raybear | Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind If I fear I'm losing you it's just no good

So. I basically have no urge whatsoever to rehash my weekend. "Was it bad?" Not at all. On Friday, MelRo returned earlier than expected -- I had only been home from work for about 30 minutes. To be honest, stuff that happened on Friday evening, Saturday and Sunday afternoon sort of all blur together. We basically just spend most of the weekend either unpacking parts of the apartment or sleeping or talking. She was exhasuted and slightly sick. I got up early on Sunday and went to the old place and tossed a lot of the big furniture and moved the last carload. I still need to clean the place, which I will try to do tonight, even though I really don't want to.

On Saturday night we went to L__ and R___'s poetry performance and it was awesome. There was a great moment where L___ read this poem she wrote for me about a year ago when I came out to her as trans. I knew she would be reading it, and I haven't read it in a long while -- so it totally felt different this time. I actually got a little misty-eyed, which is very hard to do to a trannyboy on T. I love her.

So I have probably pages and pages I could write about what's going on with MelRo and me. But I don't really feel like it. Or if I do, I'm not sure I want people to read it. Or if I want her to see it later, because what I'm feeling right this second is most likely fleeting and won't mean anything in one week, one day, or even one hour. So I don't want her to read something here and feel bad. Though that's sort of how I feel about her reading anything in my journal. It shouldn't be assumed that I STILL feel the way I describe in a particular entry. So maybe with that caveat, I might write something later. Or now. I don't know.

I guess to be honest, the weekend sort of met my own expectations in a lot of ways -- but I feel like other people in my life had these other expectations and then they ask me "so how was your weekend? *wink wink*" and I can be a bad liar sometimes. I'm either the world's best or the world's worst. But it wouldn't BE lying, since it's not like things were bad at all -- it's just not what they're expecting or picturing, and it's none of their business anyway and half the time they don't REALLY want to know what happened. I don't know. I should just rehearse saying "it was good" with a smile, and let them interpret the silence on their own.

In other news, I feel totally helpless. Why do I have to be such a problem-solver all the time. Why am I still convinced I CAN do something even when I "admit" that I know I can't? Why do I lie to myself and others? And to her, a little.

Time. everything will be okay with time, right? I've been ruined by time before, though. It can heal and adjust, but it can also push up walls and smooth over cracks in such a way that you can never go back and really fix the foundation. I don't which is happening.

I want to be charming. And flirtatious. And funny. And strong. And handsome. And attractive. And all-loving. And forgiving. And understanding. And basically win everything over to my side. But instead I feel needy and childlike and stupid and incapable. Mostly just out of control.

But not bad. I'm not walking around feeling sad or tortured or depressed or upset. I just feel...uncomfortable. Unsettled. Distant.

But even that comes in waves. Which leads me to believe it's temporary. But still potent and present and affecting.

I think so many things are up in the air. Once the apartment gets put together. Once we readjust to seeing each other every day. Once I feel at home in my new place. Once I get started on my creative projects. All inside myself will feel much better. And the other stuff will be easier to deal with.