Today, I felt pretty sorry for myself. I was thinking of things in the past, about how in relationships I’ve been rather unlucky or unwilling, about how I keep to myself, because sometimes it’s easier than being in an awkward situation.
About how there are those who love me but I have a hard time reciprocating their feelings.
About how the people I chose to love didn’t reciprocate mine.
About how I may have unrealistic expectations in life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.
About how I keep waiting for magical moments of clarity, but they never show up.
About how while I was trying to make everything stand still, stay the same, keep things for me – they changed anyway and I with them.
About how funny it is that one day I feel like I have my shit together, and the next I’m crying my eyes out.
About how it’s really hard for me to accept compliments.
About how people have told me how beautiful I am, and I can never see it.
About how I try to remember to be kind and love myself – when really, it should just be automatic.
I keep trying to not think so much, and end up overthinking everything, like a child on Christmas: Can I open up my presents now?!?!?!?!. I read Beattie’s post today and started bawling. Hard, heaving sobs. Why? I don’t know. But it was as if a quiet well of frustration and pain and sadness had just decided to open itself. And so I read, and I cried. And you know what she said?
That everything that is meant to happen will happen in time. That the unseen forces around our lives will guide us when we need to be guided. That we can’t make anything happen. That we just have to let it flow. That whatever needs to be provided for us, will. That we’re protected and cared for. And loved.
I guess that means that everything is where it’s supposed to be.
And that is the thing that brings me the most comfort.