Easy To Read

It has been brought to my attention on a number of occaisions over my life that I am incredibly easy to read. Oddly enough, and completely against ‘The Rules’ (they recommend women to cultivate mystery in order to achieve successful relationshippyness) I rather like this. Everyone knows most of what makes up a Mish, past history, sexual exploits and a painful desire to squeak like Kiki on many given occaisions. I like this, I spent too long pushing all my baggage onto people not to enjoy being a Mish and all the bouncing that entails.

The fact remains that having had Melancholy times I came to the conclusion that the only person who could deal with my baggage was me and a few thousand sand timers. Time is something that doesn’t heal, well ok, I don’t really think it does, but it does make it easier to lift the lid on your own baggage and trim away at things that ended up having much larger effects on you than you ever wanted. Don’t get me wrong, friends help. I know I am hugely individualistic when it comes down to dealing with my own shit, because for me, thats the only way to do it. I will talk about stuff, (ok, if you think you know me then I guess it seems like I spend my whole life just babbling private, public and trivial details all about me and my life to pretty much anyone) but I need time to do it in and I’ve found that the points that friends really help are the points when they haven’t got a clue what you’re actually upset about.

I don’t exactly know always what things should be private and what things should be public. Pain and hurt, that to me seems like it should be kept away from people, it should be made not to hurt and then it should be thrown out into the sea of information with everything else because it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s part of a way of keeping the sunlight golden, part of a way of dealing with old baggage. Its something that needs there to be time to do it in and I’ve found that my babbling to anyone in those circumstances doesn’t work. I need to talk and then I need to do my own shit until I’ve got this thorn out and I can throw it away.

I can’t do it with other people, I need to do it by myself, other people, for me, are for embracing the golden with when the pain has gone or is going…I’m not sure I’m exactly making a lot of sense in this entry. But I like being easy, hard is something to do with pain to me and I’d rather be something that takes no effort and raised a smile than anything else.

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