Then, withholding information when I asked you normal questions. Because you "know it'll be a fight." Why would it be a fight Ric*? Why would Vicki's cash limit be a fight? Why would you keep it a secret from your girlfriend anyway- the one who's letting you hideout here when she doesn't have to? Who keeps explaining that she wants to be on your side and not be kept in the dark or thrown under the bus for your own sick pleasure?

Doesn't matter anyway. You had hours alone with her purse. There's no chance on the face of the Earth that you didn't already pick out the valuables for yourself before finding a fool to hit the bank with the cards. "Half" you say. LOL. 50/50 my ass. The sucker maybe got 30%.

Yet with allllll that paperwork in front of me, you actually try to act offended by my not believing how much you got and showing little thanks for the necklaces you thoughtfully hand me. "These are definitely gold, babe. Look at the markings on the tag," you say, pointing your magnifying glass app at the make believe markings on the yellow-painted plastic, as if you haven't already made a fool of yourself at the pawn shop. Like how dare I even think you'd shove 1,000 up your ass before ever letting me know you found a bank card. And as if I'd want any part of it.

I don't know which is more insulting.

I'm not sitting here dwelling about it all day but I admit I'm still in shock. I mean I know it's my fault and all for choosing to be ignorant and not admitting to myself who you really were, but I didn't really have a choice and you knew that. I knew you had control issues but there were a handful of redeeming qualities that had me hoping it'd be manageable. And so I swept it under the rug, chose to accept you as you are (as I would want too) and took the "friendship" one day at a time. I told myself that at the end of the day, things could be a whole hell of a lot worse. If being misunderstood or exploited or slandered or even abandoned by a bitter friend is the worst I've got it, I've got a pretty damn good fucking life and I better shut up before I'm shown just how bad it really can be.

Same goes for you-- a fact I think you toss around in your head at times too. So you lost the 500,000 and broke a few ribs and your kidnapper lives next door and, well you know the rest best. What does winning a woe-is-me contest do?

You think I walk around-- no, you think I float around, in some fairytale fantasyland with this magic wand up my ass turning everything I touch into glitter and gold (or believing I do.) First of all, perspective is everything and you'd have to be pretty fucking far down for me to be able to pull off that trick. And secondly, I hate fantasy. Reality is all mankind has ever strived to know and yet it still holds the status as the most incomprehensible paradox boggling our itty bitty brains. Why would I spend my short 80something years dicking around in a fantasy when reality is so much more alluring? Exciting? Challenging? Mysterious? Not only that but isn't it our responsibility as humans individually and collectively to contribute in our own ways and work relentlessly to figure this place out? While helping each other up when we stumble?

There's plenty for me to study and experiment with before I can have any kind of opinion about the "truth" or what's "right" or "fair." All I can know is my own truth and lying about it would be nothing but counterproductive.

Would you like a glimpse of my flaw list? Yes my Flaw List that flashes before my every decision on the daily:

11) I am of weak character to be 31 and afraid of the outside world

12) I am of selfish and weak character to choose anorexia over health

13) I am a disappointment to my parents for not learning the first time

14) I am resented by my parents for costing them a dime

15) I am naive 

16) I am a pushover

17) I worry too much

18) I am selfish and cowardly for choosing not to have kids

19) I am a poor judge of character

20) I am unrealistic and overambitious

21) I am OCD about my physical appearance and living environment

22) I am a burden

23) I am too sensitive

24) I make things too difficult

25) I give too freely and clumsily

26) I am self destructive 

It's not so much in my interest to convince you of who I am, because regardless of what's true, you'll see what you believe. I'm moreso frustrated with the time already wasted being opponents when there's so much more we could be doing with what each of us bring to the table. You've opened my eyes to a much deeper and more disturbing level of darkness-- which was necessary, but then call me needy and childish and mentally ill for panicking when you vanish.

Fortunately for me my skin has thickened up a bit more each time, so now it mostly comes in waves, ie upon first waking up and by default expecting to see you here. Or these reminders of how much you love to make me wait and feel unwanted. Or when I wanna talk but no one is up to share 3am thoughts with. Yes, it's uncomfortable to know how easily disposable and probably replaceable I am to you and how little of me you value. It's insulting that you've only stuck around because you feel responsible. But most of all it's disappointing that you perceived my caring for you as weakness, because as I've said before, it took all my wobbly knees had to accept your every strike behind them for a purpose bigger than myself.

Out of all people Ric* I seriously thought you'd be the first to understand that. And encourage my resilience. And have the guts to fight for something to believe in. But you don't care to try anymore. And I guess I'm at that point too.