I’d like to say that my life is always a work in progress…

but sometimes, I wish I could fast forward to the final result. Like my life is one big tv show and I wanna skip all the commercials. Don’t try to sell me your shit, it’s a waste of air time. I need to make up for all the oxygen I let get away. Do something with my life other than contemplate when it will get better. I must admit, things haven’t been the worst, but I know there is room for improvement. As some of you might know, I tried to allow myself room to improve by getting out of a relationship in order to focus on getting myself together. Well, in true Taleia fashion, I went and got myself involved with another somebody. Now it started out casually, but I allowed myself to take it further. Now I can feel the familiar face of relationship sailing its stern toward my docks. What the hell am I doing? I, better than anyone, know that a relationship takes work. At least, a good one does. So why is it that I’ve bothered myself into taking steps toward getting into another one. Especially when I’m still not quite sure about other feelings. This prompts me to take a look at myself. Somewhere along the line I think, I became a serial relationshipist. Yes I have just created some jargon for an ancient existing psychological disorder. Let me break down to you what this is.

Serial Relationshipist: [n.] 1. A person who has strong difficulty being alone for any amount of time because for some reason or another they are not quite sure how to define themselves without having a feeling of belonging to someone. 2. A person who endures many monogamous or polygamous relationships for a lengthy period of time feeding off the need to be wanted and to want someone.

Yes folks, as much as I hate to admit it, that is me. I wasn’t always this way. I didn’t always feel that I had an empty part of me without someone in my life to hold on to. I used to be able to go to sleep at night and be fine with just me in my bed. I used to not need to talk to someone on the phone in the wee hours just cuz i wanted to hear their voice, or they were on my mind. I used to not feel so empty…