Up too late and not a clue how to stop over thinking this life

Fifth straight night in a row I’ve stayed up past 3AM. I am yet again working on pieces for work.

I’ve missed this job. Missed the classroom, missed seeing the kids I coach and I missed working at a job that I not only love but a job I know I’m excel at.

Even though I back to doing what I love, for some odd reason that I cannot even begin to comprehend or really explain…I’m lonely.

Sitting here working on and reading scripts. I feel this empty pit in my stomach. It’s lonely to work late hours on your own. Lonely when their isn’t someone in my life that wants to know how my day went, how work is going and just to have someone that is missing me, thinking about me, maybe even dreaming about me.

Yes, I have friends who miss me when I’m away, but what I’m describing above is the loneness many of us feel daily, the desire for having someone special in our lives. For some reason tonight I am missing this, craving this and wishing that maybe there was someone out there who was thinking about me. Do I have a someone? No, not at all; this is why I wish.

Working alone tonight is…tough.

Early this evening I also had a difficult talk with a friend. A friend trying to help me move on from an issue I didn’t want to admit was still an problem. Recently I have become very heart broken from past dating experiences. Clearly from the past few men [boys I mean] that I have written about throughout my blog it’s no surprise I feel heart broken.

I am heart broken.

Reminds me about a section of a poem I wrote:

“Trying to Charleston backwards in heels out metaphorical doors,

left clothes behind, zapped by God in apocalypse.

Left behind Twitter Make Out page, first night we meet.

We all have first nights we undressed-

out full flapper dress and into the arms-

of our friends, the first night we drunk cried.

Losing our iconic dance partner.

Because he couldn’t dance and talk at the same time.

Couldn’t look in same direction as our waltz.”

From my poem: “Fred Astaire dancing backwards in Heels.”

“It hurts to let go. Sometimes it seems the harder you try to hold on to something or someone the more it wants to get away. You feel like some kind of criminal for having felt, for having wanted. For having wanted to be wanted. It confuses you, because you think that your feelings were wrong and it makes you feel so small because it’s so hard to keep it inside when you let it out and it doesn’t coma back. You’re left so alone that you can’t explain. Damn, there’s nothing like that, is there? I’ve been there and you have too. You’re nodding your head.”

― Henry Rollins

How do I stop blaming myself for something that was never my fault?

I think they call it letting go.

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Filed under Confessions, Dating, List, my writing, poetry, single girl problems, thoughts

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