I just get weirder…

Dear Diary,

I’m a weird person when I get angry. That, and I tend to get mad over the stupidest shit. I mean, when major problems come my way I tend to get cool, calculating, and analytical (like I mentioned in my previous Diary entry), but when the small stuff rolls around… like, let me misunderstand something someone says, and I’m liable to completely lose my shit.

True story.

Take a few days ago, for example. I had an errand to run that had nothing to do with Anne, so she was able to stay home and rest. Which she needs. That was the plan, at least. Strangely, she was hell-bent determined to come with me, which normally wouldn’t be that big of a deal but… you know, throwing up frequently due to chemo and her energy level and all that, I kind of wanted her to stay home and heal. Recuperate. She wouldn’t hear it.

So I spent the night at her place and the next morning – 6AM no less – we started getting ready. Sounds innocuous so far, right?

Well.

I was bopping around getting things situated like my usual hyperactive self. I started singing this weird little ditty, “do you wanna go night-night sucka?!” in my best imitation of the rapper DMX. Anne cried out (jokingly, but empathically) “Yes!”

I froze.

It was like an emotional tsunami of guilt just slammed into me. I told her to just stay at her place and I would be back in no time, because I could hear in her voice just how tired and physically exhausted she was, but her only response was to look at me like I was crazy. Which made me look at her like she was crazy for looking at me like I’m crazy even though I was standing there looking at her like she was crazy (have I lost you yet? 😅).

Somehow, things kind of snowballed from there, with most of the bougieness coming from my end. Towards the end of it I was sitting on her bed, my arms crossed, indignant loli attitude in full force, and she had to basically snatch me up and sit me on her lap and force me to use my big girl words. Once I started talking like a sane human we worked things out, but still…

I’m not perfect, y’all. I don’t even try to be. It’s funny how I can handle the big things without many issues, but the small stuff… the small stuff always seems to get me.

There’s a meme I frequently use to describe myself to people, and I think it’s eerily accurate:

 

 

To those of you that know me (especially if you’re a member of my Patreon!), you know it’s true. 😅😭

Still, let’s be real here: my imperfections are precisely what makes me perfect. The reality is I will never be perfect for anyone, as perfection is an imaginary and relative concept, but what’s important is how I view myself. I like the person I am. When all is said and done, that’s the only thing that truly matters. Opinions come, go, and change like the wind (for any number of reasons), but the way I see myself, the way I feel in my own skin, that’s what’s really important.

This doesn’t mean I’ll never do things I regret. It means I like who I am as a whole, and understand that my miscalculations and missteps are teachable moments, and that I should learn from them, not lament.

Think of how we were as babies. How we learned to walk, for example. We tried, fell, and without much mulling, immediately tried again. And eventually, we mastered that shit. I think somewhere down the line we quit being so tenacious and started obsessing over our failures… started quitting before we really gave ourselves a chance to succeed… you know, I think if we were more like babies sometimes, we would be so much happier with not only who we are but where we are in our lives.

Just a thought. 🥰

Until next time, Alexaliens…

I LOVE YOU!

#Alexa

 

“I think British men build up the idea of us French girls having some magic extra sex appeal so much, they lose their heads. I can’t really understand the whole thing – but it makes me laugh. It’s such a cliche to think all French girls are well dressed, elegant, sophisticated, and sexy. Some are utter slobs; I promise you that.”

– Eva Green

 

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