Warning: this is going to be a bit of a downer post, since I’m in one of those moods. And it’s long. Don’t bother to read it if you don’t want to hear me bitching about shit that makes no difference in the scheme of things, that I brought on myself anyway. Skip to my last post, it’s a funny story.

You know how certain days or events can trigger ‘those’ types of feelings? Where you just sorta harp on things that you can’t fix, particuarly because you know that you can’t fix them? Well, October 20 is one of those really stupid days for me. I’m going to be ambiguous because I’m not writing this to call anyone out, since I’m of the school of thought that it takes two people to fuck up *most* situations and I’d never be so arrogant as to assert that most of the shit that bothers me isn’t at least partially my fault. I can’t ever leave anything alone & have the tendency to beat a situation to death, especially if I know that I can’t win – and even more especially if it’s something that I really, really wish was different.

Anyway, what’s bothering me is bad choices, second chances & acceptance.

Bad choices: I used to let things scare me. I cared too much about stupid shit, like the “what ifs” or what people on the outside of a situation thought of it. I just didn’t want people to know what I was thinking – or rather, I didn’t want people close to me to know how i was feeling. I know now, years later, that “what ifs” & the paranoia of opening yourself up are just excuses to run away from something you want but you’re not sure of. I don’t think that anything is ever black & white. Nothing is either “this” or “that”. You just have to be brave enough to try something out because you never know if it will be the best thing of your life. As Gilda Ratner said, life is “delicious ambiguity.” And if it doesn’t work out, yeah that sucks, yeah it’ll sting for a while, but we all float on. In hindsight, I know now that the right choice was made by someone. I wasn’t a sure bet. I was angry & hurt over feeling not good enough for a long time – probably, honestly, til this summer. But time & maturity lets you rethink what happened. I can’t say that if the situation was reversed, I wouldn’t have done the same thing. It just happened to me but it changed me. It made me a little less afraid each subsequent time. Then again, nothing else really meant as much to me after, but it’s ok. I think that the right choice was made & I’d even say it in person if it ever came up (not that it ever will, but I’d be man enough to admit it – I can actually write about it, even if it’s very vaguely).

Second chances: I’d like to think that I’m a good person. I just get a little carried away sometimes. I’m passionate. But I try, I really do. And I wish that I had had a second chance with certain things, most recently something that happened this summer. (Or didn’t happen, depending on how you look at it, haha – oohhh I hope I never lose ability to make small jokes like that to keep myself from going crazy in general.)

In any case, I blame karma. I’ve been in the reversed situation before ( see above!), so there was a moment when I just knew that there was no hope for me. I just did. And I want to say a great many things right now, but though I’ll probably never get to say them, they’re not for public forum. I barely talked about it to anyone – even Julia, Randy, Cassidy kept hearing, “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s not you, I just don’t want to.”

Even now I’m kinda considering taking this paragraph out because I’m terrified that anyone reading it will know what I’m talking about & roll their eyes at me for sounding lame. I’m just very sorry that I took my own disappointment & unhappiness out on my friends who have always been around for me, like Brian, Ian, Bobby, etc. Thank God for Claudio & Frankie, even in their somewhat buzzed state, for seeing I wasn’t all rainbows & butterflies at Joe’s party & not letting me leave until they were certain I was fine, even though they just sat in my car with me in silence cause I didn’t want to talk about what was wrong. They cared when I needed it. And though I was pissed at CJ (Cassidy) for taking my phone at my grad party & making a phone call that I did not know about until afterwards, she & Claudio were amazing at taking care of me one night in July. Seeing that I needed to just be upset for a night to get a shitty day out of my system, they really were good friends that night. Especially because I again “didn’t want to talk about it.” CJ, Brian & Ian whisking my hungover ass away to Splish Splash the next morning at the ass-crack of dawn was just what I needed too: to be reminded that I have friends who care, even when I don’t think that I deserve it or am selfishly wallowing in my own disgusting self-pity. They’ll always give me second chances & for that, I’m truly grateful. Golio was a godsend too. He was the one who really gave it to me straight without even asking me any questions for details or info. I wouldn’t have gotten myself back on track as quickly without Chris Golio’s tough love, ha. Matero, too. He got me out of a bad situation towards the end of the summer, even if it wasn’t quick enough. He tried though; I just was too stupid to listen to him to get out of there sooner. I was drunk & had to see where the train was going to crash. I wish I had listened to him. I wish to God I had. I knew I wasn’t getting any second chances before that night, but after that, I think that the first chance was pretty much tainted forever.

The moral of the story is that I need to stay off the Facebook for at least 2 weeks. I hate randomly checking people’s profiles & discovering shit that I don’t know about & never would’ve known. Cause now it’ll bother me, which is completely & utterly retarded. I’ll know it’s lame & then get pissed at myself for being lame & pathetic. It’s a terrible cycle. But certain things have hurt my feelings & it’s all the Facebook’s fault. The end.

Acceptance: During one of the Mets games at Matero’s house this week, his cousin told him & Ian that “she’s a chick, but she’s more of a man than both of you,” because I held my own in the pizza/donut overindulgence (UGH I’m TOTALLY paying for it now though) & had no problem screaming obscenities at the screen, arguing about baseball strategies & letting them fart in front of me. Despite my apparent “one of the guys” qualities, I’m still a girl. And I don’t like to accept that something is over, especially when it’s not on good terms. Hence why I was angry for almost 4 years over ^, still wish that I was at Marist like woah & had to make sure that I must’ve totally looked like a fucking crazy person this summer. I just don’t. I don’t generally hold grudges. I hate knowing that there are things that I can’t fix, won’t get closure for, can’t change, can’t at least talk about to find some sort of peace. One October 20 I finally gave in to something I always wanted & now I’m reminded that because I waited so long…it was too late. And that was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to accept, hands down. But I did & I survived to finally talk (write) about it.

One last confession while I’m at it: Honestly, I’ve been putting up all those Facebook pictures & blogging about good times a lot more lately as more of a way to convince myself that everything is okay in the end, I can have a good time even if I’m not totally feeling it & you just have to keep chugging thru. Obla-di, obla-da. Life goes on. Sometimes I wish that I was included in other people’s fun times or that they were included in mine, but I’m grateful for what I’ve got going on & the friends I’ve got.

I doubt anyone’s still reading this, but if you made it down this far, I came across this postcard from PostSecret. PostSecret is this amazing website where people write down their secrets on a postcard & mail it in anonymously. It’s absolutely incredible – I’d totally love to start my own version of it. Imagine getting whatever’s bothering you off your chest but no one has to ever know it’s you. Check out the site. Anyway, I found this postcard & it especially applies to something that I think is at the core of what’s really making me so emo, though I’m not sure why it matters so much. It just does, probably because I know I made some bad decisions, I’m not getting any second chances, and I’m just going to have to accept it: