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Tomorrow I should be at Fendari at 10 am to discuss if I should return there.
I feel like running again. Or hiding, "disappearing from the map" as they say.
I know I shouldn't, but the idea is tempting.
Go away. Leave me alone. Forget about me, leave me be. I will only disappoint you.
I was at Jupe's tonight. First that something inside my head, the cowardly/whatever part, tried to tell me not to go, but I decided to go anyway. I'm glad I did.
We talked, listened to some Led Zeppelin and Rush and watched The Dead Poets' Society.
The movie and our conversation made me thoughtful again.
Do I have passion in me? And if I do, what is the object of my passion?
What am I waiting for? What do I really want? Am I just a silly delusional girl who is waiting for that prince on a white horse who in reality will never come and sweep me off my feet and take me to a better place? Does that "perfect love" even exist? A soulmate, a friend and a lover with whom I could be content and free, perhaps even truly happy?
Of course it wouldn't be perfect. It never is.
What did the fortune teller say about that presumed "love of my life" again? That it would not be easy, but that love would prevail. (But I really won't forgive him if he never takes me along to his journeys, at least to those he'll make on his free time. ;p)
And what about that child? How would he affect our relationship?
Ah well, I'd better forget about that prediction. Maybe it will never come true anyway. Maybe that "Wolf-brother" I've "known" I'd find one day ever since I was eleven doesn't even exist.
But I know I'm stubborn enough to not settle for anything less.
But after all... Does it have to be love that makes my life worthwhile and fulfilling?
Is it necessarily love that I'm looking for? No, perhaps not. I guess what I want most is to find a purpose to my life. Why am I here? What should I do with my life? What am I waiting for?
Big questions I probably shouldn't be thinking about. But it's just me, I always think too much.
And I always need to know why?
"Time will tell..."
I damn well hope it will.
I feel like running again. Or hiding, "disappearing from the map" as they say.
I know I shouldn't, but the idea is tempting.
Go away. Leave me alone. Forget about me, leave me be. I will only disappoint you.
I was at Jupe's tonight. First that something inside my head, the cowardly/whatever part, tried to tell me not to go, but I decided to go anyway. I'm glad I did.
We talked, listened to some Led Zeppelin and Rush and watched The Dead Poets' Society.
The movie and our conversation made me thoughtful again.
Do I have passion in me? And if I do, what is the object of my passion?
What am I waiting for? What do I really want? Am I just a silly delusional girl who is waiting for that prince on a white horse who in reality will never come and sweep me off my feet and take me to a better place? Does that "perfect love" even exist? A soulmate, a friend and a lover with whom I could be content and free, perhaps even truly happy?
Of course it wouldn't be perfect. It never is.
What did the fortune teller say about that presumed "love of my life" again? That it would not be easy, but that love would prevail. (But I really won't forgive him if he never takes me along to his journeys, at least to those he'll make on his free time. ;p)
And what about that child? How would he affect our relationship?
Ah well, I'd better forget about that prediction. Maybe it will never come true anyway. Maybe that "Wolf-brother" I've "known" I'd find one day ever since I was eleven doesn't even exist.
But I know I'm stubborn enough to not settle for anything less.
But after all... Does it have to be love that makes my life worthwhile and fulfilling?
Is it necessarily love that I'm looking for? No, perhaps not. I guess what I want most is to find a purpose to my life. Why am I here? What should I do with my life? What am I waiting for?
Big questions I probably shouldn't be thinking about. But it's just me, I always think too much.
And I always need to know why?
"Time will tell..."
I damn well hope it will.
