Dear Love

Dear Love,

It was very nice meeting you the other day, but now I am sad that you had to go away.  Our time together was much too short, I dare say.  I searched my whole life for you, I wrote about you as a child.  It seems a cruel twist of fate I find you now, when it is too late.  I hope to see you again someday, preferably before I am old and gray.  I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t pray, for another twist of fate to bring us back together.  But our luck doesn’t work that way, remember?

I work so hard to find you and keep you, and I lose you still, I wonder why I even bother, I doubt if you ever will.

Sometimes I wonder, if I’ll ever see you again, Love.  And even if I do, will it ever be the same?  I’ll always remember how it was before you never even called me by my name.

Until we meet again, Love, I hope you’ll remember me here all alone.  I hope you’ll return one day and stay and then I can finally be at home.

Yours Truly,

Me

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False Hope

I think that having your false hopes smashed is the most painful thing in the world because not only does it hurt to have your hopes crushed, but also there is the huge blow that your ego takes when you have to admit you were wrong, most regrettably to yourself.

Quarter-Life Crisis

I feel like, after the accumulation of everything that has (and has not) happened this year, I have reached a quarter-life crisis.  This is different from a mid-life crisis in that I don’t have a need to buy a motorcycle or date a man half my age or get my year’s salary in plastic surgery.  But it is very similar in that I feel the strong need for change, big change, and soon.

Unfortunately, like everything about me, my desire is at opposite ends of the spectrum in this too.  On the one hand, I hear the quintessential “clock ticking” giving me the strong urge to mate and have a family.  Which I would absolutely love and is my ultimate goal in life.  But like everything I consider doing in life, I’m gravely afraid of screwing it up.  The other part of me wants to pick up and move across the country or get a job on a cruise ship and travel around the world.  The only problem with either of those plans is the house I bought in hopes of moving towards the first goal.

With conflicting goals I basically have to decide now which goal I would like to pursue for my life. That’s a tough decision to make at my age! And, unlike Miley Cyrus, I fear I cannot have the best of both worlds.  It can be so hard to figure out what I want- and it never seems to be the thing I want a few weeks later! All I can know for sure is what I don’t want. And what I don’t want is to be stuck in my crappy, dead-end job, making not even enough money to pay for the house I’m depressed to sit alone in and therefore try to avoid.

In school they give you guidance counselors to help tell you what classes you should take. Why can’t there be life counselors to help you make grown up choices? Why can’t there be someone telling you what job to get. Or where to live. Or, most helpful, who to date? Heck I’d take guidance on just one of those and be doing a heck of a lot better than where I’m at right now!

I don’t know where I’ll end up next year, but I feel like it will not be where I am now. I hope it is not. I’m not sure I could stand it if it were. All it takes is one big change, and I buy at least a few months before I get sick of that.  I’m trying. I’m exploring my options and weighing out their merits.  But like always, I’m too scared to jump. Too scared to make that change myself. I’m to the point where I need something that will force me to choose. Something that will leave me no other choice than the right one.  Some cataclysmic event to finally change my stagnant life and get it moving again.

So I sit and wait. And pray for a clear sign. At the end of the day, life is all about choices. And I’m terrified of making the wrong ones.

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