Thursday, Dec. 18, 2003 | 3:30 PM

God, why am I feeling like this right now? These are emotions that I have become far better at turning off. �Cause you know, I got really fucking tough this year, which probably isn�t actually tough at all in comparison to most of the people on the planet, but for me, I got tough. I started drawing boundaries all over the fucking place. I started making big sweeping choices based solely on what seemed right for me, and that felt good. And I got tough with myself too along the way. I used to indulge my feelings way too much�you know, crying whenever I felt like it or wasting an hour worrying about something or someone that didn�t merit (or deserve) it. I made myself stop blubbering, and stop mooning (OK maybe stop is too strong a word�lessen is probably more accurate) and I forced myself into completely new territory creatively and emotionally. I almost in some ways became the opposite of who I had been, and this was deliberate. Whereas before I had romanticized the concept of Committed Relationships, this year I deconstructed them. No�rather I fucking DEMOLISHED them. It was like being a devout Catholic and then losing your faith. The biggest sinners are usually the ones who have had some kind of spiritual crisis they can�t reconcile. And Love had been almost a religion for me. A ritualistic, repressive, controlling, conservative religion that I had held near and dear to my heart for many many years. This year, Love (love as in that We-live-together-and-buy-cookware type love) was ruined for me forever� maybe. Maybe not. Who the fuck knows. I am fully aware that my position on MANY things is a defense mechanism�my hatred of all things sell out (including myself), my disgust for yuppydom and for people who live cutsey straight boring lifestyles. My hatred likewise of hipsters who measure their worth based on which rock �n� roll shows they attend rather than actually doing anything creative themselves. My tendency to hyperventilate when finding myself in spotless sterile, well decorated artsy environments in which all the furniture matches. Basically, my scathing contempt for anything that remotely reminds me of my life previous to January of 2003. I know how obvious all of this is. It�s not that I don�t feel those things legitimately, but I mean hello,,, who would someone become bitter over such meaningless shit?

Sometimes I feel like the villain in a comic book�you know the one whose backstory starts off with him being a normal good citizen but then something the Hero did caused him to like lose his farm or his family and then he dedicated the rest of his life to getting revenge.

Of course, that�s overstating things. I have no interest in revenge. But I definitely have an interest in proving to myself that I�m not a fool anymore. That I�m not a doormat. That no one can pull something over on me. And that I am far far better off than I ever was in the past, which is actually true but it doesn�t change the negative stuff.

I wonder if this stuff ever fades away or whether it truly stays with you forever.

And I guess here is what bothers me so fucking much that I literally shake with rage over it. After the AMOUNT of terrible things that happened, and the incredible efforts I have made to deal with them (including owning up to the horror show of a human being I was at a certain point in my life and the unkind, critical, selfish pattern of my behavior) I still get so affected by this dumb fucking crap. You would think at this point I would accept the fact that I will, at least as long as I live in Boston, find out about a slew of things I didn�t know was occurring at the time. And that I should just make a conscious decision to laugh it off and not care. I really want to�maybe with enough practice I�ll really be able to. But every time I hear something new, my knees start shaking and it�s all I can do not to cry. It just hurts so fucking badly because I have no idea what the hell was going on in my own life during that time. Who the hell was I then? How did I not let myself see this? I mean, was there ever love? I don�t know. I honestly don�t. And maybe there just are no answers. I want something concrete. I want an explanation. But there is no such thing, and even if there was I wouldn�t ever get one. It�s one last thing to hold over my head.

The domino affect this has had on my relationships is just unreal. Angus, like everyone, has his problems and quirks (though I will say for him that he has grown in the space of a year or so more than I�ve seen many people grow in five). One thing I can say about him, and which has always been true is that he is honest to a fault in the context of our relationship. The thing is, Angus stares me straight in the face and always tells me exactly what�s going on all the time regardless of how painful it might be for me. Sometimes, I wish he wouldn�t because it�s a lot to take. But in the end, I always know where I stand with him.

But sometimes I find myself being accusatory and suspicious when I feel most vulnerable. Of course my suspicion is just transference. And of course Angus knows it, and he�s been really kind and understanding about it, while still calling me on my shit.

God in so many ways I have let things go. But maybe what I need to let go is absolutely EVERYTHING. Maybe I need to just throw up my hands and stop trying to find any meaning in this. Maybe it was totally meaningless�nothing more than a waste of time. That�s an awful way to feel, but it�s better than falling apart every time you find out something new.

You know it�s funny�in certain ways I have insight and I can see and live with the notion that there are conflicts in everything. That someone can love another person and still cheat on them liberally and lie to them about it. I can invent some backstory about why. But then there�s this other part of me that nags and nags and says, people who love you don�t lie to you. They don�t tell you you�re insane when you present them with a very reasonable question. (Maybe they do?) I could also say that people who love you don�t incessantly criticize your every move. They don�t scream at you. They don�t go for days without talking to you�and I have certainly acted like that to someone I supposedly loved. So what is love and where did all of these things go wrong and why am I still so concerned about finding it out? And why am I so scared to connect with other people? And why am I left with this terrible bone deep feeling of sadness and insecurity.

Alright�this is unproductive. It�s called Get on with your fucking life, Anna and stop wasting time on things that have no bearing on who/where you are now.

I�m trying. I�m really really REALLY trying.