corporate espionage

letters to a aging broken heart...

"self-made"

I just figured out why I hate getting help from my parents. I hate feeling like I can't do things on my own. Or, maybe I'm broken.

"all before I'm thirty"

I'm sure everyone has his or her list... this idealistic notion of who they want to be by their so-called-peak.

kill me. kill me now.

I'm celebrating the last birthday of my 20's next month. I feel like I haven't accomplished enough. I'm running full speed ahead into walls and I keep hoping that there will be marysol-shaped holes behind me.

I wish I could write in my journal like I used to. It's saddens me... but I've avoided becoming an adult for far too long.

nine months in

I've been living here for the last 9 months... or at least coming up to it. I'm happy and I'm not happy. I remember when I had my heart massively broken, I asked my mom "are you happy?" and she answered, "honey, I'm medium happy."

There's this guy at work. He's ridiculously good looking and good looking men scare me. I suspect he's very close to my age and since he's from San Francisco, I thought we would hit it off, but we haven't really. We have barely spoken a few sentences with each other. We had a meeting this past week and we had quick introductions of ourselves, and our marital status were part of it- and his included "significant other... knows they're the one... will propose soon." 1- the inclination that he might be gay was more or less put to rest, and 2- He's my age or younger, and he's there. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I'm here in Guam trying to make the best of everything. But, I look at myself in the mirror and I'm so unhappy. But, every morning I head to work, I love that I have a purpose. I'm happy but I feel so left behind with life. Every time I try to make things work out, I feel like... things aren't.

I wish I were another girl. I wish I was beautiful and I wish I was sweet, and I wish I were more secure with myself and I wish of so many things for myself. And... the only reaction I can make is to drown myself in doing things... and when the insecurity surfaces yet again, I keep loading the plates. What AM I doing?

I've definitely grown a kind of cynicism, but I'm still dreaming. Yes and yet, I don't know what I'm doing...