And as it fell from the sky, I asked myself why can I never let anyone in?

The other day, I sprayed myself right square in the eye with a bunch of hairspray. This is because I no longer flinch like a little wussy baby and cover my eyes when I'm spraying the crap out of my ponytail (so no stray hairs come out and tickle my face while I'm running). I'm either getting braver or stupider. Maybe both. This has also led to more minor burns caused by my hair straightener, because I apparently no longer care if I hurt myself, but it's a small price to pay for smooth, shiny hair.

I'm going to say something now, but I'm not sure it's going to work.

I used to try to avoid pain whenever possible. This is why I avoided exercise for so long. Because sometimes it hurts. I might twist an ankle or overstretch a muscle or fall down because I am extremely uncoordinated and who wants to inflict pain on themselves? I sure as hell don't. Not on purpose anyway. I use avoiding pain as an excuse for more than not working out. I don't tell anyone how I feel because I'm afraid of it coming back later and making the rest of my feelings all hurty. Which, now that I think about it, doesn't make much sense because it never really stops my heart from feeling like a giant named Rocky who is made of boulders stepped on it while wearing spiky heels. I don't know why a giant named Rocky is wearing spiky heels. Maybe he's a giant executive transvestite. Don't judge.

I don't know. There are times when I wonder why I hold everything in until I finally (with the help of my good friend, alcohol) just burst and blurt out everything. EVERYTHING. Or I think back on past conversations and realize I said the wrong thing OR worse (and even more likely), I said nothing, missing a perfect opportunity to, I don't know, SAY WHAT I'M FEELING.

For all of my complaining and joking about how I'm going to die alone blah blah blah, I do realize that the fact that I'm perpetually single is probably all my fault. I thought about, you know, actually telling people how I feel, but I'm afraid once I open my brain, it will explode and all the crazy will spill out everywhere and then I really will die alone. Because nobody wants to be with someone who has an exploding brain. It's messy. And also? The Crazy is one of those stains you can never get out of the carpet and then every time someone comes over, they're all, "Ew, what's that? Vomit? Pee? Poo? Love stain?" and you have to be like, "WORSE, it's CRAZY," and they're all, "That is unacceptable, I must go now," and so then you open a bottle of wine and watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind and cry through an entire box of tissues. True story.

WOW.