Thanksgiving Makes Me Cry

This holiday depresses me.

The parade, the football, the pies, all of it.

When the doorbell rings and distant relatives walk in, I shudder with contempt.

It's all fake. No one is happy to see anyone. In fact, the kids are the only honest ones present.

Their cries of, "But I don't want to wear this dress, it's itchy!", "But I want to sit at the big-kid table!" and "I'm done eating, can we go home now?" are the only honest words uttered on turkey day.

Why is it that children are the only ones capable of blunt honesty? They lack some filter that our parents impose upon us to prevent us from saying stuff like, "Mommy told me that when you call, she's in the shower." and other socially inappropriate honesties.

Back to Thanksgiving. The parade makes me the most upset. The grinning floats seemingly leer and mock me with their weightlessness. Their floating heads simply reaffirm the fact that I can't let go.

My total control over every aspect of my life suffocates me like the oxygen deprived floating head of Spongebob Squarepants.

And why don't the children fear these massive floating monstrosities? It seems like over stimulation would get the best of me and I would pass out in a sea of colors, confetti, and joy.

It makes me think of taking ecstasy at a discotheque, too many colors, sounds, people,and smells for the brain to process.

In fact, I feel like that in day-to-day life. I wish I could go numb to it all.

What's wrong with me?

Do You Recognize Her?

Today at work I bonded with a woman who I thought was my hero.

She is 34, I'm 25.

We began the day talking about relationships, how we both found it difficult to get close with men.

As we got further into our discussion, we got to know each other a little better.

She said she hated spooning. Me too.

She hates holding hands. Me too.

She hates cuddling. Me too!

Then she said that she'd been in love once before.

She told me that she'd been in love when she was 25, but she'd ruined it. She said, "I think we're the type of self-destructive women who are never meant to be in love."

What?

I came back and read my past blogs.

When did I become so self destructive?

What am I doing? I can only blame myself, right?

How do I end this cycle? Is everyone else this self-aware? And then, is everyone else this depressed when they see themselves for the first time?

I look in the mirror and see someone I no longer recognize.

Who is she?

Do you recognize her?

I've Been Sick...Not Really

I'm sorry I have not blogged in a while, I've been very, very ill.

Not really.

That's a lie. I have actually never felt better.

Except that a man loves me and I don't love him. I've allowed him to love me for months now and I don't know what to do.

His mannerisms irk me to no extent. The smell of his cologne makes me gag.

Worst of all? His kindness makes me want to vomit. Is it wrong that I would like him more if he were abusive?

I would enjoy our sex if he tugged my hair a little harder, pinned me down, bit me.

I fantasize about rape. Is that sick?

I can't bring myself to break up with him because I cannot fathom that I, the most empty person I know, would reject filling, warm, delicious love.

Love so pure and kind that its saccharine flavor makes me sick to my stomach.

Love so thick, like molasseses, that it makes my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth and makes my vomit slide back down to my acid filled stomach.

What is wrong with my heart?