I haven't updated in a while because I have been stuck in a whirlpool called myself, my life, the Unlikelihood of living it. You know how people often write shorts of what they wish for in life:


"I want to be a rocket scientist, I want to go to Paris, I want to be an actress, I want to have children."


You know those kind of things. Well mine would probably read:


I want to get my life started.


I haven't written because I have been self absorbed, bitter, and so so repugnant, blaming myself, tasking myself, and feeling stupid with myself. I continually ask, "How did I get here?" and if I knew the answer, would I have done some things differently, "Yes, I would." I may say that I wouldn't sometimes, but I definitely would.


I have now solved the mystery as to why every single person, or place I smell has Sola's (mystery man from last entry distinctive smell in it. Not because I have been thinking about him uncontrollably or that he is the preoccupant of my flailing psyche...No. You have no idea how good it feels to say that too. (because once upon a time he was)


However, I remember one of the last things he said to me; the last time we had a real friendly conversation without gratuitious stupid sex (from me) getting involved.


He told me not to make the BIG decision I was planning to make, not to pursue my dream and make the move, and not to change my life. Why? Because, yada, yada, yada, yada and so forth, in short all of the strange miserable things that have been happening to me now, were mentioned in his prediction.


And so there I was hopelessly in love with him, ready to gulp every word from his coy self-deprecating mouth, making me his teenie psychophant, I was crawl if he had said so. But I wasn't ready to accept this one thing from him which was to go against his grain, follow my instincts and pursue my dream. I wanted my dream that bad. Nothing, not even he (who supposedly meant so much to me) could stop me in my hot pursuit of it.


I cannot tell you now that I don't regret it at least a little bit. I cannot tell you that as much as the boy annoyed me it makes me hate him more not for how he treated me but because the state of my life is proving his prediction right. It hurts me, and stings inside me every time I remember what day it is, or how much time has passed along since then. It hurts like an open grazed wound.


All I can do is pray that the God I serve would not let my dream die and let him be right forever, that He would understand my need for a belief in a miracle, and help me to be the instrument that birngs that to effect; that He would let me see the goodness after the storm and would eventually let me have the satisfaction of proving Sola wrong. I deserve that much from life. A second chance at survival.


The makeup content is what makes it so worthwhile...sometimes in living.