Angst and Trouble

I have serious doubts over the health of my relationship. I'm apparently always doing something wrong and he'll become quiet and accusing. Admittedly, he has trust issues, and enjoys imagining slights for me to have put him through, and I really am the source of his trust issues, but I've changed my group of friends so many times for the sake of his trust issues.

I have no friends outside of the ones from high school. Every time I go back to my parents' house, he seems to question whether I really went home. I don't have the time and patience to sit through another accusing talk about how terrible I am.

"Who puts on lipstick after 1 in the morning?"

Maybe, because I just got a haircut, I saw my reflection and noticed how striking I look with deep red lips. Why is it that the first thing he thinks is that I'm trying to catch the attentions of my roommates? Ugh.

Once I promised myself that the next time he made me cry, I would leave. I left an exception: if I cry because I'm being irrational or emotional, it didn't count. Maybe that was too much of a concession. It's been four years. All of my friends are his friends. His parents like me more than anyone's parents have ever liked me. I've put so much time and tears and secrets into this relationship for it to ever just end. I think he feels the same about that. Every time there's a confrontation, he asks what I want to do from here. It's your choice: you're the one who feels slighted. But it's not only that: I fear that sometimes, if I'm given the choice, I'd end the relationship.

We used to never fight. We had the perfect relationship that I thought everyone else envied us for. When did it get so complicated that he doesn't trust me? I haven't done anything wrong for five years, but I still haven't built up this precious trust. Apparently, every time I'm so close to getting his trust again, I do something that makes him not trust me. He would have trusted me if I did those things if he trusted me in the first place.

I just don't know what to do anymore.

In That Odd Little Way

In the seventh grade, my teacher enjoyed using the word "metacognition" and since we were all teens, I know I didn't really understand the concept at all. Years later, and with enough experience and periods of altered mental states, I realize I do think about my thinking. 

I'm the one at parties and kickbacks laughing lightly at jokes and refraining from saying anything, fearing that what I have to add is insignificant and insipid. I think all of my friends are cooler than I am. I constantly have to analyze everything I think about and pass it through more filters than I can count, wondering if it's good enough to translate into sound waves. Whenever I become insanely introverted, everything I try to convey sounds wrong and no matter how interesting I try to seem, I always think I'm boring.

In mind altered states, I become oddly quiet. The people around me are all talkative and at ease, but I'm only more aware of how stupid I am. It's odd, really. I am confident in myself physically, and usually emotionally, but for whatever reason, I think I'm boring. I am inevitably stuck listening to that one annoying friend go on about something incredibly unfunny and absolutely pointless, and I'm afraid that what I say will be worse than that. So instead of conversing on the finite nature of originality, I'm huddled in the most unobtrusive spot I can find, smiling and laughing, but never saying a word.

In moments like these, I realize how much I hate being in a mind altered state and wonder why I didn't remember before I agreed to alter my biochemistry. Every time, I'm stuck listening to myself second guess everything I think about. The heavy sense of mental fogginess constricts anything interesting I could say and the physical lethargy becomes annoying. 

Still, I don't understand why people put themselves down and hold little self-worth. Maybe I'm a unique blend of high self worth and introversion. 

From the proverbial ashes

The one thing about old blogs is that I always sound whiny, and I always end up regretting the things I write years ago. I'd go through these cycles of blogging and then not, and when I pick up the cycle again, I usually start a new blog. From the ashes of the old, and dead, thing, something new would emerge. The Phoenix Chronicles is aptly named in that this is another reincarnation of some narrative about my life, but also because of my location. This sort of poetic imagery appeals greatly to me.

I guess a little about myself is in order:
I'm a college student. I have no idea what I want to do with my degree (and everyone assures me it's a useful degree), and at the very least, I will remain a student for a decent amount of time if the job market is terrible. I've gone from wanting to be an evil scientist to a doctor to a very good scientist. I'm not particularly crafty or ingenious, but I like to think that I am just a little creative and a little diverse in my talents.

I was raised an Atheist. I know next to nothing about faith and even less about what other religions offer in terms of spiritual goodness. I have a very nonchalant view of the world that belies a little apathy. I'm no philosopher by any means, and prefer to spend as little time pondering abstract things.

I am a fan of roleplaying games, and first started with tabletop games as a kid. I'm particularly fond of fantasy and science fiction, though I tend to play less sci-fi related things. Though I am inherently a skeptic, the idea of magic and supernatural powers existing in a fictional sense appeals to me. I am a night owl and a bit of an introvert.