Free Thoughts...Priceless

I'm strong. Totally "affected." Warm and nuturing. Soft. Sympathetic. Emotional. Severely juxtaposed by the fact that I can be cold, judgemental, and hard to approach. I generally don't hold grudges; however, there is always a healing period between betrayal and acceptance. I love helping people. I need to be needed. I'm the direct opposite of myself...or so it seems.
This pyschological analysis was prompted by a realization. Preface: Growing up with two younger sisters constantly coined the phrase: "Do you remember when you were their age?" At which point, I shunned my smikring mother and tried to disregard the remark. The last few years, I've been conscious of the fact that I, too, was one 16--suddenly, I can relate. I can honestly see myself in their same situations, and remembering the emotions I was consumed with during those times. I can finally relate--but I find it difficult to express myself clearly...
I have dug a trench around the bush with all this nonesense. My younger sister is learning a very hard lesson right now, and even though I know it is the right-of-passage into adulthood (the parental side of me will always shine through), I can remember exactly how I felt when I was going through the same thing.
Trusting people. Here's another way by which I juxtapose my very existence: I am an extremely trustworthy person. Tell me a secret, in the vault it goes--except when it comes to immediate family, in which case, we all know that we tell each other 95% of everything. I am honest. I find trust in strangers--ah, the rose-colored glasses--every one is a good person, until they prove otherwise.
If trust is broken--it's damaging.
Learning the value of friendship. Friendship is a bond, broken down onto several levels. Learning those levels ultimately ends in tears. Gut-renching. Tragic.
I don't know if I can soften myself to open up to her, tell her the things that I went through. Shit, I don't even know if she wants ME to. Would she be able to confide in me--I'm not confident.
Here's the twist. My younger sister broke my trust. She's younger than me, should I be more sympathetic? Her actions affected our relationship more than she will ever know. Through her eyes, she did nothing wrong. Through my eyes, I could feel my heart bleeding. She abandoned us. During a time when we needed nothing more than her support. She left us. She was fully aware of how much family was needed during that crisis. It was a fucking crisis. And she wasn't there. She pulled apart the family dynamic and turned it into a genuine clusterfuck. I kid you not.
Retrospect: When I was 16/17, and my friends ruled my world, my mom wasn't suffering from a deadly illness. And, I still had to be home for dinner. I'm sure that I fought with mom a few times, wanting so badly to stay out with my buddies on a school night. The answer was "Nope." Sure, maybe there were a some exceptions, but that was a result of my good grades and overall ability to be responsible. And even the exceptions were rare. No big deal. I don't think I fought with mom too much because it just got tired.

----free thought truncated due to system overload----

Wanted

Rich individual to pay off all debt with no strings attach. Answering this add will no doubt deplete all stress from my life.

Ugh.

Out of Paper--No Ink for the Pen

A list of things I will need in the event that I end up moving into the haunted Victorian mansion...

1. new armoire (old one's a beast and not very practical--and the closets in this tiny haunted apartment are outrageously small. I have a lot of shit).
2. A table for the t.v. to set on.
3. A small, yet practical couch (futon perhaps).
4. Plates. I realized the other day that I have no fucking plates. Am I fit for the real world?? "j.k."
5. Glasses. Uh, yeah...I think I have two, which is a fine start, but c'mon. (Funny thing, I do have tupperware and silverware...).
6. A couple pans. (I think with pans, I'll buy as I go...right?)

That's all for now...I'm sure I'll think of something else...it never stops...it never stops.

Grammatically Incorrect

The self-inflicted torture that romantic comedies bring to my emotions, I will never cease to understand my addiction...

Update

The man of my dreams has yet to revisit; however, I did have a strange dream the other night...it's hard to see through the fog...but I was dressing for some major event...in a PINK dress...Pink?!...oh, shit, he wasn't in that dream. I didn't get far enough in the dream to see him. The evening gown only came passed my knees, and I hadn't shaved in so long I was mortified to leave the house...I guess that's a clue...yet again from my subconscious. Great...

In other news, an apartment has been located, and it really suits me. A small portion of a 104-year-old Victorian home (haunted, no doubt). The owner has done a fantastic job of renovating (or masking) any imperfections. It's not a definite yet, but I certainly have my heart set...I know...not the best idea, but my heart seems to run the show these days. What's a girl to do??

Resumes have hit the snail mail turnpike...some have traveled via email. We'll see if anything pans out. Good lord, I hope so. Waiting tables is making me more of an angry bitch than I was before...