I have been thinking lately that because I have been reading other peoples blogs for so long I have so stupid expectation of what this page is supposed to be. I cannot duplicate anothers experience as my own and I cannot expect that oof mine either. Does that make any sense? Well, it does to me and that since that is why I am really here, so there. (please stop kicking the dog)
When I first found online journals I think I stumbled across www.shelleyness.com, I can't link to her because she had a child and no longer writes for the masses. I really miss her writing and hostile sense of humor, it was reaffirmingly refreshing. (she doesn't know that she smells like horses)
I love the writing of many people and I tend to hold myself to some standard that is not me, and then I use that as an excuse to keep me from writing. Fuck, I can write. I write in my head all day everyday, I narrate to myself everything that happens to me during any given day. (Dog, please don't look so dejected)
I am currently being lectured about peanut butter oil and the evil it creates when I allows it to drip down the side of the jar, obviously I am evil.
.................Back to today's entry.
So it has been sometime since I have written, I have been dealing with the death of a friendship, yes I finally allowed the "end" in friendship to rear it's face. And getting over it and past it is still causing me some angst. It hurts and I remind myself to not lot back, LOOK FORWARD. I find myself screaming this in my head in the middle of the night. I lie there assuming that whatever he is up to, it is probably better than what I have been up to. It is extremely self-defeating and RIDICULOUS.
More about this latter.
night. me.
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