i have a reader.


R read my blog and said he preferred it to my xanga, because i can actually write what i think instead of sugar-coating everything in fear of pissing off the army ladies. because i promise, they get upset at the tiniest things.

one of the things that i hate about myself, which is exacerbated by bitchy/catty army wives, is my jealousy. i have a hard time reading about other army ladies getting their boy home on leave…i know that we all have our time to have leave, and i already had mine. really, it’s only fair. but that doesn’t make it any easier. one girl (actually, the same one i talked about last post), likes to post random bulletins about her life on myspace (which i hate). and i know when her husband is closer to leave she’ll post a bulletin every few minutes detailing how amazing it is, and for some reason that really bothers me.

another thing i do is constantly compare my relationship to others. i always want to have the perfect everything, and i want to make sure i have the perfect relationship. i know it shouldn’t matter, and i find with time, it matters less and less. but this is what i mean when i say that talking to some of these army wives brings out the worst in me.

i have another friend who is, quite frankly, my idol. she’s so beautiful in a completely non-conventional way, and i find myself constantly comparing my relationship to hers with her husband (who is also in iraq), and my (lack of) beauty to hers. i just wish that R and i were “settled” like she is…they have a house on post and 2 beautiful children. i would never say that i’m not happy with R, because i am…happier than i ever thought i could be. ever. it’s more like, i envy the position in life that she’s in. i want to be 25-27, have a house, be prepared to spend forever together. but i’m still in college, waiting, trying to figure out what i want to do with my life. there’s something to be said for having a completely clean start like R and i do…but again, here’s my jealousy for you.

it comes from a lifetime of insecurity and guilt. i appreciate R more than he knows for dealing with it, and for loving me despite (or because of) my psychoses. all these little things that i do or think, he’ll sit and listen and laugh at me if appropriate. i love that boy. i’d be lost without him. i mean that, baby.


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