“It’s so complicated,” I say in response to a conversation regarding my frozen Netflix account.
“So are women, but they’re worth it,” my friend replies.
Aren’t we all?
I talked to him today. It was good to hear his voice, but he sounded different, changed, aged. Later I cried while thinking of everything I’d done, of who I was now, of how I let him down and hurt him. He was so good to me, yet it still wasn’t enough. Would anyone ever be good enough? Would men forever be disappointing me? I thought that if I never found someone I would still be happy on my own, but clearly I can’t be. I always have to have someone or something to cling to. Some notion that if maybe there’s someone in the world who feels the same way I do. If there is someone to travel through this journey of life with, then maybe, maybe it’s not so pointless after all.
Maybe these are just drunken ramblings…