sirensfalling

So, some days, I am not ready to be settled down and want all those sweet first dates and I want a certain type of guy that is kind of hard to define (sweet cynical sometimes asshole but never means it?) instead of the sweet amazingly (sometimes infuriatingly) nice guy i have (and love, I won't lie).

Otherdays, i just want a baby. Today, I want a baby. Maybe because the baby will be mine and i wont have to deal with losing it or the relationship possibly ending badly or planning on a future that may never happen (and then having to get over it).


I also worry that I pictured my life a certain way for so long (3 years is a long time, at 22) that even a year and a half later i am adjusting to life not the way i planned it. I planned to marry my best friend. But, we were on the verge of killing each other and it took us months to be OK as friends again. As hard as that was, I can't do it again. So i push Michael away, i look for faults where there aren't any, and i doubt based on the fact that I don't think i miss him enough. At least not, as much as i used to. And talking to a friend today about what is going to happen when i go back to school seems to solidify it in my mind. I think part of me plans on breaking up with him when i leave. Wants to, even. But i'm scared of being alone, and I have never really let myself be. I'm also scared of breaking his heart. But i'm his first real love, from what i can tell. Part of me seems to know i'm going to hurt him. I don't want to hurt him.


Plans change, i guess. It hits me randomly that while i planned on being a writer for nearly 15 years, that isn't the plan anymore. I don't even know if i was ever good enough for it to be a viable plan, despite good grades. It makes me think about all those teachers who wrote things in my yearbook about seeing my name in a bookstore someday. Have i let down my 4th grade teacher? All the English teachers i've had? In high school, I was the writer kid. I dominated the lit magazine. In college, even a small one, I wasn't as good. I didn't have experience, compared to others. I'd always written everything, even love poetry, from imagination. I don't write anymore. Even journal entries are incoherent.


It is late, i shouldn't even be awake. This seriously rambled on from topic to topic. i really just wanted to talk about how i want a baby. I shouldn't look at the beautiful pregnant suicide girls. hah. I do hope that i am a beautiful pregnant woman, and that i can get pictures taken of my big belly for memories and such.




Goodnight. If you read this, you get a hug, or something.