Its Tuesday night and I've been in bed since 7pm. My long weekend kind of blended over into the week, so tonight I'm in recovery mode. My heart, body, and mind are all spent. So I'm coining this week the "Irresponsible March Madness Blowout". I'm sure it will only get better as the week continues... or worse depending how you see it. Work was so epically awful today that I cried on the phone in between calls. The worst part of it all was trying to eat at the same time. Needless to say, it was messy. Thank goodness for a kind coworker who gave me Skittles midway through the morning or there was no way in hell I was even going to make it to lunch.
Which leads me to today's topic; timing. I am the queen of bad timing.
Example a) I meet an incredibly good looking girl (who we will call S) for the first time who happens to be a friend of a friend. So I tell my friend while S is the bathroom exactly what is going through my head (which is something to the effect of omnomnomnomnomn *drool*). My friend promptly tells me that S has just ended a long term relationship with a girl she almost married and is moving her things out in two days. This is incredibly bad timing. Oh, and it turns out I know her incredibly recent ex. Yeah, not good.
In conclusion; I am clumsy, I have bad timing, and my heart is a gypsy that knows no borders. All of this equals long term singledom. Which is ok most of the time, but every now and again the loneliness feels like hot water on papercuts.
Here's a poem about it.
I wonder if I will ever be the girl
Who has good timing
Or the woman who doesn't trip over cracks in the sidewalk
During a serious conversation
About someone else's god
It seems like I am fate's plaything
For unknowingly self destructing
I just don't these things coming
And my friends tell me
It's better when you're not looking
But they haven't yet been witness
To the shocking glory
Of a person who stands five foot two inches
Tripping over a strangers dog
While holding an ice cream cone
And hearing the sound of a toddler screaming
In a sticky mess of Rocky Road
This life has left its share of embarrassment
Burning in my freckles
All I can say
Is that my heart doesn't seem to understand
Borders or geography
And time and time again
My feet never seem to be in the same place as it
Maybe its just an excuse to keep the backpack
On the lower shelf waiting
To never commit to fully breathing
I'm discovering that maybe
I'm more of a romantic than a gypsy
I'm laying against the imprint your fingernails left
On yesterday's abandon