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My head is full of him. Every corner darkened by the shadows of some emotion or other, fear, worry, suspicion, self doubt. But in each corner there is a light switch waiting to be flicked. Silly infatuation is the switch and hope is its surge of electricity.  The hand that fumbles around grasping for the switch, through the darkness is unsure and unsteady. Once hope ignites is the light bright enough to reach every crevice and kill every shadow? Is hope sufficient or is it only the younger humbler brother of expectation. And don't they all lead to disappointment...

I had written that entry two years ago. And I had in fact felt the sharp sting of disappointment shortly after. Incidentally, the shadows lurking the background wafted to the surface and left me in a cloud of melancholy for the rest of that year. It was an odd year in more than the obvious ways. It was the first time I had gotten my heart broken.

But if I were to be entirely honest with myself, I have to admit I broke my own heart. You see I have a tendency to quit at the first signs of failure. This is very much a product of my highly sensitized sense of self. You see I've always inwardly felt like I am not good enough, not smart enough, or pretty enough. I am always seeking some sort of justification, and when found my sense of self grows and blossoms. But at the very whiff of criticism, it withers and dies.

He was aloof yes, and very non-committal, but uninterested never. His lack of commitment and direct enthusiasm was not particular to me, he was equally detached with everyone. But of course frail confidence would not have it. It was getting paler, and weaker with every missed phone call or delayed message. At the time ( I know better now, an have seen better) it felt right. But I was too busy looking for what could go wrong ( A trait you will see that is ever prevalent in my life).