I need to be packing so I can head back home in a less stressful manner than I usually travel. I just can't seem to get myself involved in the task. My mind is too full.
I don't know how I get myself into these situations. I hate drama and try to be a relatively drama-free person. It just follows me. Especially when matters of the heart are concerned.
I miss the days in which one boy would decide he liked me and would then ask me out. I miss the days when friends with benefits didn't even seem to be an option. I think friends with benefits sucks more than actually being in a relationship. For me, at least. And having someone only half-assed pursue me with the intent of only getting sex (because I don't notice that agenda) only makes me miss being with someone who truly loves me and wants to be with me more than almost anything in the world. Or at least someone who acts like it.
For the most part I'm starting the year off in a good place. I have some healthy objectives for 2012. I have a bunch of yarn. I quit the part of my job that I couldn't keep up with (though, that was hard; I really love the people I work for). I even had a decent stay with my family.
I've even finally made it to a place where I realize I don't miss Bambi at all. I miss the idea of him. I miss what he was to me, not what he actually was. I miss love. I miss having someone to sleep with me. I know I've mentioned this a time or two before, but I just hate sleeping alone.
Oose and her boyfriend broke up this summer; they got back together again in December. He realized after she had left that he couldn't be without her, then he managed to do the things he needed to in order to be with her again. I will admit there is a part of me that is jealous about this. Because Bambi, despite how much he said he loved me, could never do it. Would never do it.
Ultimately I am forced to realize that's okay, though. I am much, much better off without him. Judging from what I learned last time I spoke to him and what I knew of him before that, I can't say the same for him. I was and continue to be the best thing that ever happened to him, with the possible exception of his daughter, who he really didn't have that much to do with anyway. In a way I suppose that's gratifying. More than anything it just makes me sad.
I know that I couldn't fix what was wrong with him and it's not my fault. But as a result everything that happened between us I know that I can never date someone who needs to be cleaned-up (so to speak) ever again. I may be a problem solver, but I can't change or fix people. Especially not those who aren't willing to do anything for themselves. Likewise, I can't be something I'm not. I can't pretend I don't feel something I do. And that's for the best. That's healthy.
I'm just so tired of keeping everything inside.