Here I am, sitting with a hot vanilla latte from the Bean of the Drug that leaves that dreaded coffee phlegm in my mouth trying to jot down something for this week’s diatribe. I sit and reread what I wrote last week, or was it the week before, clearing out my head, my mind, but I can’t. It’s just full of misty clouds that make it hard to think.

The temperature is rising in this air conditioned social gathering shopping place that I usually only frequent when I want to see a “flicker” or need to actually do some shopping. I sit here, on the verge of breaking into a sweat, hoping I break into a sweat because it means I might sweat this fucking crappy ass bug out of my system.

It has been a week, a miserable week at work with the downed internet and issues, but a week that came and went. I didn’t even get to exercise this week; out of commission and out of energy. BLAH! is my usual cry of naked fatigue hoping for the warmth comfiness of my bed and nothing more.

Clouded is my mind with this new drug that I have found. My heart races for a dose, no matter how small to get into my system, making it pitter patter into life, but it is difficult. Hard. Just not knowing, scared of another addiction. What if I get addicted again? What if like the last drug, I built up a tolerance and it does nothing for me anymore? What if?

Why is it that things like this happen to me? Looking for the new, something different, when all in all I know the outcome maybe the same. I’ll get bored, tired, or just fear what is to come with the addiction and I drift away.

This is a relatively new drug. Young and fresh. Just a taste and you’ll be hooked. And I am. I haven’t been able to shake the feeling out of me. I haven’t been able to detox, because whenever I feel it wither away, I get another dose and am stuck in its graspy fingers of tingly giddiness. The happy pill of something new and fresh. Novel.

But there’s a familiar fear in me of this drug as in all drugs that I’ve tasted. That fear, that whatchamacallit that makes me hesitate to embrace this little pill and pop it into my system. I’m always careful and slow when approaching new things. Holding back, getting small doses at a time to see if I can handle a little more, doing research, soul searching to see what other qualities it may have. How strong the addiction is, after effects, side affects…the such and such.

What am I to do? Why am I like this? Who do I think I am to think I’m strong enough, young enough to take on a brand new drug that is so young and so fresh? I’m just an old old man with old man complexes that doesn’t need any more excitement in his life.

But all in all, I am a junkie. I love my drug of choice and there is nothing I can do about it. I’m a lifetime addict, not able to seek treatment, because there is no treatment for this sickness, this type of addiction that I have. I just have to live with it and hopefully, I can overcome the enticing delicacy that would taste so salty sweet in my mouth.

What am I to do? A part of me wants to reach out and just get a connection, a chance to make known that I have this addiction and hopefully this drug will take mercy on my soul and treat me fair. I want to be forward and come out and say I have this sickness for you, my drug of choice. But, there is a part of me that is holding back, afraid.

I just can’t do it.

It’s too soon. I just went through withdrawal and there’s still remnants, residual, in my system that I just can’t shake. Thoughts and feelings revert back to the warm feelings that my old addiction gave me and then I see that withdrawal was a bitch. Knowing that I had to quit it and the act of going through it is hard.

I do have strong will power on many things, especially on things that I put my mind to. I quit. I had to. It was a good choice, something that needed to be done for my health and for the righteousness of everything. It had to be done. The drug was way too dangerous for me as my tolerance built up and I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to drop it. Quit.

Maybe this is a withdrawal fever that is draining my soul into this weird drained ickiness that I’m feeling. It eats me inside, not wanting to do anything and not wanting anything else. I feel sick. I AM sick. Just a general ennui that attacks my mind, clouding and dulling everything that was once so sharp.

I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything at all. I am helpless until this sickness passes. It’s going on its second week now. I feel no better than when it first started. There were days when I thought it would pass as I see some light in the darkness, but I’m still covered by the gray misting clouds of yore.

Ickiness. Sickness. General BLAH.

Sitting. Staring. Clearing my mind for the world to read. To see. Just focusing on the things that I need to focus on and forget the things that just bother me.

Life has been a little difficult for the past couple of weeks. Not as difficult as many others, but a little difficult for my taste.

It isn’t the biking to work, the exercising in the morning that is making my life difficult, but the doubting of my decision. Making me rethink my actions, whether I made the correct decision.

I still stand by my decision and think I made the right one. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t fair. But for me…and hopefully for her, it is the best. The best for us.

I know I’m a fickle person. I know that once the novelty wears off, I get bored. But did that happen or was there something more there?

It might have been that there was something more. I just couldn’t deal. I’m not built to be in a relationship. I’m too much of a free spirit, a wandering loner, to be tied down and settle. Maybe I’m just not ready. No…not a maybe, a definitely not ready to settle down.

Maybe I thought I was settling with her and thought I could do better. Maybe that’s why, but no, it wasn’t. It wasn’t settling. It is what it was. The suffocation got to me. The cage-iness of everything got to me. Not that it was her fault, not that she was the one that was tying me down. It wasn’t like that at all. It was just that I can’t be with anyone.

I enjoy my space. I love my space. I need my space, and that is something that I need to learn to let go and give up…eventually. But right now, I don’t think I can.

Maybe she’s just not the one for me to give up. Maybe she’s right. When you truly love someone, like someone in that way, you shouldn’t have to make time to be with that someone, you just do it because it is them. I never gave her the courtesy. I did it because she was there. She was going to come over and I was going to go over. It just happens. But then there were times where I would get antsy and I just need to breathe.

I don’t know what it is I’m trying to say. I don’t know what it is that I’m rambling on and on about today. I just know that there are lots on my mind. Tons.

Relationships. Girls. People.

Things I don’t understand. Things I try to, but I just don’t. It is just too complicated for my simple mind to grasp these complex terms and ideas and objects. Too complicated indeed. I guess if it was easy to understand, my life, the world, would be a better place.

There hasn’t been a single day that I don’t think about her. She’s on my mind every day. She did make that impact on me and again, I doubt my decision. Regret? Maybe, but it must be done. It wouldn’t be fair to her. It would not.

My feelings changed. I was having problems, things that I couldn’t deal or help. I ran. I let her go; left her alone to fend for herself. But what if I stayed, feeling the way I felt about her, which wasn’t romantic in nature anymore, but more of friends, hanging out. What if?

What if something did happen and I did get use to her? Her being by my side, her being with me. Would my heart change back to the way it was, full of lovey dovey can’t do without her notions, or would it stay the same, the hey there friend type of thing? What if?

That wasn’t something I wasn’t going to bet on. I’m a sure deal type of thing and that wasn’t a sure deal. I can’t trust the fates on that. I can only trust my gut and my gut tells me to not bet on this one, like it tells me not to bet on anything, ’cause I WILL ALWAYS LOSE.

It wouldn’t be fair to her, to have her wait many more weeks, months, years till I figure out what I want. What if I did stay with her two or three years down the line and I was never man enough to tell her how I felt and we did end up married? Loveless, courteous, civil, because she’s only a friend. Would she have known? Would she have liked that? Time wasted, years that we can never get back.

So I had to let her free, to find another, while I deal with my shit and she with hers. It wouldn’t be fair to tie her to me just because. It would be unfair.

Time.

Time fixes things. Time changes things. Time makes us forget, helps us heal, let us move on. Time.

Will this happen? Could it happen, here, in this case? I don’t know. I really don’t know.

I thought that we can be friends. I really thought that we can, as we talk on the phone and hear her sound okay and happy. I thought things would be good. But it wasn’t the case. I treated her like a friend, hiding behind my text messages and my emails as I do with all my friends and family. I never pick up the phone and call, ’cause I don’t call. I simply don’t.

She knows that. She knew that while we were dating. I called, albeit sometimes, but I did call. But I hate talking on the phone. It seems weird that I was able to be on the phone with her for hours on end when we first met, but as we went from sniffing each other out to actual dating, the long phone calls ended. Maybe it is because we were seeing each other more and more.

Even now, as I type this, I’m having a conversation with my cousin through text messaging. Avoid calls at all costs.

Free of the phone calls. Free of just sitting on the phone, not being able to pay attention to the tv, or go to sleep, or read, or surfing the web. Phones. Not a fan. Good for convenience, but not good to “talk”.

I thought we could be friends. I thought we could remain that as I kept to my schedule and she kept to hers. I had no problem picking up her calls and talking to her, catching up and hanging up. I can never do the whole talk talk talk for hours, because honestly, what is there to talk about anymore. How can I talk while I have guests in my home…my mom and my bro? It is rude.

But I still picked up.

Frustration of the explosion over an email. It was simple it was quick. It wasn’t a rush for me to find the answer. I avoid phone calls unless absolutely necessary or when emails or texting is not an option.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just weird that way. I’m not use to human contact, so I avoid it at all cost, hiding behind this computer, punching in letters and hitting a button to do all my communicating for me.

Maybe that is why I’ll never be with anyone. I’m just too much of a hermit loner that can’t deal with people. I don’t know.

Things just didn’t work out. We didn’t have any “electricity”. We did though. Lots of chemistry. She did make me laugh. She was thoughtful and kind. She could take my shit and give it back tenfold. For the most part, we did work. We honestly did. But it ended, as it had to. It just wasn’t fair to her as I decide what I really wanted. I had to take the blame, the responsibility to let it go.

I don’t know. I don’t know.

It’s over as it has to be over. She’s done with me with the most recent explosion and I just have to leave it as that. I can’t pull a Stephanie, ’cause that is just wrong.

Again, that is something that I will not understand. I just simply don’t understand.

You let the person go, but why would you still want the person to still want you? Why? You let the relationship go, so why would you want that? You aren’t interested in the person anymore. Why do you still want that? Let it go. Let him be free. It’s unfair to toy and string him along. Unfair. Rude. Mean.

It’s just a confused mess of not wanting to be alone; wanting your cake and eating it too. Just can’t happen. Imagine what he’s going through? He’ll never be able to let go.

I would like to think I’m a smart guy. But sometimes I just don’t feel that way. Matters of the heart, relationships…beyond my comprehension. I rule myself with logic with a tinge of emotion, but heart and logic don’t mix. What ends up happening are gut feelings of confusion.

Maybe I just need a distraction. Maybe I need someone else to keep my mind off of things. Maybe I just need a new hobby, a new focus in my life, or maybe I just need to focus a little harder on my projects and not be so lazy about them and actually do it. Maybe.

Time.

I don’t know. Am I ready to jump back in the scene and start looking for another? Am I? I would like to think that I am, but I don’t think I am. I think I’ll just have the same feelings of suffocation, of giving up MY TIME of doing nothing or my things of leisure to entertain. I’m just too selfish for something like that.

Maybe I’m just lazy. I’m not willing to put in the work, to compromise for the relationship, the one that just ended or any future ones. I know my problems. Things I need to resolve and fix on my own. I can’t possibly do it on my own because they aren’t ‘alone’ problems, but problems of relationships.

Am I just not ready to commit? Though we were only dating, I did think of her as my girlfriend. I don’t know. Just a mass confusion.

She did change me, enlightened me about relationships. She gave me a glimpse of what it is like to be in a relationship, to be part of a couple. Both the good and the bad. It was her that solidified what I had a small inkling of what I want in a relationship. And it was her, unfortunately, that made me realize that maybe, just maybe I’m not ready to be in a relationship or that I’m just not made to be in one.

Marriage.

Being around family a few weeks ago, the idea of marriage came up as my cousin who is being set up with a woman that he has no interest in sat nearby. As the discussion of what happened between me and my “wife” was chattered about among my family, I declared that I’m not sure if I want to marry. Thinking ahead, I don’t know. The romantic idealist in me says that I will find the love of my life…or find her again and live happily ever after. A part of me thinks, no. I’ll spend the rest of my life alone and be okay with that. ‘Cause I will be.

My mom says I need to marry. I have to marry as my cousin and the woman that he’s been set up with sits nearby. I never looked over to them, but I know they are there, a distance apart from me and they are a distance apart from each other. A forced relationship that may never work, but for some reason it is happening. I don’t envy my cousin nor do I want to be in his shoes about that.

I’m not getting the pressure to find someone now. My mom isn’t putting that on me nor my brother as my cousin’s parents are on him…force-fed this woman that he has no interest in. I never really got a chance to speak with her, but she seemed nice and quiet.

Three rules. Three things that I need to find in a woman, so proclaimed from my mom. Three proclamations. I need to find someone, a girl/woman, that 1) doesn’t smoke, 2) doesn’t drink, 3) doesn’t gamble.

Those three things. My mom’s desires in my significant other.

My retort. “Wow, I’ll be looking till I’m 60.” This, may be true. My cousin’s mom LOUD retort to my retort, ’cause she talks loudly, is that it isn’t that hard to find someone. My cousin’s dad said that it’s okay if an 83 year old can find a wife. He’s shaking at the altar.

He’s not shaking because he’s old. He’s shaking because he’s getting married, getting cold feet and thinking damn, I’m stuck with this woman for the remainder of my life and I don’t have that many years left.

My mom, my cousins, my family knows better to set me up with anyone. They know I’ll give them shit for it, a smart ass remark, and simply, I won’t do it out of spite. Tis is I.

Moderation.

Smoking. Drinking. Gambling. All bad things in my mother’s eyes. To me, depends. It is all on moderation. It’s okay to smoke…in moderation. It’s okay to drink…in moderation. It’s okay to gamble… in moderation. I can’t judge someone for doing those when I myself do many of them in moderation. It’s all about context. And so I told my mom, it’s okay to do those, in moderation. She disagrees. She’s just very traditional.

I don’t know.

My mind is clearer and I actually did find some focus. I was able to rant and ramble with my usual flare. Thought it isn’t as flashy as it usually is, but more of the straightforwardness of my earlier writings and blog things, but I was able to put thoughts on a blank page.

When will it be when I stop thinking about her and what I did? When will it be that I will stop feeling bad for breaking a heart that wasn’t mine to break? When will it be that I will be able to move on and leave this in the past? I don’t know.

But I do know that she’ll always be a part of my thoughts, whether she likes that idea or not.

Time. It will eventually give me answers to my I don’t knows.