Thoughts from my Day Planner

Many women measure how much you care for them by how angry you get with them and how good your fights are. Maybe the more someone cares, the angrier they can get. Not because they like to be upset with you or mad at you, but because they only want what's best for you. It's as if, if they are able to show enough emotion to you to yell and be angry, then, theoretically, they trust you which translates into caring.

Perhaps it is absolutely true that before someone else can love you, you have to love yourself. At the risk of sounding conceited, you can't fully accept and appreciate someone else's love until you fully accept and appreciate yourself, thus knowing that you deserve the love someone else is giving to you.

Sometimes I wish I didn't attract assholes. I think I'll be done for awhile. I've seen a lot of feelings over the past few days; hurt, happiness, and love. It's just made me scared. I don't have the emotional capacity to feel so much emotion and if I had to feel that much, I fear that I would explode.

I know I'm actually a complex person with a great capacity to do a great many things, but sometimes I really do feel horribly simple. As if I truly am only able to feel one thing at a time and that one feeling must run its course before I can move on to the next one. Here's an explanation I like: Instead of being emotionally shallow and only having room for one emotion, maybe my singular emotions are so deep and intense that I can only concentrate on one at a time without causing physical repurcutions. That seems nice, like I really do have feelings.

I should start a movie journal. Sometimes I forget titles. This is a problem.

There are times when I wish I believed in god and had a big book full of beautiful prose and fanciful stories to tell me what is true and how to act. I suppose I have half of that in Emily Post's Etiquette. I wish I belived in something so strongly that I didn't question it and gave my life to it. But I don't. Rereading what I just wrote, I realize I don't want to follow anything unknowingly and I think I'm unable to give my life or my heart fully to anything. Does that make me especially selfish?

I wish broken things could be mended. I wish broken glass could be pieced back together to fit perfectly again. But that's impossible.