I've realized I pretty much suck at giving relationship advice.
I thought I was good at it. I was planning on writing a fucking manual about relationships. But nowadays I've found out I just don't see when something's not meant to be or even when a friend clearly hides a new relation.
Maybe it's because I've never experienced all that stuff myself. And never will. Sigh. So I will skip that writing project, then, and move on to maybe finally someday writing an actual book about something real. Or more like, something irreal. I don't like real things any more. They don't appeal to me. I like to live in a fantasy, or several. I like to live in random fandoms.
And as I also said to a friend, I'm somehow lucky not to have anybody special, because for my friends I make creative gifts and surprises, but if I had a partner, an increasing amount of my so-called surprises would include me naked and nothing else. That's not too creative, I'll tell you. So, in order to become a writer and a better friend, I guess I just need to be an old maid. That's God's plan, folks. That's how it's meant to be.
But it's not like it didn't hurt any more, though. It sure as hell does.
I guess this post was slightly messy and difficult to figure out but I won't care because hey, who even reads this anyway... :D
Luv, Miia
PS. I passed my derby time trials. Dudes, my thighs are made of steel. Top that.
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