I cannot for the life of me figure out how to make this go away.
12.06.03
At Christmas little children sing and merry bells jingle
The cold winter air makes our hands and faces tingle
And happy families go to church and cheerily they mingle
And the whole business is unbelievably dreadful if you're single.
--Wendy Cope
(as quoted in Bridget Jones's Diary)
12.07.03
I hate this. I can't figure out why I'm doing it. I don't have anything to say.
There are some days when I really really really want to quit. Some days when I look at what I've done over the last five years and realize that no matter how much I want to think otherwise, it doesn't matter.
12.08.03
real and right and true
the sky is blue
everlasting arms are holding you
sweet secret peace
sweet secret peace
beautiful are you
your hands are new
all you feel is real right and true
sweet secret peace
sweet secret peace
real and right and true will turn into
the secret peace inside the heart of you
sweet secret peace
sweet secret peace
sweet secret peace
--neil finn, sweet secret peace
12.12.03
I am not strong, okay? Was I fooling anyone? I am NOT strong. I am weak and pathetic and ridiculously stupid, in ways you could not possibly imagine and would not believe if I told you.
But I can't do anything about it. I can't fix it. I can fall all over myself trying to make myself acceptable and at the end of the day I'll be exactly where I started, but instead of just being alone, I will be alone and tired.
If it does happen, if it ever happens, let me tell you how it's going to be. I will not present myself to him as who I am, full of confidence and saying this is what you get and I am worthy of you just as I am. Are you kidding? Not in a million years. Instead, I will follow him around trying to figure out what makes him happy on any given day and alter myself to fit that. I will follow him around with my heart in my hands and thank him profusely for taking it and if all he does is turn around and put it down somewhere, I'll probably be too busy weeping with gratitude to notice. He takes me in, saves me from coming home to an empty house, ends an adulthood of being not quite what is needed, and I will worship him, unconditionally.
Which is ridiculous, and not how it should be, and who would want to be with someone who acted like a stray dog anyway?
But it is times like these, nights like these, when to the depths of my being, I believe, without reservation, that it would still be better than being alone.