Untitled.

Why do we strut out into the world every day thinking that we know everything about life and everything about love and everything about sex? I mean, you can watch Sex and the City until you know every line by heart, you can read books and watch movies and look on the internet and talk to your parents and friends until you're ready to teach Sex 101. But what you don't know could fill libraries. Big ones.
And what you don't know about relationships could fill entire cities.



It's been a year and a half [almost] and sometimes I still feel like I know nothing. I'm still an only child and I still have my tendencies; I'm still selfish and I still think about myself more than I think about him, I'm still the one who screws up 90 percent of the time - I'm the one who hurts him. He's kind and caring and sweet and as close to the perfect boyfriend as you can get... and sometimes it kills me. I mean, come on - I complain about how he's too nice. What the fuck is that?

But after three Mike-less weeks I've gotten into my own routine and now I'm confused because he's back and I'm fighting the urge to claw my way to independence again. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I'm extraordinarily lucky and pleased with my good fortune.
But isn't it human nature to just always want more? And if I do want more, is that terrible?

We're gong to Rome together in six months and I want to be comfortable with myself with and without him. I feel like I'm in his shadow sometimes because he's so funny and charming and so often the life of the party. And I feel like a lot of people didn't get to know me very well last year because of it; it was always the Mike show and I never got a chance to give myself any sort of presence, because he's more entertaining and more likable and I just can't compete with that. Maybe I'm just making excuses or being juvenile or maybe I'm just scared. Either way, I do know that I can't take him for granted. But I can't take myself for granted, either.

I just had to let it out.