Doors: Not a Poetic Post

This is not an ending. It’s both a door to friendship and a promise that some other door will open with someone else.

My latest boyfriend wants to be friends. Well. Okay, he’s not my boyfriend. I’d like a boyfriend. I’d like one too much. But I suppose the best reframe is that the pressure is gone from trying to impress this guy. I don’t have to get nervous (should I see him again), he’s just another person. Men are something other than people when they are potential mates. 

I have made it through one round of holidays. It hasn’t been as bad as it is sometimes, but I feel myself redrawing now. I hate hate hate New Year’s. Almost as much as I hate my birthday, which is immediately following New Year’s. I dread this. There, I said it.

I feel very alone, dear reader. This reframe is not working. I am incredibly disappointed  and discouraged by this turn of events. Just to know I can’t even pretend that I’ve got something worth keeping is disheartening. To know I’ve still got to keep putting myself out there is sad. I’m tired.