Aside

Sometimes you just need to be sad. Sometimes you need to cry, even if you don’t have a real reason. Sometimes you both need to and have a right to eat every single piece or chocolate or fried food in sight. Tonight is one of those nights, and sometimes you just need to blog about them.

Well, you see, this time last week, I was ecstatic. I was happy with where I was in life and with my relationships and I thought I was this completely different being than I presently am. Why might you ask? Because I had a flirtatious boy expressing legitimate interest in me.

I know, I know. It’s pathetic, but it’s true. So, if you’re laughing at me, and thanking the heavens that you aren’t as desperate or sad as I am, please, stop reading. Because I’m about to vent my self-diagnosed psychobabble all over this post, and it’s intended to help me, not act as a source for your mockery.

I validate myself with men. Its disgusting, horrible and every other negative adjective in Webster’s Dictionary, but it’s me. I cannot be happy alone, although I like to convince myself that I can. And if, for some reason, a man I’m with decides he isn’t interested in me, what do I do? Well, you see, I eat a lot. I cry a lot. I read quotes, listen to “girl power” music, and oh, THROW MYSELF AT THEM.

It’s repulsive. I cannot stomach the feeling of rejection. I think that by saying something along the lines of “no strings attached” or “one last time,” that I will magically win them back. That I will suddenly become everything they want, when in fact I’m probably everything that they actually don’t want. Cool, Rachel. Cool.

What I hate most about this horrid problem I have? That I know it’s wrong, I know it won’t work, I know that in the long run it will be so much worse for me, but that I CAN’T STOP.  Something is wrong, you see, with my distorted internal psyche, and I need nothing but to solve this complex relationship killing disorder I have, so that maybe one day I might end up in a stable relationship where someone actually wants to be with me. Doubtful, but a girl can dream, right?

We’ll start attempting to fix this issue with the next boy, because I just penned a traditional Rachel-esque text message hoping that “just one more” will fix everything. It won’t, I’ll end up more hurt,but hey, here’s hoping that something good comes from it this time, fingers crossed and all.

I am intelligent. I am driven. I have such an amazing future in store for myself, but it all seems to take a backseat to actually being wanted. I don’t even want to be in a relationship, deep down. I just want them to want me. But even deeper down, I want to be happy being alone. I want to be happy spending the night in my own bed. I want to be happy not being right for someone. I want to, just for once, not throw myself into someone else’s arms to attempt to fix myself.

Someone Else’s Arms

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