Hope

I'm far from perfect.  A terrible 6:03 freewrite from a terrible fucking human.  Twenty minutes, if I can stand myself that long.

I don't know what to do anymore.  I've given it my all and I can't expect myself to be perfect.  I can't do it anymore.  And I can't handle the fact that others expect me to be perfect.

Flash forward, 2024-ish.  Nicole in her house.  Nicole alone in her house.  It's a beautiful, small house with character and comfort, warmth and love.  When I enter it, on the way home from work, I hear a beautiful laugh.  A beautiful person who right now (December of 2014) is probably just gracing this earth for the first time.  His mom is holding him or her (probably him) for a second and passing him off.  He's going to have a rough time for a few years.  I'm having a rough time too, and one day I'll tell him that he wasn't alone in his suffering.  But one day when he feels alone in his perfect little room, I'm going to go into that perfect little room and be there for him.  I'll laugh with him, encourage him, tell him I love him.  I'll help him with his school work.  I'll be there for him.  I'll guide him in this life and be lucky enough to have him.  Or her.  I don't care.  I just always wanted to do it.  And I tell myself that I need to take this route to get there.  To have that beautiful person that deserves a warm meal, a person who cares about them more than anything in the world.  I want to be the one who gets him his first puppy.  I want to be the one who throws him his first big party.  I want to help him make the right choices and make good friends, find a beautiful, intelligent woman who he deserves.

What I clearly don't deserve.  I don't understand.  I don't understand why I decided to make so many fucked up decisions.  Is it a necessary evil to get to where I need to be?  Is there a method to this madness.  I just want to feel complete.  I used to feel complete.

For four years, only four years of my 26 years (possibly four and a half if you count.. earlier this year), while I was being beaten to the ground, I at least felt complete.  I would die to feel that again.

And maybe that's why they were less than perfect.  Maybe they need to be less than perfect for me to find what I need to find in 2024-ish.  Maybe I still have more things that I need to learn.

How broken can I possibly be?  Why is it so much simpler for everyone else?  I don't understand.  I can't understand.

2023.  I'm painting a room.  I'm vacuuming the rug.  I'm making a bed that's not mine.  I'm happy.

Everything is going to be okay.  It's a part of my path, I hope.  That's all I can do.  Hope.