A lesson is always waiting to be learned when you least expect. I have learned two over the course of five days, one at work late last week and one just now while playing piano. Neither lesson had anything to do with what I was doing at the time, and yet my mind just seemed to wander on its own, released by my consciousness to seek whatever knowledge it would. And, in an instant, my inner self grabbed the knowledge and slammed it in front of my eyes, undeniable. That’s the beauty of activities like playing the piano, instead of forcing your conscious mind on the unconscious you are focused, attentive, so the rest of your mind can do what it will. That is when I always learn the most necessary, and painful, life lessons.

I wonder about my Grandma Dee-Dee a lot. She lost her husband while she was in her forties. She went to work outside the home for the first time in her life, finished putting two kids through school while watching out for the first two and lived her life to all appearances like everything was fine. How do you do that? How do you lose the love of your life while there is still so much life to live? And knowing that you are going to lose them early, lose them having had only enough time to love with them with all your soul, but not enough time follow after, can you give everything you have?

You have too, because to short change your love is to deny yourself and your match all that can be. But every day is bittersweet because you know it will end. At least if you don’t know you can just live. But maybe if you do know you can make more of it. It’s a twisted thing—you have to love them completely because there is no other choice, but you know one day you will be left alone. A cold spot in the bed next to you, no hugs or gentle kisses on the brow, no passionate nights in the cold of winter. Vision is a terrible thing sometimes, and while it is necessary to accept certain aspects of life it is not easy. Knowing that the person you love more than any other life on Earth will leave you stranded without his or her physical presence is a disturbing thought.

I have years of repressed emotion built up inside of me. Any one who knows me to any degree won’t be shocked by that knowledge. I’m the coolest person you know until you say the wrong thing at the wrong time of the month and I try to kill you. Not because I’m truly angry at you, but because you tapped a hidden vein of aggression from who knows how long ago. You become the easy target. To lose someone I planned my life around would destroy me if I don’t learn a better way to cope with my self. I understand now that crying isn’t a bad or evil thing. It isn’t weak or symbolic of manipulative female. It just is. Expressing your anger or discomfort or disappointment or sadness is necessary for a healthy life. It makes some people uncomfortable but that is why one has friends.

I have gone through some of the hardest times of my life alone to prepare me because, ultimately, I have only myself to rely on. I have friends and family I would die for in an instant but there is no one that can support me when I am at my lowest. I would drain them dry. But I have to learn to lean on them. It is something every human being must learn if they are to have a healthy life. To put absolute faith and trust in another human being to help us hold ourselves up when we will surely topple without their love. That is an enormous amount of trust to place in another person, especially knowing that they might not be there forever. As I face that thought I find myself torn between wanting to curl up in bed and cry or just sit here and cry (don’t worry I’m not crying). It is such a horrible thought. And yet, people take that chance every day. And they live fuller lives because of it.

I don’t think it is because of the adolescent immortality syndrome, but rather because they all know something I only truly learned today. To love someone fully and share his/her love in return is worth all the pain of loss. You’re never truly alive until you hand your life over to someone else’s hands. Heartbreak is a bitch, but I’ll take that over regret any day. I never regret doing something. I just regret being too scared to do what I truly wanted to. I will not be too scared to love.

Big words, but can I live up to them? I suppose we’ll find out in twenty years or so.

I am a crazy bitch. Now, when most people make that statement it is accompanied by a smirk or a smile and everyone understands that said person is not a crazy bitch in truth, just having a bad day (week, month, whatever.) I am not just having a bad day, week or month (because I am but that isn’t the sole culprit) I am a co-dependent, neurotic, crazy, chic. And, unfortunately, it’s not the cute crazy so I don’t even think it will get me laid.

Co-dependency: I’m going to do {insert emotion, action, feeling, whatever here} for you no matter if you asked me to or not. Then when you do not show appropriate {insert whatever emotion, action, feeling I think should be shown here} to me I will become angry, hurt, and upset. Yeah, cause that makes perfect sense. I know it’s crazy; I know I can be crazy. Does that stop me from being crazy? No, I’m still crazy.

Are you sensing a theme here?

Now, in my defense (because I can’t just tear myself to pieces without rationalizing at least a little bit) I have had good reason this particular bout of pms to be co-dependent. I’m not saying I was justified, but I do feel as if at least a small part of my craziness was earned. I mean, when your good friends have a habit of disregarding you while in you are in the room to seduce/make out/or screw the guy that happens to also be in the room it can hurt your feelings. Being the third wheel is never fun, especially when you’re supposed to be with people that include you. It feels like shit, I’m not going to lie to you.

But, that being said, I can accept that and move on. I don’t think it is egotistical of me to say I can deal with most any situation and move on, because I have and I will. I’m a survivor. My friends mean too much to me to let stupid shit ruin our time together.

Now I know what you’re all thinking—I should stop being so damn defensive and live life a little. The comment that was added to the last post (and I loved it by the way, that’s why I switched to a template where comments were available) said something to the effect that shouldn’t I let the tingle in since that is what makes life worth living? Here is my answer to that.

The tingle is never not there. I can’t change how I feel—it isn’t possible. People who say they can or do are lying to you. Feelings and emotions are beyond anyone’s control. What I can change is how I act. It’s not that I don’t feel the tingle or try to protect myself from the tingle, it is that I refuse to shortchange myself anymore with silly games and substitutions. Yes, passion is what makes life worth living; living on the edge is what reminds you you are alive. But I want to live on the edge for a purpose. I want to risk my life and/or emotions knowing that I am doing it for a greater gain. I’ve had my fun in and out of the bedroom. I’m too old to keep convincing myself the moment will last forever. It won’t; it never does.

If I can’t have it all, I’m not settling. I’m worth more than that and my life is worth more than that. I get plenty of excitement just living—I love life and I love people. But I am not going to keep hurting myself hoping a knight in shining armor is going to save me. Knights don’t exist any more and we sometimes forget that those we love are people too. We want them to be greater than they can be. We want them to be superhuman and always say and do the right thing. That isn’t going to happen. It never has and it never will. When you love someone you have to love all of them. Otherwise you’re living in a fantasy—I have movies for that. I don’t need to delude myself with the mundane stuff too. Accepting someone’s flaws takes a lot of the spark out of it. Accepting someone is no more or less than anyone else removes all those wonderful elements that keep us coming back to chick flicks and trashy romance novels. But loving someone truly offers something a movie and a book and a fling can never give you—contentment. Knowing that I love someone completely, accepting all that he is, fills me with a much greater energy than simple passion. It is a thought that makes every day a little bit easier to handle. It is something that could destroy me and I accept that too. Should I ever love and be loved back I will not run from it but I will embrace it. I will not cheapen it with childish antics and silly games of seduction, but I will lock the bedroom door and alternately make love and fuck the shit out of him until neither one of us knows who is who and where one ends and the other begins. I will not settle for less than that. I will not make believe that is there when it isn’t.

And if it is there I will not ruin it by treating it like a drunken fling. That is not something you fuck with be it yours or someone else’s. If that regulates me to living my life alone so be it. I am happier knowing it exists and just isn’t in my cards than I ever would be trying to force it into existence. I accept myself and others as we are, completely, as humans. I’ve found life to be a whole lot better when I just let myself live my own life instead of trying so hard to live someone else’s.

I had a realization the other night. I know you all love my realizations. A lot of comment has been made at different times in my life about "I’ll find the right guy", or "it’ll all work out" (blah, blah, blah, life is fuzzy bunny rabbits and pink cotton candy). But I know now what I couldn’t explain, but have always known inside. I know why I think I will never marry and most likely, never engage in any sort of long-term relationship. I have no patience for drama.

I don’t like it, I don’t court it, and I don’t put up with it. When it comes to picking up a guy most girls play "the game" with their big eyes, and meaningful looks, and seemingly casual touches (or sometimes bold strokes depending on the situation). I don’t do that. If I decide you need to know I want you I’ll tell you. If I decide I want to suck your dick or fuck you I will. There are no play-tender moments; there are no misleading words. I can’t do it.

Now, does this mean I don’t crave some sort of tender loving relationship? Of course not, I am human after all, but I cannot come by it through dishonest means. I cannot substitute a session of fucking for my need to "make love". That’s part of the excitement for some people, the thrill of the chase and all that. I don’t have the time or the patience for chase. I’m too fat and too lazy to chase anybody or anything for more than a couple of steps. There is too much to do in life and too much to see for me to waste time playing with you and your craziness. Can’t do it. Even in friendships I can’t stand it. I want to laugh, have fun, make good crazy stories that are backed up by an honestly good time, not the two of us playing the "who can be badder (or crazier or whatever you feel like being)" game. I know what I am. Why do I need to compete with you?

But people want that thrill. People want to run around the room after each other teasing with words and touches and glances and riding the edge of what might happen. The adrenaline rush of what could occur is so addictive that cutting to the point takes all the fun out of it. I understand that, I have even been there, but always when the rush is over you’re left with nothing. You’ve got nothing more substantial to hold on to but the imaginings of the night before that burn away in the morning sun. I’m not going to waste mental energy trying to hold onto a mirage for adrenaline’s sake. For just about everyone in this world that cuts me out of the picture. Everyone uses sex and the thrills of sex to fill the urge of feeling loved for a night. I refuse. I’m not going to pretend I care about you if I don’t, and I’m not going to degrade my feelings for you with meaningless sex. Self-awareness is a deadly thing. That means people who want to play the game with me are left finding comfort with someone else and those I might spend time on never try as I never offer them the rush.

I’m not a completely honest person, I lie when I think it saves everyone pain (though inevitably it doesn’t) but false emotions hold no nourishment for me. They degrade me as a person and lessen me as a woman. That’s not true of everyone, but it is true for me. I will never marry because I will never ensnare or entrap. I will never lead anyone on a merry chase to my bedroom or run after a possibility to his. It just isn’t going to happen. I will fuck when I’m horny and sleep alone that night. Nothing but drama comes from playing games and pretending life is anything different than what it is.

I don’t do drama and I refuse to compromise.

Don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t say "ooh," and "that’s too bad" or "she’ll learn". You don’t know what I’ve learned. You don’t know what I know or who I am—certainly not better than myself. I will not run away from happiness if I find it with another person, but I will not try to turn some cheap imitation into the real thing so I can fill that imaginary need of having to be loved. I’m loved by my family and my friends. I don’t need a significant other to qualify me as a woman and human being. I am content with who I am and life offers me enough excitement without me creating more because I can.

So I suppose the point of this statement is to tell you don’t worry about me. Don’t think you know what’s good for me or what will happen or what I will learn. I do not presume to predict your future so please, offer me that same courtesy. It’s fine for the rest of the world to play the game, but trust me—I’m fine without it.