I'd rather eat my own poop...

I’m really fucking down. There. I said it. I hate saying it – my pride would hate for Blue to see this. Silly for me to say it really, since he no longer reads this blog. I’m very open with my feelings but the thing is, if Blue was to read this, I’d feel more vulnerable than I already do. I’ve realised (as I've said before, I know, I know!) that actually we are not right for each other - now. He IS the right man for me, our connection is undeniable – but the situation he’s in, in his life right now is not what I want in mine. It’s tough, but neither of us are 20 years old and I must think more sensibly than if I was. I must think about my future if I want to be happy. Not thinking about my future got me into the pickle I lived in for so many years. Well, that’s not strictly true. I did used to think about my future for all of 2 minutes but it would freak me out so much, because my life was such a fucking mess, that I’d get wasted to forget. Today I don’t get wasted, I sometimes wish I could, but today I live in stark fucking reality every second of every fucking day and some times stark reality stinks. I was all right when I was with my Blue, when I’d ignore the reality of his homelessness, lack of job, his vague direction, lack of security, and I’d keep plodding on cos ‘ I love him’...
Well maybe it just isn’t enough. Even if I was wealthy and we had a house , he’d still feel crap about himself because he’s still st the beginning of his recovery process and he’s still unsure of himself and his own potential. I don’t want to carry someone, I can’t afford to.
I hope to have an equal relationship - a partnership, equality. I don’t want some thing where one person feels inadequate or hopeless.
Fuck it’s annoying. Being a fucking grown up is shit sometimes... but I must have faith that I will be able to let go of Blue, this time without anger or pain.
Right now I feel pain.
Last time Blue and I talked was on Saturday night. I was a little hysterical and he was quite cold. He’d moved his stuff by then. We’d arranged to meet on Sunday, and early Sunday morning I texted him to suggest that we cancel.

“I don’t think it’s good that I crawl towards someone who has hurt me in this same manner a number of times before. Please don’t text back. Thanks." Sent.

He didn’t. That's good, my head's up my arse. And since Sunday, we have had no contact.

One positive that has come from this is I’ve been working like a cart horse on UnHooked. I’m getting back in the flow and preparing myself for an onslaught of obsessive writing when I go away, alone.

A couple of people at work have suggested that I go and meet someone else. Just like that! To be honest I’d rather eat my own poop than get involved with someone right now. Actually, maybe not - but you know what I mean. I don’t feel like smiling at, chatting to or kissing another man..... for today ,anyway.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring, though eh?




http://www.missygee.com

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Hooked-Survived-Prostitution-Londons-Nightlife/dp/1845966031/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1252794549&sr=1-1