you are brilliant.! for real?

Ah, I don't feel brilliant.

I did it again. I found someone that actually gave a Fuck. So your faithful blogger felt the need to pour all of Johnny in His lap. Yeah. If it isn't bad enough that I get so excited over a new friendship that I lose focus of all boundaries. I bombard with information. I create and project the friendship into space. I fear that it Will end and everything I so is driving it to it's untimely demise. Words like controlling freak, jealous as whole, fucked up junkie, are thought and then said and the whole time I act so innocent. I fear everything.

Well there I was the other morning crying over Dbl H. Playing on Grindr and I came across the brightest intro I had ever read. Of course,  he was Asian 6837 miles away, but I had to say thanks For making me smile. He replied we talked. We Skyped. Everything should have been great. It would have been if Johnny wasn't involved in this friendship. Oh yeah that is what we agreed on. He is in Beijing! What more could I expect from this friendship.

I got what I know. I don't know how to be in a relationship unless it is with dope. and that relationship taught me all that I know ....obsession....That is my problem. I drop everything and everyone and send 200+ messages a day, even after I was told that he doesn't like to talk much. Then yesterday, i am told it makes him tired to read so much English, he tells me he doesn't know what to say to me. He tells me to stop. What do I do. I send him 36 more fucking messages.  What am I trying to do here? I don't fucking know. I sabotage all good relationships. Why? Because I need a reason to hate me, I guess. Everything is going good and I continue to act like I did when I was 7.

7 the year of the biker, but before that it was the year of Charlie. My first dog. I think my only dog. Charlie the dog I smothered every time I felt scared or alone or happy. Charlie the dog that ran from me most from the time because he knew I would try to carry him around like a doll. Charlie the dog I chased through the house so much that I ran him into a wall and broke his collarbone. charlie the dog who would lie on the cellar stairs with me and hide from my dad when he was drunk. Charlie the dog that licked the tears from eyes after my dad kicked the shit out of me for setting fire to a Soft Tail Harley. Charlie the dog that  slept in the basement with me when my mom told me my dad died. Charlie the dog that jumped from my arms into traffic because he was sick of being smothered by a seven year old brat. Charlie the dog that shook in the road bleeding everywhere and died. Charlie the dog that I sw one last time being carried away in a green fucking trash bag. Is this what I do to everything good. Smother it to fucking death. The answer is yes. The next question is how do I stop?