Unreasonable

Ah, mixed emotions. How do I love thee? Actually, not at all.

I'm buggin'. Seriously.

I arrived home yesterday to a mailbox filled with mail for a girl who doesn't live in my apartment anymore and, say it with me, No Letter From Hunter. After I composed myself enough to close the mailbox door without ripping it off the hinges, I walked upstairs and debated my next plan of action. I figured I had two choices. I could stay home and fume, and possibly (most likely) give myself an anuerism, or I could go for another run. Thankfully, I chose the run.

And so I ran. And it hurt but it was the good hurt. It hurt enough that I felt a little better, or at least a little less tightly coiled.

I have got to let this go. I cannot kill myself waiting for this fucking university to help me decide my future. I have to let go of the fact that I cannot plan, that I cannot move, that I cannot do anything. I have to learn to be fine RIGHT HERE, which, to be perfectly honest, was never ever my strong suit. Not that I always look for something better, its not like that. Its more like I have trouble being present. I worry about what I just did or what I'm about to do. Trust me, I'm working on it.

But it seems like the gods weren't totally satisfied that I lost my weight in sweat, I was to be tortured more. Mind you, none of this is serious, its just the lay of the land for me at the time.

1. The lightbulb is out in the kitchen. Even standing on a stool, my 5'3" frame cannot reach the ridiculously high ceiling. This was a problem as I hadn't done dishes since Sunday.

2. The rash thingy on my eyelids that I got from crying too hard on Monday burned last night. Not a comforting feeling.

3. I was out of milk, which not only meant no nighttime cup of tea, but no breakfast either.

Oh, and

4. M. was out at a baseball game with the gal he happened to mess around with during our break-up time. Um, yeah. And I couldn't fall asleep until I knew he was home, and then once he was home I still couldn't fall alseep and so I didn't sleep. And now I'm cranky and I'm trying so hard not to take it out on him and I don't think its working.

Seriously, I'm fine with him seeing her. They were friends way before he even knew I existed. And she just moved to town recently and can use friends. But cleary, even I can see that subconsciously, I was opposed to this on some level. And I keep turning around in my head to the fact that he kisses me differently since we broke up and got back together. And I connect that to him kissing someone else (her) and learning a few things that my two-year stint of kissing couldn't show him. I know that he is my crowning glory in that department (I can think of no better chemistry or satisfaction), but maybe I'm not for him. Maybe I'm just so so for him. Maybe Ms. Baseball (what girl really likes baseball, anyway?) is his va-va-voom and I'm just his mashed potatoes.

All this from an empty mailbox and a Yankees game. I really gotta start seeing my therapist twice a week.