My one a.m. blog

I am writing. And it is one in the a.m. This sounds unhealthy, but I am doing it.

I was watching SYTYCD. Lots of dancing. Lots of music. And it made me lonely.

I'm suppose to be at IHOP right now with my friends. Actually I was suppose to go to a Sadies dance (stag I ain't askin no boy out) and dance the night away and THEN run to IHOP at one in the a.m. But I was out buying ice cream and wasn't given proper heads up (thanks lame friends) and thus I wasn't ready in time and I couldn't find stuff to wear and all that crap. And so I said, "Thanks but no thanks. I'm out." So now I am laying in bed thinking about life. It's been entertaining. Here are my thoughts.

-Dancing. Why don't more people dance? And, like, all the time. All. The. Time.
-Boys. Why do we like them so?
-Girls. Why are we so crazy? I even admit: I'm pretty insane. We have all these emotions..blah we just can't throw them out. Yet I heard a song and it summed it up, "And this house ain't a home anytime she goes away." How true Bill, how true.
-Friends. Why are good friends so hard to find? And when is it that when I find a good one: people take them? Or they freaking go and change on me or we just dont' get along that well.
-Hairspray. Thou art perfect.
-Life. You crazy, crazy ride. You infuriate me. Why can't I just get ahold of you? There isn't a manual or even reins you just kind of jump on and get kicked around. I sure hope I find a seat I like soon.
-Marriage. How I hate you stupid looming stick that is hanging over my head.
-Singledom/lonliness forever. How I hate you ax hanging over stick hanging over my head.
-My dramatics. I think it gets higher the later it becomes.
-Fear. I hate you the most fear. You have such a tight grip on me I can't breathe. I can't move. I hate you more than anything in this life. I hate that you are my constant companion. That you sprinkle every thought and action. Why can't I use you for good? I'm a villian in a comic book and fear is my weapon.
-Work. Why did I enjoy you so much today? You were perfect in every way and that, for some reason, makes me even sadder. I wish I was still there. I want to be productive and useful and do good for a few more hours, I think I need it today.
-Jayla. I miss you. Alot. I think about you all the time. I wish you hadn't left me. I wish you hadn't changed. I wish even more that I wouldn't miss you. I hated our relationship towards the end. But man were you perfect. I see that now. You. Were. Perfect. I tried to hold onto you for as long as possible. I fought for you. Fought myself. Fought you. And then I just fought. I miss you, the old you. That reminder helps....and hurts. I want to talk to you. I want to share my thoughts and concerns, my fears. Dear Lord my fears. They're everywhere now. No one will listen to me about them, probably because I've talked about them half a million times. But you always listened. You were always there for me. Why did we fail? Was it only me? You were the best friend a person could ask for. I guess I asked too much. I'm sorry. I don't think I ever told you that. I really am sorry. You deserve every happiness in the world. And not my version of happiness, your version. Whatever that might be. That was always the hardest concept. That you might have outgrown me. That your happiness and my happiness no longer ran hand in hand. That we aren't going to be old, married neighbors that swap hot husbands.
-This post. Highly dramatic. But helpful. I hope Jayla reads it. And everyone else....just ignore the dramatics. It's two o clock in the morning. I guess I should change the title of this post.......

And this is what I think about when listening to Enya and staying up at all hours of the night.