Sitting here for the past few minutes, looking off into the distance as I think about what I should write. Does anything I have to say seem interesting enough to write about, much less read about? What do i really have to say? Am I afraid that my demons will start typing for me and that ever single truth I ever hid will suddenly be known to all? A part of me says "no, you're just afraid that people will find you boring" and I suppose that is a fear that every writer has when they are showing their work to anyone. But no one is really going to read this if only for the sheer fact that no one knows its here. Its not that I have something to tell anyone but more that I have something I want OUT OF ME.
I spent the better part of last night being depressed that Demon has lied to me yet again. You know that cartoon with the devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other? That's kinda like me now only there is no devil or angel, just my realist and my dreamer. Perhaps I have a sort of multiple personality disorder. One moment I will be handling a situation in a certain way, with everything from body language to demeanor and "feelings" reflecting a sad, sobbing girl who only wants to be loved and needed. In a split second I am ME, alone against the world...planning my future without the thought or need for a man.
Like my situation with Demon: he has lied to me so many times, he has insulted my intelligence and he never keeps a promise. The dreamer in me says "well, maybe he will be good to you when such-and-such is over or when so-and-so is away from him" while the realist says "uh...no. he's a liar because he doesn't value you and he doesn't care". What's so confusing about the whole Demon thing is that he does things for me...he can be nice and caring and the only thing that he's ever broken were promises and my heart. I told him the other day "maybe we are meant to be just friends" (which, in witnessing his nonchalant shrug, I believe he couldn't care less and that all niceness from him is just his guilty conscious) but friends don't lie to you, either...not this much, anyways. When I found out that he cheated on me, I swore that I was finished with men. But as time passes, I realize that it's not love that I need to steer clear from, I just need to handle my emotions more carefully.
Life hasn't hardened me so much that I have given up on love, but it has made me wiser. The dreamer in me refuses to give up on finding "Mr. Right" but the realist's voice is getting louder by the day. I'm learning more about myself as I go along. The realist says "leave your heart open and be careful of how you use it. Being hard at first is better than being suicidal afterwards".
Or, in the words of Jane Seymour, "If your heart is open, love will always find its way in." I'm too busy to be thinking about men, except those that I live with, or those I see at work. Never in a lovey-dovey way, either. Great musing, dear sister. If you want something bad enough, the universe is bound to let you have your say. Keep your chin up.
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