Everything is a learning experience.
I feel like I almost forgot about this blog. It's so strange how I get into these deep, philosophical moods -- I feel like singing at the top of my lungs or writing a strange poem about life. Do you ever feel that way...like you have so much to share, but not enough time to get it all out? That's how I feel. I can't type fast enough to keep up with the multitude of thoughts that are spilling out of my head.
I think I chose to type in this journal tonight rather than my Livejournal because I feel...wise. I feel old tonight; I feel experienced. Tonight isn't a "everything is horrible, shoot me" or even a "I'm so happy I could burst" night where all of my emotions spill out in the form of half-sentences on my computer screen. Rather, it's a "let me slow down and THINK about what's going on in my life -- truly THINK, Stephanie...don't let the words spill out. Carefully consider each thought and feeling"-night. Does that make sense? Looking back...yes, it does. It makes perfect sense to me. No second guessing myself in this journal.
One thing I love about summer is the fact that there isn't much going on. And by "not much", I mean school. Of course there's work, and in the case of this summer, dentist shadowing. There's family time, and friends time and chill time at Barnes and Noble; there's all of those things, of course. But school is what consumes most of my time during the year. It's so emotionally and mentally taxing that in most cases, I don't have time to contemplate much else. Things are different during the summer. I have time to sit back, relax, and CHILL. And THINK. And FEEL. And LEARN. I know I've learned a lot this summer...and there's still a month left before I'm back on the grind.
What have I learned? Well, for one (and actually this will be the only -- If I were to thoroughly describe everything I learned this summer, not only would it be boring, it'd take up more space than I have energy for), I've learned that not everyone is around for the sole purpose of kissing my ass.
Let me explain. I think I have the absolute BEST friends in the world. I just do. They have always been there for me, always there to listen and hang out...blah blah blah. You know the deal.
I'm trying so hard here to adequately desribe the thoughts that I'm feeling, and I'm having a really hard time trying to put it in words, so I'm going to be blunt: I love my friends so much because they put up with my shit. I can be the bitchiest, moodiest, weirdest, cracked-out girl OUT there. Catch me on a good day? I will make you laugh. I will be the best listener. I will cheer you up. I'll help you with your homework. I'll drive you halfway across the state of Missouri to take your sick dog to the vet. I will dance and sing and act SILLY. I will do absolutely ANYTHING for you. Name it.
Catch me on a not-so-good day? I'll be moody. I will not hesitate to bitch you out. I will cry and ask to be left alone. I won't want to talk. I won't answer the phone. I'll flake out on our plans. I'll lie to your FACE.
This, my friends, is why blogging is so difficult for me. Why sharing things about myself is so freaking HARD. No one likes to share the negative things about themselves; it's nice to think that you're the perfect person. It's easier. Totally showing your ass VOLUNTARILY? It's a lot harder, no? But I digress...
My friends put up with my shit. Truth be told, I DON'T consider myself a good friend. I say a little prayer to myself everyday, thanking God for blessing me with such caring friends. A lot of the time, I think I don't deserve it. "I'm such a bitch," I say to myself. "Why do people want to hang out with me?" I test the waters a lot of the time. Yeah...I just said it. I test my friends. I'll see how far they will go for me -- how much they'll put up with. Not a single one of my friends has faltered in their support for me. It amazes me, really. I just don't understand a lot of the time. I really, truly, don't.
So anyway, this brings me to the core of this entry: the boy. The boy, much like everyone else in this journal, shall go nameless; those who know me know exactly who the boy is, and those who don't don't need to know. The specifics of where and when we met is irrelevant; I'll skip to the juicy (or not-so-juicy, depending on your viewpoint) part: He dumped my ass. Point blank. No creme filling, no sugary coating, no Cheesecake-Factory-Style-REAL-whipped-cream topping. I'm keeping it real. HE dumped ME because I, Stephanie, was a complete and total BITCH to him.
I think he liked me at one point. I'm almost sure of it. He called me everyday, we talked a LOT, we went on upwards of seven dates. "It" was there. And "it" scared the living daylights out of me. I went psycho. "A GUY...being interested in ME? I MUST do everything in my power to scare him away! This cannot be real!" And so I did. I, Stupid Stephanie, did the "I'm-going-to-test-how-much-you-really-like-me-by-being-a-complete-bitch-except-I-still-want-you-to-be-interested-in-me-after-this-is-all-over" test. Did it backfire? Yes. He did exactly what any self-respecting guy would have done in that situation -- completely cut off all ties with me. Am I surprised? Yes. Should I be? Probably not.
I'm surprised, because like I said earlier -- I'm used to my friends taking my shit. I'm used to fucking up and them still loving me in the end. I'm so completey spoiled by it. And for the boy to NOT come running back to me? It totally threw me off guard. This time, I'm afraid, I won't be able to patch things over. Is what I did absolutely horrendous? Not by ANY means. But...it just goes to show that not everyone out there is willing to put up with me. And that's a gigantic pill to swallow.
So, with that all said...I learned a lesson. I'm going to try my hardest to change, especially next time, when it involves a guy I'm truly interested in. I'm just so completely hurt that it worked out this way. Is this event worthy of being added to my "regret" list (of which there is only one thing listed, mind you)? I don't know. I won't know for a while. Part of me still thinks that he'll come around...that he'll call me. However, the larger part of me is silently letting it go. She's quietly deleting the number from her phone, slowly pushing out the memory of him, and forgetting how sweet and gentle and CARING he was. She's closing her eyes and trying not to feel his soft lips pressed against hers, or the way he smelled when he pulled her close. She's erasing the memory of the night he cooked her dinner -- the vegetarian meal that he probably didn't want to eat himself, but did, because he knew it would make her happy. Finally, she'll relinquish the immense happiness that she felt during that moment when he grabbed her hand and held it tight and she felt that maybe, just maybe...she COULD believe in that stupid little thing called LOVE. Yep...she'll forget all about it. She'll disregard EVERYTHING that happened during that stupid little summer of 2005, because...because now...it's nothing but some words on a screen. It means nothing to her anymore. Absolutely NOTHING.
And by NOTHING, I really mean EVERYTHING.
I think I chose to type in this journal tonight rather than my Livejournal because I feel...wise. I feel old tonight; I feel experienced. Tonight isn't a "everything is horrible, shoot me" or even a "I'm so happy I could burst" night where all of my emotions spill out in the form of half-sentences on my computer screen. Rather, it's a "let me slow down and THINK about what's going on in my life -- truly THINK, Stephanie...don't let the words spill out. Carefully consider each thought and feeling"-night. Does that make sense? Looking back...yes, it does. It makes perfect sense to me. No second guessing myself in this journal.
One thing I love about summer is the fact that there isn't much going on. And by "not much", I mean school. Of course there's work, and in the case of this summer, dentist shadowing. There's family time, and friends time and chill time at Barnes and Noble; there's all of those things, of course. But school is what consumes most of my time during the year. It's so emotionally and mentally taxing that in most cases, I don't have time to contemplate much else. Things are different during the summer. I have time to sit back, relax, and CHILL. And THINK. And FEEL. And LEARN. I know I've learned a lot this summer...and there's still a month left before I'm back on the grind.
What have I learned? Well, for one (and actually this will be the only -- If I were to thoroughly describe everything I learned this summer, not only would it be boring, it'd take up more space than I have energy for), I've learned that not everyone is around for the sole purpose of kissing my ass.
Let me explain. I think I have the absolute BEST friends in the world. I just do. They have always been there for me, always there to listen and hang out...blah blah blah. You know the deal.
I'm trying so hard here to adequately desribe the thoughts that I'm feeling, and I'm having a really hard time trying to put it in words, so I'm going to be blunt: I love my friends so much because they put up with my shit. I can be the bitchiest, moodiest, weirdest, cracked-out girl OUT there. Catch me on a good day? I will make you laugh. I will be the best listener. I will cheer you up. I'll help you with your homework. I'll drive you halfway across the state of Missouri to take your sick dog to the vet. I will dance and sing and act SILLY. I will do absolutely ANYTHING for you. Name it.
Catch me on a not-so-good day? I'll be moody. I will not hesitate to bitch you out. I will cry and ask to be left alone. I won't want to talk. I won't answer the phone. I'll flake out on our plans. I'll lie to your FACE.
This, my friends, is why blogging is so difficult for me. Why sharing things about myself is so freaking HARD. No one likes to share the negative things about themselves; it's nice to think that you're the perfect person. It's easier. Totally showing your ass VOLUNTARILY? It's a lot harder, no? But I digress...
My friends put up with my shit. Truth be told, I DON'T consider myself a good friend. I say a little prayer to myself everyday, thanking God for blessing me with such caring friends. A lot of the time, I think I don't deserve it. "I'm such a bitch," I say to myself. "Why do people want to hang out with me?" I test the waters a lot of the time. Yeah...I just said it. I test my friends. I'll see how far they will go for me -- how much they'll put up with. Not a single one of my friends has faltered in their support for me. It amazes me, really. I just don't understand a lot of the time. I really, truly, don't.
So anyway, this brings me to the core of this entry: the boy. The boy, much like everyone else in this journal, shall go nameless; those who know me know exactly who the boy is, and those who don't don't need to know. The specifics of where and when we met is irrelevant; I'll skip to the juicy (or not-so-juicy, depending on your viewpoint) part: He dumped my ass. Point blank. No creme filling, no sugary coating, no Cheesecake-Factory-Style-REAL-whipped-cream topping. I'm keeping it real. HE dumped ME because I, Stephanie, was a complete and total BITCH to him.
I think he liked me at one point. I'm almost sure of it. He called me everyday, we talked a LOT, we went on upwards of seven dates. "It" was there. And "it" scared the living daylights out of me. I went psycho. "A GUY...being interested in ME? I MUST do everything in my power to scare him away! This cannot be real!" And so I did. I, Stupid Stephanie, did the "I'm-going-to-test-how-much-you-really-like-me-by-being-a-complete-bitch-except-I-still-want-you-to-be-interested-in-me-after-this-is-all-over" test. Did it backfire? Yes. He did exactly what any self-respecting guy would have done in that situation -- completely cut off all ties with me. Am I surprised? Yes. Should I be? Probably not.
I'm surprised, because like I said earlier -- I'm used to my friends taking my shit. I'm used to fucking up and them still loving me in the end. I'm so completey spoiled by it. And for the boy to NOT come running back to me? It totally threw me off guard. This time, I'm afraid, I won't be able to patch things over. Is what I did absolutely horrendous? Not by ANY means. But...it just goes to show that not everyone out there is willing to put up with me. And that's a gigantic pill to swallow.
So, with that all said...I learned a lesson. I'm going to try my hardest to change, especially next time, when it involves a guy I'm truly interested in. I'm just so completely hurt that it worked out this way. Is this event worthy of being added to my "regret" list (of which there is only one thing listed, mind you)? I don't know. I won't know for a while. Part of me still thinks that he'll come around...that he'll call me. However, the larger part of me is silently letting it go. She's quietly deleting the number from her phone, slowly pushing out the memory of him, and forgetting how sweet and gentle and CARING he was. She's closing her eyes and trying not to feel his soft lips pressed against hers, or the way he smelled when he pulled her close. She's erasing the memory of the night he cooked her dinner -- the vegetarian meal that he probably didn't want to eat himself, but did, because he knew it would make her happy. Finally, she'll relinquish the immense happiness that she felt during that moment when he grabbed her hand and held it tight and she felt that maybe, just maybe...she COULD believe in that stupid little thing called LOVE. Yep...she'll forget all about it. She'll disregard EVERYTHING that happened during that stupid little summer of 2005, because...because now...it's nothing but some words on a screen. It means nothing to her anymore. Absolutely NOTHING.
And by NOTHING, I really mean EVERYTHING.
posted by Stephanie at
10:26 PM
