Watermelon Hearts...

  Holding onto hope that I am as delusional as people say I am. 

 

 This could be something pretty great if I don't fuck it up like I do everything else good in my life. 

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them. They can be the hands of the people you love. They can be your pets- pups with funny names, cats with ferocious old souls. The thing that keeps you here can be your art. It can be things you have collected and invested with a certain sense of meaning. A flowered, buckled treasure chest of secrets. Shoes that make you taller and, therefore, closer to the heavens. A suit that belonged to your fairy godmother. A dress that makes you feel a little like the Goddess herself. 

Sometimes you keep falling; you don't catch anything. 

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here. Sometimes you catch them. Sometimes you don't. 

Sometimes they catch you.

What shall we do, all of us? All of us passionate girls who fear crushing the boys we love with our mouths like caverns of teeth, our mushrooming brains, our watermelon hearts?

LOVE ME. LOVE ME. SEE ME. I EXIST.

 When my aunt asked me to watch her dogs for her while she was in Vegas, I was stoked. It has been so long since I have been alone, or had any time to myself for an extended period of time in months. It started out perfect. I got to her apartment, made some food, youtubed people hurting themselves on various wheeled vehicles, and then curled up on the couch with the puppies to watch some cartoon network. After about an hour of being alone, I realized how bad I have gotten at it. Not even Billy and Mandy could distract me for long enough to not start feeling intensly lonely.
 I always try to convince myself that I am independent and don't need anyone to feel like I exist but I am lying. I paced around the apartment and called everyone I knew and talked about nothing. I eventually annoyed myself with how needy I realized I was being, got dressed, walked to the store, bought cigarettes, bought a pizza, and came home. This was all in less than three hours.
I have been here going on 3 days now with no face to face human contact... I am losing it.
When and how did I become this person? That is so uncomfortable with who they are that they can't be alone with thier own thoughts?
I feel insignificant when I am alone. Like, if I am not surrounded by people I feel like I am no one. I know it's stupid, and I can't explain it perfectly. I realize this may seem like the makings for an amazing comedian or actress, but I am not very funny and the thought of thier even being a possibility that I might  be in a movie with Patrick Fugit makes me sweat profusely.
I am not sure exactly what I am trying to do with this blog right now, other than prove my point that I can't not be communicating at all times, even if it's to a computer screen that no one but myself is likely to read.
Shit.
Well, Melissa is on her way home and will be here on Monday. So I will have her back and all order will be restored to my world.
I hope I grow out of this obsession with people someday.