I could go on about how I have been feeling down. I could tell you how much I wish for someone I love to choose me back. I could cry another river like the one I did a few weeks ago that hasn't seemed to dry up even still.
But I don't want to go into any of that. I just don't. It won't solve anything. Time and choices will tell how I make it through all of this.
So this leaves me with needing something to write about. How about I write about how I am the luckiest person to have a soft bed to lie on when I am feeling upset. I have like four pillows, the best quilts ever, and my bedroom is over 400 square feet on its own floor, so I can usually languish in peace. I'll write about how I might not have someone here to stay yet, but I know he will once he's prepared for life with me—and I'm fully prepared for him. I hold an ocean of hope in this heart that I won't be left without someone to share love. My crying stints might not communicate that, but it's true. And that brings me to the blessing of being able to feel. I think I'll write about how I am thankful that I can love so much that I'd be able to cry a river and it never dry up. I'll be grateful for this tender heart of mine that wants more and is always watching and waiting and hoping that love will find its way to me. Wanting for a home that is within arm's reach justifies a few tears and then some.
Making my way through this life hasn't been easy, but there are many people out there with similar or even more distressing issues. I must remember to write about how I will overcome my circumstances. I will continue to write about the courageous way I take this path. I will defy the consensus that failure is an option. I will not believe that no one will ever do what it takes to stay.