Except sometimes they are...

I don't know how much more of this I can take. I wake up and wish I could go back to sleep, but some nights don't even have dreams worth remembering. My life at this moment is certainly not memorable. I have to go into the past to find something that lets me know I was ever even a person. That's why I don't "de-clutter" my house. I would be erasing evidence of my personhood. And Sharon's. I only exist in pictures and writings that I have from times when I was conscious enough to document it.

I guess I just seek the external validation that I never feel I get enough, or the right kind of. Kind of hard to expect that when I don't do anything to touch others hearts. At some point I must have, or I guess I would have zero people interacting with me on Facebook. But those relationships and conversations seem so forced, so sanitized and "appropriate." I find myself falling into expected responses out of obligation, rather than being my most authentic true self. That's probably a good thing for everybody, as my authentic true self is a real poop.

I am re-reading some of my personal messages and conversations from a past acquaintance. Ok, lets's be accurate, an old love interest. There was a lot of emotion, insight and description of my experience with Sharon in those correspondences. As well as my usual tendency to take things too far when I got an idea that some girl was actually expressing any kind of interest in me.

This was from a time when things were getting bad with Sharon and I, and I guess I just needed someone who I could talk to that remembered a different me than the one who I had become. Rienna was perfect. She re-emerged in my life in the usual way, through Facebook, and we began having a conversation that helped me regain some of my lost humanity. She was also going through a rough patch, and it seemed so synchronistic that our paths crossed when they did.

Did I develop an inappropriate attachment to her at the time? Sure, I did. Do I regret it? Not in the least. It doesn't dilute my experience with Sharon. It gave me a needed boost at the time. When I read through them now, sure, I can see all kinds of glaring inconsistencies that may or may not constitute a "tragic flaw" in my hero's character. And I still don't care. We are who we are, and we love who we love, if we love at all.

So, as of right now, I am thinking of including some of that conversation in my "Big Book of Andrew," which I am feeling compelled to at least compile in a rough draft. I think of my words as some kind of currency, which have value, at least to me if no one else. I'm sure there are things in there that would be interesting enough for the average fan of human relationship drama. But I'll have to get her permission before doing anything so ridiculous as thinking about publishing it, online or otherwise. People can get funny when you air out all kinds of personal stuff in a public forum.

Other than that, I am just going to lament my previous existence, bitch about my present one and worry about my future (if there is one).