Look in the Other Direction

..This ain't gonna be pretty.

Sometimes the past is like a primordial bog, or a big bottomless hole full of quicksand. Everything seems fine until you step in it, and suddenly you're up to your neck in stinking, sucking guilt and sickness and stupidity that won't let go. Ok, I've taken that metaphor as far as it can go.

Anyway, I am either apallingly self-absorbed, or I have a horribly one-track mind that can't seem to change direction once it points its nose south. I keep replaying things that have happened in my head, myself more ridiculous and cartoonishly pathetic in each repetition. If things are going too well for too long, I start feeling inexplicably guilty, as if I have undoubtedly done something dreadfully wrong, and I'm waiting for someone to tell me what.. knowing that it will be disgustingly obvious to me once it's pointed out to the rest of the world.

I am sabotaging myself. I am acutely aware of this fact. But I can't seem to get that mud off my feet.

I know that I can't be personally at fault for everything that ever goes wrong in my world. I know that other people have more important things to think about than me and my conversational faux pas (what's the pleural of faux pas? Faux pases? Er. No.)

The knowledge does not stop me from saying stupid things, or from berating myself mentally for weeks to come. I am sick of it. I am hoping that I will become irritated enough with myself to figure out some way to make it stop.

Just Stop, you say? Fine. We all know how easy that is. But don't think about any blue eyed polar bears while you're telling me to Just Stop. See how easy that is?

The point is that I don't want to think about how many times I have put my foot in my mouth anymore. I don't want to think about my parents or their religion or the mind-fuck that it's been for me my entire life. I don't want to think about my train wreck of a marriage, or the fact that I can't seem to get the relationship thing down on any level. And I certainly don't want to think about those days of subsisting entirely on oatmeal cookies and diet coke. Expecially now that I look in the mirror and see the shadow of the hippo to come, if I don't get serious and do something about it.

Feh. I am afraid I am not at all entertaining this evening. Not that anyone reads this thing anyway.

On another note, the constant comments of our friends about our "upcoming wedding" are really starting to bother me. I don't want him to feel as pressured as I do about it. I love him to death, and I am officially single again now. That doesn't mean that we have to walk down the aisle next week, for chrissakes. Give us a break.