Why I feel like I can't tell you things......

Jealousy

A competent and self-confident person is incapable of jealousy in anything. Jealousy is invariably a symptom of neurotic insecurity.

It's not that I don't trust you and I know you have had your blog longer than I have, so there should be some rule about that...and I know why you write things. But sometimes it...pisses me off to see you sharing about my everything and just about all that goes on. That's why I didn't want to tell you about Carmen, but it was eating away at me. Has been for months. Always there in the back of my mind. And when I figured who it was. Well, it pissed me off. Why? Because...I don't know. And not that I have any right to be mad about the past. Because you would be upset, too. And I don't want things to be like that. Because you have helped me open up and be myself, for the first time ever. I'm not scared to tell you things. Because I don't think you're out here trying to hurt me. Or trying to fuck me over intentionally...I just hate that you write things down like that. And I know that is how you may sort things out and I am doing the same thing here. But it's frustrating. And I didn't make that big of a deal of it. Yes, I'm jealous. HELLO, she's fucking HOT. I mean you passed that up to talk to me? I don't get it! I just, I don't know. I have no reason to be mad, because ya'll didn't do anything. And I don't want you to clam up and hide. I just....Ugh...this is how I feel right now. I feel very insecure about a lot of things. And I'm scared and I'm tired. And I'm trying and yet, failing. I'm just frustrated with everything. And I know I stress out about everything and I appreaciate all the wonderful times we spend together and how you know how to speak to my heart with your actions and how you make me feel safe. For the first time in my life, seriously feel safe. How you make me feel that everything will be okay, no matter what. I know that this whole post must be a big mess. But I don't know I'm just writting it all as I think it out. I'm PMS-ing. I'm scared. I'm tired. I'm trying to make everyone happy and I'm unhappy with myself. I just want everything to work out. And I miss simpler days. I miss home. I haven't felt home since I have been here. I just have a storage place. I want. I can't have. I do. Yet, I fail. I need. But I don't. I'm stressed out, OVER WHAT?! I don't know. I can't believe he wants to be with me. I don't deserve him. He is so good to me. And I always mess things up. I just hope I can keep this together. For if I don't, I shall truly just whither away. And be nothing. Just an empty shell, heartless and cold to all men, except my baby boy.