Here I Go Again On My Own…

“And here I go again on my own
Goin’ down the only road I’ve ever known
Like a drifter I was born to walk alone
An’ I’ve made up my mind, I ain’t wasting no more time
But here I go again, here I go again”

First off, I apologize to anyone I got Whitesnake stuck in your head. It’s been in my own head for the entire afternoon so, misery loves company.

You might have thought, Ah! if you read my last entry, a poem called: I Love. That maybe I found a relationship, or at the very least am that I’m currently happy, especially for those who read the dating saga months of September and October of 2020. After that, it was like I disappeared from writing all together after my November 1st entry. Not necessarily the internet, oh no I was definitely still online and even dating online, I just was struggling internally to write about it. The thing was, I definitely did want to write about it, I wanted to write about all of it. I even got a very nice comment from one Stuart Danker that he was looking forward to future dating posts on a very well intentioned “Coming Back Soon” entry that I posted literally on my birthday. It’s just every time I found myself trying to come back to the keyboard, I found myself not being able to.

Managing Your Expectations

“Manage your expectations,” my subconscious ominously says to me.

“What?” I reply

“Manage your expectations,” it says again.

“What does that even mean?”

“I dunno,” it shrugs nonchalantly as if it could care either way. “I just deliver the messages.”

“Thanks….” I reply, annoyed. My subconscious, third eye, intuition, whatever you want to call it, can be a real vague bitch sometimes. “I don’t even know what to do with that information,” I say in frustration.

//Warning// This Blog Post Contains Strong Sexual Language and Talks of Sensitive Subjects Such as Suicide Others Might Find Triggering.

Closure

I like how sometimes you get the closure you didn’t even know you needed in unexpected ways. Yesterday the Cuban messaged me out of no where. The last I wrote about him was on the 7th of October but that was before we had mutually ended it. We had decided we weren’t a good fit together a few days later on the 12th. We were just two different types of people and while I was willing to try and work out some kind of compromise, I didn’t feel like the Cuban ever wanted to meet me half way. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.