End of the rope

I am done…

Absolutely done, and all that is left is me. And this is good. Let me run down the list to refresh my memory:

Fb – done. Too dramatic. He is the fallback…it is never fair to make someone your fallback…because you think he’s close to perfect, but you know you can never be with him because you don't truly love him. I absolutely cannot stomach the possible experience.

LL – done. Stretched too thin…everything…I pray that I have the sense to remind myself never to love anyone the way I “loved” him; to the point of self-destruction. I can never bear to feel pity for myself ever again. It was a good 10 years and, boy, have I learned my lesson. Face what is in front of you, and do not, I repeat, do not create another world in your own mind. This will make you crazy.

Anime – done. Too late…too fucking late.

Tisoy – done. It was over the moment I wrote that letter…it was over the moment I decided to visit LL at the hospital…it was over the moment I didn’t admit to myself that I was lonely. This one, I will always love, just not in that way.

CB – done…ah…yeah, this one is done too. No more midnight, daytime, mid-afternoon, on-my-way-home daydreaming. Today I spoke to Lester, and the signs were not so good. And I will never put myself out there again. And I will choose the friends I call out to. And I will choose the ones that I will keep secrets from. And I will stop manipulating the situation. And I will stop hoping for something so unreachable that my arm could fall off from constant reaching.

This is who will come to me…

A man who is real
Who is not embarrassed to make me laugh
Who is comfortable in his own skin
But is also someone comfortable enough to admit his insecurities
A man who is great to his family
A man who is great to his mother
A man who knows what “no” means when I say it
A man who knows what “no” doesn’t mean when I say it
A man who will talk to me about anything, about God, about love, about sports, about cars, about people, about leg hair, about statues and mountains, about tables and chairs and bananas and death
A man who will listen when I rant, and console me when I cry
A man who will be patient when I whine and who will hug me when I open my arms to him
A man who is smart, who knows how to cross the street, who knows how to kick ass, who knows when to back down, who knows what it feels like to fail, to fool around, to pretend that he’s someone else
A man that is not perfect, but perfect for me

Bow.