I'm not really someone you can count on for consistency. I used to be, but my life has kinda gone psycho in the past year or so. I mean, you can count on me to leave the house, but I'll never end up where I'm supposed to or do what I intended on doing. Like today when I left the house to go buy storage containers and I returned home over an hour later with new clothes and a winter coat ($15 clearance sale... hello bargains!) I still don't have storage containers, but I do have an outfit for work tomorrow and a way to stay warm when our temperatures drop to 15 degrees this week. Hello, winter. I loathe your coldness.
My head got all foggy and my brain got scattered and I walk into rooms and can't remember why. I don't know if it's an old age thing (cause seriously, i'm a year and a half away from a quarter life crisis), a stress reaction, or just how I've always been and I finally started paying attention. I'm sure if I googled it though, I'd have some sort of brain tumor. I need to stop googling my symptoms. And yes, spell check, 'google' is a word. And a verb. Keep up with the TIMES!
Never have I ever been one to need someone in her life. Sometimes I get wrapped up in someone and devote all my sparse free time to them because I genuinely enjoy their company (I'm talking about BOYS here... not my fabulous female companions...) but more often than not I get bored, they get douchey and we either amicably split ways or it gets awkward until someone has the guts to say it's no longer working. So yeah... I slay my own freaking dragons. I burn bridges... I have a lighter on hand at all times for that very reason... And people tend to get scared and not come back, you know? Cause who wants to fight with the crazy chick carrying a lighter around and slaying dragons and shit with her own bare hands... and then actually go against their better judgement and stick around? Well... crazy people.
One crazy person. Who always comes back. Who helps me slay my dragons when I can't quite get the knife deep enough, who blocks the wind for my cheap ass lighter when i'm setting things ablaze. Who puts up with my rants and late night psycho babble and my random dance parties. Who can talk me down from the ledge (hypothetically of course). But what I do in return is just the same, if not more. He's a ball of bipolar whirlwind chaotic mismatched printed socks. Who i can never read. He's that book written in elvish that some words just pop right out but others may never have a clear translation. And I have every reason in this world, and Mordor, to not trust him, to be wary. But with a history like ours, it's hard to burn the bridge completely. I tend to just put up road blocks until he's matured enough to knock them down. They're on an automatic timer though, with the slightest bit of bullshit and immaturity setting them right back up again... We'll see where this goes.
This is why I've always believed in not making promises. They're stupid and life happens and you can't change people, so why make promises? Unless it's like a promise to not make promises... that's a totally legit promise to make.
Stay classy.
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