slipping and falling...

I re-read a post a few down from here...where I ended with a date the next day. The guy turned out to be amazing. Amazing in so many ways. We dated only a short time...sadly, I admit. He had a smile that lit up a room. He had the cutest dimple. The kindest eyes. An adorable daughter. Many things to love. Which is what happened. And then it didn't go so well. I tried my best not not to fall. I held on to all that I could. But I kept slipping. He made it easy to slip. And then, when I fell...I really skinned my knees. I don't know for sure that he didn't feel the same. I only felt like he didn't. And that caused me to panic. I felt more uncomfortable than I wanted to. Past situations reared their ugly head...and I projected this on to our current situation...which isn't a situation any longer. I had issues with some of our differences...and I didn't think that these differences, coupled with my insecurities, could be dealt with. So. I ended things. Because I didn't want to get hurt. I didn't want to feel the pain of rejection, that I am so sure would have followed. I didn't want to snuggle with his sweet daughter for another second, lest I become anymore attached than I already was. As quickly as my walls came down, they went right back up.
I wish I could say I am sorry. I wish that I could talk to him and let him know...Maybe I will, but probably I won't.

Peace and Chicken Grease...

I keep kicking around this blog...I want to do it. I want to be able to keep up with it on a more regular basis. I know I have things to say. Shit, the things that I think in an 8 hour shift at my current part time job, would keep me busy for weeks! But I just lack the discipline. I can't make myself sit and type. I am not in love with my computer. It is a dinosaur, in that it isn't a laptop. I am even less in love with the space it is in. Mostly because Big ends up sitting here, surfing wikipedia or facebook, and spilling his sticky pop or candy all over. So, since I already have 50 other things that need cleaned, I lose interest in a distraction from cleaning, that causes me to clean. See what I mean.
But this is really just an excuse. I need an outlet. I need to vent and get it off my chest. Whatever "it" is.
I guess I will start slow...how about I tell you the story of the missing 12 year old and the ass slappin I got from the public restroom door? Oh? You've heard that one! See. Yet another reason not to keep this blog up. You've heard all my stories!

I want to do it. I think I can do it. I am going to do it!
Look for more tomorrow...which is funny, because really? No one even knows I blog! So yay!