missing someone

Have you ever missed having a friend?  I don't mean chat over a muffin and coffee, I mean drink wine till it's too late and you've had too much, spill out all your pain and listen to theirs, someone you TRUST.  The kind of friend who reaches into your closet and comes out with a top and looks at you in disgust (yes that blouse, with the cute blue flowers) the friend who points out chain wrapped thigh high boots and yells "yes!  Get them!".  And you never question him or her for a moment.

That's the sort of friend I miss.  I keep looking down here but can't connect with anyone.  For one thing, they all have loads of children.  This place is populated by rabbits!  So no wine, no out too late, and they like the ugly blouse (hides juniors stains) and think the boots are sleazy.

Sigh.  I'm desperate for a friend.  Drool over superheroes, catty comments over female villains, pass the merlot I'm still sober...

If you know anyone like that on this rock, send 'em my way.  I wanna dress up in black and see how many men try to pick us up before the night is over.  Oh yeah, no singles my age.  A good bottle of hair dye and some sit ups (ok as lot of sit ups) and I could always lie.


Well it's barely past seven, I've only had half a glass of merlot, and if I put on black and slinky I'll have to have sex and frankly don't wanna.  I think I'll put on an ugly grey t shirt and go to bed.  Enough pills ought to knock me out and over the years I've built up a HE'LL of a resistance to them thanks to trying suicide over and over and over... no one believed me you see.



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Sometimes friendship is so how is everything what I say . When I'm angry I have to edit what comes out. When I'm sorry or I'm sad I have to edit what I say or I'll make someone else feel worse and of course then I feel worse. When I'm happy and excited I have to be careful that I don't say the wrong way. I don't want to edit myself. I've had friends in the past where I didn't have to worry about so much editing, each of us parts I could bemoaned my life and she would try to make me understand, she would bemoan her life and I would try to make her understand. . Now I have to wait for someone else to heal enough that I can say what I want when I want. Not because I want to hurt them but because I want to feel safe.

 I want best friend but how can someone be a best friend if you don't feel safe around them ? isn't that the very definition of a best friend? They make you feel safe?

 I guess but I really need is a girlfriend. The one without the children on this island is hard time. Can't go to the bar because you have to be home to take care of the kids . Can't drink because you're breast-feeding. Can't find babysitters around. Don't want my place because I'm not home or on my voice . I know a couple of them who don't have grown young children but instead have grown children however, one of them is the most upstanding Christian you've ever met, another is a solid Catholic, and the third keeps posting all of these supportive comments about death . Considering I hate religion in all of its forms right now please don't really work for me

Still lonely.

Why do I do this?

Why do I post in different blogs? Because I like to find people. Old friends, current friends, new friends. I like to find common interests or new ones that intrigue me. I've found wonderful ideas and new points of view and lots of laughter through these.

I have some public, some anonymous for those really loud rants and raves and secrets I want to scream but am afraid to tell my friends. I dump out my thoughts, both good and bad, I've been known to post stories that get raves, poetry so bad no one will comment, pictures of people I love, and really really stupid articles on people who don't belong in the gene pool.

You don't know which way I'm going to turn, and it's for a damned good reason that's no one's business but my own.

Friends will get raves and commentary, family will almost never show up unless it's to rant about them. And I admit I love to chatter on endlessly in circles. Just ask me about Disney World, my Grandmother, my beliefs, my husband or my best friends. I won't shut up.

A good description of my style of talking is I-696 during rush hour (5 lanes of gridlock moving at about 90 mph) and if you want to interrupt you have to yell "MERGE!" so I will take a breath. My writing is pretty much the same.

So this is a diary/instruction format/learning point for me. Off I go to wander aimlessly. Let's find out what today holds in store besides the donuts next to the coffee pot (always offer to buy the donuts, you're guaranteed something you like).