I'd always been used to disappointments. Disappointments of all kind. It was funny, though, wasn't it? How people would often laugh off disappointments; shrug, smile, and say something like "oh, no, don't worry about me - i'm used to it!" truth is, they weren't. And i wasn't used to it either. We wouldn't like to admit it, but every disappointment, every failed attempt at short lived sucess, every disastrous relationship, and every bit of spilt milk came as a shock. We're always expecting a positive outcome for ourselves; that just this once things might work out. What was the opposite of the word 'disappointment'? I don't think there is one. Everything is a disappointment, felt in higher and lower variations. Everything and everyone is a neatly wrapped up parcel, with a pretty pink ribbon, that appears a present, but is actually nothing but a disappointment waiting to happen. Exploding into sighs and tears and rubbed eyes.

Humans didn't seem to notice just how much hope every fiber of their being actually contained. Strands of hope intertwined with their DNA structure. It was really the only thing that kept us going when we felt completely abandoned and lost and utterly alone. I whispered it to myself, "Hope."

That same afternoon, when you physically entered my mind (since, all this time you had been living there, mentally. Overstaying your welcome, might I add.)  I questioned the growing smile on my face, contrasted with the painful 'gut feeling' I was experiencing as well. Since you left all I'd been hoping for was that you'd come back and tell me something along the lines of,  "I was wrong, I need you. I want you" and then top it off with the overused, 'I love you' card. I'd leap into your tanned, muscular arms and then, well. Well I hadn't really thought past that moment. In the three months you had been gone, all I pictured as 'happiness' was you loving me back.

pathetic, wasn't it?
We're all just looking for something bigger than we're able to find. Searching for more substance on this little planet with these heart breaking people. Okay, okay, people weren't all that bad. But one thing that people are, unintentionally or not, is selfish. We want the best for ourselves, of course.
even though I'd guided myself to believe that my life was all about you, it was in fact all about me, me, me. There was only one 'you' but there were a billion 'me's within me. A me who is happy, a me who is sad, a me who is constantly confused and a me that convinces me I'm okay.

And you see, we are all actually okay. Perhaps being 'broken' or 'damaged' just appeared more intriguing to both others and ourselves. Did I really want to be 'happy'?