3153600 minutes. How do you measure 6 years in a life?

It's odd. This whole month has been leading up to this day, and now that's it's here I feel empty. No, that's not right, I feel like this isn't how the day was supposed to go. You see, today marks 6 years since I've been diagnosed with morphea. I realize that no one else remembers the exact date because it isn't that important, but the fact that my own parents haven't noticed my funk is slightly upsetting. I get this way every August. From the 1st til the 19th I get into this rut. I feel gross, I'm mean, I don't laugh as much, or maybe it's all in my head. I think mostly I get gross around this time of year because I don't know how to act. Last year I celebrated. I treated myself to a few little things and was so excited about it being 5 whole years. But I felt like people didn't appreciate me celebrating that I was sick. And this year, I'm just mopey. A friend spent the morning trying to cheer me up, and he didn't even say why he was. He had read it on my facebook and could tell. It's times like these and friends like Big Red that let me know how much people do care about me.

I can't stop thinking about the day I first met my dermatologist. He came into the exam room, introduced himself and started pulling and poking my skin. He said 'this looks like morphea' and he left the room, only to come back with other docters who all did the same thing. No explanation, no asking for my permission, he just treated me like I was a med school mannequin who wasn't scared as shit to be sitting on the exam table hearing the paper crunch under my butt. Then came all the blood tests, and x-rays, and the CAT scan. But how far have I come since then?

A little girl stood behind me in line at Target the other day. She beamed at me with pride while showing me the new Barbie her mom was about to buy for her. She was telling me all the things a little 5 year old girl tells to a strange lady in the store. Then she said something to me that doesn't get said to every other strange lady. She said 'why do you have owies all over your arm?' Like usual I lied. I told her that I got hurt when I was a very little girl. I got the saddest look from those doe eyes of hers. I'm all better now I assured her. For a minute she looked at me like she didn't believe me, then asked 'and why do you elbows look like that?' Her mother was so embarrassed by the little girl's curiousity. I told her it was fine, and that it didn't bother me. I lied again. How do you tell a mother that her little girl just broke your heart, when she had no idea what she was asking? The worst part is not even knowing what to tell a little kid, and no matter how many times this exact same situation has happened I still have no idea what to say. Sometimes it's 'I was burned', or 'I got hurt', or 'God made me different'. You can't really be mad at a child for wondering, but can I be mad at an adult for assuming? A lady once asked me how long it had been since I'd been burned, and another asked if anyone was killed in the fire. Why would you ask when you truly don't care? I think this whole thing would be so much easier if strangers could see past my appearance and realize that I might be interesting to stare at but that I don't appreciate it.

Does this mean personal growth?

I feel as though I'm an odd creature. In my last post I decided that I needed out of my "relationship" with Stupid because it was doing me more harm than good. The very next day he texts me to inform me that he went on a date and that he's kicking me to the curb for someone else, again. In actuality, I shouldn't have been suprised because humans are creatures of habit. Still his rejection stung. It might sound silly, but I wanted to fast track my rejection hurt, so I watch The Notebook. It is one of my favorite movies and it's a beautiful love story about how nothing can keep true loves apart. I cried the entire movie, both for myself and because it's so sad and beautiful. After the movie was over, I felt exponentially better. I didn't care about the rejection anymore. It was a new experience for me. Since I'm an open person with my feelings and just about everything else, I usually fall hard and fast for boys and end up nursing a broken heart for weeks, or at the very least days, after I find out that it just won't work. So why is this time around with Stupid so different? Did I really not care about him as much as I thought? Or was I protecting myself because my subconscious could feel another kick to the curb coming? But I also have to think that maybe I'm growing. Perhaps I'm getting to a point in my life where not being right for one guy isn't the end of everything. It obviously doesn't mean that I'm worthless and that I won't be right for anyone. Maybe my heart is finally catching up to what my head has known all along: love works when it's right, and it doesn't when it's not. Nothing is wrong with that, it is simply a fact of life. So perhaps my open heart is growing up a bit, which would be incredibly nice since I'm tired of experiencing grade school heartbreak. I guess trial and error is the only way of proving this theory of mine. So bring it on world, I'm ready for the next guy.

What I need vs what I want

There's always this question that looms over everything, it's a question that can apply to almost anything and everything: do I need it or do I just want it? This summer has, in a way, been about me determining what I need from what I want from the people I deal with in my life. Among my friends, I need respect, and I need genuine care, but I want them to be willing to do things for me if I ever needed them to. That's kind of a crappy example, but it's late so just go with me here. Today I've found out something, and it's probably something people have been saying for all of time: I need more. I don't want more, I need more. Stupid is no longer giving me what I need, and I'm really struggling with the reason why. Is it because I haven't blunty explained what I need from him on an emotional level? Is it because he's incapable of showing me that type of affection? Is it because that type of affection isn't really there I just wish it was? It's these types of questions that wake me up and 3:30 in the morning and force me to blog to get my thoughts straight by 4. My thoughts are straight enough by now to realize at least this: I either need more, or I need out. I can feel myself getting drawn into this man because of how much I care about him, and if this caring thing isn't going both ways I need out before I get a chance to let him hurt me and I hurt myself. But is it so terrifying to a guy to hear that a girl just wants you to talk to her? I need conversation, this summer of constantly being by myself has left me feeling like a shell of my former self. I don't even need really deep conversation, even the boring details of your work day are enough to keep me feeling like he gives a crap about me. And I don't feel like it's asking too much for him to genuinely want to spent time with me, and to make time for it. I'm not asking for a really elaborate and romantic candlelit dinner, I'm asking for watching movies at home. The way things have been with Stupid up until now in hindsight, make me feel cheap and unordinary. I shouldn't ever feel that way, because I'm special just like everyone else is special. So I guess what all this means is I want someone to make me feel special, but I need someone who makes me feel like I matter to them. And I think it means I need to get out of this "relationship" before it does me any more damage.