October 05, 2002 :: 11:50 p.m.
you are my only shade
Today has rather sucked. I don't know why I'm surprised. I did my Statistics, wrote half of my English paper, and started to study for Anthro. After that my ability focus on homework vanished entirely and was replaced by the desire to watch TV and play the guitar. So I did these things. Adam called around 9:30, which served to send my mood spiraling into a pit of sadness. Because I'm having this issue. He knows about it - I told him tonight. It's not so bad now that we've sort of (emphasis on sort of) discussed it, but still. Nastiness ensued. It was really nice to hear his voice, though. I miss him. *sad* When I got off the phone with him, I laid around in an emotionally distressed state for quite some time, and then decided to draw some stuff. Which is what I'm taking a break from right now. So that has been my day, in something larger than a nutshell but smaller than a breadbox.
This "communication" thing continues to elude me. I've been trying, I really have, but there are a few obstacles. The largest and most insurmountable of the lot is that I apparently have a very fastidious little gnome living someplace inside of me that captures all of my words and hides them away (or eats them for dinner, I'm not sure which) if they make me even the least bit uncomfortable. I can think of what I'd like to say, because I really can be quite articulate when I try, but I just can't spit it out without a huge internal struggle taking place with this blasted word-snatching gnome. It's somehow connected to the fact that I would actually be speaking these things aloud, because I can write them out with no trouble. Writing them out actually works better for me, but handing Adam a letter just doesn't seem as effective or proper as verbal communication. I believe that this particular problem stems from this thing that I have where I think that all of my feelings are completely invalid and/or unwarranted and/or wrong. Yeah, I know - feelings can't be wrong. Whatever. Serial killers feel like chopping little kids into bite-sized pieces and having a fondue party.
Another thing is that Adam isn't the best communicator, either. I know I really shouldn't talk here, but it's true. I'm not insulting him or anything, so don't go taking it like that, either. I love him to death and he's way better at it than I am, but at the same time he's worse in some ways. He doesn't like to elaborate. I think that may just be a general guy trait, though. Like a "get to the point, dammit, the big game starts in five minutes" thing. Except without the football, because as far as I know Adam isn't a huge football fan.
I don't know. It's just this big... thing that we don't do well. And it's very, very bad, because as cliche as it sounds, communication is the most important thing in a relationship. Other than the love and stuff. You know what I mean. Part of me is really behind opening the lines of communication, because logically I know that it would be a good thing. But then there is the completely illogical, paranoid, insecure, emotional part of me that just screams "NO!" I'm so afraid to talk about what I'm feeling (only if what I'm feeling is bad or uncomfortable or hurt or whatever, though) because I can't help but think that it would just serve to make apparent the fucked-up psycho that I am and that my feelings would make him mad somehow. Because as strongly as I feel them, I'm ashamed of them. Uck. I need to be replaced by a pod person. One who has better communication skills and fewer emotional problems.
Well. This has been a fun-filled entry so far, eh? Yeah. Want to see something funny to help wash away the taste of navel-gazing angst? Rude Vegetables. Teehee.
Le sigh. I'm going to go draw some more, and then possibly just lay in bed and watch bad TV until I fall asleep. Why is there nothing good on TV on Saturday nights? Feh. Anyway. 'Night.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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