Okiedokies.

In the immortal, and oh so wise words of my dear friend, Seanly, I'm commingling my own, and his together... I'm making this blanket statement.

I'm putting my foot down. No more dating. For at least a year.

No more static and white noise fucking with my own progress. No more having people falling in "love" with me after a month, or a week, or a day, or whatever it seems to fucking take now, because the time that it seems to take to fall in "love" with me, is gradually getting shorter in length. I don't believe in love at first sight. I don't believe in love at first week, or even first month... Not anymore. To me, that's a little girl's fantasy.

I was told that I'm "perfect"... Excuse me, but what the fuck?! I'm perfect after one day? Get a fuckin' grip!!! I call you on that delusional, and raise you a freaky-deaky, bad-naughty-wrong vibes. *tosses in her chips* I don't want to discuss if I want children on the first date. No! Bad date! Bad! I don't want to discuss marriage, or even *Think* about it. No. No No no no NO.

Yes, mention these things, and watch me RUN the other direction. Oh, 'cause I can sprint, when I get enough momentum behind me. I might be fat, but the laws of physics decry that momentum equals mass times velocity. Therefore, my fat ass is going to propel me MUCH further than you think when I hustle.

Get me offa this pedestal, I hate heights. I'm not on my high horse. I'm not "being nasty to me." I'm being honest to me. I'm being honest to everyone.

At this moment in my life, the last, last, *LAST* thing I want is a relationship. And even one date, nowadays apparently equals "Insta-Girlfriend." At least, it seems to, for the guys I seem to attract. No thank-you veddy much.

Insta Girlfriend! Just add water! What am I, Sea Monkeys? Trust me, I don't follow a little flashlight around. I don't do well captive in a little aquarium, either. I might not see the walls, but I know they're there.

Just pop in the microwave, only three seconds later, Poof! Insta-Girlfriend. New and Improved! Now with less paranoia!

No. Fuckin'. Way.

I've got baggage galore, and I don't need anyone else to fill up my overhead compartment. Thanks.

You want honesty? I haven't been able to have an orgasm, from de rigeur stimulation, (that has always worked in previous situations) in ages. Oh sure, I can do it myself, but from other people? No dice.

You want another truth? Sure, why not while I'm at it. I don't want sex. Oh sure, my body tells me I want it, (pretty badly sometimes, to be honest.) But you know what? My mind is saying "No fuckin' thanks." I get there, I'm getting close to getting it on, I'm usually not clothed very much, and my brain goes Yes, yes yes yesyesyes! Uhm. wait..... Nah. Thanks, but I'll pass.

More honesty? I hate people. I hate the drama. I hate the bullshit. I keep my close friends, close, and fuck the rest. No offense, but it's true. I'm shedding people that end up damaging how I'm trying to redevelop, like a snake sheds it's skin. The people I approach, the people I openly communicate with, guess what, I like you. Consider yourself rare. Blue steak, rare. Ming vase, rare. 17 year-old virgin in Surrey, rare.

I hate the obligations put upon me by anything other than what I've willingly accepted. I refuse to deal with the people, or whatever, that try to push their own morals, obligations, or emotive opinions upon me. I hate human beings, and I love them and crave companionship at the same time. People will backpedal, cheat, and steal; they will lie right to your fucking face in order to get what they want. People will make snide commentary, in order to make themselves look better. I don't look any better from this. I look... Human.... I guess.

*Wailing... confused*

Aaaach! Fuck off. Don't pressure me! Do I wanna talk about it, for any wannabe shrinks out there, who will offer countless advice, trying to "Fix" me? Hell no! I'm not broken. Or at least, I'm not broken in a way that I want *you* to fix.

This helps me. I want to rant occasionally. I want to feel satisfied expressing myself, and not worry what the hell everyone else thinks about me. Yeah, I'm a little nuts. Yeah, I don't care what you think. Or Yeah, I'm just really good at telling myself that.

Yeah, I'm scared about my future. Yeah I'm lonely. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.... Fear, loneliness, terror, unknowing, abyss. Fuck it. It doesn't matter. day by day by day, baby, or else I'm going to need that padded room and the Oh-So-Cozy Straight Jacket.

I'm trying. I'm fighting for me.

Another truth, here. I'd rather cuddle up on the couch with my room-mate eating ice cream and making fun of each other and the stupid "boy" war movie we're watching, than bring another male into the fold that ends up just getting hurt by me and my indecision. Why? Well, my roomie doesn't expect things of me. My roomie doesn't let me push him around (much). My roomie calls me his best friend, and I'm honoured, because I never expected that. Being his best friend is all I choose to be, sometimes much to my frustration, but I chose that frustration, and I accept it.

And another truth. I'd rather be wanted because I'm me, than because I'm the first girl that was "Ok" and acceptable, because they were tired of playing the hustler, or the playa, or being lonely. I don't wanna be that insta-Girlfriend. I don't want to be anyone's girlfriend. I can't say it enough.

I'm looking forward to getting drunk by myself on a half of a mini-mickey of cinnamon whisky on Valentine's day. It's happened every other year for the past three. I'm used to it by now.

What do I want? Peace of mind. Clarity. Calm. Solitude.