Paraphrased.

March 14, 2009

Forgive me, first love, but I’m tired.
I need to get away to feel again
To try to understand why
Don’t get so close to change my mind

My mother raised me to be an honest, selfless person. I’ll be the first to admit that greed and laziness has a tendency to turn me into a homebody, but the people around me know I give 100% of myself to the people I care about, often putting them before myself.

And it’s really beginning to set in how unhealthy it is. How corrosive and dangerous and poisonous. My emotions are rotting from the inside out because I expect my friends to give as much to me as I give to them. I hold them to such a high expectation because I hold myself to this same standard. It’s why I’m hard on myself. It’s why my self esteem takes a back seat to a boyfriend or best friend.

I had dinner with a good friend the other night and found myself talking in circles about how I’m independent – how I’ve moved on and I feel fine – how I’m fitter, happier, more productive. (.:.)
how I’m not who I used to be and we’ve both grown and blah blah blah and why my recent social faux pas and regrettable evenings are justified by my sudden intense feelings about not needing anyone anymore.

My God. What a disaster.

I think what I’m saying is I’m mid-mid-life crisising. Maybe it’s like a third-life crisis; I want to die mid-sixties… I’d hate to have my body or mind begin to deteriorate – one more significantly than the other – and be trapped. I want to go out in a fiery blaze and leave behind millions of dollars to my family members. Big life insurance policy or something. No one will see it coming.

Anywho, third life crisis. My brain is trying to nest at an age where it’s almost socially appropriate to nest (border line on the “there’s something wrong with you if you’re nesting” age category.) In addition to this physiemotional trigger (yeah, I made up a word. deal with it.) I’m instinctively curling up in to lots of old habits that even therapy can’t seem to break, and for the third, and probably final time, I am dancing around such an emotional trainwreck that it’s comparable to poking rabid bearcats with sticks. (Poor choices.)

I feel like I have much bigger concerns in my life now, like what I’m doing with it, and what sort of career do I want, and am I really doing the right thing or should I just pass go collect $200.

This is making absolutely no sense but I’m kind of turned on to it now.

I was saying that I have some important imminent issues to address and a part of me is wishing that I was with you.

And I suppose that’s where it comes down to choice. I could just give myself up. Surrender, of sorts, and live a life that would be spiritually satisfying.
But I suppose that’s where it comes down to choice, and quite frankly, that’s too much responsibility. Please take it from me.
But I suppose that’s where it comes down to choice, and I don’t see you making it either. And here we are, as we’ve always been, and I’m laughing hysterically that I’m still acting like an 18 year old girl.

Grow up, Natalie. You’ve really run out of time and it’s time to grow up a little. Let’s go out and get bloodied before the snooze button stops working.

I feel like this post makes about as much sense as Radiohead lyrics, but I feel I kind of like it.

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