Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Hate

Perfection. I hate that word. I hate the unrealistic expectations I put on myself to obtain it. I hate that I am in my thirties and still haven’t achieved a morsel of it. I hate that I am waiting for my life to start until I reach it. I hate that everyone around me expects it too.

Divorce. I hate that word. I hate that once I tell someone that I am, they automatically make a judgment about me; sometimes without even realizing it. I hate that this one word could define who I am for the rest of my life.

Dating. I hate that word. I hate that once people hear the previous word they automatically ask about this one. I hate that I am not. I hate that I feel I may never again. I hate that I cry at night for it to happen.

Marriage. I hate that word. I hate that I was, and failed at it. I hate that everyone around me is. I hate that I might have wasted my one chance of it on a man that never wanted it, but did it anyway. I hate that I long to be, and I hate that I fear it.

Fear. I hate that word. I hate that most of my days I live in it. I hate that because of past mistakes this word holds me back from making even the smallest of choices. I hate that this is what my children might see in me.

Perfection. There is nothing perfect about me. I am a thirty-three year old divorced mother of four living in constant fear.

I hate that I hate.

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