He keeps on saying that he loves me, and I know that he wants me to say the same thing back, but I can't. I mean, I care about him, I'd be awfully upset if anything happened to him, and I feel affection for him...but I know that isn't what he'll be thinking I mean if I apply the label "love" to that, even though I could conceivably be called love in other contexts, such as with a brother or child or friend. This makes me feel sad.

But the kind of love that rips your guts out, that approaches insanity, where you'd do anything at all for someone, where you live and breathe sustained by the sight or mere thought of the one you love....I haven't felt that way in a while, and I don't know if I really want to again. It's too scary, it hurts too much.

The truth of it is that I just feel sort of blank and empty inside. It's like the lines from an Elton John song: "I want love, but it's impossible....a man like me is dead in places, other men feel liberated...I can't love shot full of holes, I don't feel nothing, I just feel cold.." That's how I feel right now. It isn't that I don't love him, it's just that I feel so wrung out and worn down and stressed out that I scarcely feel anything else.

Maybe love is for other people, one of the many pleasant things that are for other people, normal people, not people like me. Still, he loves me, and that means something. My heart can't be much broken right now, but his can. So, I should try to work it out for his sake, and maybe my feeling will return after a while...

I'm having to make my boyfriend move out. I hate to do it, particularly since we have a child together. Breaking up is always excruciatingly unpleasant, and what's hard about this is that I'm not really as angry as I need to be in order to do it quite effectively.

I don't know what's wrong with me, that I can't make relationships work even when I try. I think it's got something to do with boundaries, I have such a hard time enforcing them. I wish I could just have calm and stability and happiness, not in the effusive constantly joyous sense of the word, just....contentedness, peace.

My boots are done!! My boots are done!!

Er, being made by hand, that is. One simple phone call and my brand new, lovingly hand-made White's boots will be in the mail, and hopefully my hips won't hurt as much at work any more. Yes! I am happy!! :-)

Okay, so I never said I wasn't a nerd. :-P

I am beginning to realize that strong emotion of any kind scares me:

• Love: oh, don't get me started... This has got to be the most intimidating thing on earth, after snakes. No, scarier than snakes....love _is_ the most frightening, period.
• Anger: Feeling angry makes me shake; I hate it.
• Happiness/joy: feels...silly, embarrassing.
• Sadness: probably I take this better than the others, but still, too much is pretty unbearable.

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Boring as it may be, I suppose my preferred state of mind is running on an even keel. Sort of a neutral gray or gray-blue.
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People often tell me that I should smile more often. Frankly, I don't like smiling a lot. It hurts my face, yes, with a physical pain, if overdone. It shows my ugly teeth (wish I'd been privileged enough for braces). It feels....extreme and overexuberant. A *little* smiling, OK. But all the time? No! It's uncomposed.
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God, I'm boring.
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I think perhaps people think that I'm unhappy if I'm not smiling. This is not the case at all! I'm at my happiest when calm, composed, thinking about something that tickles my mind. It's just the way I am. I'm happy, really.
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Another thing: smiling just because you're standing there telling me to isn't going to help me at all. I will just plaster the (artficial feeling) smile onto my face until I determine that a reasonable amount of time must have passed, and then allow my face to resume it's natural, neutral expression again. It feels so FAKE!

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And here's something else that's bothering me.
Why do I reject the men that I like the most, not always intentionally but through my actions?
Why do I act cold or pretend like I don't like a guy, even if my insides are swimming with excitement and I can hardly think for the blood pounding in my head?
Why do I ignore them?
Why am I so afraid to look at them?
Why does it *hurt* me to look at an attractive man? Yeah, it does, it hurts. It's almost an electric shock like sensation, but in my eyes, and not quite physical. That's the best way I can describe it.
Why is it so *damned* hard for me to admit that I love or care about a man, and even harder to tell them so?
I mean, why can I tell just about everyone else on the face of the earth that I like a particular man, but then, if it come down to telling him myself...Oh god NO, please no.

These things hurt me. I wish that I could be more expressive, that I didn't have to be afraid. The more I love a guy, the less able I am to communicate it to him, except through actions, such as remembering his preferences.

:-/