|Jesus was a carpenter.
||[Oct. 26th, 2006|02:07 pm]
lazy line painter jane
My emotions can sometime be crass and powerful and for one moment I feel like I may have the balls to do something that I'll regret later.
But I never do. I never have the balls to make a decision I'm not sure that I want to make; I'm passionate but I guess I'm saying I'm not spontaneous. I wish I knew what to say and how to execute "following my heart." It's not even my heart, it's an impulse. For whatever reason, all of a sudden I feel like I need to get out. That I'm finding myself in a rut and in a relationship that's too comfortable, passive, and so sure that something's going to happen soon that will make things really excellent but knowing that nothing will happen unless we make it, which we won't. This probably doesn't make any sense. I've been working 10p - 2a this week, stopping at his house to sleep on my way home. I sleep until 11 or noon and hang around the house while everyone else is gone because I know if i go home, it'll just be chaotic and stressful. Smoke pot, walk the dog, eat some food, watch a movie, make dinner for him if i have money to buy anything, and then we just chill until i go to work. I can't get over this sense of not belonging anywhere. I dont pay rent here, i don't live here, I never wanted to move in with my boyfriend and his parents or mom. I never wanted to be that person. But that's what i've been doing. I need to have my own place where I want to be and know that i can be there. With the money sam makes, and the money i'll be making at LL Bean, we could afford to get at least a 600/mo appartment but for some reason, sam never actually has money. This is very case-specific and tacky, all of this. I just can't process all of this shit...without getting too exhausted to fully think it through. Driving back from work last night, I was just like, "there's someone better..." I dont want there to be someone better, but I know there is. I don't want to ever be without him, but I know that I will. I want to sit here in this computer chair with the clothes on i rolled out of bed in, no make up, hat and glasses and wait for him to walk through his bedroom door 2 and a half hours from now and see what happens. what i feel, what he says or asks me. i know i'll start crying because i'm aware of what this moment means to me and the consequences that i'll have to try to explain or at least divuldge my whole train of thought that wont make any sense the second time through. This will all come out like a case of being over analytical mixed with seasonal depression, and he'll hug me, rub my back, and say, "sweetheart..." over and over again, trying to lure in a clue of why i'm upset, and i won't say anything. I'll realize how warm his hands feel through my shirt and inhale the scent of a carpenters workshop, cigarettes, and cologne still lingering on his clothes and know how hurt i'd be to even imagine him comforting someone else. I'll get over it and go through the same thing months later. I can't get myself out, even if i want to. Love/hate would be better. At least there would be some volume.