Still Pissed, but Disappointed and Other Things, too

I am still having a hard time believing that Brandon just friggin' up and left. I mean, I know I only dated the guy for five or six weeks, but I thought we had a nice little budding relationship going. How can the guy just up and leave without saying goodbye, without there being a fight or an uncomfortable situation, etc? I mean, wasn't he enjoying the sex just as much as I was? I still want the fucker to call me, and I still want there to be some big misunderstanding and that we can get "back together." I keep checking my damned phone. This, despite the fact that he is no longer listed as "Brandon" in my phone - he is now "Redneck Bastard." It's 2:33 in the morning, and I cannot sleep. Not at all. Went to bed around 10pm, and woke up around 1:45, and can't get back to sleep. Too horny. I've also realized that I think that I am unable to have a relationship. I think there is something missing inside of me - in my heart. I am unable to get excited about anyone, no matter how much I like them, because I always think they are just going to leave, anyway. Why get all excited and worked up and happy just to be disappointed and screwed in the end, anyway? I think men know when your heart isn't open, and try as I might, I cannot pry mine open. It seems to be impossible. But I'm horny as hell. So horny I can't sleep. I've decided that maybe I should turn into a deliberate slut instead of being an accidental slut. Accidental because I sleep with guys because I like them, turns out they don't like me that much, and so they leave. i.e. Brandon. So then I have to find someone else and the cycle starts all over again. Disgusting. Why should I wish for a long-term relationship when I'm just going to get scraps anyway? Why not just go for the scraps, knowing that that's what I'm going to get? What a shame that that's all I can come up with. No relationship - just shallow, meaningless sex. How depressing. I don't know how I'm going to get through the next few months. I am a schoolteacher (by accident), and I have the summer off. I'm not looking forward to the summer. I think I'm going to kill myself. Since I can't seem to form relationships, what is the point of being alive? I can't keep trying to sleep, not being able to sleep, being horny, not forming relationships, not falling in love, and spending hour after hour after hour alone. What is the meaning of being lonely, like Justin Timberlake said? I don't see a meaning in it, and I'm tired of being lonely. So, I think I'm going to do myself in. Thing is, I have to wait until the summer because I can't leave my kids in a lurch. I will probably lose my job at the end of the semester, anyway. I think my employer is on to the fact that I am unstable, even though I seem to the outside world to be stable as all get out. I think they know how fucked up in the head I am. I don't think they'll ask me back. So then I have no job, and no relationship prospects because I have no personality, and I have no heart and I can't form male-female bonds with people. I can form other bonds, just not the most important bond there is. And I don't want to live like this. I have been in therapy for 2 years, and I think I've come full circle. I tried to kill myself 2 years ago, but I didn't really know why. Now at least I know why I have to die. It's never going to work because there is something missing inside of me. So stop trying. Get on a "casual encounters" site, do those until you can't stand yourself anymore, and then do yourself in. I've got to get "permission" from my family, though. I hate what it's going to do to my mom and my brothers. I hate that. But I don't see a choice right now. I can't go on like this, and the summer is just going to be worse, not better. I did decide, however, to do something akin to LASIK surgery this summer. I figure, if there is a complication, like I lose my eyesight, it's OK because I'll be dead by the end of the summer, anyway. But at least I'll get to taste what it's like to see without glasses. Then there's the trip to Europe that I might take this summer. Hope that happens, too. The only problem is that there is a family reunion planned for Labor Day weekend, and I've agreed to do the family geneaology for it. Gee, I'd really like to be around for that, but I don't see how that's possible. I hate to disappoint all of my distant relatives, not to mention how much of a slap in the face it is to my ancestors to kill myself. I mean, they worked hard so I could have a good life, and now look what I'm going to do with it. Sucks. Terrible. I fell like a piece of shit. But again, I don't see any way out of it. I wish I could do drugs. Maybe that would make it easier. But I'm too much of a straight-lace, I wouldn't know where to get them, and I could lose my job if I got caught. So I won't. Oh well. The trick now is figuring out how to kill myself... that's for another post.

I am pissed off

I have decided to write this blog because I am pissed off. Several months ago, I was invited to join Facebook by an ex-boyfriend (whom I still loved at the time), and when I went to his page, it turns out the fucker's engaged and didn't have the balls to tell me. When I pointed this out to him he says, (of course), "I thought I told you!" Bastard. So today (at 4am), I thought about developing that Facebook page (I didn't have the heart to actually do it once I found out that my reason for creating one was to connect with a bastard who is now betrothed to someone else), and I was going to rant and rave there. Then I thought, hmmmmm....maybe I shouldn't do that. After all, employers typically Google prospective employees, and if I ever lose my job, I don't want to be blacklisted because all potential employers could read my Facebook page and see how unstable I am. And I am very mentally unstable. I have thought several times in the past few days about just how I'm going to kill myself. I've tried doing it once before (obviously unsuccessfully), and I'm thinking about doing it again. However, I realize this is impractical, because one can't die without pain, and I don't REALLY want to put myself through any pain. What I really don't want is a botched suicide that leaves me paralyzed, a vegetable, or otherwise unable to do the things I do now. That's what I'm really afraid of. So why do I want to kill myself? One word: men. I have had the WORST luck with men, and I just don't fucking get it. I have no idea why. I am not a bitch. I don't drive them away with my ranting or nagging. Just the opposite. I am very nice and loving. Perhaps that's the problem. Maybe I need to be a bitch. I have been thinking that that's exactly what I'll do. And I just might. If I can bring myself to do it. Trouble is, I don't really want to be a bitch, so will that make me happy? Not. But what else is there to do? Because whatever it is I'm doing now sure as hell isn't working. So, what's this about men that pisses me off? The fact that they are ALWAYS disappearing on me. I have had no less than six men disappear on me. Their names are: Tim, Ariel, Bradley (after whom I tried taking a shitload of sleeping pills), Tony, Keith, and now the latest: Brandon. I haven't talked to Brandon in pretty much over a week. The motherfucker went to Corona last Monday for a job, and he hasn't texted me since. I called and left a message on Wednesday asking if he was OK because he usually texts me nearly everday (hadn't talked to him after he left my house on Sunday morning after we had had hot, passionate sex three times in one night), and he did text me back. However, if I hadn't called, he wouldn't have texted, so it's pretty much like he disappeared after he left my place on Sunday. What a fucking bastard. Is that all he wanted - the sex? Couldn't he just ask for it without pretending so much like he wanted a fucking relationship? I probably would have given it to him, because I like sex just as much as he does (and he's very good at it). Why do men have to be so damned sneaky about shit all the time? Really fucks me up. Which is why my name is Canu Fukmee. I'm just waiting for the next guy to come along and fuck me over - both literally and figuratively, because apparently, that's all I'm good for. And I really don't get it - I mean, I'm very good looking, if I can say so myself, I have very large, beautiful brown eyes, I have medium-to-long hair, I have beautiful skin, I have a beautiful smile, I am very active, I have a hot body, I am very intelligent, and I am a good girl (with just a touch of a wild streak), so why do men feel like they can't be in a relationship with me? What the fuck is wrong? This guy, I was focusing on him - asked him what he wanted for breakfast, what is his favorite beer was so I can be sure to have it in my fridge when he got here, gave him a back rub without expecting one in return, etc. Did I shower him with too much affection and he figured out he could fall in love with me too quickly and then he bolted because he couldn't handle it? I don't know, and I will probably never know (see ex-boyfriend above) because even if I ask him, he will probably never tell me the truth. It is 4:29am, and I have been drinking like a sailor over this problem. How the hell am I supposed to get up at 6am to go to work? Am I going to have to call in sick? I sure as hell hope not. I don't know what I'm going to do. I cannot get my mind to stop spinning (not just from the alcohol, but from the fact that yet again, I've been taken advantage of). I don't know how I am going to get through this. And you know the worst part? I feel like I'm being a pussy. I mean, there are other people with WAY bigger problems than me, so why the hell am I wasting my time having a pity party for myself because a hot chick like me can't get laid every night (or every other night) like I want to and because I'm in my 30s, still not married, with few prospects in sight, and I can't even get into a relationship. The last real relationship (where we actually liked each other) that I was in was about 5-6 years ago. Yeah, that's right - 5 or 6 YEARS! The ex-boyfriend from above was 11 years ago - yeah, YEARS! And I did have a "boyfriend" about 2 years ago, but I really couldn't stand his ass. He was nothing more than a big penis (and he knew it). That's another story. This blog is getting long. How about I cut it off here (no pun intended). Sigh...I feel better already.