Khachaturian

This weekend went well... I suppose.

Chopin took me to a Peruvian restaurant. There were definitely moments when I looked into his eyes and wanted him right then and there.... And realized, much to my relief that that was ok... often this sensation arrives at the wrong moment... like with a stranger on a subway and I look away and think... "how awkward and disenchanting..." However in this case it just added to the spark, mirth and poison of the whole experience...

The boy has poisoned me... I fear. I am smitten. Oh and how I hate it. I won't admit that to anyone outside of this blog. Period.

I have been made a fool of too many times... and yet it feels oddly safe to declare such a sentiment on this terribly public stage...

With a likely audience of two... (blog readership isn't exactly skyrocketing... :) )

Anywho... I worry now... I worry that another young lady will snatch him away... some selfish Viking of a girl.... Pillaging and stealing... maurading around like some ape who forgot to evolve... because she was too damn busy admiring herself in her broken mirror....

I'm not bitter am I?

I adore him. I do.

Wouldn't it be nice if he LOVED me... and I could just.. I don't know... twitter around.... safe from heartbreak. Without any feelings... attachments... hopes... dreams... expectations.

He keeps saying that he is excited for the relationship. I am terrified not excited. Damn this madness...

I hate how it feels so impermanent. I want to just snuggle up to him and fall majestically asleep in his arms... figuratively and literally speaking... but... alas... I fear I will awaken to a cold hand slapping me in the face and kicking me to the curb.

Every time he says that he is excited... I feel resentment... and mild hope. How much power he has... and he doesn't even know it. Men are so flaky so often... here with you one moment... out in the rain searching for another piece of fresh flesh the next...

Damn this.

I hate watching the bitter, sad, horribly dressed older female professors who parade around my college lonely and betrayed by their lovers... who once adored them no doubt... only to be left for something "better" ... ... and now there they are... sitting in classes... teaching us with hearts full of lost dreams and lies. Lies that they tell themselves at night when they are falling asleep... alone. Ruthlessly and disgustingly alone. It's putrid. "I am happy" "I am happy" they tell themselves... as they curl up... ready to die in ten years... sad, disillusioned and sexless... albeit well read and tenured... but disappointed....

How sickening.

I don't want to EVER be one of those women. Ever. If that ever happens I will go and dedicate myself to some worthy cause where I can die and end that misery.


Ha. I told Chopin yesterday that I am intense... and that often men are scared of me. He told me that he isn't scared of me... Little does he know who I really am.

I am so serious.... so very serious.

My last boyfriend dumped me because I thought he was cheating... and he was. But of course... I don't know if he was entirely.... he just never really fully committed to me. I was his sometime girl. I was an unreachable, untouchable thing... distant.... so very distant. So he decided he didn't really want me after all... It wasn't worth it.... I wasn't worth it.

I worry that no one can catch me.. it's not my heart that worries me... it's my soul. I have a surly soul that is wild... and will not be tamed. Trying to catch me is damn near impossible I guess.... unless you know how...

And maybe that's the problem... No man has ever known how. And they know it. They know it.

I don't want to admit it... that I am gone... so very gone.

I remember once when my ex and I were holding each other he started to cry... and say "you won't even look at me..." Which was true... I didn't. But I couldn't... because I wasn't there... I was in my mind. I was in my soul... I was racing around in my dreams... in my memory.

And it wasn't a choice. I can voice submission with my lips... but if my soul isn't convinced... my ghost will not follow....

and I will become an empty void of empty affection... operating from a heart detached but longing...

I am Rapunzel...

Come get me... Wherever you are.

Oh God in Heaven I hope Chopin grabs my hair and climbs... which ironically may be possible. He does rock-climb...

Damn...