well it can only be a mistake to exclude all that seems to have been before. everyday i run to this place and i can feel it taking over me.

i wish i could give out a card.

it'd be small...about the size of a business card, and it would simply say:

please call [insert asshole's name here] for an explanation as to why i'm an incorrigible cunt and refuse to open up, have any amount of tangible faith, and can't seem to muster enough trust to pass go and collect a sentient existence.

any guy i meet would get that card..and that'd be it...my life would be that much easier.

it would let me actually sit back and just let things go as they pleased without having to sit there and worry that i'm not being open enough, forthcoming enough, that i'm not coming on at all, or, worse, that i'm coming on too strong.

i wouldn't have to sit and overanalyze and examine things from every fucking angle i can think of because he would know i'm just cautious about these kinds of things and need time and affable coaxing to abandon this vapid aura anything outside of friendship has taken on to me.

it would basically take the fact that i'm bitter and jaded and really have no faith in the male of the species (for the most part), and make it less about what's going on between "us" and put it more in its appropriate realm.

what is that realm?

conditioned reponse.

honestly, it can't be that you fall down and get back up the same peachy wholesome goodness you were when you initially fell. or can you? do people really resume some status that so greatly resembles who they were before, that the aftermath of failure--for lack of a better word--is nothing more than a tiny speed bump on their grand schemed highway to giving-in, giving themself, and finding love?

well if that is the case, i must take these kinds of things much more personally. whatever "happened" to me materliazed into way more than a speed bump....it's culminated into this thing that would probably give flaming moats a fantastic run for their money as ultimate detterent.

maybe that's the price of intelligence. not ingelligence in the phenomenal iq sense of the word...but intelligent in the sense that if something fucking sucks..well, you avoid that something.

like i said: conditioned response.

if things are rainbows and candy-kisses, well..then you keep on keepin' on. but when things leave you feeling more empty inside than you ever imagined possible, and leave you with a shitty taste in your mouth and a whole in your heart where all the love you had comes pouring out...well you run. you run as far away as possible and as fast as possible.

or at the very least you avoid those kinds of situations in whatever way you can think of, as long as it's effective.

i could easily blame it on the fact my existence has been one normally classified as nomadic. i could blame it on the fact that i never really felt i fit in anywhere--including my own family. i could easily point the finger at the fact i recieved two extremely hard blows to my self-esteem at an extremely critical age to mentality development, and i could merrily list all the hoops i've jumped through in an effort to meet whatever expectations where before me even at my own expense. i could blame it on an amasss of shit...but that's the point. no matter what flavor takes the fault, the flavor will still belong to a categorical list of shit.

it all just falls into the garden variety psychological bullshit made famous by good old pavlov and his prissy little poodles.

i don't have a bell, and i don't salivate when i hear bells...honestly, i swear..but i do have conditioned response to situations that resemble dating. my response is to panic, freak out, and run away...if not in the physical sense than in the emotional sense.

i've been there too many times before...so many times, in fact, i simply look at a sitaution and follow the fantastic creed of "if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck...then it must be a duck."

my duck is an asshole. my ducks are unequivocal relationships that leave me desperately trying to find solace in the fact i gave it my all and tried while they just wander off without even missing a beat.

my ducks have led me to find comfort in my insecurity and solace in the undisputed fact that the past always repeats itself.

unless you make efforts to stop it from repeating itself.

unless you formulate a conditioned reponse.

it's not what "he" did to me...it's not what "happened" to me...it's not anything more than what i did to myself.

i built these walls. i fortified this prison.

and now?

i can' t seem to figure out how to take them down.