Game Over

...It's been fun. Childish, yes...but so much fun.

It was a game to see if I could make you insane... I'm not sure that it was me, so much, or if you just are... either is a great possibility. It was funny because people "egged it on", and went along with it.  (You know how little kids are...when they are being mean to people...if they have other kids laughing and agreeing with them, they continue to do it... It's amazing how much stuff from childhood carries over throughout adulthood...)

I pretended to be your friend. I pretended to like you. I did it...partially out of respect for him (you know...my not being a bitch)...partially, because I knew you didn't like me...but somehow, you wouldn't be mean unless I was... I dunno. (All part of the fun & games.) Perhaps we are (scarily) more alike than it might first seem.

That was being two faced. Pretending.

Recently, I decided I wouldn't pretend anymore. I couldn't pretend anymore. So...I was real...-ish. However, the tension was so thick, you could have cut it with a knife. It made things difficult for everyone. So, I figured I could tone it down...just a little.

I don't like you. I never really have. I don't like what you are doing to my friend. He's not the same person...you know...when you're around and when you're not. I worry about him. That's my "mama cat syndrome".

However, it's not my place... if he says he's happy with things the way they are... then all that should matter is that he says he's happy. He's a good kid and I love him, so I suppose I have to respect that and all that it implies. I still don't like you.

Game over.

"Being nice to someone you

don't like is not being two-faced.

It's called being a grown up."

I have a song...

My cupcakes bring all the boys to the yard.
Damn right, they're better than yours.
I could teach you....but I'd have to charge.

*takes a bow*

I'd like to thank my cousin for "re-writing" that song for me... I dedicate it...to the girl who wants to be me. :)

Lurking in the shadows

I know you're out there. I can see you. You aren't very sneaky, child.

Ya know...I've never rarely made it a point to try and hide anything I put online. I try not to make it readily available to people that I don't want seeing it...but that's just a matter of not advertising it. If there is anything that is a secret, I tend to keep it off of the Internet. That's the only smart thing to do...right?

Granted...I do have a few blogs that are completely hidden...the only way you can get to them is if you have the URL...but those aren't secret...just...uh...sensitive... And I'm pretty sure there are only two people (possibly...most likely only one)...that have the links to those.

Anyway...It bother's me that people that I do not like are so interested in my life. Some people that I've made a point of taking out of my life...constantly put themselves in it... "behind the scenes". They read my blog or follow my twitter, and report what they find in either, to other people in my life. These "other" people could easily have access to these things, if they so wished...but they obviously aren't interested...until you bring it up...if even then.

I always suspected that certain people were following along in my nonsensical stories of life...and one day, I got a text from my ex asking me about something that he should have technically known nothing about. Not that it was a secret...just that he should have had no way of knowing about it. And still...he mentions things that I talk about in my blog or on twitter... Of course, at this point, I'm used to it...and it's no longer a surprise... I'm just confused.

Why are you trying so hard to be in my "business"?

Shit...that wasn't even really the point of this post...not technically...

There's someone else... who's checking my stuff religiously... and it was funny at first... but now it annoys me... to no end.  Yet, there's no way to stop it because they already have the link... and they are already, obviously, addicted to me.

Ugh...

I can't help it because I'm awesome, I guess...

On cowards

How can one use the phrase, "not the forever kind of love" and then go back?

I understand not wanting to hurt someone...and I understand hurting when someone you love is hurting...but if you can consciously say that you love them, but it's "not the forever kind of love", and not break things off, you are hurting someone...even if it's just you.

Don't get me wrong. I would rather hurt myself than be responsible for hurting someone else, but that's being a coward...and there are definitely times in my life when I've been the coward. As much as I would like to say otherwise, I will likely be a coward again.

It's almost always easier said than done. I can admit that too.

I dunno...I'm one of those girls that tends to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders...and I feel an insane amount of pain for the people I care about. Sometimes, I wish I could grab them by the shoulders and shake them until they get it...but that's not the way it works.

Life is too short to be a coward...and definitely too short to be unhappy.

Just live.

I almost fell...but instead...I was the coward 

and said the things I knew would stop me...

doesn't make me care any less.

"Random" Observation

This post serves no real purpose other than to get this out of my head...and direct your attention to an interesting blog.

Yesterday...or the day before...I came to the realization that friends with benefits only really works if you become friends after the benefits. If you are friends before...it gets all fucked up. At least, this has been my experience...and it's a shame that it took me more than once to figure that out.

This morning, I read an entry from the Naughty Mom on being "Just Friends". It kind of hit home...and I wanted to share it.

That's all, cupcakes.

Letters are easier

...

I've been writting letters a lot lately. They are quicker, to the point (and usually the cowards way out...).  I can write, in letters, what I don't have to balls to say to someone's face...and most of the time I know they read them. I'm usually quite passive agressive in my letters...of course, as we all know, I'm the queen of passive agressive. *insert eyeroll here*

I generally have no problem being inappropriate, either. It's my shit...if it bothers you, don't read it. It's that simple. However...some people choose to read and be offended, or get pissy...or hate me (rightfully so, in some cases)...and they continue to read it. Come on! Get a grip! Ignorance is bliss...or some shit like that.

This time, however, I can't bring myself to write the letters I want to write. I want to say something that puts everything into perspective, and makes all the answers clear and obvious...but I realize, from experience, that you can only help those that want to be helped. Until they make up their minds to do what needs to be done, for themselves and their well-being, they aren't going to do it. It is what it is, and that's all it is.

I still find myself a little heartbroken for you, though. I know how you feel. Some people have no problems being the asshole. Some people just can't do it and, instead, continue to be miserable...even though it's slowly killing them.

Sometimes, I think distance is the best thing. Distance and time...usually they will straighten a skewed perspective. If someone asks for space, and you love them as you say you do, the least you can do is give it to them. It's instinct, perhaps from childhood, that when we think something is going to be taken away from us, we cling to it even harder...never stopping to think of what the consequence might be.

It saddens me when I notice the difference in behavior...depending who is or is not around. I wonder if anyone ever saw that change in me. I was conscious of it, but I wonder how well I put on around others... Apparently, pretty good, judging by the shock on people's faces when they find out.

I dunno...today is a weird day, and I'm in a weird place...

This is why you shouldn't kiss me like that...

Cupcakes would probably make me feel better.