That’s not true, though, is it? We don’t really change who we are.
People. Don’t. Change.

I tell myself that I’m not the same girl I used to be, but I really am.
I try to rationalize that I can’t be hurt, that I won’t let myself feel anymore.
I don’t want to believe in romantic love anymore. It feels so far away, so false.

I love my husband, don’t get me wrong. But he’s just a man.
Much like I am just a woman.
We are flawed and prone to hurting one another on occassion.

I don’t want to believe in rainbows and unicorns and pots of gold.
I don’t want to believe in higher beings holding power over my life.
I don’t want to believe in anything bigger than me.

But I do.
Somewhere, deep down, I belive in the happy endings and meant-to-bes.

And those beliefs lead to disappointment, saddness and a general melancholy outlook on life.
But they can also lead to wonder, joy, and amazement.

Today, though, I’m feeling the melancholy.
No, that’s a lie. It’s not just today. It’s been the last few days.
I’m not sure why it started, or when. I just know that things have made me edgy, sad, pissed off, and overall unhappy.

Seeing other people happy makes me frustrated.
Why can’t I have that?!

Ugh.

Time to go find a quiet corner and meditate.

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