He Said Hello

This is not a beautiful love story.

It had been seven months and thirteen days since he last spoke to me. Yes, I counted. The time before that it had been three years since we spoke. It’s sort of sad if you think about it because my mind knows that he is bad news, but no matter how many times he breaks my heart, something in me is willing to entertain the idea of giving him another chance. The question is, though, another chance to do what?

Am I giving him another chance to love me?

It would be easy to convince myself of this. It would be simple for me to assume that this time he has it all together and his words aren’t clever lies fabricated to give me hope. Because he knows that hope is a powerful and dangerous thing. Hope is the difference between me giving him the time of day and me refusing to entertain the promises of forever. The sad thing about this whole situation is that I’m no stranger to his ways. I loved him once so much that I allowed myself to break my own rules. I never understood how I could love a man who, even in the best of times, could never give me the best of him. It’s cliché to say that those who can’t accept you at your worst don’t deserve you at your best, but how much of his worst should I go through to earn his best?

Am I giving him another chance to hurt me?

It would be much harder for me to convince myself of this. Actually, that is a misstatement. I completely recognize the possibility of this, but it’s harder for me to convince my heart to accept it. I’ve seen this happen before. The words he’d say to me, the way he’d make me feel. It all reminds my heart of the ability of a happily ever after. Those fairy tales we young girls are supposed to abandon upon maturity that somehow creep into the crevices of our adult lives. They may be a bit rewritten, but the idea is generally the same. Each asshole becomes Prince Charming. It drives me insane because I know in my mind I should just let it go, but my heart is still grasping for those small little wisps of happiness with him.

At some point, I need to let go of these feelings. I need to reevaluate what it is I expect and want from a guy so that if he decides once again that he wants to be in my life, it’ll be no big deal. Maybe I am getting just a bit ahead of my anxious self because, after all, he only said “hello.”

Choices & Decisions

One morning I woke up and decided that I would no longer be indecisive. As funny as it sounds, it's true. I've spent most of my life vacillating between choices and not truly picking one over the other. I simply coasted on the middle of the road and was happy with not having to make any big decisions in my life. Sadly, I didn't realize that I was already making these decisions by not making a decision.

Such is the curse of being an anxious person.

No, seriously. I agonize over simple decisions like what I'm going to eat for dinner, what recorded show on the DVR I'm going to watch first, or what pair of shoes I'm going to wear. In fact, even making this blog caused me severe anxiety. What should the title be? What am I going to write about first? Will I be consistent with this blog? Most of my other blogs have miserably failed because of this.

It's no surprise then that making those major decisions in life truly send me over the edge.

I'm twenty-five now and struggling with decisions is so bothersome to me. Many of my peers have started amazing careers, started families, or other amazing things and I'm still struggling with which breakfast cereal to eat in the morning (side note: it normally ends up being none). This is not to say I'm not doing great things with my own life. I'll be moving back to Miami, I'll be teaching English, and I'll be going for a Masters Degree in Education. Still, I have this nagging feeling that it's simply not enough.