10:53 p.m. - 2004-05-16
Some days I wake up and I wonder where my life went. Things that I wanted so badly in the past fade away into lost dreams and hopelessness. I wonder where the people I've been with and have had in my life are, I wonder what they're doing, I wonder what happened to all the promises we made to each other.
Ricocheting through memories and love letters I've kept since before time began, I remember how I felt when I first wrote/read them. I remember the situations as they were, and not how they are now. I remember being so in love with (Insert Name Here), and how we used to playfully flirt and joke around, how we used to eat together at (Diner name) and drink coffee and plan out the rest of our lives.
And I always wonder, if we were so in love, if things were so important to us at that time, then how did we let it all slip away? What happened that turned the love of the centuries into bitterness and broken hearts.
Is it that the love was never what I thought it was? Did my blind hope for something better morph what was into what could be? My mind constantly convinces myself of things, why should this be any different?
How is it that in the time span of 6 months, someone in my eyes can go from the most wonderful and perfect person I've ever met, who makes me happier than I ever thought possible, into "The ex", or "That bitch".
Then I wonder why it is three years later as I'm crying and reading old love letters, why is it that I remember them as the greatest thing that I'd lost.
It's an endless cycle, I don't think I'll ever understand it. People tell me I'm just in love with being in love, that's it not the girls who change, it's me. It's my viewing of things. This is probably in some way true, but that doesn't change the fact that each individual one, through infidelity or mental whatever the fuck, have hurt me, had destroyed and stepped on our love before it had a real chance.
My friend April thinks that I choose women that treat me as bad like my mother did. That I do it on purpose because I'm fucked up in the head. Maybe she's right, but who knows. That's a little too "Fuck your mother" Freudian for me. The last thing I want to do is get a girl like that whacked out mongoose.
I don't know where I was originally going with this, but I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm the one who's stuck here year after year with love letters and memories of a bunch of crap.
They say it's "Their loss", but it isn't, that's just something retarded people say to make themselves feel better. "They" are out fucking other people, "They" are out having fun, and certainly not pining over me and all they lost, that's a bunch of crap. It's my loss. My loss of time, investment, and love.
It's my loss.