I have troubles accepting things as they are. I'm always trying to place events and feelings into strict categories, where if it's not one it's the other, but it's never like that. I can't accept the beauty of imperfection, though that's what life is all about. I'm always looking for justification and for deeper meaning when maybe there's only face value, or things aren't meant to fit perfectly. This problem arises in the endless search for "the one". All of my close friends, and myself, search for something permanent and meaningful, someone perfect to spend eternity with. Who knows what's out there, maybe there isn't that "perfect" soulmate, there will always be differences, but the way we cope with the differences between us is what makes us able to love and be loved, open ourselves up and be vulnurable to someone. Vulnurable..Such a scary thought yet a completely liberating one. I have problems letting go. Be it emotional baggage, a severe attachment to some element in my life, or be it letting go of inner barriers or inhibitions. I've built myself up to cope with this ugly world and I'm afraid to loosen the bolts, in fear of completely falling to shambles. So I keep myself tightly together and when I find someone I could open myself up to I have to make sure it's something lasting incase I'm ripped open and I need them to not be afraid of what is deep inside my mind, and be able to fix me again.
this is the reason i broke up with him in the first place. because it was so much stress and it just seemed hopeless. i know that's a harsh word but its true. he's got so much on his plate and i dont want any more on mine. i have my own set of worries i need to take care of. but i cant just turn him away. the way he opened up to me...it litteraly moved me to tears. i feel his dispair, his depression. he has nothing. but i dont want him to have no one too. at the moment i feel thats all i can do; give him the comfort of knowing that i'm here for him, that he has me. contrairy to his beleifs he hasnt lost me. if he really had, i wouldnt have seen him yestrerday, or tuesday, or any times before that. we wouldnt have acted or talked the way we did if he'd truley lost me. his words stung because i felt his pain through them. his feelings soaking the words and turning them a different colour. i never told him to get the fuck out of my life, but it hurt to know thats how he fe
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