My days keep fast tracking by in a blur of what I'd wager to call a kind of joy. I love my friends, my pace of life, and the fact that I've traveled back to some sort of center within myself.
Surely it isn't all roses though. For some reason the fact that I managed to find some friends that I love dearly makes everyone else I've ever known really pissy. Especially the men-folk.
I don't exactly understand why, but the men who love me are morons. I know this, yet still, they're the ones who love me. Or whatever you'd call what they give me. Lately it's just been a jealous reaction to the fact that I have new, fun, fabulous people in my life. But still, in my stupid addled heart it makes me feel fucking *special*. They are paying attention to ME, and what's more, I'm out having a great time while they are inside their own minds mulling over what/how/when/where I'm having it. And not feeling too special about themselves while they're at it, which is my favorite part.
Still, having this fucking vadge like I do, I can't really take too much of the special feeling without falling face first into the sadness of wanting to be loved like I once was. I'd never be here without it's loss though. I have to try and keep remembering that. They don't really love me anyway, they love the way they looked to themselves through my eyes. I have to keep focused and remember that fact in the face of my terrible feelings.
