Today has been ROUGH. I think I’ve had about five breakdown’s and the night is still young. The party has started and pity is the main attraction. The night is consisting of music, burning incense, cake and tears. Many, many tears. I can’t stand feeling sorry for myself. But I can’t help it. Again, today….was a rough one.
I’m feeling so lonely.
The fall like weather does not help. I wanna call my mom. Cry on my dad’s shoulder.
But those desires are of no possibility for me.
Another day in the life of a single mom, divorced, has no family and needing to get her shit together by putting her big girl pants on, and deal.
I just don’t want too.
No, what I’d like to do is drive really, really far to the middle of nowhere, smoke a big fat blunt, jam some blue’s and laugh all night with a certain Arab and just regroup. But even those simple things can’t be accomplished.
My car broke down.
I’m too broke to buy food for my kids let alone ganja, the Arab doesn’t notice I breathe and to regroup when I’m in the middle of a breakdown just isn’t going to happen…
So here I sit.
This empty apartment. All by myself.
Today is not a good day.
I get sad and have these fits of “why me” and I wanna scream “fuck off” at the top of my lungs to anyone and everyone in a 100 mile radius. But damn, it’s not in my nature to stay that way.
I hate that about me.
I have this huge problem not being able to stay guarded and to cut people off. I threaten it a million times a day but to actually do it…?
Nope.
Can’t.
Being angry at the world is way overrated man.
My heart has been torn from my chest, my soul has been shattered into a billion little pieces and because of that my mind plays this endless tug of war game in my head between reality and illusion.
Why do I fall in love with people who I will NEVER be lucky enough to love me back? Why take time and search out the good, even in the darkest of places? Why bother to laugh all of the time when it seems as though I’m only laughing alone? For some fucked up reason beyond my comprehension I constantly get the shit end of the stick, every time.
I swear if I had the spiritual balls I’d look at God and ask; “WTF?”
I change my mind set, I forgive, I do all the things I’m “supposed to do” but I’m constantly scratching at a surface that never seems to want me to come in.
It’s bullshit man.
But as always, I return to being vulnerable in hopes that one day, those things could change.
I hate that about me too.
My feelings of self pity, anger at the world, it never takes long for those things to dissipate and once again I search and find reasons to laugh, to hope, to dream….
Ugh, I hate me.
Who misses being vulnerable?
Me, of course. Only me.
A tug of war. Every…single…day.
I think it’s a pretty safe assumption, that I am vulnerability’s bitch. However, in saying that (here I go again) maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be the day. I’ll get that Arab’s attention, hit the lottery, travel the world with the four loves of my life and a kitchen full of food will be waiting for us, when we get to wherever we decide to call home. I know, I know…My glass half full mentality makes me wanna punch myself in the face too. But I gotta keep it real, I gotta be me. And as crazy as it sounds, it’s my blessing and my curse…

Selah,

Cheryl