No....Just No.

I think it is official, life has decided to fuck me sideways and leave me on the corner for shits and giggles.....that is quite the detailed metaphor. But as of now, I believe it's true.

While I wallowed in my stress and hormone-induced self-esteem bipolarness, I got a much-needed boost from getting a simple phone call from HCB asking about dinner plans. Well, in this case it was a lack of dinner plans 'cause he had quite a bit to do involving work at 6 tonight, and in his words, he didn't want to rush stuff like that. As in he didn't want to rush dinner with me, when we had two hours before he went to work. >.>

Even though I haven't gotten to see him in over a week, it was disturbingly comforting to get that little phone call. Which put me in better spirits the rest of the day, considering that shit tried to pile up afterward.

Then there came the kicker that has convinced me I'm life's fucking playtoy. I had a freshman ask me out. :/

Now, in hindsight, this is a nice esteem boost that I probably needed pretty badly. Keeps me from convincing myself that I may not be good enough for HCB, but there are others that are interested. But there are just too many problems. For one, he's a freshman. I'm not doing younger again, nope nope. I don't want the drama and immature bullshit again. Second, he's going to be a CA in Beede with me next year. Ahhh major clusterfuck on the whole work contract shit. They don't have two CAs that are dating/engaged/whatevs in the same building, because otherwise it leads to some very awkward crap if and when they break up. They hate putting them in paired complexes too, which means when they do they sit them down and have a nice little chat. Here, it's just not gonna work unless they moved one of us. I'm not having any of that shit. And third......yeah, just not interested.

I have a nice little war going on that just gave me a bastard of a headache tonight. On one side is my common sense, which tells me despite the place of work situation I have nothing to lose. I am single, and that's not going to change anytime soon due to HCB's eventual leaving and his lack of interest. I also have the notion that just because I don't like them back, I don't know them well enough to say for sure whether that is a permanent case, so I tell myself to go on one date and see what happens after that.

Then there's my gut reaction part. Which tells me that yeah, he's a nice guy. Now tell him to fuck off and walk away. Mostly because the gut reaction is one very similar to when I'm stressed, which means my stomach feels like it's been punched  a few times and makes me rather resistant to the idea of food. Would rather eat and keep it in my stomach as opposed to throwing it back up when I'm feeling like I want to perpetually throw up. Not to mention that I like someone else. End of story. Regardless of the circumstances, I'll have HCB constantly in the back of my mind, and that's what kills. Regardless of what my brain tells me, my gut doesn't like the circumstances and kicks the shit out of me for it. My gut looks at the fact that he went to high school and graduated with my ex, and that is a definite no-go.

What sort of fucking test is this for me? To see how often I can put up with this cycle of falling for the one who couldn't give a shit, while another nice guy comes by and does all the right things and I couldn't give a shit?

I can't even admit to myself that I might've fallen for HCB. Fucking hell.....

What did I do this time to deserve this. :/

In the Middle of Hiatus

Well I've done a good job neglecting this place...probably should've come back here more often, but who the hell knows. I feel like when I do use this, I'm able to get everything out that needs to come out. Because when I bottle things up, I crack, and I've done more than enough cracking these past few weeks.

I hate being a woman, what with the emotional crap.
I hate how those womanly frustrations enjoy coming out right when school/work/life is at its most stressful.
I hate how most of these frustrations are just in my head.
I hate putting off papers, even though I work best under pressure. However, freaking out about how much is left to get done with a half hour left before I have to turn it in.....not so fun.
I hate how I so badly want to believe things are looking up, when I should be looking the other way.
I hate how I feel like the world is out to convince me that it's all not coincidence, when my brain is hardwired to the worst case scenario: where the fuck do I stand. The friend, the possibility, or perpetually the last resort?
I hate how I feel like I deserve an answer for stupid questions such as these, when I have absolutely no right to--because in my head, I'm just fucking thankful for the little things. Including that I haven't lost him as a friend yet.
I fucking hate how when it comes right down to it, the stress coupled with the impossible has made me an emotional wreck when left alone. And I'd really rather not see this continue for another week or so.
I cannot stand how ignorance is not ingrained in me. What I would fucking give to have some time where I can pretend that everything is all right. That someone may actually give a shit about me. That someone might actually watch a Nascar race, for any length of time, because they remembered I enjoyed it and that Talladega was my favorite track and remember the time I told them about my cousin wanting to rent an RV and have us go to Dega when I'm old enough to drink.
I want to be ignorant enough to believe that it means something that someone would trust me to edit, much less read a 20-page paper about their father.
I want to believe that it means something when he says he wants to get together over the summer to eat in Sioux Falls. That it means something when he asks why I've had a bad week.
I wish that when I say I want it to mean something, it means something more than a passing friend.
I wish that I wasn't 19. Because I know perfectly well that I don't feel like one 98% of the time.

I want to fucking believe in something more than coincidence. I want to fucking believe that the world is trying to make the impossible seem feasible, rather than convince me that it's not because of me...that it's never because of me. It's because of the perfect competition. The competition that isn't 18 or 19, or even 20.

I don't want to see some airhead of a bombshell--or in other cases, an airhead in the depths of desperation--take advantage of who would otherwise be the greatest in-laws ever. But would they even know that they'd be the damned luckiest female on the planet to end up with in-laws like them....doubtful.

I want to be your damn Rapunzel.

But that's not how life works out. Of course it's not.