this is a place. you might be a person.

I'm Macey. I am a person that does things. I'm lazy and hate change. I like moonlight. I like beer. That is all.

Sometimes I wonder if you’re still alive, if you’re finally happy, if you’re achieving your dreams. I wonder if I even remember what your dreams are. I wonder if you finally found somebody you could trust, and I’m sorry I couldn’t be that person. No one we knew still knows you. When I ask, they might have seen you around once or twice, but always in passing. They never know anything more about you. I suppose that assures me you’re still alive. That’s something. I never thought I would be so obsessed with somebody after so long. How long has it been? Two since I last caught a glimpse of you. Three since we lived in closer quarters. Even longer still since we last spoke as friends. I wish I had been mature enough to apologize, to understand, to care, even. I care now. They always say hindsight is twenty twenty…

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"I’m not “lock me in the closet for 4 hours” crazy, but you can slap me around a bit." - Even my dirty talk has references to reddit comments.3 notesreblog
Here’s the deal.

My boyfriend and I have been dating for 5 months. Most of the time, we see each other once a week. I’ll go stay at his place one night during the weekend. Occasionally, I’ll get an extra day with him during the week, but for the most part, I don’t. And while I really like him, seeing him so sparingly makes me feel unwanted. I haven’t even met his friends! 5 months and the only friend of his I’ve met is his roommate. I want to see him more. And I want him to try and make specific plans sometimes, instead of saying, “Oh, we should do such and such next week,” without actually setting a time for us to do that. It leaves me to be the one to actually set the plans. In the past, this has been a sign that the other person didn’t really care to do any of it. It was just convenient for them. So I’m hesitant to actually feel good about our situation right now. I find it difficult to think, “Hey, he really likes me!” So I told him. I told him I wanted to see him more often and that I wanted to not be the only one planning dates because it makes me feel needy. I told him this an hour ago, and he has yet to respond. I would have manned up and told him in person, but I’m not going to see him until god knows when. It needed to be said now. I feel guilty for doing this. That’s ridiculous. I have no reason to feel guilty. I have no reason to feel like I’m awaiting the end of the world. I shouldn’t dread standing up for myself, even when it’s for something relatively small.

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Standing up for myself makes me feel physically ill, and I think that’s a problem.

Why on earth should asserting my beliefs make me feel like I’m overstepping some line? Why shouldn’t I be able to say, “Hey, I need this to be happy.” Why do I feel so guilty? It’s ridiculous. I’m trying to ignore the knot in my stomach, because this is worth it. I need to learn to stand up for myself. I need to realize that I am important and deserving of the pursuit of happiness, just as much as anyone else. 

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Hopefully after gay marriage is legalized, they’ll let me marry my Kindle.9 notesreblog

dancinginthegrocerystore:

Wishing I wasn’t so damn awkward and nervous blog 2k11.

biggest story of my life. :(

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I honestly don’t know why I still expect my mother to act like a mother.

She has never listened to me, and she never will. I keep setting myself up, “maybe this time…” I should know better by now. I try to connect. I try to invite her into my life, to give her opportunities to show that she actually gives a shit, but all she does is tear me down. I can’t wait until I no longer owe her anything. I plan on disappearing, because she really isn’t worth having in my life.

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So I told my mom I think I have ADD.

She just rolled her eyes and said, “Pffft, everyone in our family thinks they have ADD,” and walked away. I am fucking furious. Are you kidding me? When I almost had a full on break down last year, and finally got the guts to tell her so I could look into getting help, she was all “I’m your mother and I want to take care of you” or some shit like that, but look at her now. I try to tell her about a serious problem I have, so that I can maybe get checked out by a doctor and find out if this is really where my problem has been all along, and she blows it off like a fucking joke.

I mean, in the long run, it really doesn’t matter, because I can’t get medicated for it anyway, if that’s really what’s wrong with me, because then I won’t be allowed in the military, but it’d be nice to know, you know?

In short, fuck you, Mom, you’re a bitch and a shotty mother. I’m scared to have kids in the future, because I’m scared I’ll be like you, and instead of turning out as surprisingly well as I have, my kids might turn out like my brothers are, and I just can’t have that.

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I might do this at some point. They’re interesting prompts.
when people are all “I can’t stand when people can’t have fun without being inebriated” I’m like… sure you can have fun sober, but drunken fun is just so much MORE fun.

It’s like… if fun is a burger, and you’re all “I don’t know why you’d go through all the trouble of grilling a burger at home when you can just go to McDonald’s.” Sure, McDonald’s burgers are alright (not really), but a home packed and grilled burger is just supreme.

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You’re one of the only people whose opinion I legitimately care about, and you’re the only one blatantly unhappy with what I’m planning to do with my life.

To say I’m frustrated would be a severe understatement.

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I often wonder if my mother ever noticed I had a problem and chose to ignore it, if she was really as oblivious as she seems, or if I was really as good at hiding it as I thought I was at the time.

Because seriously, I was pretty fucked up before I went to NCSSM, and I find it hard to believe that she never noticed.

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whiny venting that can be ignored.

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what’s awkward is watching the episode of How I Met Your Mother where Barney deals with all of the lies his mom told him growing up, including who his real father is, with my mom, who never even mentioned my father.

and when the narration mentions how Barney always felt incomplete with not knowing who his father was, but now realized that he had one hell of a mother, and I’m just like “bitch better not get any ideas about how awesome she is.” Because I do not believe that she is.

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