Happy Holidays!

I know I have been quite (in)conspicuously absent recently, but it’s been busy around here what with the holidays and the leading of a double life and all.

It is so much easier to keep my mouth shut than to bother sorting out what I should and shouldn’t say. And so I do. But that is not to last for long, because I do plan to start 2011 with a heaping plateful of truth.

But I still have a few days of 2010 left in which to enjoy secrets and lies and my busy, busy double life.

For the record, no, I have not become a secret agent. But it’s a damned shame. All of my talents are being wasted with this hotel business.

Change is coming. I can taste it on the air.

And so, I bid you happy holidays and the warmest of wishes for the new year from myself and the two furballs at my feet.

Family.

Tons of things I’ve been meaning to post about over the last couple of weeks, but I’m a procrastinator was busy. You know, with that life thing I was referring to in my previous post.

If it hasn’t been made clear from the (meager) content of this blog, I am single and without children. Human children, that is. But, for as long as I can remember, I have always had canine children – my furbabies. I find it very hard to be without a dog in the house. Almost unnatural. They are man’s best friend, after all. Woman’s too.

 

    

Meet Turbo. Turbo is my gorgeous two year old Pomeranian. I “rescued” him from my brother about a year ago, after my nephew was born. (They had three dogs in the house and it was just too much with a new baby.) He’s a bit neurotic and has some separation anxiety issues, but he is such a joy to have in my life. Very smart, and generally very calm – especially for a “toy” breed. He is very much my dog. I live with my dad, and he has very, very little to do with him or anyone else who enters the house unless I’m not here. In fact, when I’m working and my dad is home, he tends to banish himself to his crate until I do come home.

I recently decided that Turbo needs canine company, because prior to moving in here in July, Turbo had always been around other dogs. I’m sure he’s content to be the only dog in the house, but I felt that companionship might be welcome. And this was pretty lucky since he sired a litter of pups in November and the owner of the bitch was ready to start getting the pups out of her house (at only five weeks old – not the greatest idea, but that’s for another time). So last week, we welcomed home the newest addition to our family.

Meet Riot! He’s a tiny little bundle of fluff with a rapidly developing personality. He’s adorable and so fluffy that I might just die from the overwhelming cute overload!

I’m afraid he may have developmental problems and separation anxiety from being taken away from his mother and his litter so early (it is recommended that toy breeds not be separated from the mother earlier than ten weeks), but nothing has manifested yet. He whines when he’s hungry and when he wants attention. He doesn’t make much complaint about sleeping in the crate at night or when I’m not home. He’s got the makings of a good little pup.

I can’t wait to see how he grows and develops. It really is like watching a child develop as his personality emerges complete with quirks and eccentricities.

Unfortunately, Turbo is terrified of him. I’ve never seen him shy away from another dog, but he runs from Riot when he attempts to play. I’m really starting to wonder if Turbo realizes he’s actually a dog. It’s possible he thinks he’s some type of rodent. Maybe as he gets bigger, Turbo will be more comfortable with him.

Don’t give up on me.

I’ve been busy lately, and for once, it has been less about work and more about life. And changing and growing and learning and knowing and things that are new. And people that are new. Things that may be right and good, but feel wrong, so how do you really know unless you make a leap of faith?

One day, I’ll be able to tell you about these things in a less vague and ramble-y sort of way, but until then, you will just have to trust me when I say that I am embarking on my next great adventure and it is so good.

I’m starting to get regular days off at work again and am slowly rediscovering my social life. And my love of Crown Royal. (Stop judging. I earned this.) I just spent two days indulging in sloth and fun and alcohol and fantastic food that I did not have to cook or clean up.  I can’t say more than that right now, and it pains me.

Why all the “secrecy”? Really not much of a secret. Pretty much everyone knows who I was with and where I was and what went down, but I find that dwelling on things too much tends to jinx them. So, this is officially a No Dwelling Zone. For the time being anyway.

Besides, I have a lot to figure out and someone’s going to get hurt, but at least all involved are aware of the potential for intense emotional trauma. So nobody can say that they weren’t warned or were caught unawares or any of that nonsense.

If there’s one thing I can say about myself, it’s that my Crazy is always on prominent display. So no one can blame me when they end up embroiled in drama and intense emotional turmoil. Or they can. But they’ll just look stupid. Because, hello? You were fucking warned.

Downtime.

Finally! I got two consecutive days off. Shocker, I know. This, unfortunately, has not lead to an excess of downtime. I still have a lot of demands on my time.

I spent a few days after work visiting with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. While visiting with my brother is not always a joy, his son is such adorable perfection. It is so amazing to see his personality developing. I wish I were able to spend more time with him. I had not seen him since January and had missed many of his little developments. He crawls and talks and is nearly walking. He has a fairly extensive vocabulary for such a young tike, though some of the words he’s picked up from my brother are less than appropriate. Favorites include “ass” and “boobies.” My sister-in-law will have him fit to appear in public again soon enough, I imagine.

They left to head back to Texas on Friday, leaving all of my spare time to the boyface. Nothing very interesting to report there. Just spent time being together, watching movies, etc.

I went on a bit of a baking spree just prior to Thanksgiving. Made a batch of Black Bottom Cupcakes and some pumpkin pies. Still have much baking planned, but my ambition ran out quicker than I expected. When I bake again, I will attempt to take photos and share the recipes. I plan to do a bit of tweaking next time. Perhaps I shall bake again tonight. Perhaps not.

Just bought a new batch of soaps from Geeky Clean’s  Cyber Monday sale. Can’t wait for them to arrive. This time, I purchased the Light-Up d20, Browncoat Field Ration, Boba Feet Foot Scrub, and Scrubasaurus Rex (in T-Rex). Cannot wait to be all geeky clean!

I have some shopping to do and need to get my oil changed today, so I shall keep this short and sweet.

Give Thanks!

Happy Thanksgiving, blogosphere! I am making this short post from my phone (via Blogger-droid) while at work. I hope you are reading it from the comfort of your home while stuffed full of nummy Thanksgiving goodies.

It's been a busy week and will continue to be so until Sunday-ish. My brother and his family are in from Texas for the holiday. I hadn't seen my nephew since January. He has grown so much! He is ~ 14 months old and loves me, yay!

The boyface is also home from college for the holiday, so I'm trying to squeeze time in there when possible.

Perhaps more Truths later this evening, or perhaps I'll regale you with tales of my recent baking adventures. Or maybe I'll just ignore you to have more adventures!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Exhausted.

No, no. I have not abandoned this blog just yet. I just had no time this weekend, between work and spending time with the boyface.

The new schedule came out at work today. Everyone else is cut back to five days a week because they hired a new girl. I am still scheduled for every day between now and the 30th, and probably for a while after that. I can’t remember the last day I had off. I believe it was October 31st. So yes, so far scheduled for the full month of November. Probably for most of December as well.

They will work me to death because I will let them. I will let them because I need the money. My last paycheck was actually enough to live off of. Sad that I had to work 36 hours of overtime to make that. Minimum wage doesn’t go very far at all.

My time with the boy was good. We didn’t go to my favorite Mexican restaurant, but we did go to another Mexican place with his brother last night. It was nice. Never seems like we have enough time together, but he’ll be back on Wednesday for Thanksgiving break, so yay!

I can’t form coherent thought processes, so I believe I’ll call it a night.

Truth: Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

On my 30 Days of Truth page, I warned that I would not be doing these in order. True to my word, I am starting with day eleven. Something people seem to compliment you on most.

This one is easy. I receive the most compliments on my hair. It’s also probably the easiest thing for me to accept compliments on. My hair is pretty fabulous.

I have always been complimented on my hair, even when it was natural. It is long and thick and full of body. I can do practically anything with it, with a little effort. It is never lifeless or unyielding despite the dying and bleaching, despite how I try to flatten the life out of it most days. My hair rarely lets me down.

In the last several years since I’ve been dying it various shades of red, I’ve received even more compliments on it than ever. People just love redheads, even when they know it’s from a bottle. It’s actually been red on top, black underneath for the past year or two, and in the last six months or so, I’ve added candy apple highlights. So in addition to getting compliments on the condition and length of my hair, I also get a lot of compliments on the color (which are harder to accept since they should really be complimenting the dye manufacturers).

My favorite color products? Feria by L’Oreal in Ruby Rush for all-over red. It’s fantastic, vibrant color from a box. I’ve used several other colors, and in my opinion, this one surpasses even the professional colors I’ve tried. Another that I like is L’Oreal Excellence HiColor in Intense Red, which is a slightly deeper red and has good staying power. I generally choose the Feria though. Beyond the Zone Color Jamz in Candy Apple for the highlights. I LOVE Color Jamz. Vibrant colors and the consistency of the dye makes for easy application. I have used a lot of “wilder” colored dies that were very liquidy and runny and just a mess to use. This one has more of a gel consistency and I adore it. (And yes, I do pre-lighten before using the Color Jamz. No way around that. I don’t take it all the way blonde though, just light enough for the color to take.) Any black dye will do since there’s no worry about fading.

As far as a haircare regimen goes, I have none. Shampoo and condition with whatever. I don't even have a particular brand I use. Just whatever I pick up at the store. I switch it up occasionally because my hair likes change. I rarely use any product at all, other than whatever heat protector I happen to be using (usually this or this). I'm actually pretty careless with my hair. Just blessed, really.

I mostly thought to make this post because I’m in the middle of a touch-up dye job right now, and I had not yet posted today. And now it is time to rinse and ready for bed.

Tomorrow is payday (36 hours of overtime, yay!) and I have a date with the Jailbait. We’re going to my favorite Mexican restaurant. Should be a fantastic day (minus the eight hours of it that I will be working, of course).

Finding a Niche.

If there has one thing I have noticed whilst lurking about the blogosphere, it’s this: the only “successful” bloggers, have found their niche. Be it fashion blogging, mommy blogging, photo blogging, career blogging, etc., they’ve found something that people immediately identify them with.

I’ve spent a lot of time on 20SB and clicking through links on various blogs in search of fodder for my Google Reader, and the thing I’ve noticed that many of the writers I follow have in common is that there is one thing that they are really good at writing about.

This makes me think that I will likely never be a really “successful” blogger. I am not a mommy or a fashionista or a photographer or chronicling my amazing weight loss journey. I am just your average girl flailing and floundering about out there in the Real World. And really, that’s everyone so why would anyone want to read that?

Of course, I suppose that it really depends on how you define success. If all you’re looking to do is clear your head, then I suppose it doesn’t really matter what you’re writing about.

A lot of people define success in blogging as being able to use it as a means of financial gain. While it would be utterly fantastic to be able to sit at home and pound out blatherings and get paid (or at least get free shiz), that’s not at all what I’m looking for.

I think, in the end, I want what most people want. Acceptance. Recognition. Someone to understand, relate, and maybe once in a while say, “Hey, it’s like she crawled inside my head and said it so much better than I ever could have.”

Is “flailing, floundering, semi-crazy twenty-something trying to get on with her life” actually a niche though? I think not. Maybe I should learn to bake something fancy.

Average

Today was uneventful.

Work was average. I was informed that it will probably be another two weeks before having a day off even becomes a remote possibility for me. But hey, who needs downtime anyway, right?

I am reaching the point where I am becoming something of a work-zombie. When I am not at work, I don’t want to do anything. Case in point, today. I came home, parked on the couch with my laptop, and did nothing. For the last six hours, I have barely moved more than my mouse-clicking finger. I’ve read blogs, news sites, twitter, etc. I haven’t posted much though, because that seemed efforty.

In fact, I just had an entire conversation with the Jailbait about how I was tired, but getting up to go to bed seemed efforty. But if I allowed myself to sleep on the sofa, I would just be uncomfortable. And I would probably wake up stuck to the leather sofa. That could be remedied by putting a blanket underneath me, but that would require finding a blanket. Again, efforty.

Luckily, I finally mustered the energy to sit up and make a blog post about nothing so as to not get out of the blogging habit. Otherwise, I might have jut laid there staring at the ceiling all night because getting up and going to bed would be too much effort and hey, who really needs sleep anyway?

And now that I have bored you with tales of how I am old and exhausted and whiney, I shall convince my fuzzy dog that bed is where we need to be and slowly make my way down the hall. But first, I have to convince my butt to remove itself from the sofa.

How to Lose a Guy.

As I stated previously, I am recently relationshipped. When I say “recently,” I mean “just this week.” We’ve been seeing each other/talking/feeling out the situation for a few weeks, and I’ve known him for roughly nine years though I only just “met” him as an adult in the last few months. And very recently, in a fit of what was probably sheer insanity, I said, “Okay, sure, we’ll give this an ‘official’ try.”

There are a few things you have to know about me to understand where this is going. 

Firstly, I fail at relationships. For myriad reasons. I can sabotage a relationship so fast it’ll make your head spin, if you’ll forgive the cliché. Sometimes, I know I’m doing it, and sometimes it’s subconscious, but it's generally bound to happen. I can only think of one relationship that I’ve had where the demise wasn’t mostly my fault (and we are not going there right now). 

Secondly, I am a serial monogamist-turned-commitment phobic. From the time I was sixteen until I was twenty-one, there was a string of unhealthy failed “relationships.” The relationship that ended in 2006 left me devastated and it took a year for me to get back on the horse. Unfortunately, I picked a downright psychotic horse to get back on and seven months later was thankfully back to singledom. 

My last “real” foray into relationship-land ended in mid-2008 (with the exception of a minor foray back into the 2006 relationship that landed me in utter devastation to begin with during the summer of 2009).  I spent the majority of the months between December 2008 and February 2010 hiding behind an unhealthy friends-with-benefits situation, followed by a couple of failed attempts at handling long distance romance. 

There is a lot of “not ready to talk about that yet” here, but those are the basics.

Now, I am actually attempting to have a real, live relationship with a real, live boy, with real, live feelings. And I am completely terrified. The potential for me to totally destroy this kid emotionally is significant. And I can’t discount that possibility because I am apparently really good at screwing people up. And sometimes, I can’t control that ability. It’s like a really horrible, backwards super power. Just call me Heartbreak Girl.

I find myself not ready to really tell people that we are in a relationship. Maybe because it’s too new, maybe because I think it’s doomed to fail. I don’t know. I just find myself using the phrases “just friends” and “I’m not sure yet” when I’ve already told him (and a few others who are close to me/us) that I’m going to try. 

Will my doubts be a self-fulfilling prophecy? Is this the quickest way to lose a guy? I could so use a Magic 8 Ball right now.

November.

This is my absolute favorite month. For a long time, I wasn’t sure why. 

I sometimes attributed it to the weather turning cooler (November in Louisiana is the beginning of Not Summer). I hate to be cold, but I love dressing for cooler weather. Sweaters, and tights, and hoodies – Oh my! And it is so time to start busting out the cool-weather wear. The temperature has already dipped into the 30’s a few times!

Maybe it has something to do with another year of my life being half over. Though as I get older, that’s not necessarily something I look forward to or celebrate.

But this year, I realized there is one reason in particular that I have loved this month in recent years. 

No Shave November!

So many men “celebrating” this month by tossing their razors aside. So many sexy, bearded, lumberjack-esque men! I love facial hair on a man. Beards are, in my opinion, the sexiest thing EVER. (Moustaches, not so much. Moustaches are icky and pedo-esque. Unless you’re the epically mustachioed Tom Selleck. Or my dad. My dad looks good with a moustache. But that may be because I’m used to seeing him with one. Tangent! Back to my point.) My love for the beard is all consuming.

It has actually been hypothesized that I am only attracted to the man child I am currently dating because he grew a beard after high school. And I can’t technically deny those allegations, as the first time I saw him after that, my first reaction was, “OMG! HOT! WANT! *DROOLDROOLDROOL*.” But I hadn’t seen him in something like six years, so who’s to really say how I’d have felt if the beard hadn’t been present?

Just this morning, the Jailbait texted me to inform me that his beard trimmer had been tampered with and, as a result, he is significantly less bearded than he has been. His reaction to this? “Oh god, she’s gonna leave me!” My reaction? Rage! And when I find out who is responsible for this treachery, they will be punished.

No, seriously, I wouldn’t leave him if he suddenly became un-bearded. I don’t think. I’m not that shallow. Maybe. I’d prefer we not test this though. 

So, to all the gentlemen out there who are participating in No Shave November, I thank you, from the bottom of my little beard-loving heart. 

And to all you ladies out there who are unfathomably complaining that your man is participating in No Shave November: what the hell is wrong with you?!

I’m back.

For real this time, maybe? I don’t know. 

I feel the urge to blog, as opposed to just “journaling.” To me, there is a distinction. I tend to get much more personal and mundane in journaling, and I keep those monotonous ramblings confined to LiveJournal. There, I get whiney and deeply intimate with my ramblings. When “blogging,” I always want to be more objective about the goings-on of my daily life. And I feel the urge to be more meaningful. Which is probably why I keep abandoning this blogging attempt. Because I fail at being meaningful. 

So much has changed in the past year, and so little at the same time. 

My foray into finding employment in Texas did not work out and so I returned to Louisiana and minimum wage mediocrity. I work as a desk clerk at a mediocre motel chain. Work myself practically to death, actually. For nearly the last six months, I’ve been racking up overtime – generally only having one day off every two to three weeks. It is good financially, as I barely break even, even with the extra hours. Physically and psychologically? Exhausting. It is not a hard job, really, but it does tend to be stressful. Especially recently. Especially when most of my coworkers are burned out, despite the fact that they actually have days off. I just don’t have it in me to not care. I wish I did.

I am recently not single. My first “official” relationship in over two years. My first attempt in two years at a real emotional connection with someone who lives less than six hours away. I had forgotten what this was like. And I had forgotten that I am terrified of commitment. I am trying to work around it. It’s hard though. Made harder still by circumstances. I am dating a boy who is five years my junior. A boy who is the younger brother of my very first boyfriend (though we have in recent months “voided” that relationship on the grounds that it was so long ago). It is even more complicated than I will bother relaying in graphic detail at this time. 

COMPLICATED. Why must everything be so? Eh. C’est la vie, right?

I have plans for this blog this time around. Plans to actually SAY something or do something or just put myself out there. I’ve updated my 20SB account, in hopes of becoming more active there. I should be more social online, considering the amount of time that I spend attached to my computer, phone, etc. I am always plugged-in. Sometimes I think it would be nice to unplug, disengage, for a while, but really, what a lonely life that would be.

I am tired, and while it is not quite late, I think I shall turn in for now. But this is a step, and later there will be another, and perhaps shortly this blog and I shall be strolling along together hand-in-hand.

A new life hampered by the old.

I have been in Texas, staying with my dad and step-mom for several days now. I’ve put in several job applications so far and hold out hope that at least one of them will come through. But it is not a new life or a fresh start.

My roommate is back home, and by his own admission, missing me horribly. This makes me happy and sad at once. I am glad to be missed, but part of the reason I left was to escape him and I knew that only radical change could separate us. It is not a bad relationship that we have, but it is undeniably unhealthy and as such must be left behind. Sooner, rather than later. It hurts me in the deepest parts of my heart because I often feel so connected to him, but we will never be more than what we are now and so we must, by my own choice, be less. It is not easily explained or understood, so I understand if it never makes sense outside of my own mind. He cannot even understand or accept it.

There is another old life hampering my efforts to move forward. I have an entire “old life” here. One that I escaped years ago and have now run head first back into. I am surrounded by people who’ve either forgotten who I am or who remember me as someone else entirely – someone joined at the hip with a boy she loved dearly, but did not know how to appreciate, someone needy and dependent and everything that I have fought for many years to never be again. Sometimes, it worries me that I will become that girl again out of familiarity. Old habits are easy to fall back into, and sometimes I think that there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do that have a third shot with that boy. It took me nearly three years and a near total transformation to get the second chance though, so I don’t see number three coming easily if ever. 

But I hope, sometimes secretly and sometimes not. I hope that we will have one of those “third time’s a charm” scenarios. 

Somewhere in the state of Texas, there is a boy who is not at all remarkable, but who made his mark on my soul nearly five years ago. And I will love him until the day I die, even if I should never see his face again. Even if I fall in love, move away, marry someone else, have a family, live happily ever after. I will always love this boy more. A silly thing to say, you may think, but true. You cannot love someone the way I have loved him for as long as I have loved him and doubt the truth of that statement. Or the sadness. 

Another thing I have learned … the truth is often the saddest thing. And you can only throw away your Happily Ever After so many times before you lose your shot at it altogether.

Changing.

I’ve been off the charts lately. A lot of things are changing. Rather than stick around for my last week of work, I quit my job. I turned in my uniforms and keys on Sunday night and I refuse to even take calls from anyone I worked with. I was that miserable there.

I leave today to go to Texas. I will be staying with my dad for a while and looking for a job there. I hope to be able to move permanently, but that can only happen if I find employment.

I have other hopes too, but they are silly, fleeting things.

Because life just isn’t fair.

This week is dragging. I’m back at work, for two more weeks. My “supervisor” is back on my nerves and I’m remembering why part of me was so relieved when they finally confirmed that the rumor that we would be closing wasn’t just a rumor (because I’d reached that conclusion and proceeded to have a panic attack and cry my eyes out on my lunch break three days before they actually decided to tell us anything).

My attitude about this whole (un)employment situation keeps changing.

Today, I’m angry. REALLY angry. Because seriously, how fucking lame was it for them to leave us all unemployed TWO DAYS before Christmas when most of those people had children and a lot of them were single parents or the only person in their household working?! I’m single and living on my own and my roommate is already suffering from a work shortage, and now I’m left with no income and living in a rural area where there’s almost no chance that I’ll get another job making as much as I do now. I worked my ass off, went above and beyond the call of duty, for two and a half years, and this is how they repay me? By denying that we would be shutting down until the last possible second and then dropping the bomb on us like fucking Hiroshima? It’s taken a lot for me to even bother finishing out these last couple of weeks (and ultimately, I only decided to so that I could draw unemployment should it be necessary). My initial desire was to stand up and tell them where they could shove my keys and which parts of my anatomy they could kiss while I was on the way out the door. Bastards.

(I should warn you now, I say “fuck” a lot, even when I’m not angry. My use of foul language is really no indication of mood.)

But eventually, I’ll be sad. Because I worked with some of those people for the last three years and they’re people to me – not quite friends, but not just coworkers or employees … people with families and feelings. And I feel bad for them because, unlike me, most of them had other people depending on them.

Then I’ll work my way back around to being relieved. I’ll just be glad to be able to wash my hands of it all and never have to go back to that sinking ship. Because this job has stressed me quite out of my mind, and it’s really not worth it anymore (if it ever was). Maybe without that constant stress, I’ll be able to work my way back to a point where I don’t have to take a pill every day to enable myself to function and not have an anxiety attack in the course of an eight hour work day. Maybe this is one of those “one door closes and another opens” scenarios and I should just be happy because now I’ll have a clean slate to just run with. Because it can’t get much worse, right?

I don’t know. My mind is running rampant. I may have ADD. I should probably get that checked. But I won’t. Because I do not need to have it confirmed that there’s something else wrong with me. Quite screwed up enough without that, thanks.

The living situation.

Now seems to be a pertinent time to address my living situation. It is unconventional, to say the least, and often contributes to my less brilliant moods.

I live with my “best friend,” who happens to be a twenty-two year old boy. We also started out as more than friends and our friendship status is rather ambiguous. It’s an unhealthy relationship and has been so since we met just over a year ago. And yet, knowing this, I allowed him to move in with me a couple of months ago.

The decision to let him move in made sense at the time. We were spending at least five nights a week together, whether at his place or mine. When he fell on hard times and had to move out of his apartment, it only made sense that he move in with me given the amount of time we spend together and the fact that I had room (theoretically) and that he could bring his dog along. Factor in that he really didn’t have many (or any) other options, and here we are.

I won’t go into how we met, or the drama that has surrounded most of our entire acquaintance. I will just say that it has been turbulent. It continues to be turbulent. It gets more turbulent every day. In short, it’s complicated.

He’s affected many of my major life decisions in the last year, and I can’t blame him for that, because they were my decisions. Just like I can’t blame him for my broken heart, because I was the one who had faith in him when I shouldn’t have.

I don’t usually want to talk about it, because it’s a situation I should have terminated a long time ago. Why haven’t I? Because I love the boy. Because I keep convincing myself that there is good to be found in him when he has proven time and time again that maybe there really isn’t.

He is a pretty, charismatic boy. There will always be someone to pick him up when he’s down, because he has mastered the art of bullshit. I just think it’s someone else’s turn.

I won’t go into details or specifics of exactly why and how things are going so horribly wrong. I will just say that they have gone wrong and it’s time to end things. I’ve said this before though, and things haven’t changed (or not for long, anyway). So just know that when my moods seem to fluctuate for no apparent reason, it’s probably because I’m letting some boy meddle with my brains and my heart and I just don’t want to talk about it.

Maybe one day I’ll learn to talk about him in a more meaningful sense, but mostly, thinking too deeply into the situation makes me angry. At myself. For not being strong enough to let go. Because the good times were just that good.