The Life of a Premature Metro Goddess

How does one find their way through the maze that is a relationship when wearing a blindfold? Do you reach for the walls around you and pray to reach the exit, do walk in endless circles until you're too tired to move? No, you reach out to the other person, trapped along side you and find your way together. Being in a long distance relationship makes this whole process much worse, its like being trapped in a maze, blindfolded and not reaching out for someone to guide you, but listening to words over a loud speaker, trying to interpret what is being said while remembering to make it out alive. You can not have a partner when you don't give up all the information. You can't make plans, establish a life together, and get through all of that with only 85%. The boyfriend has this horrible habit of leaving things out, important facts or pieces of information that could not only prevent complicated misunderstanding but work to smooth those out so much faster. And not only does he

Why do men feel the need to lie? Why do they feel the need to do this even when you are no longer in the midst of an all out emotional and ethical war with the feelings you have for each other and the feelings you aren't supposed to acknowledge as existing? Simply stated for all to read, never ever, EVER EVER, EVER EVER EVER get into a relationship with someone you work with, but I digress. Is it some instinctual or biological function, some chemical release that creates a constancy of the need for you to tell me something that is so far from the truth that if we were in the same room we both would be thinking "wow that's a liar" with an accompanying expression plastered on our faces. I ask this because of the "departure". So the certain someone whom shall remain anonymous, whom should have remained a coworker sees me in the hall, this is followed by brief, work related small talk as I'd hope to keep it as such and then the departure Example 1:

I shame my title, Premature Metro Goddess. All those things I spoke of , of life and craziness, living to the extremes, just living... and now I am my work. I am a Career Specialist, I work with high school students, I help them see the forest in the midst of all the tress, and I help them develop that dream of "What am I, and Who will I be?". Yet someone in all of that I've lost sight of the forest for all those trees. I long for all those things that we thought came after the diploma. I long for the shimmer of it all, the glowing, multi faceted expanse of things that I saw in front of me that have somehow faded to a dim light shining subordinate next to the glow of my computer screen. Upon my initial analysis of things I lived under the assumption that at this point I would be a screaming poet with words flowing like honey, a staunch feminist rallying for our rights, guitar playing on the balcony late nights under the moon, dinners lingering into the next day, d

What goes around comes around? I'm listening to Justin Timberlake and in one of those moods for writing. Is that true, are all those old sayings of retribution, karma, and putting it out in the universe true?