Disillusioned

My fortune cookie read: Prepare yourself for a change of events in your personal life. Naturally, I applied it to my imminent trip to Italy.

Soon enough, however, I received some bad news. I was disillusioned once again. I have expectations. Everyone does, and when they fall through, it hurts. It sears. Though disappointment is frequent and natural, we cannot help but build our hopes up again and again, because we as humans crave happiness. We want to believe things will work out. Sometimes they do, and we cling to these realized dreams. But when they don't work, we must endure painful disillusionment. This has been the topic of my writing for the past year.

Yesterday, I dealt with selfish humans. Who treated me like shit at the scene of an accident. Today, I was disillusioned by the reality that sometimes, relationships don't work. Sometimes two people cannot be together even if they've tried. You know, we build hope in each other. There's this never-ending cycle of climax and resolution. Joy and pain. At this realization, I sat in my car and wept for the human race.

Human Nature

Humans suck. They are a greedy, selfish, disgusting species. Who else hurts and kills others solely for the pleasure of another's suffering? Or to further their own fortune?

I consider myself an escapist. I became a writer because I loathe reality. I'd rather believe people are good, true love reigns, and the impossible is possible. Reality tells me otherwise. It whispers nasty things.

When I start to lose my faith in humanity, there are those people who comfort me when I cry, who buy me pizza on a bad day, who make me smile with a compliment, who sacrifice their time to be with me. I grasp onto these people because they're the most essential evidence of goodness in this terrible, terrible world.

Hurt

I'm hurting. I'm happy, but my past is hurting my future. Past relationships have tainted my prospective lovers.

I'm a romantic. I want to travel across the country to see my soul mate, but I don't want to be disappointed. Am I too serious about this? What if this person doesn't feel for me the way I feel for him? Why must I fall so quickly? I wish I could be more flippant. I'm so tired of being hurt.

Here Comes The Sun

Things are gonna be alright. I can tell.

This weekend I went to Merlefest with Sydney. We went to concerts, sipped frozen lemonade, and licked powdered sugar from our sticky fingers. While there, I forgot about everything.

Saturday night, a sexy Irish band played and we headed to the dance tent, where bodies jumped and crashed into each other. My laughter was inaudible against the drums and accordions.

A snapshot:
I'm mid-air, my hair exploding as I leap. I glisten with sweat.

We fell asleep to the sound of banjos. With blisters on my feet and the sun in my face, we danced, we sang, we lived.