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The process of coaxing the Girl in the Freshly Pressed Dress out of the depths of me has been a slow and arduous process. For the last 3 or 4 weeks Tough Bitch and I have been sparing and MOTHER FUCK can that bitch fight. She'll reach right down my throat and rip my fucking heart out, and hold it in front of me, still beating and bloody. Just to prove a fuckin point. She knows I don't fucking want anything to do with her anymore. She knows I am over the games she makes me play with my own damned head. And she ain't goin out without a fight. She's been working over time filling my fucking brain with doubt, and insecurity. She's takes every opportunity to remind me that I am not worth it and never will be. She's wearing me down by making everything visceral as fuck. And I am tired. And I am angry. And that is what she wants.
And just as I begin to wonder if our dueling has scared off the girl in the freshly pressed dress forever, she comes padding out of the darkness... and I am so relieved to see her. I immidieately run up and embrace her. I want to hold her tightly, protect her from the frightening spectacle that tough bitch can put on if she feels remotely threatened. I want to melt into the crisp lines of that freshly pressed dress and dissappear. I want to drink up that raw and unharmed innocence. I want desperately to find a way to make space for her to stay.
But sometimes it seems like that freshly pressed dress, those innocent eyes, that firey hair... it's all just an illusion. Like she is the mirage in the desert hell that Tough Bitch rules, and I will forever be her prisoner. Some days, the venomous bites Tough Bitch inflicts are too much. I feel like I am doomed to that desert forever. Yep, more often than not, I succumb to my own fucking fortress of defenses, and yet again I let the little girl down. I hate that feeling. The fucking sinking feeling that comes after a brief time spent with that little girl and the excruciatingly painful punishment that I allow tough bitch to fucking inflict.
I look at my peers and I wonder how they manage to get through life without totally succumbing to their own tough bitch? How is it that some people just trust (and then seemingly don't get screwed) while others of us are bound so tight in the fortress that is our Wonderwall... I believe it is probably 97% self fulfilling prophecy... I had a conversation today about how girls who date douche bags are just as much to blame as the douche bag themselves... and I gotta say, it is totally true. At the end of the day we all choose how we are going to allow ourselves to be treated... I allow tough bitch to walk right into my soul and rape it... violently and repeatedly. And, by not standing up to her I also send the signal to the girl in the freshly pressed dress that I am not willing to stand up for her. God. Fucking. Damn. It.
If I stop and think about it, and I am truly honest with myself, this has not a god damned thing to do with getting beat down by my defenses... it has to do with not standing up to myself for myself (I feel like I am writing my own pledge). It's time to dissolve the fucking metaphors and stop riding some fucking fence I created in order to not take responsibility for my own shit. I can be happy or miserable... I can be vulnerable or guarded. I can be brave or a coward. I can love me or I can hate me. I can own my beautiful disaster or I can run from it. What I cannot do is play both fucking sides- because doing that- is driving me in-fucking-sane.
