Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I feel like I should have some strong feelings about it and to be honest, I really don’t. I am once more on the road for work (it seems the only time I ever have to write) and I have to admit I really don’t care about too much right now.
I wish I could report I was at least abiding by my New Year’s Resolution each every day, but I had to go back and look at what I wrote because, for the life of me, I couldn’t even remember what I wrote a month and a half ago.
Fearing less? I think that would require giving a shit.
Which I don’t. Not exactly a sign of progress.
I think I have, however, finally lost hope on Sparks and I wish I just had stuck to it when I tried to give it up back before Christmas. Giving up allows more of a chance to hold onto pride than losing; at least I had some choice in the matter before. He sucked me back in though, with talk of trying to get together and with text messages that would make just about anyone blush. It appeared the pissing dog scenario came into play, even from long distance.
Instead, it also appears he has apparently realized this – whatever this is – is simply not worth it after nearly a year. Or at least that is what I take from complete silence for the last two weeks after a reasonable facsimile of a disagreement and an awkward convo.
Who knew it was possible to lose something you never had to begin with? Or that it would suck so much.
Should our paths cross again in a month, as they have for each of the last two years and are predicted to again, it is hard to imagine having the strength (or desire) not to give in and go down this road again. For which I will apologize for now.
All I have until then are 35 more days in my 20’s, which probably isn’t enough time to figure out what I came here to do. Find some passion. Some groove.
Or maybe it is. Who knows?
I’m just trying to make myself care about it again.
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