And you are so lame. You always disappoint me. It's kind of like our running joke. It's really not funny. I just want you to live up to the image of you I create. I see you and I'm so unsatisfied. I see you and I DILATE.

I swear, I am losing my mind. I am completely fucking schizophrenic. Morholt was right all those times he in all seriousness told me I was crazy. Fuck, Judy was right all those times she thought I was crazy and needed therapy. I'm so fucking selfish. Self-absorbed. Fucking...fuck, I don't even know.

Why is it these days that my happiness seems dependent upon having a man in my life? I have been single for a year now. For a long while, I was ok with that. Men were not sexual, I was not sexual and fuck anyone who even though about hitting on me. But as soon as a man comes along, watch out. Crazy, creepy, obsessive, freaky, can't-be-happy-unless-you-worship-me Isolt comes out. Here is what I mean.

So, Tristan has been a part of me for a few months now. I tried my best to hide the feelings I was developing for him. Hell, I tried to ignore it when directly asked. But, the truth came out, as the truth often does. ::kicks the truth:: The biggest problem? ::sigh:: I have told few people this, mostly because it is very easy to judge a situation such as this. Tristan, in fact, lives with someone. A female someone. Who is not I. I have said a million times, god indeed exists, and as punishment for my disbelief, he chooses to smite me in such a way as to put a dagger through my soul. See, if the world was just and right, there would be no female someone, and I would have money. Why money? So I can fucking fly Tristan here, that's fucking why!

Schizo. I'm fucking serious. I sit here, I wait around, I hope to god that something goes right, but in the end, I am reminded of how unhappy I am. I have to share him with someone. I have no choice. Well, I do have a choice, but that just goes to show once again how truly weak I am. I make the wrong choices. This is slowly killing me. I am living Isolt's life...in the end, my own grief shall be my demise.

So, Tristan arrives and the conversation is light, whatever. We are talking about a stupid game we both play. He makes reference to something he posted on our alliance board:

Tristan: Did you read my post on the Retal board in the thread on TIEd me Pants Up?

Isolt: not sure

Tristan: Oh, you'd remember if you did...I was laughing my ass off as I wrote it.

Isolt: lol - that's cute

Tristan: Isn't it, though...?

Isolt: yea. actually made me laugh out loud

And the post DID make me laugh. It was adorable, just like nearly everything he does or says is adorable. A moment after I commented, however, I burst into tears. Probably doesn't help that I was wallowing in some Ani at the time, but I started to cry, because once again, I was reminded that here is this wonderful man, whom I truly believe I love, and I cannot have him. And he always makes me smile. And he always knows just what to say. And he always manages to make me feel better, at least temporarily.

That makes me angry, because just once, I want to be repelled by him. It reminds me of when Morholt and I broke up and he said to me, "I wish I could be an asshole about this. I wish I could be the dick here, just so you would not have to feel so bad." I mean, I know he is sitting there, right now, and instead of talking to me, like I wish he could, he is not. And I know why. And I shudder to think of what might be going on over there. It kills me. Not really thoughts of him having sex with someone other than I, though I would be lying if I pretended that did not bother me. The intimacy is what bothers me and causes me the most pain. Thinking of him merely holding her, or stroking her hair, or doing any of the little things you do with someone you love, THAT is what tortures me. Not that either of us can control this. Not like he can leave her right now. I know that. It's like Ali said to me, You cannot help when and whom you love." She is right, though I wish she were not.

So, instead, I sit here and let my mind wander. That leads to badness. That leads to psychoticism. I want to believe that in the end, Isolt will ride off into the sunset with her Tristan. That, however, is not how the story ends. The story ends with Isolt of the white hands (and you want to hear creepy? Her name actually IS the same as mine in the story and reality) deceiving Tristan into believing his true love is never arriving. Her jealousy and possessiveness does not allow him to leave and be with the one whom he loves, so she tricks him and he dies alone. Isolt arrives and dies of grief. So, it's a fucking legend. So what. It fits me, it fits my life and more to the point, it fits this situation, more closely than I have let on to anyone.

when I say you sucked my brain out

the English translation

is I am in love with you

and it is no fun

but I don't use words like love

'cuz words like that don't matter

but don't look so offended

you know, you should be flattered

I wake up in the night

in some big hotel bed

my hands grope for the light

my hands grope for my head

the world is my oyster

the road is my home and

I know that I'm better off alone

A'int that the fucking truth?! God, I love Ani. I wish I could write like that. Fuck, I wish I could write, period. She speaks my mind so clearly right now. I have been brain sucked and it is no fun. FUCK ME! Why can I never be coherent? Why is my brain such a mess?

Isolt: [writing] its therapy for the mess that is my head.

Isolt: too many thoughts, too little space in which to hold them.

Is a little fucking happiness too much to ask for? Is it wrong to just ONCE have the thoughts stop? I recently read a diary that shocked me. I had no idea such things were going on. As much as I will never understand the outlets this person chose to rid themselves of the pain and the constant river of thoughts, I understand their frustration. More to the point, I understand the self-loathing and the need to torture one's self. My brain is a constant source of torture for me. Why? Dunno. Maybe I truly am a masochist. Maybe if I beat myself up over these things, I prevent myself from actual hurt, because who really could love one such as I? If I convince myself of that, then I cannot at all be shocked when the inevitable letdown arrives. I can't even be let down with myself, if I am convinced of my own unworthiness. Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Listening to Joyful Girl now. You know what I love most about this song? The fact that she sings about being a joyful girl when the music and tone clearly express a despondent girl.

everything I do is judged

and they mostly get it wrong

but oh well

'cuz the bathroom mirror has not budged

and the woman who lives there can tell

the truth from the stuff that they say

and she looks me in the eye

and says would you prefer the easy way

no, well o.k. then

don't cry

That's me. I had those lyrics in my profile for so long, which, by the way, I need to set back up. Those lyrics mean a lot to me for the sole reason that I am often misjudged. Always have been. Sometimes, the judgment is minor, sometimes very harsh and hurtful. Either way, I often feel misunderstood. Oh, poor woe is me Isolt, right? Yea, that's fair. The problem, however, is more that I often cannot tell the truth from the stuff that they say. In fact, the woman in the mirror often says worse things than "they" do. And I don't know how to stop her. She has a mind of her own. This is not healthy.

Fucking fuck on a fuck stick. I cannot find my simulated MBE book. Ok, I am going to have a nervous breakdown. I cannot TAKE the simulated MBE without my book. I cannot GET another book. How can I have lost a book I have never used and barely touched?! I think I am going to cry. Or kill myself. Nah. I can't kill myself, so I guess I will just cry. And listen to more Ani. And pretend I am self-assured, together and strong when I am a little fucking baby coward who can't get her own shit together, much less give advice to others about getting their together.