It’s annoying having the blog be generally inaccessible, but there’s really no workaround for that kind of thing. See, before I made everything private, I was writing to a very nebulous mass of people, none of which actually existed or read anything, but there was at least the concept that what I was writing was open and available – that anyone could stumble upon it and look at everything I’d done and go “Wow, this guy is nuts.” There was also the thing where I knew my ex was reading it and that gave me some kind of motivation. Now that both of those options are gone, writing has lost a little bit of its appeal. At the end of the day, it was yet another exercise in self-expression that is completely rooted in performing for others. That’s not a great notion to think about. So, since everything is private, I am burdened with the knowledge that I’m writing to three people, two of which I spend most of my free time with, and one is my sister.
It feels kind of weird. I would really like to make everything open again, but in some way where I can prevent my ex from looking at it. I considered changing the domain name, but that was like $80 and I like the name I’ve got right now. Plus, it’s hard for me to argue against the fact that my mental health has been much better since I made everything private. I mean, there’s no causation there, it’s more like a comorbidity. I made the decision to just… stop thinking about my ex. And to do that, I sent her a final little thing in response to one of hers, shut the website down, and went out on the town. And it’s hard to argue against the results – these past, I don’t know, two weeks have been kind of blissful. Of course, I have bad times, I still dream about her every night and it’s always some form of breakup dream, which kind of blows, but whenever I used to have those, it would put a school of fish in my stomach and I’d pretty much be ruined the entire day. Now, it’s tolerable? It’s like “Damn, that wasn’t pleasant, oh well, time to go do stuff.”
This feeling of, I don’t know, indifference, has had me more stressed out than anything else. I talked about it with my therapist on Tuesday, that I felt like my general disinterest in my ex was a really bad thing. I mean, it’s only been like four months, and I’ve swung from desperately wanting her back to wanting her to blink out of existence like a thousand times in that period, but now, I just don’t care. What does that mean about me? Aren’t you supposed to grieve a breakup for like, half the time you were in the relationship? I’m quite short on that mark. So, if we operate under that assumption, it means that either my feelings for her were cheap and fleeting and enough time away just sort of reduced them to ash, or that this period of mental wellness is going to be temporary. My therapist told me not to hold myself to the standards of other people when it comes to timetables and that it’s perfectly normal to feel this way this quick, but I’m just slightly uncomfortable with that. It’s just part of my biology to assume that the worst case scenario is the real one. Some Candide shit.
I think there are some other variables at work here. I think I’ve had enough time to digest the fact that I was pretty unhappy with her and that our relationship had a lot of its value rooted in the ways it reflected on me. Now that I’ve been single for a while, and girls have shown some interest in me (someone has a crush on me woaw (٭°̧̧̧ω°̧̧̧٭) ), it’s nice to remember that I am pretty neat and appealing and that my value isn’t rooted in being with someone that I thought was like, out of my league or whatever. Leagues are stupid anyways, I could fall in love with like, 50% of people I meet, I think. But that could also just be my mindset right now because I’m basically in heat 24/7.
But for real, I don’t know, the only reasons I’ve ever put stock in the attractiveness of a partner is because it made me more “valuable” having a really pretty girlfriend or whatever. My type, I guess, has not really been the people I’ve dated. I’m really truly sure I could be hopelessly in love with someone as long as they’re funny enough and meet like, a bare minimum hygiene and self-awareness standard. And for my money, it’s much harder to be funny in a way I like than it is to be conventionally attractive. Maybe that’s because I also put a lot of my value in my humor and not much at all in my appearance, but whatever.
Take all of this with a grain of salt: again, at this point, I feel like a middle-school boy and the slightest hint of anything womanly makes me feel like committing myself to a psych ward. But honestly, I haven’t been honest-to-god horny in a long time.
I don’t know, man. I’m still not going to rush into fucking someone after my last experience with that. Best case scenario is y’know, sex, and worst case scenario is another annihilation of self. But it’s nice being in tune with that part of living again, that sensitivity towards others, that feeling of a racing heart and a dizzy head and the small prickles of static across my arms. It’s cool.
Um, I got a new tattoo, and will probably get three more before the year is over, depending on if I can find something I would like. Maybe it’s kind of cringe to have this weird regression to being horny and impulsive, but I’m labeling it as “reclaiming lost time” and making it life-affirming. Truly, as long as you’re not being an evil person, there’s no reason to not ascribe your actions to being a positive thing. So, who cares? I’m excited again, to fuck around and get tattooed and spend late nights out and go drinking and graduate and fall in love again. Too much of my mental energy has been wasted on someone who no longer has any equity in my life.
jeez, louise 