The Scrambled Philosophies That I Call Thoughts

Contentment

So much has happened, and I didn't write about it. I didn't write about him. He and I aren't like I hoped we'd be, but after tears, thoughts, and contemplation, I've accepted things, and I've come to the conclusion that I'm fine with that. The strange thing is, I usually say that I lack faith, yet I was able to devote so much of myself to the possibility of us. Something I couldn't see, but believed was possible with all my heart and soul. And things didn't work out the way I hoped they would, but I'm okay with that, because I still have me. There was a point in my life, not too long ago, when I was sure that I was falling out of love with him, and I grieved because I was all that I was left with. I was not a mystery or a challenge or anything special. Just plain old me. But now I realize that before I love anyone, I have to learn to love myself. So now I've found myself again, and despite my previous declaration of how boring I am, I find that there's much to ponder. I wonder how I found myself so easily. I wonder how he will ever love. I'm sure that I know at least partial answers to both of these questions, but maybe some things should be for only me to know. That's something I've learned from all this (but being me, of course I'm not going to take my own advice.) So much has happened, and I didn't write about it. I didn't write about him. He and I aren't like I hoped we'd be, but after tears, thoughts, and contemplation, I've accepted things, and I've come to the conclusion that I'm fine with that.