Realization & Disloyalty

I've been poking around on Wordpress a bit, and I've come to this realization: I miss the dead baby blogs.

happy birthday

Today is my birthday. I am twenty-four. But, officially, I am not 24 until 1:16PM Eastern Standard.

So I'm still 23. I'm thinking about just staying 23, period.

Atlas and I fought a little tonight and I'm not sure if I/we will be able to get it up to be cheerful in the morning.

I hate this, the passage of time.

Smart Girls Like Me

I read a girly chick-lit book by this title, and I do not know why this is the title, because come the end of the book I realized it didn't tie in at all, but there were a few lonelygirl quotes I liked:

"Let's go back to your place and just hang out," he says. And of course, because it is all that I ever want, I say yes. (159)

The thing about saying to yourself I want to die, I want to die, I want to die is that you don't, of course, not usually: You just want to be turned off long enough so that whatever you're feeling will die. That is the thing you want to kill, the thing that is infecting everything else. But of course, you can't, so you have to let it bleed through your body until it takes hold, like a sickness, because you carry it in you; there is no way to outrun it, to outsmart it, so all you can do is let it take over, like it wants to, shutting down every part of your head except the one you want to switch off. It is like I can feel myself sinking down into the person I was before him, like she has been waiting for me all along, knowing I would return. (162)

 And then it ended like they all end, with two people walking in opposite directions, and only one looking back. (165)

And what do I want? Nothing. If I were someone else, maybe I would approach him with violence, with a bat. Crazier things, crazier women have happened. But all I want are answers, explanations--words--and my own impotence disgusts me. (169)

The lesson, then, was not what I expected: not every squall is as lasting as it may seem. It passes. I am not thinking of the ocean anymore. This is how it is going to be, and this is what I must remember: These storms, these moments of weakness and desolation, are not destined to endlessly intensify. They can blow themselves out, too, one weaker than the next. (236)

 "What about that boyfriend you want back?"
 "There are others," I say haltingly, forcing myself to mean it. I have not missed Ryan for the last time, but there are only so many times I will miss him, and I am one closer to reaching zero than I was before she asked. (254)

She says this just sharply enough for James to look over at her, but he literally bites his lip and softens his gaze and I know why she loves him, as much as she does, and it is because of his patience and his devotion and because he is everything her father is not, reliable and true. She needs him so much more than she loves him, and now that her needs are taken care of, she will find someone else to love, and I don't think it will end well for either of them. (261)

 Bridget sits up on her float and sees James; she glides towards him and then walks up the steps, out of the pool. He is a good man, and maybe she will realize that he deserves her love. (264)

Alone Inside My Head

Sometimes I don't go to bed because I'm sad. Even if I'm very tired and really should go to bed because I have to get up early the next morning. I will stay up and preoccupy myself with something: F.acebook, television, a book, until I am drop-dead tired and can hardly keep my eyes open any more.

This is what I am debating right now. I am very sleepy. I have to be up at 6AM. I should just go to bed, right? Yet here I am, debating popping in an episode of Betty.

Why do I do this? I hate laying in bed thinking at night. I usually start overthinking, and worrying, and then feeling sick. So I wait until I can't possibly stay awake any longer before crawling under the covers.

Well, Ryan Dobson, I think I may have finally become one of those people who is afraid to be alone with her thoughts.