In the five months that I’ve been here, I’ve watched every one if my closest friends cry and struggle over the infatuation of a man.
I’ve held my friends tight, and poured them wine, and watched them puke into a toilet, as they sob over a man they thought cared for them.
This is why I’m single.
I find myself repeating over and over in my head.
I can’t bring myself to go through that heartache again. But at the same time, I realize how unusual it is for me to be heart broken. I’ve watched people do some crazy stuff over a relationship that had lasted as long as my period. I’ve never become so attached so quickly.
Sometimes it’s good to have a cold heart.
Sometimes it’s good to be heartless.
At last the surgery that I’ve been dreading for six months is over and done with.
Now I sit in my bed with copious bottles of pills open next to me. I sleep more than anything. I’m sure as soon as I finish writing this, my body will insist I drift back off to sleep again.
But sleep is good, it’s been quite rare for me to enjoy sleep these past few months, so I’m not bothered by this new and unusual sleeping pattern.
I don’t mind sleeping all the time, the more I sleep, the less I think, and that’s been doing me well.
Everyone gets lonely when they’re not feeling well, and I find myself craving someone that is no longer in my life.
I find myself with a man laying next to be, yet completely uninterested in him, even after he brought me adorable gifts, and is as sweet and charming as he can be.
I’m sorry.. There just isn’t anything there. But thank you. I suppose.
My twenty second year corrupting this galaxy with my loud obnoxious lingo, and outrageous acts of weirdom. In these twenty two years I have found myself associated with some of the most extraordinary situations, and interesting people.
If you know me, and listen to my story, you know that my life has been one lucky toss of the dice after another. Constant blessings.
For most if my life I’ve considered myself to be one of the most blessed and lucky girls ever to walk this crazy weird planet. And to put it bluntly, this past two months have been the most exciting and entertaining of them all.
Everything has fallen into place so perfectly for so long, that I’ve found myself bracing for impact from some type of future oncoming Borge ship of bad news.
Am I seriously waiting for something bad to happen? That makes no sense.
Last week, one of my friends was diagnosed with cancer. I’ve spent a good portion of time with him in the past two days, and it’s really inspired me concerning the type of person I am, compared to most of our human race.
This man is 25 years old, and was told that he could die in 1, 5, 10 years- they truly don’t know. That’s usually how cancer works.
But isn’t that how life is anyway?
Aren’t we just as unsure when our time is up when we are healthy, as we are if we’re diagnosed with a terminal illness?
Why is it that it takes a person telling us that we will be dying at some point in our life, that be begin to actually feel like we should be living our life?
Does that make any sense? No.
I can’t stand how some people approach life. As if movies and videogames will fill the void enough to pass the time, rather than going out and meeting and living and not just simply existing.
Some people disgust me. But we’ll get into that later.
If you know me, you know that typically, love spills out of me like a joyful glass of wine, filled to the brim with blessings .
I find myself embracing everyone I see.
Every sentence is a compliment or a celebration of life. Life has so much to be celebrated about.
Rivulets of laughter bubble out of my lips, I simply cant restrain my happy heart.
Strangers thank me for being so in love with life. For reminding them that this is a good day, and they deserve to walk away from me with a smile.
However, those days are not everyday.
It is rare since I’ve moved to Florida, but it is known to happen.
It begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
A feeling of physical pain caused by loneliness. My hands grip my warn out stealing wheel, I can hear me consciously tell myself that it is okay to cry.
It’s always okay to cry.
I won’t tell anyone I’m lonely, I wont mention I’m sad. This is simply a phase that we go through.
I’ll keep driving and keep moving on. But these Florida roads aren’t as peaceful as they were back in North Carolina.