VDay, 9:17pm, Pajamas

I wasn't going to do this. But here I am, 9:17 on Valentine's Day night, in my pajamas, sitting in the dark, torn between crying or congratulating myself. Crying because I'm letting this stupid day get to me, or rejoicing because I took the step last night of giving up hope and know I must move on. Crying because some dumb movie just told me not to give up hope but applauding myself for not staying and wallowing with other single girls in a bottle of wine because frankly I'm just tired and I'm tired of rehashing who likes who and who's the latest crush and how to get them and really who gives a fuck? I'm including myself in that statement. I'm over myself. Over the obsessing and the infatuation and the waiting and hoping and beating myself up. I'm sick and tired of it. It's not going to happen and I need to accept that. Last night, I came to the conclusion that I can still have adventure in my life, I just need to stop thinking that love is going to come along with it. I can be that cool old single lady with long silver hair who owns little and owes nothing and gives everything and sees everywhere. I'd need a dog. And lots of bracelets and long skirts and a beat up pickup truck.

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PS - I just noticed people are actually reading my blog! I had no idea! You're even leaving comments. I apologize for neglecting you, dear readers, and will try to pay more attention to you from now on. :)