The Irony in Secret Keeping

It's amazing to me, how, even when you stop caring, stop seeing, stop talking to, and even stop thinking about certain people or things, They still come back to haunt you.
And it's not even so much that it's "haunting". Just, ironic.

I can understand not telling me because you think it would hurt me.
But I'm pretty sure that it hurts by trying to keep it some kind of secret from me.

Oh, what does it matter.
You don't even have a clue that this bothers me.
It doesn't matter.
It SHOULDN'T matter.

But I suppose it does.
--Knowing that she got pregnant by him when our daughter passed away.
--Knowing that in 2 months, she'll have her son, and I still won't have My Sadie.

For her sake, I pray to God that he grows up and MANS up to be a better father to that child than he was to Sadie. He may not have had much time to father her, but he surely wasted every moment he could have had with her.

I wish the best for them. All of them.
And that's all I really can do.

4 Months Ago... Never would've saw it coming.

I've spent the morning with him, just sitting around OUR house, and I still can't believe it's real.
I look back over the past, lets say, 5 years, and it absolutely blows my mind.

From 9th grade, not knowing what on Earth I actually wanted. I had him then, and I lost him due to my own confusion and not standing up for ME. I remember very vividly being wonderfully happy, completely naive, but happy. But I threw that away.

Then 10th grade, going back and forth until it all blew up in my face, and starting something-that, looking back, I would've handle so differently, Starting stuff with Caleb, being so jaded and so blindsided that I couldn't see past the warning labels.

Continuing the same in 11th grade, and being so blinded to everything that was really going on. Trying so hard to grow up, without really appreciating anything like I should have. I believe that was when the lack of trust began to form and innocence was slowly drifting away.

12th grade, the same. Putting him before so many things. So much time and effort wasted on someone who would never think to do the same for anyone else, better yet, me. Convincing myself that I was happy. Being so afraid to do anything about it in fear that someone would get hurt. [The irony in trying to prevent the hurt--only making it worse in the long-run.]

Summer after high-school, working 50 hour weeks, found out I was pregnant, tried to make things work even harder--clearly, it was unsuccessful, but I'm without complaints now.

Last winter, finding out about Sadie's condition, trying to make a life for us, realizing that the
past 3 years of my life had been nothing but lie after lie after lie after lie. Working to pass the time, nearly killing myself to make things work. Never letting myself see the breaking point that I clearly had reached so long before.

This spring, finding faith to get me through everything. Losing everything--the love I thought I had, the future I had imagined, my daughter-everything.

This summer, giving up on searching for any kind of love, just looking to function.
And when I finally stopped looking, there he was, just standing in front of me.

Somehow over the past few months, he has made everything so much better. It's insane to say all the cliche things that I want to say about him, and us, and how he makes me feel. Feelings and emotions are so cliche. I wish I had better ways to express everything.

I wish that I could go back to 9th grade, when life was simple and innocent, and start it all over and go through it all with him. I'd do it in a heartbeat. It'd definitely would make a wonderful story, now wouldn't it?
I suppose we wouldn't be who we are today with out these years behind us. Oh, but how nice it would be. The thought seems wonderful. Quite useless, since it's impossible to go back. And in all reality, if given the chance I probably wouldn't go back. It wouldn't seem right.
I know that now we fit together so much better than back then. I mean, we were wonderful back then. But in those days, "wonderful" was a word that could lightly be used and thrown around to mean that "we'd be together tomorrow, but maybe not next week."
Now it's all so different. Tomorrow, and next week, and next month, and so on--there is no doubt in my mind.

It's wonderful.
A whole new meaning of Wonderful.

Here goes everything.

We finally got the apartment and have finally gotten most of everything moved down. I never thought we'd end up here. Never in a million years.
I'm still looking for a job. I hate job hunting. It honestly feels like that's all I've done for the past year. I know I haven't. But it feels like it.

I'm so stressed.
I absolutely hate not being able to work and support myself.
And it's not even that I'm not willing to work, just that no one is hiring and all.
Uh. Not complaining.
I've been blessed with what I have.
And I'll work hard to get a job.

I've realized lately, that I really am not fond of people who find the need to put everyone around them down. It's seriously ridiculous. I mean, I know not everyone on the planet are exactly geniuses. But, really? It's not necessary to make the entire known universe feel like crap just because you think you really know everything.
Ugh.
Serious annoying.


Oh well.
Tomorrow is Sunday.
Maybe it'll get better.
Hopefully.

Just a little bit longer...

Too bad it's not Valentine's Day.
I've never really been a fan.
Only one year really stands out as a good one for that holiday.

Maybe this year will be better.
He'll be there.
We'll have our "home".
Life should be good.



We found the apartment we want.
I'm so ecstatic about it.
I absolutely can not wait to move and all.
It already feels like home in that town...and we're not even there yet.


Just a little bit longer.
And I'll be back in his arms where I belong.

far from what you think.

I don't understand how you can honestly expect me to come home more than I do when you do not make any effort what-s0-ever to make me feel like I'm actually wanted there.
It doesn't feel like home anymore.
I'm sorry.
It's YOUR home.
Not mine.
I'm officially a nomad-again.
I can not honestly believe that you think I don't miss you all.
Like, I'm just out on my own partying all the time just having the time of my life.
I'm not saying that I haven't had my share of fun out here, but it gets lonely.
The phones work both ways.
I mean, honestly, how sad is it that I've only really been able to talk to you online.
You expect me to make time to call you and talk to you--while not picking up the phone to do the same.
Even online, I'm the first to make conversation.

And you get mad when I come home and don't see only you.
I can't afford to do that. I'm sorry.
You know, it's crazy to me how you fuss that I don't spend time with you all, but when I do, you only fuss that I wasn't there long enough.
Oh, but wait, how many times have you made the effort to see me?
Yeah, that's what I thought.

It gets lonely. You don't call.
You only fuss.
If you really want me to come around more than I do you would hold your breath for two seconds and appreciate when I am there, instead of complaining that I'm not doing enough.


Maybe this is selfish to say.
Maybe it's wrong.

But it's necessary.

It's all coming closer.

I cannot believe how I've ended up here. I was moving to get away from anything and everything that had to do with Georgia. I wanted to run from the past and everything that happened. And then he shows up out of nowhere like nothing had ever come between us for all these years.
It's crazy to think that after having the most honest intentions to not start anything between us, we've ended up here.
I suppose I'll elaborate on this later... I've got a boy with lots of ideas talking to me at the moment.
I can't seem to get the smile off my face long enough to finish this.