It’s Not a Diary Darling

FROM LISTENING COMES WISDOM, AND FROM SPEAKING, REPENTANCE.

Lord, hear our prayer.

I repent.

“It’s not a diary darling.”

Forgive me my slowness, but he is right.

I should have defended him.

Took me 55 days to catch up.

Aaaaaaand she finally gets it folks.

It will go without saying a paragraph or two into this that this post is as ironic as me saying ‘it will go without saying’.

Because I am saying it…see what I did there?

Everyone sees everything I do. What the fuck was I thinking?

Love, love will tear us apart again. Joy Divison

It wasn’t love that tore us apart. The same social media that allowed us to find each other drove him away, I crashed the car.

I was driving, I did this.

And now I am fixing it.

-The Night Owl made you, you sure you want to tear that all down?

-With a wrecking ball. (L.A. Confidential)

I could live quite happily with him in utter obscurity, and I will if he lets me.

Y’all can keep the squawking to a minimum.
It looks like I am walking away from this blog for a man.
Because I am.

2 months ago you couldn’t have pried this thing from my cold dead hands.

I pulled back and looked at it objectively.

I am a smoldering car wreck. Everyone is watching and no one is coming to clean it up.

Some people are dancing around the flames, others are roasting marshmallows with sharpened sticks.

I don’t need a reminder of how I have fucked up, I got it.

I pride myself on very little, but my inability to lie is well earned. A conscious decision I made and put immense effort into. I trained the muscles in my mouth so well that I choke on any half-truth.

If I go back and read most of what I wrote, I have changed so much that it reads like a lie.

I used this thing, this medium as a time capsule, and a way to figure myself out.

It’s a map of how I got here and I am not going back…I don’t want to.

I can’t have that.

Hand me the matches.

The numbers were always arbitrary. Cartoon thumbs and hearts never did a thing for me.

I was dancing like no one was watching because I truly didn’t think they were. Turns out they weren’t watching me dance, they were staring at their phones reading what I wrote.

I tried living publicly and I didn’t like it. I got my big blue thingee and it was lovely but it didn’t last a full 2 weeks. I cannot begin to explain the shame, fear and loathing I felt in the aftermath. I shouldn’t have to, it’s mine.

I know it sounds strange but I didn’t see it, I too was staring at my phone. And 17 days after I realized they were, I can’t anymore.

There are perhaps a dozen people reading this that I know in real life.
Way more, but this is a select group. Ones that do not speak to me.
Some hate my fucking guts and are celebrating my downfalls.
A few love me, but not enough to talk to me…they just want to see what I am doing.
That ain’t love baby.
And to the others? Go find something useful to do, or take another perc or get your hair did whatever it is you do when you aren’t dancing. I wasn’t watching.

I am cleaning up the car wreck. Nothing more to see here. Move along.

I will miss that chorus of ‘me too’ a bit. It was good to hear after feeling alone forever, but even then they were just words on a page. There is nothing tangible about being internet famous, I don’t even want to be famous. Never did.

Nothing has ever felt or sounded so good as him saying ‘good girl’. Like angels singing. When I wrote for him I had structure, discipline, purpose…I am spoiled now. That is all I want.

I only ever wrote this thing for myself. Didn’t expect anyone to read it, got surprised when they did.

I just lied just now.

I have written to people when I should have been talking to them. Safer to send my thoughts into the ether than have a conversation. But again, that isn’t love…it’s just bullshit

It has served a wonderful purpose. I am now writing every day. I needed the discipline.

He was right, there is no structure here.

There are some dirty/pretty things, half a dozen posts that I am truly proud of.
The rest just reads like a candy-coated journal.

I am working on a book and there is another one or two I always wanted to write.
Structure, discipline, coherency, consistency. I can tell a whole story now.

Pen names methinks. I don’t want to be famous.

I did a lot of soul searching. Dodged a few epiphanies, got hit square in the face with one…And then someone summed everything up perfectly this morning.

 

I was scared of him for a long time, even after he came down from the pedestal I put him on and became human. I was afraid we would meet and I would just disappear. I spent 18 years as a shadow of a girl in relationships. Not knowing who I was or what I wanted. The woman I am now fought that idea tooth and fucking nail.

I woke up yesterday and realized the woman I have become wants to get lost in the man he is.

This is my educated decision.

He is my world.

I am done fussing and fighting.
White flag is up, and if he lets me, I will use the thing as a sheet to make our bed and lie on it with him.

Farewell vain world I’m going home, my savior’s mouth, he bids me come and I don’t care to stay here long. (Sacred Harp Singers, Cold Mountain OST)

Wouldn’t be a blog post without a song quote now would it.