I haven't done a blog in a long time, and for that I am sorry. We've had exams after exams with more on the way. Today brought two more ridiculously unnecessary pieces of evidence I really don't care. I couldn't revise as the subject area let my book out of their site so now it has gone AWOL. I cared a little, until my teacher said that I didn't need to revise.
I made a mental note to keep that in my head forever.
Another feeling of deep loss has come over me again. I apologise for another 'code-name', so to speak, but I do like using them. Mr Completely Adorable left three weeks ago. I don't mean left, as in left school. I mean left, as in moved country. I only liked him for a few months and didn't know him that well. In fact I don't think I knew him at all. I never knew his full name. I never knew about him. All I know is I met him occasionally, and that was all.
And he was (and still is) VERY cute.
I thought I didn't like him, my brain was telling me it was ridiculous. But then he said he was leaving, moving to Spain. Adios senõr (I apologise again for my abismal Spanish). I managed to hold it in, wish him luck and get on with my journey. But when I got home I found tears down my face, with no recollection of having passed them. Does that mean I love him? If I know nothing of him but cry about him? If I still wish he would come back? If I wish I could have told him outright that I liked him?
That's the point though. We don't know the future. We don't know what we really feel. Other people know us better than we know ourselves. And that isn't really what I want.
I have got to get a hold of myself. I can't stop myself falling in love, but I have to learn that love isn't worth my tears. As I was told a few years ago "You will meet your perfect person soon enough, and you will know it when you meet them."
I've had four false alarms then. Four totally brilliant, yet heartbreaking, false alarms. Making me more anxious to get to the real thing. It's like exams that matter. You are so mock-test-ed to death you want to get the real thing done so there is no need for another mock. I'm getting impatient. I hate being denied what I want.
Everyone I know has had a boyfriend. Everyone I know has has had their heart broken. Not many people I know, in fact none, have had their heart broken as often or as painfully as me. Still, at least the most broken valuables seem to be worth more than a whole an unbroken valuable.
Why does this keep happening to me. Experience makes you wiser? Hell no! It makes you angry and upset. Experience is a fatal word in a relationship. Or a track record. People don't want players. They want you and know they will have your heart, and you want to know that they will look after it. So don't think going out with as many people as possible is cool or makes you look good. It makes you look like an idiot, and in the end, everyone will hate you.
As I am growing to do. Thank you Mr Cute.
(I have had this stashed away, so it is a little out of date!)
