Humanity

insane in the membrane. (sorry cypress hill)

so, i’ve met a guy. another one.  not my type. want to know why? i think he’s just like me.

and so there is some work for me to do and i’m in a vulnerability hangover every time i think about it. 0408191821

sheesh. have to go take meds. forgot again. hold on.

kay. but thats not the reason for the vulnerability hangover. listen, this is how it goes.

‘you can’t keep putting me first, thats not good for you’. me to he. ‘but thats how i am, i need to know you so i can be what you need me to be, for you’ he to me.

BUT THATS CRAZY!!! me to he.

we? agree to disagree.

the problem here is that he is saying things i’ve said, how i lived for a long time, and why in the end, marriage couldn’t be worked out for me.  I’m not saying i was a slavish wife and only served my man.

i wasn’t. i began to have children, i’ve always had a personality, i’ve always had needs…but it begins with who gets up for the babies, doesn’t it…for me it did.  who’s life is too important to be turned upside down?

i never was able to articulate what my needs were. and part of that was that everyone else went first.   and now… i am being forced to practice, because i’m staring in a mirror all the time.

who gets fed first at your house?

sigh.

i know thats a multifaceted question, and practicality and all, but really… its that dangling emergency oxygen….

and i swear, i’d die while offering it to others. just plumb up and die.

chew on that.

 

 

 

 

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