You know those days. They wear you out. Break you down. Leave you an exhausted heap of tears and flesh. Yeah.

Days like today? Need to never happen. I don’t like them. They’re not my friend.

Days like today make me want to go incognito. Just like this:

One thing people always find out pretty quickly about me is that I am sarcastic. Not like normal sarcastic, I am really, really sarcastic. Like, undeniably sarcastic. Sometimes it’s a little quirk that my friends like about me, but sometimes, I can get downright mean without ever even meaning to. One second, I’m joking around, a really mean joke opens up, and the next thing I know, I feel like crap because what I just said? It was downright bitchy.

I guess I’ve known this about myself for a while. It’s just one of those things. I don’t get really mean often at all, but when I do… It’s bad.

I say that I don’t get mean often, but that’s not entirely true. It depends on the person I’m joking around with. If they think it’s funny and will shoot it right back at me, I’ll go with it and have fun. If the person takes me seriously, then I guess I know that it’s time to stop.

Moose was one of those people, the ones that jokes right back at me. And we can get really mean to each other. We started off as friends more than a year ago, and that’s how our interactions sometimes were. Just really, gut-wrenchingly mean; but it didn’t matter, because we both knew we were joking. Neither of us took the other seriously when we got like this, so all was well.

That is, until we fell in love. It’s strange how before, a friend telling you these really mean, but totally not serious things was hilarious, and then once love gets thrown in the mix, all of the sudden, those mean things that you totally never took seriously are all of the sudden hurting your feelings.

But did I stop? No. Because sometimes it takes a good slap on the head to get something to sink in for me. I continued the joking. We would both get our feelings hurt, and then we would apologize and everything would be fine again.

That was until the other night, during the middle of a exhaustion-inspired fight, He said, “You do that to me all the time…” My response? “But I’m always joking when I say it!”
And all of the sudden, it occurred to me. Maybe he doesn’t think of it that way. Maybe I’m being a terrible bitch, and I don’t even know it. Maybe I’m being just like his ex. Maybe that was his ex’s defense for being so mean to him. And I don’t want to be anything like her. She was downright mean. There were times that I would hear something come out of her mouth, and just want to walk over and apologize to him for her. Like, Holy crap. Did she just say that to a man she is supposed to love?

I won’t let myself be like her. I want to be a great girlfriend, one that he wants to stick it out with, and maybe even one day settle down with. And no guy settles down with a bitch, with a girl that treats him like crap. And that’s not the kind of girlfriend I am, anyway.

And it wasn’t until that moment that I realized that the line we’d so boldly crossed months back, the line between friends and more than friends, required more adjustments than we’d really had time for.

In that moment, I made a promise to myself to be less downright mean. Not even if I’m joking. I love this man, and I really think things could work out. And I’m certainly not going to ruin it for a joke every now and then.

And things? Are improving. When you’re not cutting each other down for the sake of a laugh, it’s amazing how much your relationship improves. Shocker, I know. We’re still trying to adjust to our new roles as boyfriend and girlfriend, instead of best friends, but the greatest thing about our relationship? We can talk to each other. We can work things out. If we’re scared, we tell each other. If we’re angry, we cool down, then talk it out.
That’s the best part about being in love with your best friend.

So, I wrote this yesterday with the intention of posting it yesterday. That didn’t happen, because I was a.) distracted with friends partying and alcohol, and b.) retarded. (Hey, at least I’m honest with myself, right?)

Today, I turned 22. I’m so wonderfully excited for my birthday, as I am every year, because it means a chance to celebrate my existence. Which is always plenty reason to party. Always.

When I think about where I am in my life, compared to a year ago, I feel like I’m on the cusp on a very amazing time in my life.

The Thursday before July 4th, I quit/got fired from my job. I was unhappy there; there was too much bullshit, and it’d been that way for a really long time. So, for the first time in about 4 years, I am unemployed. At first, this freaked me out. I was no longer defined by my job for the first time in a really long time. And that’s a scary thought for someone who tends towards work-aholism.

But now, I see it a different way. Instead of fear, I see it as a fresh start. I’ve found someone who truly makes me happy. Someone who pushes me just as much as I push him.
And now, I’m done with the crappy job where I never was appreciated, and was over-worked; I’m ready to start anew.

There’s this job that I’m going for, where you travel to all kinds of places and set up new stores. We’re talking the entire Pacific Coast, from San Diego to Seattle, Las Vegas, Chicago, New York, Florida, even Alaska and Hawaii. It would be both Moose and I, just traveling the country. Together.

He wanted me to not have a job, and just travel with him and focus on honing my writing skills, he’s that supportive of me and my writing. The money is great enough that we could do it, and still be able to save up for our future, and only one person would have to work. But, me being the person I am, I couldn’t do it. So, we’re both going to work, and both going to work on our writing.

I think I’m ready for this new start. Moose used to travel doing this exact thing; but for me, the girl who has barely been out of the South (I went to Wyoming once, and that’s it for the most part.), it’s the first opportunity of its kind.
I’m 22. I say it’s time. Time to GO. See new places, experience things that I’ve never experienced before. And to do it all with my best friend? Hell to the Yeah.

I’m just really happy now. I feel like I have so much ahead of me, and I’m ready to get to it, finally.

As far as my home life, I’m so completely content. We just moved into this amazing, charming house. With a yard. (I haven’t had a yard since I moved out of my Dad’s.)

Moose and I are, of course, amazing. Before I quit The Hotel, my boss came in and asked about Moose. I told him that he was good, and that we’d be working together. He mentioned how great of a team we always made, and I heartily agreed. (This was before we were even together.) He’s my best friend, my teammate. I can tell him any and everything, and we actually work through our problems. Things aren’t perfect, as they never are; but they’re really, really good. I’m starting to realize that relationships aren’t supposed to be really difficult. Not when both parties work together. We talk about our problems, and work through them, instead of ignoring them, or letting them cause a fight.

He’s amazing, as is his son. He really likes me, which just makes me so happy. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, when I come back, he rushes up to me to hug my leg. He’s truly amazing. I’m not playing Momma, because I don’t have to. He has a mom, I’m just playing the Dad’s Girlfriend that you really like, and that’s really cool, and likes to play with your toys and video games as much as you do. We all know (and love) her, right?

My blog will probably become something different as I go through these changes, but I still want to write. That’s a definite priority to me. There’s nothing more important to me being me than writing. Like the song that inspired my blog name,

Your clothes never wear as well the next day
And your hair never falls in quite the same way
You never seem to run out of things to say

Because even though I’ve been despicably absent from my blog, I’ve actually still been writing quite a bit. So, that’s to answer y’all’s question of “Where’ve you BEEN?!” I’ve been adjusting. Contemplating. Changing (for the better, I hope). Trying to find out where blogging time fits in to my active and busy life.

I always celebrate The Fourth. It’s an amazing holiday. It’s TWO WEEKS until my birthday.

Yep. Also, there might be something else..

I think every girl one wants to be wanted, to be desired, cherished, appreciated. And, It sort of goes along with the territory of being with a woman. It’s just understand. Want her, like she wants you. Appreciate her, sacrifice for her, the way she appreciates and sacrifices for you. Cherish her, and don’t keep it a secret.

That’s what every girl needs, at her core. To be loved by the person that she loves more than all others.

She wants to be needed, more than anything else.

I love you, and you know that. I sacrifice for you, and I am appreciated for it. You make sacrifices, and it makes me love you that much more. You’re so amazing, in so many ways, but you’re also so very independent.

And you, Well, you don’t need anything outside of yourself. You resent needing to eat or sleep. Even as crucial as they are to your wellbeing, you still resent having to succumb to such a weakness as needing rest or sustenance.

But the truth is, the stuff I won’t tell you, or even let on, is that I need you. Desperately. I’m sure you can see it written all over my face, or can tell from just one kiss. I need you as deeply and completely as I need oxygen. I miss you when we’re not together, hunger for your embrace.

And I hate it that you don’t need me in the same way. I hate being in this position. I hate not being the one in control, of my heart, my head, my feelings. I hate not being the one with all of the cards. I hate that you hold those cards that I’m so accustomed to keeping in my possession. I hate that I’m the one out on the limb, and you’re sitting comfy, with nothing on the line. And I hate that you’ve opened me up so much, to get me to this point, and haven’t opened yourself up enough to be there with me.

And I’m scared. I think that’s why I’m so paranoid, all the time. Every time I think of how much I’ve given you, because I trust you with my heart, with my whole self, and I’m not comfortable being that vulnerable, and I get really scared. I’m absolutely terrified at letting you know just how vulnerable I am. How scared I am. How badly I need you.

Part of me, the part that’s been hurt one too many times before, is telling me, screaming at me, to run away as fast as I can. To run, and not think about looking back. Go! Go. To where it’s safe. Where there’s no risk. Just GO.
And, to be completely honest, I want to listen to that part. That voice grows quieter the longer we’re together, but it’s still not completely silent. I’m still scared. My heart-survival instinct is still telling me to run for the fucking hills as fast as fucking possible. And to know that you don’t need me the way that I need you? I often find myself fighting every night just to stay put. Because I don’t want to be just that completely exposed, vincible, weak.

Because, as you well know, that’s not who I am. I am strong, I am WOMAN. I am head-strong, and very independent. I don’t need a man, no more than I need anything else that’s superfluous. Sure, I want another car, more clothes, a man, but I don’t need one.

Or at least that’s the way I was. Then there was you..

And now I’m left wondering who the hell I am now. Am I still a strong, independent woman? Or have I become what I’ve always despised? A woman who actually *gasp* NEEDS her man?!

I want you to need me, too. I need you to need me, the way that I need you.
I don’t know why I wrote about this, or where I was going with this, or what I even hoped to accomplish in writing this. I guess I just needed to get it off my chest…