I'm a fleabit peanut monkey

It's times like these when I just want to curl up in a ball and sip SKYY from the bottle and listen to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Strokes and totally revert back to the way I was four years ago, when I was so sure of everything and it was all so real and comfortable.

I guess monogamy isn't something deeply rooted in human physiology. It makes sense. I'd think it'd be more efficient to mate with multiple partners to insure at least one comes out okay.

But that's dealing with procreation. Maybe love is just a manmade sensation, like I always said. I don't feel the same way for Jimbo as I did before. There's been far too much hurt. Faaarrr too much. But maybe a part of me still loves him.

I don't want to believe that love is a phantom experience conjured up by the human psyche--something that people only hold conviction in because it's been reinforced by the media since media has existed. But that's how it feels sometimes.

Then again, just when you think your life is over and you're sure you couldn't possibly feel something so amazing and euphoric, another love comes along and changes your mind. I was terribly hopeless, but not for long.

Over the past two months, I've learned so much about myself--things everyone else already assumed, I guess. My time the first month was occupied by my scissoring away at that thick cord that kept us attached for so long. I had them both at my disposal. Jimbo and Lewis. And I made a decision, and disposed of one of them. But I soon found myself digging through the garbage trying to reappropriate my losses.

I JUST WANT TO BE FRIENDS.
I know we can never be more again.
I didn't anticipate, before I walked through his doorway, that I'd have my heart crushed into a million and a half pieces.
Not two.
Not four.
A million and a half.

It was true. My intentions weren't ill. I just wanted to be held. As queer as it sounds, it's the honest-to-Clapton truth.

Lewis better not disappoint me. That's all I have to say. I realized I'm too good to deal with crap. I even ventured so far as to believe I didn't need a guy. And it's true; I don't. So, in fashion of the credo I have about everything else in life, if one comes along that makes me unhappy, there's is no fucking reason I should keep him in my life.

And that's another thing. I don't know what the hell was wrong with me. I want to be a writer. So I should be doing WELL in AP English. Instead I let my pride get the best of me and refused to turn in anything other than perfect papers. I had two mediocre ones, and GOD FORBID I let one man who I'll probably never see again after next semester read them. By the time I realized I was wrong, they were only worth 1/4 credit. I'd never failed any class in my life before that.

I'm still Gloria, and just as confident and loud and bold and fearless. [I guess that's ONE thing I can always be sure of--myself.] But I've got in under more control now.. or any control at all.

One thing I am always be grateful for, besides myself [heh heh], is the support system I've built up over the years. I really DO have the best friends in the world. After two years of being abandoned and left in the shadows, THEY welcomed ME with open arms. I never expected a winter formal dance would leave me so high!

Eh, the way things were four years ago doesn't seem so appealing anymore, now that I've thought about it. I've grown so much. And just when I think I'm done, my soul shoots up a few more metaphorical inches.

I'm gonna reach the sky, darlings.