Well, well, well. I have neglected this a wee bit. I apologise. But, in fairness, my boring useless life has taken on a whole new persona. It has grown from a homely caterpillar (not the very hungry sort) into a terrible butterfly, out-of-control and more than likely to be crushed in one misplaced round of applause. In no particular order (as all are losses, so why clarify which is the worst?) I have in the past week failed a placement through no fault of my own, dropped a grade through my own stupidity, fallen head over heels for someone totally unobtainable but yet so reachable, and wandered into the realms of indescribable jealousy over the well deserved happiness of my best friend. I am a bad, bad person.
You know when you go over situations in your head, how you'd like them to go, what you'd like that other person to say, how everything would fall neatly into place, like a child's giant floor puzzle? I have pieced together this conversation so well, the edges fit and the words tessellate. However, the reality fairy does not appear to be singing to my tune. Fair enough, I am tone deaf, but still, she should catch the gist. I have prayed, I have wished on eyelashes, but yet still, to totally misquote Sinatra, it ain't going my way. And, yes, I am very aware that I sound like a child, but don't we all when we want something so badly and yet it remains infuriatingly out of our reach?
And I talk to my friend. Oh, she knows everything. And she responds as a friend should, with truths and harsh words, for my own good. And she is right. Mainly because she is going through the same thing. Sorry, was. It transpires that the one thing I want to happen for me (which does, unfortunately, require hurt on someone elses part; like I said, a bad, bad person) has happened for her. And she has some shocking luck in the love department, as in truly shocking. The rational part of me is happy. She deserves this, so long as he is decent. Which he appears to be. But the childish, arrogant, selfish part of me is actually jealous because it has not happened for me. I am still being pulled along, a puppet on a string. And I will not do anything about it. I could stop seeing him. Stop talking to him. Stop all contact. But I won't. I know I won't. I will allow him to screw with my head and torture my soul, I will allow this to continue because I am weak. I so wish I wasn't. I wish I was strong enough to finalise this, draw a line in thick, black pen and say "ENOUGH!" But I am not. I never have been. I am a martyr to the beat of my heart; my head cannot overrule, it would be a failed and bloody coup that I am too tired to instigate.
If we own a possession which breaks and shatters at the slightest of glances, we'd wrap it up and hide it away, no temptation would be strong enough to persuade us to put it on show again. Why, oh why do we not do the same with our hearts?
I am currently listening to Blood Red Shoes - I Wish I Was Someone Better.