Que sera, sera...

I have a tendency to kill things.

I should have never projected my anger on you. It's a little embarrassing and it's so easy to escape accountability by means of frustration and shifting blame. I know I have a tendency to be dramatic and my own inadequecies killed it. Discontent and misdirection is such an abhorrent and unattractive quality.

Reminiscing on such a small period of time is both inutile and naive. You are attractive, intelligent, funny and thoughtful and I'm sure you always will be to everybody and I will always appreciate that of you, even if we never see each other again. I have tried to make you insignificant and horrid to forget but really acceptance is a lot more condusive.

It's strange. I don't know why the last two weeks, I allowed myself to get frustrated. Mostly this year, I wake up content, hopeful and my days are really productive. It doesn't matter why I did it. Excuses are obsolete.

This week, my religions class was so relieving it sounds funny but the concept of Buddhism Is particularly helpful and quickly put things in perspective. I realized that  I allowed myself to shift back to the negative and absurd and it's stupid because I feel like I've been beyond that for some time. Attachments shouldn't dictate thoughts or manipulate reason. I like what I'm transitioning into. I feel efficient.

All That being said? If I could carry a little bubble around that encompassed the way I felt when I kissed you for the first time I would. Because feeling like your whole body is turning to static and feeling weightless is great... But life isn't a sci fi novel and movies aren't real.  The natural world could dissipate but it won't ever... which can be painfully boring but dancing around concrete facts was never productive for anybody and it never made reality any less true, this is what I'm learning... finally and you know what? This time it isn't painful. But the small fact that you made me feel a certain way is both the best and worst thing ever... the only tragedy being my failure to detach but what is life without lessons?

I write you little positive notes sometimes about my day. Notes that I won't ever send. It's so 19th century but it's shamefully therapuetic. If I had glass bottles and easy ocean access I would surely toss them in despite environmental repercussions. It's great that I'm landlocked... timing is everything and I know that nothing is permanent so these thoughts, these romanticisms will somehow leave me eventually.