I can bleed as well as anyone

As I suspected, the integrity of this posting format is too compromised for me to spill the real truth. I find I cannot blog what I would journal. So, I guess I either stop blogging or find something socially acceptable to write about.

hmmmm. my mind is too full of crap right now to do that.

why do people tell you one thing then do another? How can we all be so blind to our own issues and have such great insights into others' situations? Why do I care?

my iTunes player seems to know me. It likes to spring one of my many hundreds of songs on me just when I need to hear that particular song. How does "random play" know?

How can I feel so fragile and still put up a strong front when my mind is chaos and my heart is a mess? How can a friend take me into consideration one minute, then leave me out to dry the next?

I can find whatever I need within myself, so why do I even look outside for anything at all? That's the real message, as it always is. However, I guess I need to look at my life from afar again. Like peering through the hole of the moon onto this little floating planet to see how I keep making the same mistakes. Making the same miscalculations. I shouldn't even be attempting this, I guess. My heart is way too fragile, apparently. Not so much that as it is that I keep putting myself out there. But, I decided a long time ago that putting myself out there is the only way to really live. I have to take a chance or I'll never know. It's just painful sometimes. Even when I can successfully pull myself back and prepare for whatever is to come, my feelings still get trompled on when sincerely-expressed concerns are disregarded. Everyone else's feelings are taken into consideration, except – specifically – mine. It's not anticipated for me to care or have feelings anymore, it seems.

I suppose the events that led me to make a good choice for myself need to be repeated somehow... maybe to drive the point home? maybe to prove that I was making a huge mistake in the first place? I don't know. I'm still way too close to it and and the words of explanation are still reverberating in my head, alongside my own inner voice screaming "What about me? What about how that makes ME feel?" I was the one who had the issues with the treatment to which I was exposed. I brought up my issues in a 'safe' context that I hope was growthful and healthy for everyone. I even followed up with external parties who were involved by mere proximity to ensure that no misunderstandings persisted. Now, I'm being made to feel like the other person was the victim and that the third party, who was more than a mere catalyst, now somehow deserves a red carpet reception. Like the actions were all so innocent, how dare anyone question them? The accountability for it rests... where? I believe I've taken responsibility for the parts that were my own insecurities speaking.

If we all teach people how to treat us, I guess I've been showing myself as a masochistic doormat... or maybe a red carpet to be laid down for others to walk upon.

"I can bleed as well as anyone, but I need someone to help me sleep."
mrs. potter's lullaby
-- Counting Crows