Greener pastures

I keep telling myself that we're all human. This is the human experience. And truthfully? Let's enjoy it. Let's stop beating ourselves up over inconsequential things. Because grass is always greener, someone's always gonna judge, and nothing's ever perfect.

But me? I don't listen to a thing I tell myself. I can know all day long what to do, how to act, what's acceptable and healthy, but I tend to go against that. You know this. If I really believed myself, this blog would sound a lot less like it's written by a nutcase.

I want what I can't have. What is that? I've been feeling a bit rejected recently, a bit pity me-esque (as opposed to..?), angry that all the men I like (could have should have would have) are, circumstantially, not working. Circumstantially. The Doctor, we knew he was moving, we knew that the moment we met him. The boy from December, we realized early on that he wasn't in it, he was waiting for her. The Boy, we were apart for too long, and I couldn't pretend like I cared come May.

It seems that I only want what I can't have.