Self-Sabatage

I should honestly be happy, I should honestly have nothing to complain about. Work is exactly where I need to be. I feel really appreciated for once, and like I'm doing an amazing job...building a reputation. Spending my entire day just loving children, and trying to provide them with a better day than yesterday. I love it, and couldn't even dream of being anywhere else right now.

I haven't found that balance between fun, work, romance, sleep, and creative processing time, yet...in fact, I'm struggling to find it at all. I finally get work where I want it to be...and I feel like I have to sacrifice everything else. I part of me still wants to be an Artist, a god-damned professional one. One who has something to work with, but it's hard to draw when I'm exhausted. It's like a mental block...just when the crowd wants to see more. Willing to pay me for it. I could go as far as I want with my creativity, but I found a niche with childcare. What do I do?

I like someone. I don't want to like someone, but I guess in these cases you don't really have a choice. I have feelings...I have thoughts...I have worries...I have questions, and I honestly just want them to leave me the hell alone. Chuck the niddy-gritty facts off the cliff, and just go back to being happily alone. I was lonely, but accepted it. I ACCEPTED IT! You're asking me to accept being shown affection for now, when I finally got used to the twin bed in my room. I got used to how my body looked when I was the only one judging it. You look at me, and I just want the lights to be off so you have a harder time seeing me and the crap I hate in my brain. So many hands have been where yours have been...and yet, it just feels like it's all new or exactly the trouble I've been in before...and it's killing me, making me feel so guilty that I can't tell the difference yet. You say you're an asshole, but I think our definitions are worlds different. I had never been taken on a date for Christ sake. I'd been given a ring, but failed to accomplish the essentials first. I guess you could guess, it's new to me to start slow. From the getgo, I accepted my body as a tool, a toy. Now you're forcing me to see it as actual flesh deserving respect and breath. My hands, thoughts, and eyes don't know quite what to do with themselves. I feel so utterly clueless...and you feel like an asshole. How can I not feel inclined to head for the hills at this point?

Something keeps me glued to the floor...or glued to the television from a distance. Choose your pick. I've mentally left, as of right now. Grab on, and don't let go.