I wasn't supposed to expect anything.
And yet I fell into the rabbit's hole, and did.
I don't know how to express myself here anymore. I'd fallen into a weird conundrum of taking pen to paper and writing my thoughts and feelings in a notebook, ostensibly to that one person who gave me inspiration through letting me see my words through his eyes.
I'm at this weird rocky line now where I look at this book with so many feelings - part of me isn't able to touch it again, part of me wants to throw it hard across the room and perhaps light it on fire. Part of me just wants to throw it away or rip out the pages and toss them to the wind.
So here I am. I don't know why I asked for anything for myself again. I keep making this mistake and it ends up with me hating myself for ever opening up again. Letting someone in again. Letting them hurt me again. It's a cycle isn't it? And I keep thinking that the only way to break the cycle is simply to stop doing the same thing. Which is what I had tried doing for the last several years: just not letting anyone in.
I don't know why it happens; how I let anyone in through all the armour and walls I've built up. Even now, all I want is to have a long discussion with this one person who's made his way through and discuss this very strange thing. But I can't.
Once again I'm here alone. Sitting on the doorstep waiting to be let in again.
The thing is, and I have to keep reminding myself this... we weren't promised happiness or love when we came into this world - were we? It's not expected, it's not a given. And yet we keep somehow selfishly assuming we are owed this much. These things are illusions and fleeting at best. I wasn't promised happiness, I wasn't promised love. Move on. Live on.
