Dress Up In You

Hi. Hello. Belle and Sebastian get me. Especially, the song Dress Up in You. I want to escape myself through people. It's why I romanticize first meetings and use sex as a handshake. I think it will work each time. Because it means not choosing myself and choosing someone else. When I am not chosen back is when I bring out the daggers. When I write the letters and make sure everyone knows the emotional weight of what the desired has done to me. 

I should of been kinder to Andy. I shouldn't have shacked up with Nick the way I did. Because he was apart of Kathleen-Stupid-Boy land I moved to a blue state to escape from. Yes, he was one of the nicer from that population overall. But he still wasn't what a thirty-two year old me needed and I certainly wasn't what he needed now, or probably ever. Andy just destabilized me so much. But he didn't deserve prosecution for trying to figure himself out. And I was really acting like judge and jury towards him because again, he wasn't choosing me in the ways I wanted to be chosen. A year long experience of it made the meat in my head real sour and spoiled. 

But he was always a good friend and romantically probably one of the better ones I'll have. And I know I caused a lot of fucking suffering. Thoughtless, stupid, suffering for him. I sent an email just now to him. Hopefully, it conveys proper how I fucking fucked him and the remorse I feel. Even if the remorse is infiltrated a bit by thoughts of never encountering another person interested in trying to decode me, gaudy bling-ring or not for his efforts. I am experiencing my first day of radical acceptance. I am not nailing it. But I haven't given up just yet. I can't give up just yet.