They drink La Cerveza del Pacifico Clara around here

This is the part that gets so hard for me.
The part where I don’t know what to feel or how to trust it.
I’m a fucking nightmare.
I was told recently or I read somewhere
that if I want to ever trust other people, I have to learn to trust myself.
And I don’t trust myself.
I’ve been with me through all the mistakes and tears and lies.
I’ve been with me through all the mixed signals and false promises and I’ve even tried to run from me a few times.
This is the part that is so fucking difficult because I don’t know what it is or what it means.
And I’m conscious of the fact that it doesn’t have to mean a fucking thing.
It could just be a good time. I have good times right, I can do things and enjoy them in the moment and they don’t have to be anything at all.
But if they aren’t anything then how will I know when something is important?
How will I know that nothing is something?
I’m a fucking nightmare.
And I don’t trust myself.
Everything that was something to me was just something to me. I can’t make anyone feel anything, which actually isn’t true, I have no idea why I said that I can almost certainly manipulate the situation. I can almost certainly convince anyone in an hour or less that I am the thing their life has been empty without.
But I know it isn’t true.
I know exactly what isn’t true but the part that is so hard is that I don’t know exactly what is…
This could just be another trick, another way for the universe to say yet again, gotcha good, didn’t I?
I want somebody to care so badly, that I have spent a whole bunch of time with people I didn’t even like to get high off of their caring.
I trust disappointment.
But I like him.
Or do I?
Am I just at the right time of the month when estrogen is getting higher? Is it because he has long hair and a beard and smells good and fucks really well? Or because his glasses are like mine and we do the exact same job and like the same kinds of music? I dunno.
He’s smart and nice and thoughtful and generous but does he even matter?
I dunno.
This is the part where every single inch of my body is on high alert and tense.
I don’t know what I’m doing or where I’m going so I’m revisiting every trauma I caused  myself because I thought that some thing was something and it wasn’t.
I put my hands over my own heart and take a deep breath.
Will I always be such a shitty nightmare?
I decide to sit down at my laptop, in the shirt I took from him and write about my thoughts.
And in my laptop he had left me the rest of the weed he brought over which was sweet and made me smile.
Only for a second though.
I can’t enjoy anything for more than a second…
My next thought is immediately how do I destroy this moment?
How can I mistrust it, over analyze it and judge it incorrectly so I can stop liking him so much?
Does he think he paid me by leaving this here?

 

Let the nightmare commence…

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