It's way past my new bedtime but it's snowing. For some reason this constitutes a new post.
I just put up new drapes in my bedroom and I found myself staring at the small sliver of the outside world showing through the place where the drapes can't reach. All I see is grey branches with white blankets covering them. For a few minutes I fixate on this little glimpse before I have to get up, pull the drapes open and take it all in.
I hate winter and cold weather and wet boots and frost bitten fingers and everything that comes along with this season. But I could stare at snow filled scenery from my bedroom window for hours.
Why is it that we want people who do not want us back, or still love those who hurt us? Why do we put ourselves in positions that we know are not good for us, hoping that this time it will be different? Maybe because we know that we will mend ourselves like we have each and every time we were hurt before. Maybe we believe in ourselves more than we gives ourselves credit for. Why do I put myself on the line with my family knowing that I do not have the power to change them? Because I know that I love them enough to get hurt by them and then heal again. Sometimes the best things in life hurt. Sometimes the ones you love the most hurt you the most.
Life is a bitch sometimes. A vengeful, mean one. But damnit, I love the bitch. Because if life didn't hand me some really sad sad cards sometimes, then getting the good ones wouldn't feel so damn good. The amazing thing about life is that there's an indescribable, incomprehensible balance to it all. In my book at least.
I have to be up in 5 hours to trek to work. All I want to do is lay around all day in my sweats, drink hot chocolate and convince my friends to go sledding with me like we did when we were kids. Instead I will put on my best sales person smile, fold sweaters and put people in fitting rooms until 2:30.
Such is life.