Who is this crazy bitch?

My photo
Pennsylvania, United States
My name is Laura. I'm 26-years-old. I love cats and books and Asian ball-jointed dolls. I'm a nerd and I'm happily married to an equally nerdy husband. I'm 5'5" and weigh about 235/40. I have brown hair, bullshit brown eyes, and freckles. I also got a big ass, thick thighs, tubby fingers and toes, flabby arms, a round belly full of good food, and chipmunk cheeks that haven't gone away since I was 5. I will be buried with them, I am sure.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Haven't posted in a long, long while...

That's the trouble with me. I start a blog, and then ususally ignore it. Problem is, even though I spend a lot of time online, I rarely make big comments. I generally like to read and watch things. I interact by being a bystander.

And when I really do wanna express myself, I'm unable to. Nowadays, much to my dismay, every single one of my fucking personal spaces online is linked to someone who I don't want to read about my personal emotions.

Okay, that sounds weird, but bear with me. I have a DA page, but that is able to be seen by my sister-in-law and one of my "real life" friends (rofl, I love that term). I love them a lot, but there's somethings I'd like to bitch about online that I don't want to eventually have to talk about face-to-face.

Then there's my FB and my IJ; both of which are read by my husband. So when I have problems that I wanna keep to myself and don't wanna share/broadcast to family (namely him, my sis-in-law, sister, etc...), where do I turn? D:

Yeah, yeah, I know. He's my husband, if I have problems, then HE has problems! I'm to use him as my rock and share with him all my troubles!

I'm not that kinda person. I'm the type that likes to keep it to herself. I don't like spouting off my mouth about my problems. Okay, wait. My REAL problems. If my back aches and my knees are bent out of shape? I'll complain about that loudly. If I'm irritated about some customers, then I'm all over bitching about that.

But feeling of insecurity? Of this horrible dread that I'm no different than I was ten years ago? Of shit that I'm getting wrong and that I feel like shit because I'm getting it wrong?

I'd rather broadcast that out to the internet, as an anonymous person. As just another blogger online complaining about their life. Back when I was 16, that was my life. I had Geocities and Yahoo!Chat rooms and AIM. I had anon online friends that I could bitch things about to. I didn't have to worry about seeing their faces the next day or possibly offending one of them by accident. They were miles upon miles away, how would it hurt them? Rather, we formed a comradeship through our mutual hatred of life/ourselves. It was comforting to have a kinship with girls/boys who went through the same as me.

Now I don't feel I can do that as easily. I have to keep up a front, a brave one, to show my family that "I'm okay! I'm not like how I was before! I'm not full of insecurity!"

Yeah... Seeing that typed out really makes me out as the liar I am. It's not healthy to keep my emotions to myself and I should talk to someone about them (namely my husband, who is my biggest emotional support; right after him is my best buddy who's like a brother to me).

But I'd rather just post this drabble onto the internet, for one or two bored passerbys to glance over and then forget about it five minutes later. For some odd reason, that's more soothing to me than to have a heart-to-heart with a live person.

Oh Internet and your cold, cold bosom. I will always find a home in it. *snuggle*