Terms and Conditions

I’ve come to terms with something. I’m kind of a bitch, and a whole lot of sarcastic.

                Thursday night, at the bar I got caught up playing a game with my friend Cory’s friend Christian. The game was about reading astrological charts. Not just the whole “I was born on this day, so I’m a Pisces”, the whole “you were born where, when, sun, venus, blah, blah, blah.” kind. So basically, I’ve got a lot of earth and I really need an air sign to balance me, and apparently I’m a fickle hard ass… This boggled my mind; I say” if I’m such a hard ass, why do I have such a problem with anxiety?” Cory knows me pretty well; he has rescued me a few times. I make bad decisions and he never sleeps apparently. He replies “because you don’t trust yourself, you aren’t accepting the way your head works.” Apparently that’s a Capricorn thing, and I have a whole fuck ton of Capricorn stuff going on in my shit. We don’t trust anyone very easily, when we do trust we become very loyal, but if that safe little trust nest is ever destroyed it fucks our whole world. So that makes sense to me.

                I realize that I put myself in a lot of really vulnerable situations and I’m always exposing feelings. If I put them out there, I am in control of them, but that always ends up ending with me being all crazy and hurt. So I should probably not do that. I’m scared of getting comfortable in my loneliness, but I don’t need to keep walking around like I’m made of glass. Its exhausting. So basically, what I’m saying is that I’m going to make people work a little harder to gain my trust. It feels better when there is some actual sowing effort before all the emotional reaping. And its probably a little bit more healthy that way.

                I saw my mother this week, and I drank sooo much this weekend. Not my finest weekend, but I’ve had worse, it was interesting though. Or at least its interesting to look back on now. I was running so hard away from the whole delicate, fragile, anxious person I’ve been for the past few weeks because I could not handle my mother stepping on my little heart. So I just became this crazy, reckless individual person who didn’t give hardly any fucks. It was fun, kind of, but my liver and my lungs are probably just about ready to tell me to fuck off. But I feel like I was possessed by a crazy white trash demon, I mean Thursday night after the bar, I think I turned the charm on and Friday I didn’t do a whole lot of talking because my feet weren’t really touching the ground. At least I didn’t talk much after the bar; the bar was a different story. Talked a lot there, sang a lot, kept my friend out too late because I can’t say no to karaoke. I need it, its like a drug.

                I need to keep my feet on the ground, my heart off of my sleeve. This is the world I’m living in, my head may be able to manufacture images that I would like to see in real life, but my head is not real life. Its my head.