later that day

hi. i'm home now, after a beer with my friend don. i'm trying to do something with all the feeling i have inside me. i'm painting a picture and waiting for the brown mass that was supposed to be a flower to dry before i put some pink on it. i am a mess. i guess this blog winds up being a bit more of a complaint section than anything else. i'm always compelled to write when i'm hurting. you wanna know what happened? i fell in love. for the first time. at 35. the first time that i could say unequivocally, anyway, that i absolutely was in love. everything was wonderful - my job was a pleasure, i loved the corporate suit guys in my office all of a sudden - no disdain, i noticed the beauty in mice and dead moths, felt grateful for every single bone in my body, etc. - you know the feeling. well, suddenly (and i'm realizing as i write this that this is probably about the oldest story in the book and that my experience is not at all unique or interesting but hell it is mine) - he takes the love away. all the openness, all the beauty, all the trust he had in me, the faith in us - gone. i was just confused for the first week - and i'm still fairly flummoxed - but i think i'm starting to get it. and i just never expected this in my life. this situation - where i would be trying to lure someone ELSE out of hiding - that's always been MY role. and now i'm the one who just has to throw up her hands and go "well, you can't show someone what they don't want to see" or something.


sigh.

and you may not know me well enough to know that i'm not a freak - that he should feel actually pretty damn stoked for all the goods i'm throwing his way. really.

anyway, i really can't paint. and i can't write. maybe i'll try playing my guitar later - or just read a book. you know i don't think i ever want anyone reading this blog. i am a mess. i distract myself endlessly - with bullshit - i never get anything done. no progress. ugh. stop.