being me [ 2010-05-05, 12:23 a.m. ]

Oh Diary,

I am hoping things will get better very soon. And I don't even know what I mean when I say that.

I'm just feeling low. And I think about it, and maybe I've always been feeling low. And it feels like I used to be so much more active, but maybe that's because I had two jobs and worked my ass off and went to the gym at lunch and dance class every night. And maybe, I really have no life because I never did, and now the only difference is I sit in front of my computer and watch shows online. What's the diff? Either way I'm kind of boring, I only go out briefly during the day to enjoy the sunlight and that's it. I don't have a lot of joy in my life and really I have not had any in a very long time. I can honestly say that the last time I was truly excited about stuff, was when M and I were dating and I would get so excited about seeing him. But at the same time I was impatient about moving to the next step, wanting him to tell me he loved me and maybe moving in together. He obviously wasn't ready for that.

And then we fell apart and I learned that I really didn't know myself very well at all, much less love myself. Things keep unfolding and I find out all kinds of nasty truths about myself like, I am not really the great communicator I thought I was. I often hold my tongue when I like someone because I want them to like me back and I don't want to make waves. I keep myself small so as not to take up too much space.

I forgot to tell you, Diary, that last month after Shelby and I had that serious session of me getting close and not being able to let go, I had a dream about him. The dream was that Shelby needed something in my journal, like a slip of paper or something. So I gave him my whole journal without thinking much about it. Later when he gave it back to me it crossed my mind, hey, did Shelby read my journal? And I told myself, no, I can trust him, he wouldn't do that. But then I thought, if he did read it, what would he have seen? Because I realized I didn't even remember what I'd written in there. And I opened the pages because I had to look, because really I had no idea what the journal said.

And that sums it up in one way... that I am trusting Shelby more, but the truth is I don't even know myself. Years of caring more about others than myself, worrying and being hyper-vigilant, giving up my very soul for someone else's happiness... that's done. Now there is something new happening but I don't even know what it is.

I think I'm confused.

I think I'm being me.

And it's confusing.

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