Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Is it Single's Awareness Day Yet?

"I see you looking and I know what you think
You’re getting braver with every drink but
I am telling you something you need to know
She may look like a sweet young thing
Talking to him but she ain’t hearing a thing
If you were smart you’d turn around and let her go
That girls’ a Barbie doll
A Barbie doll
She’s real good-looking but she’s got no heart at all
She puts on her makeup and drives to the bar in her
Boyfriend’s old man’s brand-new car
She’s got no idea what she does or why
She does whatever she wants I guess
Whatever comes first or whatever looks best
Nobody I know has ever seen her cry"

Thank you, Jack Ingram- for a song about the story of my life.
Now if only someone cared enough to help me change my plastic ways, maybe I'd stand a chance at this love thing.

It's not that I'm not capable of loving, or crying, or any of the above. To be honest, I'm petrified of everything LOVE is and stands for. Even coming from my own family- I have such a hard time accepting it. 

It wasn't always like this. I remember being a go-getter, I remember being brave, almost fearless. I remember when I thought I was so good that no one was good enough for me. Now I feel like I'm tainted- I'm not good enough for anyone else. An unfortunate dose of Karma, or just the psychological turnout of dating all of the wrong guys?

I don't want to be cold and hard- it's not what it seems at all. I want to heal (from everyone that's hurt me), I want to move on (from all the choices I regret), I want to find someone worth loving. Why is that so difficult to convey? Oh, right. Because it involves swallowing my pride and changing my damn stubborn, pig headed ways. It's like I need a mental and emotional bootcamp where I become aware of how deserving and capable I am of being loved. It's like I need to learn how to be human again and feel things without being embarassed or ashamed. Why is it that I can't practice what I preach? Just today I was telling a friend of mine that no one should ever tell her she's wrong for how she's feeling. Why can't I give myself the same liberty of feeling what I'm feeling- regardless of how much it forces me to be vulnerable?

Maybe vulnerability is key- maybe then I'd stand a chance. Until then, loneliness beckons like an old friend and I snuggle up, alone again. I'm OK, but I'm not satisfied. I suppose tomorrow is another day.


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