Exact Essence of BooHooing.

Is it too much to ask to be wooed? I'm so sick of being the wooer. Today, well tonight, I almost started crying over not being able to sign up for the converter box for this whole digital tv thing happening in about a month. The website said I had already gotten my coupons for it...but that is impossible. My neighbors probably didn't put an apt number, or STOLE my apartment number, and now I'm not getting a converter box.

That, and the fact that my hormones are at unruly and basically cannibalistic levels isn't helping either. I haven't had a good cry in months. I don't think I have cried in months. I think I started to or did a little bit after getting in a car accident, but it was only for a flush few seconds. There is a good chance that I am becoming the emotional robot my father is. That worries me a lot.

I'm sick of girls playing head games too. I don't like that. I want happiness and cuteness and stupid silly things being done for each other and secret smiles and shining eyes. We don't have to love each other, maybe not yet, but I want to feel wanted. Every girl I know is fucked up in some department, and I'm becoming more and more of a recluse of the heart. Well, it just isn't in the cards for me, another year can just go by again in such ways as it has for so long.

I don't feel I can be too real on here, I keep that for another journal. I feel like this one, although it is more secret than my other journal (how secret this one is, I'm unsure) has an emotional-depth halt on it. I poured my shit out to somebody tonight. It wasn't that big of a deal, just what I talked about here, and how I was made to feel like some sort of derelict for not going to my friend's birthday party. I found out about the party tonight at work, and I still don't have a car. Granted, I'm like 2 minutes driving from this bar, and fifteen minutes walking, maybe more since there was some sort of snow storm today. I would have to pass through the worst part of bancroft, and by myself at night in the winter time.

After I just heaved a wave or almost an onslaught of my worries to this person, they basically told me well see ya its getting late and I'm on my way there to this very bar for that same party. I'm laughing a bit now, because it is kind of looney. Why the fuck do I care so much. I just do. And I guess I expected more from this person. Maybe I expect too much from everyone. I'm tired of pulling the fiber out of my essence in order to give to others, and for something so simple to be so hard to ask for.

When I think of J, I think about how much I gave, and the emotional nights of crying in bed while she slept beside me, the heart break I wouldn't even allow myself to recognize within myself. I felt like a failure in so many ways, and it was the culmination of too many bad relationships. Shipwrecked in another, trying to fix it and hold onto it at the same time, trying to piece parts out of it that were still worth something, I lost something of me. And it has been almost four years since then and I still am not sure what I misplaced, all I really can feel is this sort of emptiness.

In a way, I don't want to be what I am. I wish I could change what would make life easier for me. Along the way of growing up, I didn't learn enough about love. My parents never were affectionate with one another, and I still suppress myself when it comes to showing too much affection to my friends. I grew up to look at love with a cynical eye, the lies within love, the calculation of love bridled by those that I thought I loved.

Maybe this is too much for a Saturday night. I don't know exactly what I am trying to say. I'm sad, but not enough for it to count.