We've all been there before. You bump into someone at the supermarket, or around town, and when they offer up a warm hello, you feel a twinge of guilt because you can't remember how you know them. Or worse, you can't remember their name.
Or sometimes, when you're looking for something, like your keys or your glasses, and you look and look, only to find them in your purse, or perched on your head. You laugh to yourself, and think, "I must be losing my mind."
Now think about this: You're surrounded by people you don't know, but who all seem to know you. It's impossible to find things you need, and even harder to remember where you're supposed to put them. Time is a limitless concept; days and nights and weeks and months all fade into each other. You're in a strange place that you recognize vaguely, but you don't know where you are. You just want to go home.
My grandmother has Alzheimer's, and this is what life is like for her every day. Times ten.
Let me back up a little. My grandparents have always lived right across the street from me. My dad's two sisters live beside us, all three families on the same street across from my Maw Maw and Paw Paw, as we all called them. About ten years ago, my grandfather suffered a massive heart attack. It was so sudden, so unexpected. Just out of school for the day, I was across the street, alone, waiting for my parents to come home from work when I saw all the flashing lights and heard the fire trucks. He died instantly. We were all worried about my grandmother, and my dad would go out to stay with her at night. I spent Christmas Eve there that year. But everything seemed to be okay, as good as it could've been.
About two years ago, my parents started noticing little things about my grandmother. She would lose her glasses, or insist she'd lost them, and they'd be on the dresser. She'd lost a lot of weight, and she seemed to have trouble remembering little things. At first, we just chalked it up to being old. But it got worse. My dad would find pills on the floor. Upon opening a cabinet, my mother noticed an empty fish stick box next an unopened box of crackers. One afternoon, all the spoons disappeared—we soon realized that she'd thrown them all away. She was losing so much weight because she was forgetting to eat. When she almost started a fire on the gas stove in the kitchen, my dad decided that someone would have to stay with her more often.
Then some things were disappearing from around the house.
One day, I noticed some pictures were missing. They were of my sister. One by one, they came down, off the shelves, and off the wall. Then my pictures were gone. It finally came to the point where the only pictures that remained were very old, not including the three family pictures about the couch from when we'd had church directory pictures taken.
With the pictures went the memories.
I called my grandmother's house one day to speak to my dad. I asked for him, and when she said he was gone, I asked her to tell him to please call Summer. "Which one are you again?" she asked. It only got worse after her pacemaker was put in and she came home from the hospital.
She's convinced that my dad has brought her to some house, that he found her somewhere and brought her there. All the mirrors have either been removed or taped over so that she doesn't feel like "that woman" is watching her. She thinks my Aunt Phyllis is some girl who my dad has paid to sit with her—she doesn't even recognize her own daughter. The last time I visited her, we'd talk about people and she'd have to ask me who was living and who wasn't.
I live in Birmingham now, so I don't get to see my family as much as I like. I rely on my daily reports from my mother and father to see how she's doing. And it never gets better. I can see the toll it takes on my family, esp my dad. To me, it's sad, because she's my old grandmother. But that's my dad's mom. She used to take care of him, now he has to take care of her. I hope and pray that my parents never have to ask me who I am. Or who they are, as my grandmother is slowly starting to forget herself.
I can't imagine how sad and lonely she must be, and how hard it is for any of us to even begin to understand what she's going through. There are so many moments in my life that I want so badly to forget, but I hope the day never comes when I can't remember anything, even those things that I don't want to.
Showing posts with label sad :(. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sad :(. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Thursday, August 2, 2007
a little rain must fall
Last year, I thought I understood loss.
I lost one friend in a terrible car accident that left his fiance badly injured and broken-hearted.
Shortly before that, my best friend from high school lost her husband in a severe and tragic way. She was six months pregnant at the time.
I thought that was the hardest thing I would ever have to do.
Until this past week.
Baby Noah was born on December 14, 2006. A beautiful little boy, he looked just like his daddy - blonde-haired and blue-eyed. he was the apple of his mother's eye, a truly animated and charismatic baby.
These past few days, he had been feeling a little sick, but no one thought it could be anything too serious. However, on Monday morning, his grandmother took him to the pediatricians. The doctors there had him airlifted immediately to Children's Hospital in Birmingham.
It was later found out that he had a tumor on his liver and extensive internal bleeding. Surgeons did the best they could to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing they could do. Noah died on Tuesday afternoon in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit of Children's Hospital.
He was just 7 months old.
I thought the hardest thing I would ever have to do would be to help my best friend say good-bye to her husband.
Now, tomorrow afternoon, I will be there as she lays her only baby boy to rest.
The only comfort is in knowing that he will finally be able to rest in his daddy's arms.
This is so hard for me to understand. Why does life work in such a terrible, terrible way? Why would life deal her such a cruel twist of fate?
There are not words to express the way she must be feeling. There is nothing I can offer to her. I have nothing inside left to feel.
Go home and tell your mother and father that you love them so very much...squeeze your husband or wife on the arm, appreciate that they are there.
And if you have children...hug them and hold them and love on them like you will never let them go.
You never know when the opportunity to do just that could be torn right out of your grasp.
I lost one friend in a terrible car accident that left his fiance badly injured and broken-hearted.
Shortly before that, my best friend from high school lost her husband in a severe and tragic way. She was six months pregnant at the time.
I thought that was the hardest thing I would ever have to do.
Until this past week.
Baby Noah was born on December 14, 2006. A beautiful little boy, he looked just like his daddy - blonde-haired and blue-eyed. he was the apple of his mother's eye, a truly animated and charismatic baby.
These past few days, he had been feeling a little sick, but no one thought it could be anything too serious. However, on Monday morning, his grandmother took him to the pediatricians. The doctors there had him airlifted immediately to Children's Hospital in Birmingham.
It was later found out that he had a tumor on his liver and extensive internal bleeding. Surgeons did the best they could to stop the bleeding, but there was nothing they could do. Noah died on Tuesday afternoon in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit of Children's Hospital.
He was just 7 months old.
I thought the hardest thing I would ever have to do would be to help my best friend say good-bye to her husband.
Now, tomorrow afternoon, I will be there as she lays her only baby boy to rest.
The only comfort is in knowing that he will finally be able to rest in his daddy's arms.
This is so hard for me to understand. Why does life work in such a terrible, terrible way? Why would life deal her such a cruel twist of fate?
There are not words to express the way she must be feeling. There is nothing I can offer to her. I have nothing inside left to feel.
Go home and tell your mother and father that you love them so very much...squeeze your husband or wife on the arm, appreciate that they are there.
And if you have children...hug them and hold them and love on them like you will never let them go.
You never know when the opportunity to do just that could be torn right out of your grasp.
Saturday, May 26, 2007
scraped knees and bruised hearts
Saturday, May 26, 2007
Current mood: contemplative
When you are a child, you think you are invincible. You run around, all willy-nilly, not concerned about bumping your head or falling down and skinning your knees.
But it is inevitable that you will do so. You get hurt, and you begin to cry.
As an adult, I have dealt with children many times - babysitting, church, taking care of friends' children. People always tell you when a kid falls down and hurts themselves, never let them see your initial reaction. Act like everything is okay. Speak in a sweet, soothing voice, and almost practically ignore the fact that they are hurt because if you get upset, they will, too.
But what do you do when the person that is hurting is a grown-up?
There are so many different ways of dealing with pain and loss. We all react in different ways. One of the hardest things to comprehend is how to respond when someone you are very close to is hurting.
One of my very, very dear friends has experienced that kind of loss twice in the past two weeks. Most recently, he lost his roommate and one of his best friends in a devastating car accident this past week, before that it was his grandfather.
When I first found out, I couldn't believe it. It doesn't seem fair that someone should ever have to go through someone like this, but this time it felt particularly unjust. I felt transported back to last fall when Ben was taken away from me in a car accident, leaving his fiance and another one of my good friends in poor physical condition.
I wanted to reach out to him, and I called him, just so that he would know he is on my mind. But then I was faced, once again, with a dilemma.
How do you reach out to someone who is hurting? Do you take them in your arms, like that little child, comfort them with soft words and do your best to take their mind away from what has just transpired?
Or do you sit down with them, let them talk, acknowledged that it all happened, and just commiserate that this really, really sucks?
We aren't children anymore, but it's times like these that I miss that innocence.
My thoughts are with you, good friend. We're here for whatever you want...whether you want to talk or you just want a friend, we are all here, and we love you very much.
No matter what you decide that makes you feel better, there's one thing that remains.
You're not alone.
Current mood: contemplative
When you are a child, you think you are invincible. You run around, all willy-nilly, not concerned about bumping your head or falling down and skinning your knees.
But it is inevitable that you will do so. You get hurt, and you begin to cry.
As an adult, I have dealt with children many times - babysitting, church, taking care of friends' children. People always tell you when a kid falls down and hurts themselves, never let them see your initial reaction. Act like everything is okay. Speak in a sweet, soothing voice, and almost practically ignore the fact that they are hurt because if you get upset, they will, too.
But what do you do when the person that is hurting is a grown-up?
There are so many different ways of dealing with pain and loss. We all react in different ways. One of the hardest things to comprehend is how to respond when someone you are very close to is hurting.
One of my very, very dear friends has experienced that kind of loss twice in the past two weeks. Most recently, he lost his roommate and one of his best friends in a devastating car accident this past week, before that it was his grandfather.
When I first found out, I couldn't believe it. It doesn't seem fair that someone should ever have to go through someone like this, but this time it felt particularly unjust. I felt transported back to last fall when Ben was taken away from me in a car accident, leaving his fiance and another one of my good friends in poor physical condition.
I wanted to reach out to him, and I called him, just so that he would know he is on my mind. But then I was faced, once again, with a dilemma.
How do you reach out to someone who is hurting? Do you take them in your arms, like that little child, comfort them with soft words and do your best to take their mind away from what has just transpired?
Or do you sit down with them, let them talk, acknowledged that it all happened, and just commiserate that this really, really sucks?
We aren't children anymore, but it's times like these that I miss that innocence.
My thoughts are with you, good friend. We're here for whatever you want...whether you want to talk or you just want a friend, we are all here, and we love you very much.
No matter what you decide that makes you feel better, there's one thing that remains.
You're not alone.
Monday, December 18, 2006
everything comes full circle
I've lost two friends this year, both very tragic and unexpected.
I wrote a blog recently about one of my friends, Ben. His girlfriend/fiancee is at home now, resting comfortably and rehabilitating herself daily to get back on her feet. She knows Ben is gone, and she has her good days and bad days, friends say. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like.
Back in September, my best friend from high school lost her husband. It was totally unexpected, a blood clot. He'd had surgery, and he was having a little trouble, but he was at home. Before we knew it, he was gone.
I was the maid of honor in their wedding, and I practically lived with her all through school and vice versa. It was one of the hardest things, to try and comfort someone who has lost the man they'd hoped to spend the rest of their life with. They would have been married three years in October. He would've turned 26 in September.
She gave birth to their beautiful son (I'm not biased or anything) on Thursday, Dec. 14.
When her husband first passed, I thought it would be harder to raise the baby with him gone. Now I know that the baby will make her stronger, and that is what has helped her all this time.
Working at Red Lobster, we have a lot of usuals that come in. Many of these are older couples. I've gotten very close to many of them, and it is so very hard when they don't come in any more. It's even harder when one of them spouses returns without their partner.
I remember one man in particular who would always come in with his wife, occasionally joined by their daughter and granddaughter. His wife was loud and colorful; everyone knew who they were.
We soon found out that she had cancer. The first time he came in alone, it was heartbreaking.
But in recent months, I've noticed him coming in with another "lady friend," if you will. It's definitely not the same, but I see him look at her with such adoration and love. My only hope is to find that once in my life.
I wonder if my other friends who have lost that special person will ever be able to carry on to find that again.
I didn't mean for this to be a sad, mourning blog, but I have just been thinking about how everything comes around full circle. People die, every day, but in that same respect, every day, babies are born and new relationships are started.
I think that sometimes life is a hard road, one full of bumps and potholes that seem to be neverending. But one thing is for sure - it's not a dead end.
I wrote a blog recently about one of my friends, Ben. His girlfriend/fiancee is at home now, resting comfortably and rehabilitating herself daily to get back on her feet. She knows Ben is gone, and she has her good days and bad days, friends say. I can't even begin to imagine what that must be like.
Back in September, my best friend from high school lost her husband. It was totally unexpected, a blood clot. He'd had surgery, and he was having a little trouble, but he was at home. Before we knew it, he was gone.
I was the maid of honor in their wedding, and I practically lived with her all through school and vice versa. It was one of the hardest things, to try and comfort someone who has lost the man they'd hoped to spend the rest of their life with. They would have been married three years in October. He would've turned 26 in September.
She gave birth to their beautiful son (I'm not biased or anything) on Thursday, Dec. 14.
When her husband first passed, I thought it would be harder to raise the baby with him gone. Now I know that the baby will make her stronger, and that is what has helped her all this time.
Working at Red Lobster, we have a lot of usuals that come in. Many of these are older couples. I've gotten very close to many of them, and it is so very hard when they don't come in any more. It's even harder when one of them spouses returns without their partner.
I remember one man in particular who would always come in with his wife, occasionally joined by their daughter and granddaughter. His wife was loud and colorful; everyone knew who they were.
We soon found out that she had cancer. The first time he came in alone, it was heartbreaking.
But in recent months, I've noticed him coming in with another "lady friend," if you will. It's definitely not the same, but I see him look at her with such adoration and love. My only hope is to find that once in my life.
I wonder if my other friends who have lost that special person will ever be able to carry on to find that again.
I didn't mean for this to be a sad, mourning blog, but I have just been thinking about how everything comes around full circle. People die, every day, but in that same respect, every day, babies are born and new relationships are started.
I think that sometimes life is a hard road, one full of bumps and potholes that seem to be neverending. But one thing is for sure - it's not a dead end.
Monday, November 20, 2006
goodbye dear friend - you will be missed
It's ironic that my last post was about love and finding that special someone.
Two friends of mine have been dating for a while. It's weird to me that they are together, as I have known each of them for a long time, but separately. One day, they came into Red Lobster, where I work, and we did the whole, "But wait...hold on...you're dating? And you know....her? Him?" It was perfect - I loved him like a brother, and she was just fantastic. They were so cute together. After we realized we all knew each other, I even went on a blind/double-date with them...but that's another story.
I continued to see them at Red Lobster, which is basically my social networking system. Just a few weeks ago, they came in for lunch. I stopped for the usual hug, and she showed me something new - a promise ring. It was absolutely beautiful, and she was so proud, so radiant. My friend then told me it was his grandmother's ring, and looking at the two of them, right then, I could see how much in love they were. I hugged them both again, congratulated them, and went back to work.
This past weekend was like any other weekend - I came in late Friday, overslept Saturday, etc. But it was different.
My roommate woke me up with some very unsettling news. My two friends were in a really bad car accident. She was in critical condition. He didn't make it.
He was going to propose at Christmas.
I didn't believe it at first. I still kinda don't. It wasn't until later when I was relaying the information to my mom that it sank in.
Ben, my friend, was only 23 years old. He had two brothers and amazing parents, both of whom I love very much. We were the Etowah Youth Orchestra for years, and we traveled with the EYO to Myrtle Beach, New Orleans, and even to New York to play at Carnegie Hall. He was my date for my junior prom, and that same year, his brother went with one of my best friends. He was such a sweet and selfless person, and he was always there to do anything for anyone. I remember him teasing me and picking on me like a brother would. The first thing he did every time I saw him was give me a great big hug, those kind of hugs where you know the other person really means it.
Cindy, his girlfriend, is still in serious condition, but she is going to pull through. I can only imagine what she has left to go through when she wakes up. She is such a sweetie, and I was so pleased that she found someone that made her happy. I can't even begin to put myself in her position. I have no clue what lies ahead for her. That is pain so unbearable that I would never wish on anyone.
This really made me think about life and death. We are never promised tomorrow. And I've always heard people say it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Is that true? When you think you have found the person you are going to marry, you really believe that is the person you were meant to be with all along. That is the only person for you.
What do you do when you wake up one day and that person is gone?
Ben had such a short time here. I think back on my life and wonder if the time comes for me to leave this place, will I be ready? How will people reflect back on my life?
Goodbye, my dear friend. We've had some good times. You had such a big heart, and you gave yourself whole-heartedly to everyone and everything. I will miss you so much. That's the hardest thing for me, knowing that I'm never going to see you again. I'll never forget you. I don't think any of us will.
Two friends of mine have been dating for a while. It's weird to me that they are together, as I have known each of them for a long time, but separately. One day, they came into Red Lobster, where I work, and we did the whole, "But wait...hold on...you're dating? And you know....her? Him?" It was perfect - I loved him like a brother, and she was just fantastic. They were so cute together. After we realized we all knew each other, I even went on a blind/double-date with them...but that's another story.
I continued to see them at Red Lobster, which is basically my social networking system. Just a few weeks ago, they came in for lunch. I stopped for the usual hug, and she showed me something new - a promise ring. It was absolutely beautiful, and she was so proud, so radiant. My friend then told me it was his grandmother's ring, and looking at the two of them, right then, I could see how much in love they were. I hugged them both again, congratulated them, and went back to work.
This past weekend was like any other weekend - I came in late Friday, overslept Saturday, etc. But it was different.
My roommate woke me up with some very unsettling news. My two friends were in a really bad car accident. She was in critical condition. He didn't make it.
He was going to propose at Christmas.
I didn't believe it at first. I still kinda don't. It wasn't until later when I was relaying the information to my mom that it sank in.
Ben, my friend, was only 23 years old. He had two brothers and amazing parents, both of whom I love very much. We were the Etowah Youth Orchestra for years, and we traveled with the EYO to Myrtle Beach, New Orleans, and even to New York to play at Carnegie Hall. He was my date for my junior prom, and that same year, his brother went with one of my best friends. He was such a sweet and selfless person, and he was always there to do anything for anyone. I remember him teasing me and picking on me like a brother would. The first thing he did every time I saw him was give me a great big hug, those kind of hugs where you know the other person really means it.
Cindy, his girlfriend, is still in serious condition, but she is going to pull through. I can only imagine what she has left to go through when she wakes up. She is such a sweetie, and I was so pleased that she found someone that made her happy. I can't even begin to put myself in her position. I have no clue what lies ahead for her. That is pain so unbearable that I would never wish on anyone.
This really made me think about life and death. We are never promised tomorrow. And I've always heard people say it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Is that true? When you think you have found the person you are going to marry, you really believe that is the person you were meant to be with all along. That is the only person for you.
What do you do when you wake up one day and that person is gone?
Ben had such a short time here. I think back on my life and wonder if the time comes for me to leave this place, will I be ready? How will people reflect back on my life?
Goodbye, my dear friend. We've had some good times. You had such a big heart, and you gave yourself whole-heartedly to everyone and everything. I will miss you so much. That's the hardest thing for me, knowing that I'm never going to see you again. I'll never forget you. I don't think any of us will.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
another one bites the dust
One of my very best friends got married last week. It was a beautiful wedding, and she looked absolutely gorgeous. We have been friends since we were very young, about two or three years old. I didn't expect to get so emotional, but as I stood there on the altar, watching her walk down the aisle...I almost lost it.
I regained control of myself and stayed composed for the rest of the ceremony. After the vows were spoken, rings and kisses were exchanged and we'd all walked back down the aisle, it was time for the reception. (Oh, by the way, the wedding was outside at her parents' house, and the reception was in a huge tent. And yes, it was FREEZING outside.) The cake was good, the food was good, the DJ playing the music was good. Then it was time for the father-daughter dance. Once again, it was sort of bittersweet to see the person that I have come to know as a sister dance out the last few steps of her childhood.
I stood over to the side, next to my other childhood friend, also a member of the wedding party. We watched as the final notes of the song faded away and she began her first dance with her new husband. I was doing okay, and then she smiled at us and motioned to my friend and her new boyfriend to come dance. As she walked over the makeshift dancefloor, I was left standing by myself. It was so poetic, so painfully poetic.
I have never felt so alone in my entire life.
When you attend a wedding, and this is multiplied times two if you are actually in the wedding, people will continue to ask you, "So, any prospects? Are you, ya know, seeing anyone?" All I can ever say is, "No." The freakin photographer at this wedding asked was I dating someone after I was left standing solo during the slow dancing. No, no, NO. As I was repeatedly and painstakingly reminded, no, I am not currently dating anyone.
And people keep saying, "Oh, don't worry. It's okay. No big deal. You'll find someone." But I'm not worried. I know it's no big deal. And as I have said time and again, what about someone finding me? I know I don't want to get married for a long time, if at all. I have my own doubt about the whole institution of marriage and whether or not it's right for me. But I can't help but feel a little twinge (okay, a lotta twinge) of jealousy. I know that the decisions my friends have made are not the same ones that I have made for myself. But sometimes it still hurts.
I found myself growing somewhat irrationally upset at the wedding. Not angry, just upset. I had to excuse myself as I felt my face get hot and my eyes sting with tears. I quickly exited the reception tent and made my way inside. Why did I get so upset? Why was I bothered so? I don't know if I am facing the reality that we are all growing up, or if I was mourning my own self, or if I just miss my old friend. Whatever it was, it hit me and it hit me hard.
This also makes me think back to a conversation I had not just a few days ago with a good (make that fantastic) friend of mine. We were just sitting there, talking, when she asked me did I think that there was one person for everyone.
This is an interesting concept to me.
I used to think so. I used to think that there was one person out there for me, so beautifully and wonderfully made that I could not wait to find him. Then as time went by, my feelings changed.
Another close friend of mine once said that she thought there isn't just one person for everyone, but you find someone that you really love and you make it work. I hope there's not one person for everyone. Do you know how many people there are in this world? It seems as though it might be damn near impossible to find that special someone.
Like I said before, I don't know if I want to get married. But I do want to find that one person that I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with, that I just can't get enough of. As Carrie said in Sex and the City, "I am looking for love, can't live without it love."
Just not right now.
I am content to hang out and have fun with my friends, and I have some really great ones. I don't need anyone to complete me; I can complete myself, thanks.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel that nagging, aching pain, just gnawing at my heart and hollowing out my chest.
It hurts.
I regained control of myself and stayed composed for the rest of the ceremony. After the vows were spoken, rings and kisses were exchanged and we'd all walked back down the aisle, it was time for the reception. (Oh, by the way, the wedding was outside at her parents' house, and the reception was in a huge tent. And yes, it was FREEZING outside.) The cake was good, the food was good, the DJ playing the music was good. Then it was time for the father-daughter dance. Once again, it was sort of bittersweet to see the person that I have come to know as a sister dance out the last few steps of her childhood.
I stood over to the side, next to my other childhood friend, also a member of the wedding party. We watched as the final notes of the song faded away and she began her first dance with her new husband. I was doing okay, and then she smiled at us and motioned to my friend and her new boyfriend to come dance. As she walked over the makeshift dancefloor, I was left standing by myself. It was so poetic, so painfully poetic.
I have never felt so alone in my entire life.
When you attend a wedding, and this is multiplied times two if you are actually in the wedding, people will continue to ask you, "So, any prospects? Are you, ya know, seeing anyone?" All I can ever say is, "No." The freakin photographer at this wedding asked was I dating someone after I was left standing solo during the slow dancing. No, no, NO. As I was repeatedly and painstakingly reminded, no, I am not currently dating anyone.
And people keep saying, "Oh, don't worry. It's okay. No big deal. You'll find someone." But I'm not worried. I know it's no big deal. And as I have said time and again, what about someone finding me? I know I don't want to get married for a long time, if at all. I have my own doubt about the whole institution of marriage and whether or not it's right for me. But I can't help but feel a little twinge (okay, a lotta twinge) of jealousy. I know that the decisions my friends have made are not the same ones that I have made for myself. But sometimes it still hurts.
I found myself growing somewhat irrationally upset at the wedding. Not angry, just upset. I had to excuse myself as I felt my face get hot and my eyes sting with tears. I quickly exited the reception tent and made my way inside. Why did I get so upset? Why was I bothered so? I don't know if I am facing the reality that we are all growing up, or if I was mourning my own self, or if I just miss my old friend. Whatever it was, it hit me and it hit me hard.
This also makes me think back to a conversation I had not just a few days ago with a good (make that fantastic) friend of mine. We were just sitting there, talking, when she asked me did I think that there was one person for everyone.
This is an interesting concept to me.
I used to think so. I used to think that there was one person out there for me, so beautifully and wonderfully made that I could not wait to find him. Then as time went by, my feelings changed.
Another close friend of mine once said that she thought there isn't just one person for everyone, but you find someone that you really love and you make it work. I hope there's not one person for everyone. Do you know how many people there are in this world? It seems as though it might be damn near impossible to find that special someone.
Like I said before, I don't know if I want to get married. But I do want to find that one person that I feel like I could spend the rest of my life with, that I just can't get enough of. As Carrie said in Sex and the City, "I am looking for love, can't live without it love."
Just not right now.
I am content to hang out and have fun with my friends, and I have some really great ones. I don't need anyone to complete me; I can complete myself, thanks.
But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel that nagging, aching pain, just gnawing at my heart and hollowing out my chest.
It hurts.
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