Today I Want to Type

I don't know what I want to type about, I just know that I want to type. I like typing. I like the clickety-clack of the keys under my fingers, even if my laptop keyboard is coming away from the laptop. I still like the sound, and the feel of it.

I have no idea what I want to say though. Actually, that's a lie. I know exactly what I want to say, to a lot of people. But mostly I can't say it. Too much family/friendship politics. Once a certain date is past though, I'm going to write a few nice, long, detailed, honest letters. Tell the truth. Tell these people exactly how I feel about them, and exactly how I feel about what they've done to me. Then, instead of locking away or burning the letters, like I've done in the past, I'm going to send them. Then I'll probably spend weeks stressing about it.

There are also things I want to say to people that I can't say. And won't say. It's not worth the inevitable hassle. I wish I could.

You know, I've developed this reputation for being a little rude and obnoxious. I'm not rude, or obnoxious. I just like to be honest. I tend to say what's on my mind, whether or not it's appropriate or nice or polite. And I don't care. I don't care that people get offended. I like that I'm honest like that. I just wish I was consistent. If a stranger is staring at me in the street, I can tell them to take a picture because it'll last longer. If my friend's choice of boyfriend or outfit is horrendous, I can tell them. If my other friend's particular habit is driving me crazy, I'll tell them. If my boyfriend's lack of communication is driving me nutty, I'll tell him. If my mother has an argument with someone and then acts childishly about it, I'll tell her. I say what I think.

But I also bottle up so much. There's so much more that I think about my friend and her choices than I tell her. There's more I want to ask my other friend than I do. I feel more and want to express more to my boyfriend than I do. That's the big one actually.

It's no surprise to anyone who's read more than one of my blog posts that I have a very complicated relationship with Neil. It's hard, and sometimes damn-near-impossible to cope with. And I do occasionally tell him how I feel about it all, and how hard it is. But I don't tell him everything. When we first met, nearly three years ago, he was almost a completely different person to who he is now. I could tell him anything. I had this hugmoungous secret in my life that I've told very very few people. I told Neil before I even met him. I was incapable of lying to him. Even when I wanted to hold something back, I couldn't.

I still love him as much as I did then, and I still feel the desire to tell him everything. Every tiny little thought in my head. "Oh Smudge is looking so cute chasing her own tail." "Why don't all the light switches in my house flip on the same way?" "Do you think there's life on other planets?" "How come my left foot is bigger than my right foot?"

Tiny little things, to big emotional things. I want to tell him everything. My natural instinct is that he is the other part of me, and he needs to know everything. But these days I don't tell him. When he sends me a text, or we're chatting on msn or the phone, I don't instantly say what I'm thinking anymore. I think, and revise and hold back. That isn't right. I know it isn't right, and I end up ranting and raving at poor little Smudge instead. But I know there's no point telling Neil.

This morning in a text conversation he was winding me up and teasing me, calling me rotund. While I was texting back "lol", I was ranting to the cat. That tiny bit of energy and thought and time he spent winding me up? Why couldn't he have spent that being nice to me? How difficult is it to type "you're pretty"? But I didn't tell him. The same way that, when I say "I love you" and he doesn't respond, I don't say anything.

Urgh. I just wanted to type. I didn't mean to end up in a rant about my love life. I just wish I could talk to him. I wish he cared. I told him I'll be here for him for as long as it takes for him to get better, and I will. I just haven't told him how incredibly hard it is.