Again

I guess that... you will just have to take my word for it, then, that this entire journal isn't one big lie.

It feels like it, sometimes, though.

I was the good girlfriend this morning and drove my boyfriend to the neurologist for his appointment - and I went in with him, too, because... he asked me to. Last night when I was so freaked out about how horribly I fucked things up with the therapist... he asked me if I would mind coming with him. He's kind of had this idea that he didn't want to go by himself for a while but... I don't know, didn't want to ask me. I mean... I would have gone before if he had asked me. He thought I wouldn't want to. But I was like, no, that's fine, I'll go.

But that's kind of his business and maybe doesn't belong in my journal.

He also thought I was somehow mad at him, because I was acting weird - I promised him I wasn't mad, I had no reason whatsoever to be upset with him, and not to worry about it... and I did not tell him what I was actually upset about.

And then HE pulled the "we need to talk" card on ME.

Yes really.

I was kind of shocked. This is the same boy who has to be lured into conversation. When do we actually talk, like really, really talk, not just me, you know, trying to be entertaining? Well... sitting at a bar drinking beer, we talk then, about anything and everything. It's partly the beer, I think, and also kind of that we're captive there. Nothing to do but drink and talk - or leave. And since we don't leave... we talk. And... when we're both supposed to be sleeping, we talk then sometimes. But that's like... spontaneous conversation. Not planned conversation. And when I announce that it's time for A Talk, he takes me pretty seriously.

But of course my first reaction is to get incredibly defensive.

And from there it just got worse.

In short - I fucked it up again.

Sometimes, Something's Staring, Sounding Safely Singing Sorrow...

Take my heart and launch it, let it float across the morrow
Deep and dark and dreaming down beneath the sand and sweat
(This line should be deepest but I haven't writ it yet)

My boyfriend and I... had a little bit of a tantrum last night. I think that's the best way to put it. Trying to, you know, resolve the previous incident and instead failing...

I don't know that it was that much of a failure, but... I feel like this is what I do to people. I make them explode, cry, scream, yell - spend enough time with me and I just drag you into it eventually.

And then I feel like maybe I give myself too much credit - I don't control the universe, let alone the people closest to me.

So, what, we're both irreversibly fucked up?

Once, a long time ago... not that long, though, maybe, a year ago, I asked my boyfriend if he realized that when people saw us together, they would wonder what was wrong with him that would make him want to be with me. Instead of, you know... anyone else. And he just kind of looked at me and was like... do you think there's something wrong with me?

And I was like, well... yeah. Actually, yes, I do. I don't know what it is, but... it's got to be something. And he was like, oh, yeah, thanks, that's a great thing to say to someone.

About seven hours later I felt kind of bad for saying that. I guess I am kind of mean. Although not when I'm trying to be, apparently, because I never seem to successfully intimidate anyone, no matter how hard I try.

I don't know really what's worse... mixing someone else's problems up with your own, or just... being alone. I don't like being alone but... this is really hard.

I don't like this sudden feeling of responsibility that comes with being in a relationship.

I don't do well with responsibilities. I'm selfish. And melodramatic. I don't give, I take. I don't share - I either advertise or hide. I categorize. I focus, I obsess... but obsessing isn't the same thing as caring.

Ugh.

I need something that's not going to make me cry. Like... jelly beans, or something.