I Hate It....
....that my gut is usually right. The voices scream and I hate hearing them, but I listen because I know they are usually right.
It's been an up and down week, but today was a particularly shitty day. Actually the past few days haven't been too pleasant but I've been trying to tread water.
The Project launch went pretty well... we didn't make back the initial capital but we actually came pretty close, and given the environment and the economy we really did well. I'm pretty sure we'll at least break even. I still feel good about it. I still love the creative back and forth between the Cricket and I but I'm becoming increasingly convinced that's about all there ever will be. Maybe I'm stressed. Maybe I'm PMSing. Well I guess I am, I can feel it. I don't usually but when I do it's bad.
But the voices are screaming. Little things jump at me and I think I just need to be real with myself and leave well enough alone. Which is really too bad but there will never be a Black August. I will never let myself get caught like that again.
Speaking of which, I was in a situation a few weeks back in which I was really really close to the Scrub. I was so close, in fact, I was asked whether I was really going to be driven home by the people I had come with or whether I was going to be driven home. I really had no intention of going home with him, but you know.... he smelled good and it felt good to be next to him again, and the music was going and the memories came rushing back... and as much as I knew in that moment that what I felt building last June and what happened in July for me was as real as anything ever was, I went home alone. Like a good girl. And I deleted all numbers again and all friendships and I fucking cried. Again. And I thought that my honesty and my integrity would count for something even if no one ever knew about it but me.
But it doesn't mean shit. It doesn't count for shit.
Cuz all anybody ever sees or cares to see is what's on top. Which is why I turn myself inside out so that the inside is on out, hoping maybe I'll get cut some slack by the universe. But Nah. Doesn't work that way.
So there is what there is, and what there is my high school reunion that I can't afford to go to, but someone offered to take me. Fuck it. Since none of it matters I think I'll let him. And I'll do the best I can do with what I got, which ain't shit but it's all I got.
And I'll try again someplace else and another way, cuz that's what I do. Ever fucking hopeful. Fuck me.
It's been an up and down week, but today was a particularly shitty day. Actually the past few days haven't been too pleasant but I've been trying to tread water.
The Project launch went pretty well... we didn't make back the initial capital but we actually came pretty close, and given the environment and the economy we really did well. I'm pretty sure we'll at least break even. I still feel good about it. I still love the creative back and forth between the Cricket and I but I'm becoming increasingly convinced that's about all there ever will be. Maybe I'm stressed. Maybe I'm PMSing. Well I guess I am, I can feel it. I don't usually but when I do it's bad.
But the voices are screaming. Little things jump at me and I think I just need to be real with myself and leave well enough alone. Which is really too bad but there will never be a Black August. I will never let myself get caught like that again.
Speaking of which, I was in a situation a few weeks back in which I was really really close to the Scrub. I was so close, in fact, I was asked whether I was really going to be driven home by the people I had come with or whether I was going to be driven home. I really had no intention of going home with him, but you know.... he smelled good and it felt good to be next to him again, and the music was going and the memories came rushing back... and as much as I knew in that moment that what I felt building last June and what happened in July for me was as real as anything ever was, I went home alone. Like a good girl. And I deleted all numbers again and all friendships and I fucking cried. Again. And I thought that my honesty and my integrity would count for something even if no one ever knew about it but me.
But it doesn't mean shit. It doesn't count for shit.
Cuz all anybody ever sees or cares to see is what's on top. Which is why I turn myself inside out so that the inside is on out, hoping maybe I'll get cut some slack by the universe. But Nah. Doesn't work that way.
So there is what there is, and what there is my high school reunion that I can't afford to go to, but someone offered to take me. Fuck it. Since none of it matters I think I'll let him. And I'll do the best I can do with what I got, which ain't shit but it's all I got.
And I'll try again someplace else and another way, cuz that's what I do. Ever fucking hopeful. Fuck me.
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