...Diary of a Bitter Recluse

DISCLAIMER: I do realize, not all boys are stinky. Just the ones that I know.

Okay. So for the past few months I've been in a situation that at the best of times can be described as 'trying,' -- it's gotten from bad, to good, to bad again, to worse.

Part of me hoped that despite the past transgressions of the person I love-- we had begun to be honest and open with each other, and finally move forward.

Some joke that turned out to be. Sometimes I think I'm the most gullible person on the planet.

I have to keep reminding myself that not everyone is like me; not everyone is as transparent as me. I used to think he was. I used to think that when he said he was 'bumming around not really doing anything,' he meant it. Why would he lie? I wouldn't lie to him about it, so why would he to me?

Like I said. Gullible. Me.

I... found out some things. Bad things. Things that can make me rethink every second of every day for the past three years. Things that basically tell me, 'well, there we go, that's all folks, it's all been done...' and other cliche breakup lines

Oh, it's not as bad as all that, I guess. I wasn't cheated on (this time). I was just lied to. Continuously. For three years.

I try to be honest when I'm with someone. That's just it, though. I'm too honest. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I say absolutely everything I feel when I'm in love. In fact, sometimes I can't shut the fuck up about how I feel or how I don't feel, to the point of annoyance. I forget not everyone is like me. Some people are extremely introvert and can't open up. Thats fair enough.

But thats not what this is. This is plain out lying to my face. And it isn't the first time I've caught it. But it is the last time.

I don't want to sound angsty and whiny and stuff, I just am seething inside right now-- although I know it doesn't seem it-- and whenever things are bad for me I retreat into myself, as usual. So again when you don't see me around, I'll still be here, but not here. Or something.

I hope you're all well, and if you're reading, I miss you, Zombs and hope you're feeling better from before. I should email you soon but you know me. ><;

I don't know if I should. On the one hand, I think the whole 'no basic accounts' thing is the beginning of the end for LJ. I think it's just a matter of time before even older users are forced on plus. And once that happens, I'm out of here. So I'm wondering if I should jump ship early? On the other hand, I started on LJ and it's been my home for a long time. I can make my own layouts there, and use the LJ tools I'm so fond of, as well as all my friends still being on there.

Vox is a lot prettier. Although it's owned by Six Apart anyway and has ads on site, so maybe I'm just substituting one 'the man' for another. D=

What LJ should have done is kept basic accounts and upgraded 'plus' accounts to be so IRRESISTIBLY AWESOME that it would tempt even the most vehement ad-hater (me) into considering switching to plus-- As it was, it's never seemed worth it to me... albeit I was considering getting a paid account. But as it happens, thanks to the recent underhandedness of the bosses over at ELJAY, I really don't want to give them a dime. =\

What to do... what to do...

For the time being, I've just enabled cross posting and I might just use my Vox more. *shrug*

So hay. This is my private journal. My public one (where I maintain a semblance of normality!) is here:
The Warped Warblings of Dunneh ...and Other Cute Stories

This, however, is another can of worms. It chronicles non-dolly stuff (unless it's like a great big bitchin dolly post, woot!). It's basically the egotistical rants of a crazy person. You know, everything you hate about online blogs, yeah? It's right here!

I only add you if I think you are teh cul like me, (which means nothing, just try to keep an open mind...). Comment if you wish to be added. I know, you don't... I wouldn't want to be added either. I have trust issues so some things will be protected, and some won't.

Be warned... I'm a closet masturbator lunatic.