|Funny how things never really change.
||[Apr. 8th, 2010|11:53 pm]
I found my journal with this entry from two years ago...might as well be from two days ago.
"I wish I had a way with words or at least a kind of handwriting that made people say, "Wow, she knows what she's talking about." But I don't; maybe it's because I don't know what I'm talking about most of the time.
"But since I don't have a way with a pen, I'll write what I know. I'll write with my heart and I'll write with my soul.
"I know I keep saying I don't really trust him to come here and I'm not counting on it...but I want it so badly. I want him to be here to apologize and say he loves me and that he's an idiot and he'll do anything it takes to get back into my life...I want it so badly I'm not sure what I'll do if it doesn't happen.
"Love should not be allowed to happen to people my age. No...love shouldn't be allowed to smart people or trusting people or happy people, because love turns wise men into fools, and the (mostly) inevitable heartbreak ruins trust and kills happiness.
"How do I still cry over him? I've never cried over a boy in my life, except when I knew I was breaking his heart.
"...and now my heart is broken, and I hate that.
"The worst part is that I can't hate anyone for it. God had nothing to do with my unhappiness; I knew full well it was a possibility from the start. I can't hate myself for it, because it wasn't my fault. I can't hate her for it, because she had no idea what was going on; and I can't hate him for it, as much as I'd like to. To err is human, after all. And I guess--I think, anyway, but I can't be sure just yet-- that part of me still loves part of him.
"And that's what I hate."