Where I'm At

The moon, a welcome watchlight to those returning home, looms warmly over the horizon as the radio softly plays a familiar melody. Despite the ethereally tranquil surroundings, I'm bothered by something.

I have reached the conclusion as of late that I allow the current state of relationships to color memories. Recalling some of the most beautiful moments I've had, some of them occured between people who I am still quite close to, others occured between people with whom I've had a falling out with since. This statement alone means little, as I'm surely not the first to experience. But I'm saddened by the fact that things that happened after the original event have cast negative shadows upon the original. Beautiful moments have been discolored and have molded.

And I'm bothered by the fact that, as I drive home alone, I genuinely wish that there was a someone for me to call when I reach my destination. I try so hard to be emboldened, independent, and the sort of person who will achieve her goals regardless of my relationship status, but I miss being "in" a relationship.

("In a relationship." That's such a funny phrase. It almost makes it sound as if it's that simple -- all you do is jump, as in jumping into a puddle, a pond, a lagoon, etc. A deceiving phrase, I think.)

Driving home, I guess I find myself sad that I'm still sad and letting it retroactively affect other things, and I'm sad that I'm not content at the moment.

I want more . . . of everything.
I want a more remarkable life than the one I'm leading right now.
I want to know my friends more deeply.
I want a long-lasting relationship.
I want a fantastic job.
I want to happy with where I'm going in the fall.
I want to know that I'll get where I'm aiming for.

As the clock approaches midnight, most find themselves asleep.
Conversely, I lie awake in my thoughts.