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| I wrote an entry a few weeks ago about how I was afraid we wouldn’t work, but then you proved to me that we would. For some reason I didn’t get it posted.
But now I’m wondering again if we won’t work, but for slightly different reasons, so I’m writing this entry instead.
I must admit, your timing is terrible. I know you didn’t intentionally use me and my family, but if we end things here, it will most certainly look like it. I wouldn’t hold it against you. We wrote you letters, picked you up from the airport, gave you a place to stay for the night, drove you to where you needed to be because we care about you.
And I use the present tense because I do still care about you. In fact, I still love you. I’m angry with you, but I realize that I did, do, and always will love you in some capacity. I don’t know what will happen between us, because this past week very much has made me reconsider being in a relationship with you. But I do know that I care deeply about you and always will, no matter how many times you stab me in the back or turn the knife.
Do I hope it works out with us? Of course I do. Do I realize that this week was inevitable, with my illness and your stress? Of course. Do you realize it, too? That, I’m not sure of.
But what if it doesn’t work out? I’ll move on. I’ve done it once before, and I can do it again. I have wonderful friends and family, and more than that, I have a God who loves me.
We do need to talk and I hope we can do so rationally and soon. | | |
| I don't want to admit it, because I'm still not entirely certain, and the fact that I'm not certain assures me that it's not complete yet, but I think I'm beginning to trust you. The cynic inside of me shakes her head and says, "Stupid, stupid girl! You made this mistake before!" but she knows that I don't trust you entirely. Saying that I trust you would be like calling an acorn an oak tree the moment it hits the ground. Lots of things could go wrong, and it could never grow to what it could be. But there is potential.
I will be so angry if you prove me wrong. | | |
| When did my life become a soap opera? I even make the stupid mistakes that make the audience go "What are you doing?!" ... only not quite as racy.
I've always sneered at soaps, too, because all the twisted stories with returning characters are all so fake. And, granted it's not like my life has people who don't know who their baby daddy is, or ex-lovers returning from comas after brain-transplants, but I never realized how mixed up all this relationship stuff can get.
The worst part about the mistakes is knowing how stupid they are, because I don't even want to talk to people about them because I know it's stupid. But the mistakes aren't that bad. They're just confusing. And all the uncertainty about situations and feelings doesn't help.
I don't need a mood ring, I need a script. | | |
| In two months, I'm leaving on a semester-long trip. I don't know what awaits me there, but I'm excited. My smallest worries (which were, incidentally, also my greatest worries) have been calmed, and my hopes are high. This is a trip I've been wanting to make for at least ten full years. Perhaps longer.
At first I was a little worried about making the trip only with people I don't know very well, but then I realized that there are only a handful of people in my life that I actually feel close to. And it'll give me a chance to meet new people (if only I can get out of my shell a bit more).
I think the difference is really what I need. I've been so restless here lately. It'll be different. It will be very different. And yet, I don't think it will be too different.
Two months... only two more months... | | |
| I knew at first that I didn't know you well enough. And just when I
thought I was beginning to get to know you, you threw me off entirely.
I think that's why it was so easy (comparatively) for me to move on.
Your behavior made it easy for me to believe that you weren't actually
the person I had thought, and it was that imagined person I loved, not
this other person who seemed to appear so suddenly from nowhere.
We stayed friends, which I do not regret. I had met this new side of
you knowing not to take him seriously or personally. I offered
compassion and support as I do with any of my friends. And I do not
regret it. I mean it when I say I'm glad we talk regularly again, but
the turn of the conversations worry me. After three months of neutral
language during which I moved on and you all but ignored me, you return
to the ways of May and June, calling me by pet names and asking to see
me again.
This time I am not so easily fooled as before. You yourself told me you
were too flighty. Even all my other friends, when I tell them what has
recently unfolded, react in my defense. And even if I myself were the
only voice telling me that you are a red flag, I would heed the
admonition. ... But I am human, and while I have no intentions of
harming you, I am not ready to tell you that this cannot be. For you
have given me a power that I have never truly before held, and I do not
want to surrender it just yet. I don't know what I want to do with it,
but I don't want to release you, just in case.
You said you hope you see me before you leave, and I truthfully
answered that I hope to see you as well. But I don't know what that
meeting will hold, and it stands before me like a beast aiming for my
demise. It will not overcome, but I must be prepared. I learned last
time, and I see how much I have grown from the experience (which, by
the way, I thank you for). I do not wish to regress.
But you always surprise me. | | |
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