Wednesday, June 17, 2009


This is the only time I'm going to write about this particular person.

This person, for some unknown, cryptic reason, decided that he really liked me.

That's all fine and dandy, like who you like, be who you are, listen to what you want, do what makes you happy. Really. As long as you are not harming or negatively impacting my life, go. Be. Do.

This person could not go or be or do. He wanted to go with me, be with me, do what I was doing.

Full disclosure: I am extremely touchy-feely with my family and my friends. I HATE IT when strangers touch me. They have germs. I don't know when the last time they showered was. I don't know if their clothes are clean. There are too many variables, and I am absolutely disgusted by anything that might be remotely dirty.

So. If you don't know me well and saw me with my friends, you might assume that, as a stranger or acquaintance, you can come up to me and hug me as a greeting. You would be mistaken. I need to suss a person out before they do something as inherently germy as touch me with more than the tip of their little finger.

This person. He's a nice person, which is the worst part. If he was a horrible person, perhaps I would have had no trouble telling him off (perhaps). If he was rude or mean or selfish or kicked puppies, I would not have remained civil and friendly, which is my autopilot.

He managed to alienate me and tear me away from my normally chipper facade by pushing me. Push, push, push. Tried to push me into some sort of relationship that I wasn't ready for. Tried to push me into spending more time with him. Tried to push into my personal (sacred) space. Push, push, push.

I don't respond well to pushes. I don't even respond well to subtle nudges. My instant reaction is to shove forcibly back.

So ... I shoved.

And when I shove, I do not look back. I have no regret or remorse. I am a cold, heartless wench when I want to be, and a good shove-off is indeed the perfect time for coldness and heartlessness.

Granted, getting to the stage where I am angry enough to overcome my passive-aggressiveness and actually shove takes a lot. I would rather put up with annoying people (generally) than deal with the fallout of confronting them. I know how the arguments would go, and I know that after the several hours of exhausting and pointless conversation, I will be even more irritated and angry, having lost hours of my life that I will never get back.

Besides, I'm always right. Why argue with people that will not admit/realize that?

Tonight was just ... poop.

I have not slept more than 6 hours in a few weeks. I am fatigued and stressed. I work every single day. This is not the time to try to talk to me when I have already shoved you out of my life and away from my conscious thoughts.

I'm sorry that I'm mean and I'm so evil. But as I give you license to live your own life, shouldn't you leave me to live mine? I don't want to "talk it out." I most certainly don't want to "hug it out." And I don't need "closure," I don't even know what that means.

I wish I could hibernate for about two months.