Two cats and two tissues
How to drop all the expectations you have without losing interest?
I am tired of waiting. Maybe I should just stop waiting.
Maybe if I spoke French, just maybe.
Maybe is such a tempting place to be at.
S.K. is 79 and she is a force of nature. Her eyes still sparkle with enthusiasm.
And the truth is that I am tired. I get glimpses of happiness here and there and some moments of satisfaction. Not sure though I am doing a great job. Not sure people can be even certain of that, that they are indeed doing a good job. Maybe that doesn’t even matter.
This plethora of people, who come to the library and disturb the precious silence within the lives of books, annoys me.
I am studying the stock market closely.
I spent the day at home mostly organizing yesterday. I watched a music documentary. I cleaned closets, took the trash out. I have three full bags of clothes and shoes to donate. Benjamin followed me around. Edwin slept on his favorite chair. I wonder if my cats are happy.
I opened the windows to let a breeze come in. I washed the linens to have a clean bed since it was Friday and I thought we were going to bed early. I love the scent of fresh linens and lit candles. The windows breathing. But instead we had a fight and I slept with two tissues in my hand. No candles. No you.
My cousin is having a baby girl in July. She’s been married for 20 years. She was my best friend when we were little. She’s 37 now and got married to this guy the family didn’t approve of. I lost contact with her even before coming to the United States.
I am still dwelling on his words: what are you trying to do, are you counting the hours, are you trying to know every single step I make? I was crying and my lips were trembling. My teeth were grinding and I had no power to stop them. Another fight and I feel discouraged.
Our tango.
We should be a team he yells at me. His sense of entitlement bothers me a great deal. Maybe I am not capable of empathizing – starting with myself.
So, I hear there’s a Trader Joe’s in Naples and I feel like driving there to get some goodies I haven’t had the opportunity to buy since I moved to Florida. I could leave early and watch the sunrise and the sunset. Then take some pictures along the way.
I think I know how Mr. M. felt while we were together.
I still find that words are necessary, even though sometimes, just like last night, I wished I could have said nothing.
My new nail polish - which I did myself, couldn’t be more girlie: Purple, Red French Tip, and a tiny heart on the annular finger on my right hand. I am left handed. I cannot draw with my right hand. Asymmetrical it is and that is fine when we are talking about nails. I guess just unbalanced relationships are not that fun.
iPhones and computers seemed to be adored: more than people, I wonder.
Am I ever going to be able to understand your la-la land? Should I?
Dying love: The solitude in the agony of love that is dying.
I am tired of waiting. Maybe I should just stop waiting.
Maybe if I spoke French, just maybe.
Maybe is such a tempting place to be at.
S.K. is 79 and she is a force of nature. Her eyes still sparkle with enthusiasm.
And the truth is that I am tired. I get glimpses of happiness here and there and some moments of satisfaction. Not sure though I am doing a great job. Not sure people can be even certain of that, that they are indeed doing a good job. Maybe that doesn’t even matter.
This plethora of people, who come to the library and disturb the precious silence within the lives of books, annoys me.
I am studying the stock market closely.
I spent the day at home mostly organizing yesterday. I watched a music documentary. I cleaned closets, took the trash out. I have three full bags of clothes and shoes to donate. Benjamin followed me around. Edwin slept on his favorite chair. I wonder if my cats are happy.
I opened the windows to let a breeze come in. I washed the linens to have a clean bed since it was Friday and I thought we were going to bed early. I love the scent of fresh linens and lit candles. The windows breathing. But instead we had a fight and I slept with two tissues in my hand. No candles. No you.
My cousin is having a baby girl in July. She’s been married for 20 years. She was my best friend when we were little. She’s 37 now and got married to this guy the family didn’t approve of. I lost contact with her even before coming to the United States.
I am still dwelling on his words: what are you trying to do, are you counting the hours, are you trying to know every single step I make? I was crying and my lips were trembling. My teeth were grinding and I had no power to stop them. Another fight and I feel discouraged.
Our tango.
We should be a team he yells at me. His sense of entitlement bothers me a great deal. Maybe I am not capable of empathizing – starting with myself.
So, I hear there’s a Trader Joe’s in Naples and I feel like driving there to get some goodies I haven’t had the opportunity to buy since I moved to Florida. I could leave early and watch the sunrise and the sunset. Then take some pictures along the way.
I think I know how Mr. M. felt while we were together.
I still find that words are necessary, even though sometimes, just like last night, I wished I could have said nothing.
My new nail polish - which I did myself, couldn’t be more girlie: Purple, Red French Tip, and a tiny heart on the annular finger on my right hand. I am left handed. I cannot draw with my right hand. Asymmetrical it is and that is fine when we are talking about nails. I guess just unbalanced relationships are not that fun.
iPhones and computers seemed to be adored: more than people, I wonder.
Am I ever going to be able to understand your la-la land? Should I?
Dying love: The solitude in the agony of love that is dying.
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