So this thing that I wanted to be more than a thing has been cursed. Maybe the moment I decide to broadcast the way I feel about someone on my blog, it becomes the moment that everything goes wrong. I just feel like me and Mr. RA were getting off to a great start, and then suddenly, some demon came and possessed him. That’s actually the only thing I can think of. I can’t come up with a better reason for his change in behavior. He told my roommate that he’s no longer interested in me, and that I’m immature. Then when I went to speak to him this morning, he stated that he was still interested.
I met in a car accident yesterday, driving from school with a suitemate. We were ironically headed to the dmv so that she could sort out some things when a woman rear ended us. The pain I feel physically right now is immense. I am happy, nevertheless, that I cheated death yet again.
I’m tired. I feel weary. I constantly wonder if I’m actually going to make it to old age, and I’m not talking about the old age that that some people accept, with the one lonely three legged dog, the rocking chair by the lace curtain window and the large Native American quilt with the pack of Siberian Wolves on it. I want more. I can tell you what I hope for. In my silent moments, I have this little beam of hope that reminds me of the way we were created to desire, and of course, I desire love and to be loved, and to love. I concoct this moment in my head of myself being a much older, withered leaf, looking on at her grandchildren and offspring. Once this reverie is over and I’m back to reality, I start pondering on the possibility, but I lack the faith to truly believe that I can have this beautiful ending. I don’t want to get too happy about a possibility and so I just let the possibilty go. It’s easier to let go and never have something, than to wait in hopes that it will show, and when it never does, you are left in despair. I hate that feeling of despair. I run from it.