I don’t want to cry.
No, this time I really don’t.
I’d rather dissect. Specifically the why.
It is so stupid, truly, to care about people. They let you down when you need them and then others arrive with open arms and they’re not the ones you want. It’s not their fault for letting you down and it’s not their fault for arriving and still you find yourself wishing they could switch their places. Why is that?
I have thought about it for too long and suffered it for even longer. Haven’t we all.
The simple answer revolves around a classic excuse: wanting what you can’t have. I am tired of that excuse. It’s too simple and too straightforward and fails to answer to me, specifically.
I don’t think I’m doing anything wrong. Truly. I’m conveying good intentions and, to the best of my knowledge, delivering on most. Not all, of course. All would be unreasonable. No one is perfect. But still, most. With most I am present and with most I am sharing the maximum of myself that I can.
I think, in a way that is both brave and sad, but much more the latter, This is what has driven me to leave. I don’t say it in blame of others. That would be ridiculous. No one has wronged me (except for the man who stole my bag last month. He wronged me for sure).
If I do not find a way to lessen what I give, I will never find a way to lessen what I expect. I want the best for each person I meet and I want for it in a way that is as lovely as it is unrealistic. No one I meet will wish that for me. Not in the way I do for them. It makes me sad because I don’t expect it, and still I want it more than I want anything in the world. I wish i wanted less for the people I knew. I wish I was less aware. I wish that I did not so often wish for a person that will never love me to feel love from someone else entirely. It is a waste of time. I know this. I know it so well. Too well. And at the same time, I know it will not stop and I know I will not do enough to change it. Maybe writing it down is a step towards change? I hope it is. I hope so badly.
As badly as I am tired as I put these feelings to words.
Tomorrow, perhaps.
This one is raw. The kind where in the future I’ll wish very few saw.