I occasionally wonder if my obsession with my poor fit of an ex-boyfriend is punishment for being a terrible, ill-tempered person who no one will love until she becomes sufficiently meek and demure.
Here's to another year of misery and obsessive thoughts.
I'm naturally inclined to problems like this when I get stressed. Had the same trouble when I entered kindergarten and couldn't stop seeing people dying all the time. Now I can't stop thinking about that damnable ghost, who isn't even the real man.
I'd rant out a long list of things that I never had, like a New Year's kiss or a Valentine's Day that felt like something other than a paint-by-numbers clown, or a kiss hello, or anything that fits squarely in the "romance" box rather than lifting itself wholly into "logic." But this isn't the place for that.
Here I am: young Vector, fairly extreme polyglot, powerful math student, lover of detective novels, 1830-1940 French novels, and myths, vaguely proficient cartoonist, author, and violinist. Young lady whose dating pool includes internationally award-winning physicists, sons of influential computer scientists, lady linguists, mathematicians, and artists.
So what am I so worried about, anyway?
And here's what I promise: if we speak again, it's not going to be this year. And if I think of him again, I sure as hell hope it won't be often or angrily, because this needs to stop. I'm pretty pissed off. It's become fairly clear that this is no longer about people, and is the product of outdated brain mechanics.
Oh, and I may try and see if the South needs a mathematician when I graduate. If there's one thing I learned from living out here, it's that I'm damned tired of being treated like a weirdo for enjoying country music and being able to plant things. Sure, comes with its own problems and I'll still probably be treated like a weirdo, but I'll deal with it. I need a change of scene.
Either that or an entirely different country.
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Topic: Things that made you sad today thread. (Read 9704090 times)