Mood: illfinedoingdandy
Listening to: Mountain Goats
Reading: Desperation (Stephen King) Forgive Me.
Watching: Escape From Alcatraz

...I knew it would never last.

This is what it feels like to use and be used. We're talking again. Nothing serious, of course, but I would be lying if I said my heart didn't jump when I hear his ringtone on my phone. Still. Except now, he's calling. The things we talk about...are the same things we used to talk about except now, he's more interested. No strings attached interested.

Such a boy thing. As long as I can keep my figure, I imagine he'll be interested. As long as at the end of it, he's not required to cuddle or call back in the morning.

I almost responded to a personal ad this morning. Almost. Then I realised that that would entail a relationship, and caring, and sex...and that never works out for me. I guess I'm just as guilty as he is.

This is better, most assuredly. There isn't that wave of bitterness in every conversation. Just a lack of trust that I'm working so hard to fix. Why? Why do I care about fixing it? Is this just me being naive and hoping against hope? I've asked myself these questions, and I don't think those are relevant questions. I don't -really- want a relationship with him again. There would still be the problems from the last time: selfishness, disinterest, neglect, distance, ungratefulness--and this doesn't even cover my flaws.

His most current ex, a fugly brunette, says he's immature. not deep enough. blah. blah. blah. I hated her since before he "says" they were dating. *insert eye roll here* She committed an act of indescretion on his bed with a long-time friend of his. I'd be lying if I didn't say that made me smile slightly before realizing that I don't wish him pain. I almost want to yell at her and say, "Hey that's my favourite shallow, immature asshole you're talking about. You only dated for a VERY short time, so, you don't have the rights to call him that." Then, I'd bitch slap her and run. Kind of remniscent of a certain Azz from the Pazt.

I'm switching jobs. Multiple reasons. Now, I don't sell cellphones for the demon of all devils. I do something far more degrading, but I think I'll be able to sleep better at night knowing the world is a cleaner place without all the lies. Oh, God, do I crack myself up.

I've spent 24 hours+ at the doctor's/ hospital this week alone. Finally know what's wrong with me after almost two months of owwies. Ovarian cysts. Biopsy=non-malignant. They blasted the buggers off day before yesterday. I didn't know my uterus could get this mad. I swear a million Egyptians were just killed in the Red Sea of my belly. Eww is right. Depending on how this works, I shouldn't lose an ovary. I find out for sure soon.

On a brighter note, he says I'm "smokin'". I totally am. Eat it up, kids. Eat it up.


LISTEN TO SUFJAN STEVENS GODDAMNIT.