Like most nights, I had trouble getting to sleep. Usually it was plots, ideas. Characters, and plans for stories that would keep me up all night. Sometimes I troubled over something I had done during the day, wishing I could change time, and change what I had done, or said. Do something different. Smarter. Nicer. Meaner.
Tonight was one of those nights that were fastly becoming more and more often for me. Instead of being unable to stop thinking about a new plot line to take a story on, I couldn’t stop thinking about all of my faults.
I mean, let’s face it. I’m not pretty. I’m not overly intelligent. I’m not successful. Heck, I wouldn’t have any money or a real place to live if Aunt Celia hadn’t passed away.
I’m not one of those girls who can look for a Mister Right Now. I want a Mister Right. I’m not one of those girls who just wants to have some good old stress relief. It’s not that I feel the need to be in a relationship, to validate that I’m alive. That I exist. I’m a person.
It’s just that there are those occasions when I’m so lonely. Or desperately sad. When I want a shoulder to cry on. Someone who will hold me close, and kiss my forehead. Tell me that everything’s going to be okay.
It’s funny. I’ve gone through my life, seeing so many people just going through one relationship after the next. And I’ve always known that… Well, that I could never be one of those girls. I could never be with someone for a few years, until something began to bug me, and then I’d just turn around and walk out. I always knew that if I were going to be in a relationship, in the end, it would be all or nothing. So many marriages these days are ending in divorce. Not that I ever think I’ll marry, but I don’t want to be a serial girl friend. I want to be someone that a guy finds, and never wants to lose.
Maybe I’ve read too many books. Where no matter how hard the obstacle, the guy and girl always get together in the end. And nothing in the world could ever tear them apart. But that’s always been what I’ve wanted.