this blog has been victimized by the commitment-phobe.

Contrary to popular belief, this blog is not dead.

So, I’ve been away for months and months. Mostly because I have lots of things to share, but I had no motivation to share them. I am– was– on a self-imposed exile.

Well, not really. People see me all the time, me being my usual nomad self. But in a way, I was not out there, even when I physically was. Somehow, I’m just not into sharing myself, and that in turn, made me into a preachy know-it-all, an insufferable beotch on a friggin high horse.

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I can’t say if there are lots of changes about me. I can’t tell. Even with new people I know, new surroundings, and new purpose, I don’t seem to feel the change. I wish I did, so at least I would have a measure on whether I progress or not.

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I’m pretty much sure that, as much as I’ve learned tons from SOTE, he surely fucked me up.

OK, probably that was a bit too graphic, but I meant that somehow, with all the things that I learned from him, he also left a screwdriver in that kinda messed up my mechanism. Hmm… still doesn’t sound as wholesome as I mean it.

So, Denice, explain: In a way, I’m glad that I have had SOTE in my life, because he made me want to grow and not be the snivelling fool I was when I was younger. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t wonder what I would have been if I never met him and experienced that hell.

If I didn’t go through all that shit, I would have been more trusting. I would have been free-er, more open, and definitely more blissfully ignorant. I would definitely learn to love easily.

BUt as it is, I can’t fall in love anymore. Not as easily as the first time anyway.

Before, all it needed was a decision. To tell myself that I probably am in love, and reality would catch up and I would have fallen, just like that. But nowadays, I spend most of my time convincing myself why I shouldn’t fall in love, and reality catches up as well. I don’t. I can’t. Not anymore. Maybe in the future… but not anytime soon.

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Have I mentioned I have problems with commitment?

I’m pretty sure I did.  The idea of being responsible for another person’s well-being and happiness scares me. I don’t think I’ll ever do a good job at it, as I am both histrionic and insensitive. I have a fucked up sense of independence, and I could be incredibly unyielding. And as much as I use these traits as a defense mechanism, I realize that the moment the walls are scaled and crumbled, I would be completely opposite. I would be needy and clingy and submissive and I would hate myself. No, I am not schizoprenic; I am bipolar.

Oh, and since we are on the topic (even though the segue warrants an asterisk divider), I just wanted to comment on how weird it is to meet yourself from a younger time. It gives you a weird combination of dread, pity, wisdom, and a yearning to kick your younger self in the ass for being so friggin pathetic. And yet, you know that your younger self would have to go through the same journey as you did, and somehow, you just know that you will be proud of that person in the future, if ever he/she achieves the things you could only imagine.

(I just realized we weren’t on that topic, but I just felt like randomly mentioning it.) Anyway, I was ranting about how I dislike commitments.

I know I am a very trusting person. It has been instilled in me to think about the good in everyone, despite their track record. It drives me crazy, because I want to be mean and not care about trivial things such as feelings. BUt since SOTE happened (yes, I consider him a major catastrophe), I feel more imprisoned about being nice. BEcause as much as I hate commitments, I feel like I always get trapped in one.

I’m not talking about romantic relationships. I mean, friendships, work commitments, promises. I really dislike promises! I hate the pressure, how something as flimsy as words hold so much meaning and expectations. Of course I realize the purpose of promises, that’s why I honor them as much as I could. BUt if I had my choice, if I had the balls, I would gladly just say, “F this.”

But I dont. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t hate promises that much if I had the balls to let things go. It frustrates me that things could get to me, because I like myself best when I dont care about anything. Or anyone.

Too bad. I tend to care too much.

~ by denice on 6 September, 2008.