History in the Trash

Not really important history, really, but mine.

As I'm going through my packed belongings and sorting them so as to be more compact and easier to move when the inevitable happens, I spent several hours going through my childhood and tossing it in black garbage bags for Thursday's pick up.

The most unbelievable things happened as I did so ... I waxed nostalgic about my past. I never thought I'd see that day when I longed for something similar to what I once I had.

It seems I showed promise as a teenager, which is to say that I lack it these days.

National Honor Society

National Young Leader

Student of the Month

And now I'm stuck at 28. Stuck in the most bizarre situation yet, a world of double standards and with the wrong person in charge of my life.

I've given up my independence 3 times, and each time has been disastrous. Despite proclamations of love, the situations have always deteriorated into something definitely not love.

Am I not relationship-oriented at all? Am I not date-able. Or have I just not yet been ready each time?

Do I attract the wrong kind of person? My friends might say so. That's nice of them.

And so I sit on the 4th floor of a house on Pine Street with my belongings mostly packed up and I'm sitting in limbo.

As I packed and sorted and condensed I came across a writing tablet that survived the tearing up and spreading across Locust Street that happened to a bookbag full of items during the fight that ended things in my most recent relationship. One of the entries was an open letter to my previous ex, stating quite simply that if I were even half the things I'm accused of being and told that I am, why did that ex want to get back with me?

It's the same situation again.

Am I crazy?