Thursday, May 01, 2008

Love ain't worth makin when it makes you the fool.

Everyone has their quirks. One of mine is an obcession with remembering. My many scrapbooks and boxes of pictures and--most importantly--the various notebooks I write my stories and quotes and poems in are all testaments to that. I'm borderline psychotic with it all. OK, maybe psychotic is a bit strong, but I cherish my memories more than most nonetheless. They are what give you perspective and they are what you learn from. In the end, when you die, they are all you have. And, with a little luck and a few random acts of kindness, you'll go into someone else's memory.

So, what with the craziness about memories I've got, it's all the more painful to me when I have to block something out... especially when it's something that was really really great. I'm thinking specifically of Mr. Mc and XBF. I cut myself off completely from XBF because I'm ready to be loved the way I want to be loved. So he's gone. And Mr. Mc is dead. So he's gone.

I can think about them in generalities only. If thoughts of Mr. Mc's sincerity or pain or arms or XBF's eyes or the way he hated that I wear sunglasses in the rain, it hurts too much to stand. I can't do it. It isn't nearly as intense with Mr. Mc as it is with XBF, because my feelings for him weren't as intense. A fact I am now sad to say I regret. And I know that in time I'll be able to remember every detail without wanting to curl into a ball and sleep for a week.

And the odd part (I'm sure you can all relate) is that I'm fine 23 hours and 58.77 minutes a day. More than fine...I'm stu-fucking-pendous....single, pretty, ambitious, happy, busy, smiley....all that good stuff. The blocking it all out is really working out well for me.

In other news--Fuck the superbowl, fight Fox. But I can't be too angry, they were the reason the get-together was held at which I got nice and fuckered up. {drunk and bitter Boo :) just kiddin} DAMN I love drinkin all night then sleepin all day!