A part of me has been deceived that dreams can come true while the rose-colored wearing childish me still believes that fairy tales still do happen. Have you ever thought that while opposites may attract that perhaps the differences between those individuals are the only thing that stands in their blending? That perhaps being different detains the ability to actually connect? Or is it just again the part of me that chooses to be jaded is inclined to believe that all this past year has been in vain? I myself truly don't know for a warring faction believes that it can be salvaged, it can be made better, and it can withstand any and all disagreements that may occur in the not-too-distant future. I feel as if every day is a battle within- a walking contradiction in truths. Some days, happiness blossoms a multitude of paths and detours; any step in those result in the same guaranteed happiness. Or is that itself a lie? I never thought that I would succumb in this -- I feel my true me is working double time because it doesn't know which part to give in. I suppose a blending of all can be judiciously done, but the question remains is how much of each part will need to be thrown out? How much of the dreamer/writer must be let go so that the more logical/sane one can flourish? It shouldn't be this difficult to decide which of me should be given the control, but again, I fight within the boundaries that I never knew existed. Why can't I be childish and be serious at the same time? If everything in moderation is good, how come I feel a part of is drowning every time one over the other is chosen? I sound deliciously deranged writing this post, and oddly enough, it's exhilarating to just be writing once more. I've kept my writer self from actually putting my wayward thoughts to actual words most of this year, and when I do write, it's of no importance. Yes, I feel more than I should, and letting go was never my strongest suit. While that remains to be truth, every day less of my writer self has been inclined to say anything lest the self-doubt of never being published, of never being read, become a reality. And that reality is another truth for all the ideas lay wasted inside the crevices of my brain. Poor brain! Of late, it has been fed scientific pharmaceutical mumbo-jumbo because of the job. A job I truly do enjoy. A job where making a difference is making sure the patients get their dose. A job where the client actually cares for its patients. A job that is only a contract to last to September 2013...unless a permanent position is offered before then.
This past year has been full of surprises and they weren't all good ones. It's been a year of growth for the most part. The trusted faves have all but disappeared...the social life that flourished since the break-up with W has faltered into nothingness. I don't hang out with the faves anymore, and only kept in contact with a handful few that remain. I've suffered some nights where anger won and have been scared out of my skin more than a few times by my beloved. I guess even the strongest of us can snap and brave through some breakdowns now and again. The impulse of flight was stronger than fight, but I stayed despite through of all that. And a few glimmers of true happiness have appeared under the guise of more bad news. Hope once again flows, and love? Though unspoken truly is there. We are both stubborn, my beloved and I. Both wanting to do it our way; both having to make sacrifices. And both still realizing that the road that lay ahead might be twisted, sharp with uncertainties, but mostly, the excitement of something new is truly within our grasp. Maybe the new year will be the year of us. Perhaps the universe has finally relented and have acquiesced us a break from the bad...who knows if that is the case. There are still rough patches that we must travel through, and still, a many lumps of uncertainties lay beyond the well-travelled road. But my beloved and I have survived this far together, and even that brief split made us stronger. And yet through it all, something feels amiss.
I crave more each day in terms of who I am. I've been friend, lover, girlfriend, daughter, cousin, aunt, enemy, coworker, and once I was a fiancée. Then I became the disillusioned fiancée, but that was a lesson that needed to be learned. And I'm still learning. It never bothered me before but the label of wife, of being someone's legal significant other, has been something that I have been craving more of late....not anytime soon, but I do want it. Alone with my thoughts this morning, I've recounted times of when I ever wanted to be someone's wife, and I know I've thought of it a lot while being with someone before I met my beloved, but I also knew then it wasn't going to happen. With my beloved, I can't make heads or tails if it will or if it will not, and it drives me mad that he can switch it off and on. Granted, he isn't done with the living it up, party all night and truthfully, neither am I, but I know I want to be his wife, and I want him to be my husband no matter how thick-headed he is. But he doesn't believe my love for him. And I know not how else I can show him... makes me wonder if he will ever, and thereby causes me to wonder if he and I should ever be married. He says he doesn't want marriage one day, and the next he says he wants to settle down. I do not know what to make of that. I know what I want, and each day, that want becomes stronger and I want it sooner than later.
I want our engagement to be true. Yes, he calls me his fiancée, but he has not asked. He has not attempted to make it official. I want our life to be ours, but we battle with our respective families more of late than actually make peace. We make plans to leave, but will it ever bear fruit? Yes, I know we are young. I'm older, but I feel as if younger to his years. Then other times I feel as if I have to hold his hand while he struggles to let go of his college days. We are a conundrum of our selves. A mismatched pair of doubts, dreams, and desires. Yet, the end goal is the same: we want to be happy. And we want to make the other happy. And we struggle every day in how to make each other comfortable with the hands that life has dealt us. We shrink into ourselves, and we make do what we can. I wonder if we will ever let ourselves just feel. Even I don't let myself just feel anymore. Perhaps I really am too serious. I just want us to be happy within ourselves and within us.
Happiness is only a word, but it holds each and everyone of us within its tight leash. I feel revenge would be the easier course here, but who knows, perhaps madness will rule us all.
