The things that you say that you do...

It's been a bit.

I know, I know. Six different kinds of fail. It's not like things haven't been happening, my life has suddenly grown dull. No, things are still chugging along, life is still odd, observations running full tilt, like they do. Still spending most of my time off in my head, watching the world.

It actually hasn't been that long. It only feels like it, I think, because of all the things I've been getting up to.

Kinda hard to cover them all. The experiences stack up and I only have short periods of time to allot to attend to them.

Family- my sister's exboyfriend phoned her with a suicide threat. After his mom called the cops, he admitted he only did it so they would get back together. Reminded me of the boyfriend I had when I was 17-18. He used to threaten suicide all the time, run off into the night saying he was going to throw himself into the nearest large intersection, but actually hide in the bushes. He was... 27, I think. A year older than I am now. Funny how then it seemed normal, and now it seems like crass idiocy.

Date- I have a date this weekend. No, not a serious one. Just a "get to know you" date. A "maybe we'll connect" date. Which I normally would've said no to, but when a man in his early forties with a shaved head who directs porn and owns a large loft/studio/warehouse/dungeon in downtown asks you out after you break up with a man in his early forties with a shaved head who has porn filmed in his large loft/studio/dungeon/adult club in Hollywood, you say yes.

Because I couldn't say no.

Because it's too goddamned silly.

And it cracks me up, in a way, because I am nowhere near as hot as the girls these guys see every day are, yet I'm the girl they ask out.

Win for me?

Work- training my assistant is... interesting. I'm trying out a new way to train and my boss wants me to document it so it can be implemented for future hires... assuming it's successful. The assistant himself is a total, total omega. At least in the way I view them, which may or may not be accurate to public opinion. He makes betas look alpha. It hurts. I want to take him to the kennel and teach him how to use newspaper instead of just making a mess everywhere when he "potties". He's a nice guy just... yeah.

Been talking with Roman a lot.

He's been going through some life upheavals.

It's... odd. I feel so connected to this man. Not necessarily in a romantic sense, but just, we get each other. We get each other in that basic way. So much so that we can actually talk to each other. About anything. Well, anything for me. He's still a bit hesitant. Doesn't matter. That driving urge for understanding I have so deep in me, that haunts me so much, he meets it.

Unusual.

He talks to me and I mellow out. My anxiety, my stresses, they leave my system and I feel like I can breathe again.

Hard to imagine I won't have his constant companionship soon.

But that's the way life goes.

I have a picture of my mother on her wedding day on my desk. She's holding her bouquet, smiling so widely, her dress pooling out around her. I have her smile.

I think she was twenty-three when she married my dad.

That's the way life went.

Twenty-three and so in love, so young, so inexperienced. They've been married over twenty-five years and the things they have gone through together are things that none of them had any inkling of when they met, when they married. My father danced at the wedding reception with his older sister, tall and blonde. Didn't know that a few decades later they'd find her body in the garage, a bullet in her brain.

Things move on. We just keep stringing ourselves through time, linked by experiences.

In a few years, I'll have lost friends to life, and I'll have gained new ones. I'll have dated and slept with men that I have yet to meet. Another broken heart, another experience to scribble about here, half-mad with exhaustion. Sweep me off my feet, then set me back on my heels.

There are people we connect with that we can't imagine not being there, in some capacity, for the rest of our conscious existence. Our parents are there from the moment we're born (usually) onward, our world is defined with them as part of it.

When they die, when they leave, what happens to our world? That role they filled can't be occupied by another.

To someone, somewhere, we truly are unique snowflakes. Common, but unmatched.

He asked me why I am so fascinated with him.

Am I supposed to say that every tone in his voice, I hear? Each word, each inflection, the shift in his moods comforts me. It's warm. It's like hearing every fantasy I've ever had come to life in a rough reality.

But it doesn't matter.

There are things that are real, things that will not be real. It doesn't matter how good you are, how true, how brave, there are things that will not be changed. It's not that they cannot be changed, but there are paths and dreams to follow, and friends wish you well, a smile, a hug, and hope that things work out to your fondest hopes.

Because they're nothing more to do.

And that's the way it goes.

To attempt to change it would be selfish, to demand more would be obscene.

I'll settle for what I have, keep ticking out these words, writing alone in my apartment, listening to the water run through the pipes and the traffic speed through the streets.

In the morning, I'll wake up, stretch, and keep living.