On issues of the heart

"I'm constantly in awe of your utter lack of any self preservation instinct," Pony laughed at me as I was half-heartedly tried to defend my recent string of probably less than stellar decisions I've made about various things om the past few weeks. She's right though, I am bad at making decisions that will be good for me, especially when looking at the long-term effects. I always argue that as long as I'm happy and having fun, it can't be that bad, but I don't know. Maybe I'd be happier if I were less reckless with my heart, not to mention the heart of others.

One of those not-great decisions I made was to let Hemingway stay at my place before he moves back to Hong Kong next week. Things got inflamed and unpleasant pretty much instantly, and while it really wasn't my intention for things to get fucked up like that, I really didn't feel like taking the attitude that for some strange reason seemed to come along with Hemingway. He was supposed to come by on Sunday, but decided to change his mind to Monday without telling me. When I told him that he had to tell me these things in advance so that I'd be able to plan, he then proceeded to just show up at work on the Monday without having called or talked to me about it at all going: "Hey. So eh... can I have the keys?" Not cool. When I tried talking to him about it, we had a really awkward night of not talking and then a morning of passive aggressive/aggressive aggressive messaging back and forth on the subject, boiling down to me wanting to know his schedule so that I can plan my life in accordance, and him not giving them to me, making the conversation boil down to "I've talked to my colleague about staying at his place before I leave, maybe that's better so you can do your planning". Yeah, you guys guessed it, I'm kinda pissed.

I'm tired of doing things for others that only end in me feeling like crap. I know what it's like to feel good and to be treated nicely, and I don't see why I should have to settle for anything less than that. It's bullshit. I don't want to fight with Hemingway. I really don't. I don't think he wants to fight with me either. I wish we could be friends, but obviously he's hurt and acting out, so maybe that's not possible right now. It sucks for me. It sucks for him. It sucks for everybody. I should probably take a page out of Marla Singer from Fight Club's book: "Yeah, you're sorry, I'm sorry, everybody's sorry, but... I can't do this anymore. I can't. And I won't. I'm gone."