Sadness is usually always selfish but that doesn't make the rusty acrid aftertaste any easier to spit out. The knowledge that your life is not what you dreamed it would be, that no matter how happy you are you have failed in some big way from becoming the person and doing the things you always wanted to do is a secret you cannot always keep even from yourself. A life does not have to be bad to be a disappointment when under the microscope. The key of course is to keep the microscope far away from the examination table and giggles and fulfillment are bound to result. I am, after all, happy. Really truly genuinely deep in my bones I laugh all the time life is wonderful brand of happy. I am excited about school, about becoming a physical therapist, about my housing accommodations, about my new hair highlights and about the delicious pasta I made a few days ago. I seek out and take all the opportunities to laugh each day that I can but still... if I am honest with myself my life is still void of the things I want (and have always wanted) more than anything. Being a sister is amazing but I have always always wanted to be a mother. The affection of a parent is both essential and beloved but sometimes I wonder if I will ever know the other kind of love also...

Sometimes I wonder when I will become the main character of my own life. When will my dreams come true? When will it be my turn if not for the spotlight at least for the happily ever after? I mean, don't the Flounders and Charlotte Lucases and Gimlees and Neville Longbottoms eventually get rewarded for their hard work and friendship and determination? Where is their happy ending? Is it their destiny to help others reach theirs without ever finding their own? Where is the justice in that? Surly their stories are real even if they are unsung, right? I mean, being an extra doesn't mean you are a nobody. Being a supporting role surly doesn't mean that is all you are god for, does it? And if the happily ever after never comes along, if Prince Charming gets lost or finds someone else or fate never cooperates and you never catch that big brake or you give it all you have and still somehow fail in your quest then what? Do you make up an almost happily ever after and improvise for life without the fairy tale ending? Can you consider your life a success if you reached all your dreams except for the ones absolutely most important to you? How does one mourn the death of their deepest desire?

Tears taste funny when you are too proud to let them fall. Especially when you hold them in against yourself cause no one else cares. They are more snotty that way, somehow. More salty. Almost like the liquid evaporates a little bit and leaves the remaining goopy dregs just a little bit more minerally than they would be if they just came out right. Instead when they do come they burn a little like acid and shame because they've been stewing for too long. They look funny too--too round, too real somehow. If a tear falls and no one is there to wipe it what is its purpose? What are tears even for--they don't make anything better. Surely if it was just for washing eyes than a good sweat or dust storm would bring them about, not a sudden bout of lost purpose and hopelessness. Why is it that a good cry feels so miserable? What is good about it anyway? What an insipid phrase.

I heard once that God blessed the Brother of Jared with air immediately but made him work for the light. The speaker observed that when there is a true life-depending need, that God will not make us wait to receive it. However, when the need is really just a convenience that seems indispensable to us that it may cost us quite a bit more in sweat, blood, work, effort, and even tears. As a single girl it seems like everything is air, but I suppose much of it is really just light. And the encouraging thing is that after the Brother of Jared brought Jehovah rocks, his faith was strong enough that even his odd and probably insufficient offering was enough to allow God to take care of the rest. It's not really air, I can work and wait.

Also, I know of course I am not going to die tomorrow. I know I am plenty young and should not be speaking so morbidly of burying my deepest desires or balling my eyes out. (Which I do not, by the way). Still, sometimes even the strongest feel a little down, don't they? Sometimes people lose hope in each other. Sometimes... maybe often... we lose hope in ourselves. Hope can be a fickle friend when we aren't' careful. Very fickle indeed. Still, as long as there is hope there is happiness and dreams can be kept alive on a very scanty portion when that is all available. Tonight, therefor, I feed my dreams on leftovers and hope that later I have a more befitting feast for them. If not, though, somehow I think it will all be alright. Dreams, unlike sorrow, are rarely completely selfish and therefor quite a bit harder to kill.