All the way home, I was thinking about deleting my journal. When I actually went to do it, looking it up in the FAQ, there was a line about paid accounts being non-refundable and non-trnasferable once you've deleted your journal. And the thought of losing out on having paid $100 for a permanent account stopped me. I thought some more. Really, I would have most likely brought it back before the 30 days to undelete it were up. The only reason to do it was to show distress publicly. To show extreme distress. So, I think I'll just let everyone know how I feel without doing the silly dramatic thing of deleting my journal.
I am in extreme distress. I found myself saying things that had been below the surface for quite some time. They just came out, but they were true. To be fair, they're my perception of the truth, which is very likely different from how other people perceive it. I was not kind, but I felt like the things I said were right as they were coming out of my mouth. I still think they're right. I am in extreme distress because of the effect those words had, both on me and on the target. I've said it before and been wrong, but I think this time the friendship might be over. I've thought other times that she wouldn't want to speak to me again, and I've been wrong every time. But this was different. I said things that can't be taken back, that I don't want to take back. And I'm not sure that I want this friendship to continue. It's really hard, because I hate hurting people. And it's also hard because I really do enjoy her company immensely when we're not fighting. But our values are just so different on some really key points. Maybe all of the huge fights would make it obvious to most normal people that we're incompatible, but I've just, on some level, refused to see it. And, honestly, it's probably mostly because of my attraction to her. I fell fast and I fell hard, and I kept falling, even after the breakup. Soemthing about her completely enthralled me. I was really obsessed. And I think that it's my very recent starting to come out of that obsession that has maybe changed things. I'm still really attracted to her, but the full force of the obsession is waning. And maybe I'm just starting to look at things from a perspective that is ever so slightly closer to planet Earth.
Rambling. I don't know where this post is going. I don't know where the friendship is going, so why should I know where the post is going? If she's willing to continue the friendship, knowing myself, I probably would be, too. But I think I might pull way back emotionally, try to avoid any discussions that might lead to any kind of disagreement. Of course, that would likely mean no discussion at all beyond chat about Carcassonne and Catan. Because, as I said above, different values on some key issues seem to lead to arguments about things that either one or the both of us end up taking very seriously and/or personally.
Fuck. Maybe I will just delete my journal. All my other relationships seem to be pretty shitty, too. This is the part where I feel sorry for myself, so feel free to just move along. I have no close, healthy relationships with women (except possibly with one who is moving away). I have no real close relationships with men, although that seems to be shifting somewhat. Maybe I need to take that male contraceptive without getting the accompanying testosterone injection, so that I have no sex drive. My sex drive usually just seems to fuck things up. So, hormone injections and stay away from women. That sounds like a winning combination.
Now that I've typed this, I'm going to post it, but part of me wonders if that's a good idea. It'll probably just make her feel worse, if that's possible. Fuck fuck fuck. I don't know. If I don't post it, then I won't have shown extreme distress publicly, which was my initial aim. I thought of maybe just filternig it so only she can see it, just so she knows how I feel without it being so public. But I don't think I want to do that for fear of it jsut being totally ignored. And, really, I want some feedback on my thoughts. I don't know what kind of feedback. Maybe part of me is just looking for sympathy, but, really, sympathy is pretty fucking worthless to me. I'll get over the major hurt realtively quickly, me being who I am. Some insight into how I manage to fuck everything up would be a lot more useful. Mostly, though, I guess this is a way for me to process this stuff, since I don't realy have anyone to talk to about it right now. Here's me, speaking into the ether. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. gfhjghrejo i5gg igitow teir g854 ohuieohg qet iqet gqet phjioeq ohiqet qpeio pi3hi oeii ogeui 0 u 9 fz .d5 f 5 4. Fuck.
Extreme distress. LJ version of hanging a flag upside down and on fire. I'm still babbling because hitting the update button is going to be final. This will be out there. She'll fire back some nasty things at me, or, worse, she'll just completely stop speaking to me. You all will either feel sorry for me or feel like I'm finally getting what I deserve, depending on who you are. And I'll be compulsively checking for comments on this. Or I'll just go to bed. And I'll have to decide whether I want to watch the last two episodes of this season of Buffy now before she demands it back, or whether I want to not watch Buffy ever again. How melodramatic. I feel like I want to retch, and, no, it's not from the pizza I had last night. How apthetic am I? I had pizza last night because it seemed like it would increase the chances of getting together with her. That's just stupid. I am an idiot. And if you've read down this far, you get the fucking Cracker Jack prize. Congratulations, you've waded through paragraphs and paragraphs of my bullshit. Be sure to take one of my bullshit-encrusted flags with you as you leave, so you can have your very own extreme distress pity party in your journal. Hey everyone, look at me! Feel sorry for me! Tell me how good I am! Fuck you, I'm not good. Fuck you and you and you and you. And you, too. But most of all, fuck me, I'm a terrible person, and deep down inside, even after people tell me I'm not, and even after I admit to them that I know that, I'll still know that I'm a terrible person. Wow, I almost contemplated giving away my biggest secret, so you could all see how terrible a person I really am. Only one of you knows it, and you're not telling. The rest of you just get to see me being annoying by hinting at a big terrible secret and not telling you about it.
God, maybe I really won't post this. Well, hell, it's better than deleting my journal like a wimp. Here's me, and, in parting, fuck you.