"You're wearing a lot of make-up nowadays. --I mean, that's fine..." he said when he heard a disapproving grunt from the other end, "but that's not the you I know, or met... I don't know anymore. You're smiling in pictures posted on Facebook, but not so much in person. You've made a mask out of make-up and plastic grins. And by the way, I miss your hair."

I felt a stab on my side, he knows I am unsure about a lot of things. Especially my new look and the decision I made in regards to us. He had jokingly mentioned earlier in the conversation that he thought we would've been happy together, then laughed like a maniac like he does (or tries to do) about everything. But the animosity was palpable even through the phone and I could not feel any more uncomfortable.

I switched my phone from the sweaty left to the almost as equally sweaty right. "I like my hair, it's less of a hassle. And stop exaggerating, I haven't been wearing that much make-up... So there." 'So there?' What am I, five?

The strange laugh again, making me cringe..."You know I'd find you beautiful even if you were bald. But are you happy? You used to be more upbeat, now you play the role of Stepford Wife for your future husband the future lawyer..."

I hate it when he refers to him as my future husband, most of the time he omits the word "future" and just refers to him as "your husband", I also hate that he's somewhat right in regards to the changes.

"Before you seemed more comfortable in your own skin, you were radiant. All of a sudden you started changing all these physical things... Your manner, too"

I'm scared he'll dump me again... Before there was a lot wrong with me according to him. He said he's insecure and he was scared he was going to lose me and that he tried to keep me at arm's length so he wouldn't get hurt once it ended. That there was nothing wrong with me, that it was him all along... What guarantee do I have that he won't dump me again? That he doesn't have doubts about his decision like I have doubts about mine? I want to be right, I don't want to have hurt your feelings in vain.

"I just thought it was time to spruce up my look... Some cancer patient might have some snazzy hair now and I'm rid of something that was gaining a life of its own."

"But are you happy?"

"...Yeah, I'm happy. We're happy. All's good with the world."



The day I cut my hair, I thought I'd be rid of a ghost once the last strand of the long braid was chopped... My hair was the old me. The stupid me that had let the "husband" treat me like dirt but now short haired, different and strong. The me that had let herself get in too deep during the summer, the me that the person I was talking to had fallen in love with... That maybe by making such a decisive and radical change physically it could translate to another aspect of my life.

But hair is just hair.

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I haven't had a good night's sleep in what feels like forever. That's nothing new.

I'm bad at keeping up with blogs, I think of updating on a normal day but there's nothing to say. Or there is, but I don't feel like "talking" about it.

Update on my life: I went on a trip to NYC for a couple of weeks, got dumped while there, came back and partied a little too hard to cope, made friends and a couple of enemies, issues with the room mates, left the apt, retreated to the batcave and have stayed there since...

Routine: Sleep till 3, eat, watch tv, go online, eat, sleep, more tv or computer, go to sleep at 7 or 8 AM. Sometimes you can throw in going to the movies, or going out to drink... But I'm living in hermitage mostly.

I'm hoping it'll soon pass. Though "soon" doesn't seem soon enough when each day merges with the next and all seems to move at a snail's pace.

And with this new routine, I hope my usually fast metabolism doesn't crap out on me, because inactivity is at an all time high.

I'm on my way to becoming a crazy, fat (still tentative) cat lady.

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pick up the phone.
love,
toni

...

ahem, so i'm trying to type as slow as possible to keep the clicking from being too loud. there's some random drunk guy sleeping on my couch, and i'd rather have him stay "random drunk guy sleeping on my couch" rather than "random drunk guy who was sleeping on my couch till he woke up and tried to make conversation with me". it would go something like this:
"heyy", he would say in a groggy voice "who are you?"
"i live here. who are YOU?"
"Somestupidcommonname"
"Ah, well.. nice to meet you, Somestupidcommonname"
""hey, do you want to roll up? I still have a baggie left"

It's happened before. Sigh. Then they talk on and on about how high and drunk they are/were and all sorts of crap I really don't care to hear 'cause to me he's just some random drunk/high guy who scared the shit out of me when I first walked in and saw him in the darkness laying on my couch.

Living with people sucks... Sometimes. I hate my room mates, but I don't know what I'd do without them. Dependency issues, anyone?

My cat is sleeping on top of the random drunk/high guy... He tends to gravitate towards men, even if they're strangers. I'm sensing something strange here... He also likes to try to sleep inside people's shoes, basically if they're heels though. I fear soon he might start sporting a purse. I'm open-minded, but society tends to frown upon that, no?

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It happens every weekend, the urge to/not go out. A scene out of a cheesy cartoon is played every time, the one with the main character having a miniature angelic version of himself on one shoulder (usually the right), and the opposite on the other. Perhaps that was a bad example, it has nothing to do with moral... I'm not too extreme, I drink moderately most of the time and hardly ever smoke anything. Even if it wasn't that way, I still wouldn't care much. But there's a side of me that needs to go out and bask in attention, and another that begs (as its palms run rivers of sweat) that I stay home away from groups of people.

No matter which choice is made, I never end up content. Should I have gone out? Should I have stayed in? Èither way I stay home or come home with a bittersweet taste in my mouth and a discomfort I cannot shake off. My boyfriend calls it "the friday night syndrome", he feels something along those lines too... Birds of a feather do flock together, or something.

I don't want to be alone, yet right now i feel like biting someone's head off.

Oh, good ol,' reliable Nutang... I always come back when things aren't too good. -- Next time I promise to write about fluffy bunnies, unicorns, rainbows and the skittles that rain from them.

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Everything deleted, I really don't care to remember last year (I'll smack you if you say anything, Jon.)




I missed Nutang. Update coming soon(?)

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