Life is fluid. When you find something you love, it surges inside your heart for the breifest moment and then dies out as quickly as it came like the brilliance of a shooting star. When you find something to detest, however, the bitterness lingers far longer than the actual event. Why is that? Why can we not hold on to happiness longer than bitterness. Why does the sweet subside when the hurt remains? I'd like to be an optimistic person. I strive toward that end. But when disappointment for time ill spend builds up and surges in a tidal wave of grief over what might have been. . .
The last four years of my life has been spend chasing a dream I had when I was very small -- in two ways actually. Dream one: When I first realized what physicians were and what medicine was I declaired that I wanted to be a doctor! Dream two: I've always thought that I would recognize my future husband from a literal dream I had when I was eight years old.
Dream one: I've worked very hard to succeed in school but am dubious as to how well qualified I am for medical school. To be honest, I'm a little burned out with school and have been for two very long years. But, true to my head-strong nature, I have never once given up on my dream or even on a class. Even when I know that I will need to re-take a class, I put my all into it the first time and chase miracles like they are butterflies in a green meadow. And, just like catching butterflies, I sometimes manage to hold a miricle for a brief moment only to discover that I have crushed its delicate frame in my haste and am forced to discard it. I will never give up, but I do need to take my time and make sure to move carefully toward my destination. I also need to accept that there are countless paths I can take that lead to the same goal. I'm going to begin looking around.
Dream two: I have a blind spot for eligable men. I tend to notice only the guys who are taken. Let me explain; men who are loved by woman and are sure of that love are confident and generous and therefore catch my eye much more often than men who merely hope to be loved. Perhaps its the same for women and that's why I am often overlooked; a wallflower or a shadow in the room. I have come to realize, painfully, that there is no such thing as love at first sight. Love, not some romantic burst of infatuation, only comes to those who carefully plant it in their hearts and cultivate it over time. Love is sharing a history with someone, knowing their past and accepting that they have made individual choices and will continue to do so. I cannot hold onto a dream of a man who existed only in my mind. I will never be happy if I try to place any potential prospect into the tiny mold I have been carrying in my heart. He will invariably be so much more than I can anticipate.
I will not alow my past to dictate my future.
I will accept that every silver lining needs a stormcloud and then get over it.
I will be true to my nature and keep trying even when every indication points to failure because I haven't failed yet.