A Little Stray From The Norm

I thought I would type mellowly about a few thoughts right off the top of my head. Call it an outlet. I received some good news today. The news had me in a great mood all afternoon and evening. I then contacted a key-note person from my past. I female to be exact. Probably the wrong decision, but she always made me feel good, and I had been wanting to reconnect and contact her for such a long time. Her response was not quite mutual. The response I received was more or less that everything her and I had ever done was in vain. And I quote:

"I don't hate you. I hate what I was with you. You were just a mistake.... [What was I? she asked] A lying, cheating, slut. It hurts to say that, but it is the truth. I've faced it and am still facing it but I'm become better than that, better than what we ever were. I've grown past what I was when with you, far past it. I told you that I didn't want to be your friend as I don't care to be that kind of person anymore. I don't have your number and I ask that you delete mine if you still have it. Don't contact in anyway, shape, or form. No calls, texts, emails, Facebook, anything. I wish you best. Have a good life."

My heart sunk. How I understood it, we had split on good terms, and I don't recall any of our relationship being that as she portrayed. I still responded by saying, I don't agree but either way, I am happy if she feels better about herself compared to what she believes she was. I added that I would still like nothing less, nothing more, than to be good friends and that she may contact me if she likes. I don't expect that to ever happen again. I loved this woman. I love this woman, differently than before. I love her as a friend that will always be there. This is a curse to me.

After said conversation via the world wide inter-web of information, I was still expected a call from another female from the past (and once again present), but a more friendly candidate than female A. Her and I met literally years ago now, and I enjoyed her company from day one. That being said, I can't remember if she reconnected us, or I reconnected us, but either way we have been conversing quite profusely by way of text message viz cellular device. Her and I have found a friendly companionship of sense, and we were going to have what I believed would be a lovely verbal chat this evening. Something has come up.

To say the least I am disappointed. I felt excited, delighted, intensified incitement, thrilled, titillated, and all around stirred up, that I would have a conversation with said beauty and have a chance to swallow in my pride and talk about her, not me. Instead I am once again left with my mediocre chilled room, with a laptop, good music, a bottle of chilled water, and my cold, lonesome, G.I. twin-sized bed.

I feel tired, but not tired enough. If I were to lay down my head to sleep, I would lay awake for a good hour or so at least thinking of everything. The possibilities of my past choices, had I made different choices. Thinking of my life and how I was a better person in my past, only with the aid of alcohol, and that I can go days and nights without the poison now. I would think that I could be more productive than lying here feeling sorry for the lonesome path that I am now involved with. I would think about tomorrow morning, picking weeds with a Sergeant Major and a Major; whether that task should be handled by any of the the three of us I still do not know. I would think about her hair, her eyes, he smile, he obvious excessive cute personality that I love so much. I would think of female A and the crazy nights we had; starting with the first night in the down-stairs of her grandparents with sleeping bags and the fire place. I would think of my joyous moments; my sad moments.

I believe by typing this I am doing just that; thinking of everything. It just so happens it is easier to organize your thoughts if you type or write, instead of lay in a bed and just think. Just tonight I have came up with God's overall plan of action:

"Let's make everyday shit, no matter the positives, there must be stronger, more prevalent negatives."

Really God? I mean really? I can't tell what the deal with this place is. I can't tell what is up, what is down. I look around and see bullshit.

Some may say I am just bitching, and to grow up and suck it up, drink water private, drive on. Well fuck you. I want to know why females can own our hearts so easily, even as friends. How can they own us to the point where it is near impossible to hate them no matter what they say or do. Are men's hearts that weak? I like to consider myself of above average intelligence, in specific topics in the least, but I will be the first to admit that female rule is not on inevitable, it has always been; and I have no idea why.

As I lay down to sleep, I am sure all these thoughts will come back to me. Maybe Jack Johnson will carry me out to another, more comfortable, state of mind.