Looking for something personal??

So yeah...I guess as I have been in therapy for a couple of months...I have created layers and layers of muck and callouses for years now. The whole reason I decided that I had to get some outside help was because I didn't recognize myself any more. So now as I peel back a lot of the layers, I am starting to feel again...its really odd. I cried this morning while in the car, listening to music. I didn't cry cuz I was sad or anything...I just cried cuz I was feeling. Sometimes I just get so ovewhelmed with a feeling that I just kind of have to trickle a little.

So yeah...another odd thing that has been in my life is the fact that someone who was long ago put to rest is still haunting me. I am not talking about the mother fucker. I mean he's horrible and all, but he's never been put to bed. No (and I am not going to mention any names here) he made it clear that "we" were done and that was that. Yet he is here in my brain and in my heart still...haunting.

I read something that he wrote once that explained the whole thing. I have always kinda prided myself on being the exception to so many rules. Like you CAN be a homo and not be a horrible bitch. You CAN be a trustworthy friend. I thought I would be the exception to his rule, but I wasn't. I was just like everyone else. I wanted to be special but I wasn't. I was just me...just like every other me that went through his door. You know...I break up with people...I get over people...I get tired of people. He was the exception to all of my rules. Now I think I really might cry (for the thousandth time) about this. It grates me. I have a wonderful boyfriend...we share wonderful love...this isn't about that.

Every time I am back in Atlanta, I can feel it all over again. It's still stuck in all of the cracks of the pavement...all that syrupy gooey stuff that I never said...it just seeped out of my pores...it had to get out...and I can smell it everywhere when I walk around this town. I am sure he smells it too, but in the way that you smell your own fart...it only lasts for a few minutes until you're used to it and you move on. I still see him...we still hang out. I might let some things slip when I get really drunk, but he doesn't really know how I feel. He doesn't know what I think at all.

I wanted to be the exception...instead he was mine.