Monday, September 15, 2014

Confession: Happy Endings

Quick, before I lose courage.

I believe in Happy Endings.

Not fairytale happily-after-all endings.

Just the love-for-a-lifetime kind of happy ending. One man. One woman. They find each other. They’re happy, then they fight, and if they get through it together, they face life together, stronger together, happier together. In sickness and in health. For richer or for poorer. Loving each other until death.

(Though I suppose, how does one know that it’s a happy ending or not until it… ends?)

I believe in Love.

To be more exact.

As much as I say and want to believe that I’m a fighter… I get tired sometimes. I want to quit sometimes.

But I don’t tell anyone.

Maybe that’s a part of why I believe in Love. I want that person that I can talk to. I want someone I can fight with, without worrying that this fight might cause them to finally walk away from me for good.

Finding someone to laugh with is easy. Finding someone who isn’t afraid to go through the tough times with me, … it’s not looking good. It hasn’t looked good for a long time.

I wanted to be that person for someone.

I think back on my life and it’s been very quiet. I mean that I’m very quiet. Even when I talk a lot, I don’t say anything of any significance.

How long can someone go like that?

(No, I am not having suicidal thoughts at the moment. I’m just thinking out loud in writing.)

People say that I can talk to them, that they’ll listen and that they care… but I’ve been through that before and let down so many times…

That one gives up, more and more. Each time, one is slower to recover from the last. It's a struggle not to pull away.

Or just to have someone I can count on to just be here for me. No talk. I might cry. Awkward silence. Then I’ll try to make someone laugh so that I might laugh. I don’t know.

And I’m tired of being people’s scapegoat, taking the blame for why things didn’t work out or why they don’t like how I do things or they heard someone say I did that or whatever!

Isn’t it enough that I blame myself for the things I’ve actually done and not done?

When do I get to just be me?

This is the stuff I don’t tell anyone. This is the stuff I only tell to Jesus Christ. Jesus knows I’m tired. Jesus doesn’t care who is accusing me. It’s okay that I’m stupidly stubborn. It’s not so bad that I’m quiet because I don’t know how to say it. He waits. He listens. He knows. He lifts me on my feet again. And again. And again.

I second- and third-unto-forever-guess myself so much.

I believe in Love. I’m just not so sure about an earthly Love for me. I don’t know if I’m giving up just yet. At this point, I think I’m too weak and vulnerable to risk more heartache. Most of the time, I’m the one putting myself through it. Sigh.

I don’t know how to do this.

I think it’s time for me to sleep. Tomorrow could be a better day.

Thank you for reading my babble. I’m sorry that you read my babble.

May you be a blessing to someone else so they might end today happy.