I'm trying. I'm really trying not to fall down. Please, for the love of all that is holy, please don't let my mood fall.
I suppose it was meant to happen, a little bit at least. The absolute euphoria that carried me through last week would have to end sometime, bringing me back to earth. The thing is, earth looks somewhat like hell when you've had the chance to fly above it. And so now... now, I've got find a reason to shine. I've got to find a reason to get out of bed every morning and somehow tap into that well of joy that I accidentally tapped into last week.
Isn't it funny, how moods can right or wrong themselves with a flip of the calendar page? Isn't it funny how you can somehow know that on Sunday, you were happy and healthy and feeling wonderful, and on Monday you somehow... weren't? But you have absolutely no concept of what made one day different than the other, which makes it all the more frustrating.
Holiday blues? Probably. I fell into a pit of hell after Christmas and New Year's Eve. My birthday was last week, so it stands to reason... although I feel nothing today like what I felt for the first 6 weeks of the year, something for which I'm incredibly appreciative. Oh, all right. So my birthday isn't, strictly speaking, a holiday. Having it so close to my sister's does kind of make the week a Yearly Event, what with the Ingenii Sisters Birthday Extravaganzas.
I'm looking for things to look forward to. That's what it is. I'm ready for something big and wonderful and life changing to happen. Oh, all right, maybe not life-changing. And maybe not even big. But wonderful? Can it be wonderful?
I think I need to take stock.
I've got the dance classes to look forward to. That's wonderful, right? And I've got my friends and summer a'comin', which is always a healthy combination. I don't have a boy; a regular boy, a steady and lovely and darling boy who thinks that I'm fabulous and interesting, but I didn't have one last week either, and I was happy. Right? So I don't need a boy. I'd like a boy. But I don't need one. (I'm not really this well adjusted. I'm going to have to repeat it over and over for a while before I actually start to believe it. But putting it down on paper - so to speak - is a good start.)
I can almost believe now that I won't get fat again. I lose control every so often, but it's not as bad as it once was. I'll never be perfect, but... maybe I will. Huh. Who knows what perfect is? Forty pounds ago, I thought that what I am now was brilliant. I look back and can't believe how deluded I was. It's all relative, really.
You know what I need? God, I don't know where this is coming from; we'll call it a craving for now. But, honestly? I need the sun to shine late on a Friday afternoon, heating up the early evening hours, and eventually making the night sky haze with comfortable warmth. I need to sit on a patio somewhere, across from someone with whom I'm supremely comfortable. It doesn't have to be a hip and happening spot. It could be a tiny patisserie, even. But there will be endless cups of coffee or many glasses of wine, and the waiter will be good looking and charming, and understand exactly what we want, and when we will want more of it. The music - for there is always music - will be the playlist of our dreams, and we will tap our feet to the rhythms, our eyes alight with joy as favourite after favourite fills our ears. Ideas will be bounced and exchanged, and ribald jokes will fly with rapid wit, and our laughter will ring through the air. I want strangers passing on the sidewalk to look over at the sound of our chuckles, and I want them to gaze longingly at the picture of camaraderie that we form.
It's not a lot to ask for, I don't think. Is it?
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