I don’t like being in relationships because I feel like somewhere along the way I lose myself. I morph into this person that I don’t like, every time, because I’m trying to make all of them happy. I stretch myself thin. And then pop back into place like a rubber band. With only a few stretch marks as trophies. A lot of people get hurt when that happens. But some friends really do last forever. Through thick and thing.
Good men are hard to find. But even they have flaws.
Is it worth the risk, the time and effort, the emotions to give it a go, and live with the outcome as happily as possible?
I hope so.
When I moved into my new home I was ecstatic. The first night I had it, I didn’t sleep there. But I did sit there in my living room alone for a while. I toked and reveled. But it wasn’t complete.
My son is here tonight. Sleeping in my bed because it was too warm in his new room. And I’m sitting in my chair in my living room. Toking and reveling. And this time, I feel complete.
So my landlord said he likes me because I’m a rebel, and he knows I’m a rebel because I have tattoos. I lol’d. Didn’t have the heart to tell him I got every single one 3 years After my rebel days. I follow the rules now.
Every person I know There has a Doppleganger here.
Not always completely identical in features but it is evident that their personalities match.
I don’t understand why love is so complicated.
It should be like in the movies. Or in Shakespeare’s plays.
