I am not a risk taker when it comes to "feelings" or "love."
I'd much rather bottle up my copious amounts of emotions and expend my energy on more efficient things such as school, work, yoga, and other people. I give all of myself to prevent myself from feeling and having to take risks.
I am an ambitious person. My high levels of motivation got me to NYC. Nothing stands in my way. Ever.
Well, sometimes life likes to give you a sharp kick in the ass.
I am undergoing a transformation in which I am adopting the "Que sera, sera" lifestyle and actually just being rather than doing. In order to let my life happen as it has been predetermined, I had to take a risk. While adopting my new lifestyle, I discovered that I don't always have control over my emotions, and sometimes I need to let it out. I also discovered that I can no longer participate in my own game, because life is NOT a game, it is an experience.
As my roommate then said, "Isn't it better to love, than not love at all?"
I question this statement. Is it better? With love comes pain and rejection. I mean, you can hope for the best, but life isn't THAT great.
So I wrote a letter. I actually swallowed my pride and took a risk. Because I was taking myself out of the game for good. Unless I was given a reason otherwise. I mean, sure, I've done my part in rebounding, but rebounds are supposed to work, not send you deeper into "that." After weeks of thinking, I had found myself making compromises--future compromises, but compromises none the less. When job searching abroad, I found myself looking for two jobs instead of one. Now, this is completely uncharacteristic of the very selfish ambitious me. And this is (and will be) my demise. At the end of this letter, I wrote that if unanswered I'd understand and take that as the answer.
Well, I guess I lied. I don't understand. Actually, it sort of hurts. Really hurts. Two years of the game of tug of war meaning nothing? I guess I'll just never figure it out.
But I'm done trying. I'm done trying to figure things out. Some things aren't meant to be figured out, they're just meant to be, they're meant to learn from.
So I'm learning.
I mean, Lord, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; fool me several times, kill me.
Part of my que sera is to stop trying to figure things out. There is meaning in everything, but it will show it's face in time. No more unfigureoutability.
In a few minutes I'm taking the final stand. Complete deletion. Complete erasure. No more stalkage, no more messages, no more text messages. Over. Done. Dusted hands off.
A huge saga coming to an end (with the help of some serious operant conditioning).
I'm scared to death.
But I know that this is for a reason. I will remain independent, I will have allowed myself to feel, and I will be able to FINALLY move on with my life. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll give some poor guy a chance.
Even though I'm a man crusher as Ilan so lovingly puts it.
The ultimate rejection. This is the only time...ever. It sort of feels good. To know that I am human. A reality check. I can be as conceited as I want, I can be a 7 on a bad day on the scale of Ralph, but there is at least one person who doesn't want to partake in my life. That's fine with me. At least it will be.
I hate being a silly girl sometimes, but I guess this is the one time I allowed myself to BE a girl.
This semester has been and will be crazy and busy. I'm avoiding fashion week like the plague because I need to detox...the Cavalli party is NOT detox. I'm beginning training to be a yoga teacher. Ha, right? Yoga teacher? WTF? I was as surprised as you when Greg approached me, but it's something that I will always be able to bring with me, wherever God sends me.
Do your practice, and all is coming: Namaste.
Take that to heart. Because for once, I'm going to take my own advice, grow up, and just go with the flow. Life is an experience that I need to allow in. And good things will come with the bad. But all of it has a purpose.
Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.