How little I know (2)

Your pictures are still in my room. Your socks are still in my drawer. Your name is still on the tip of my tounge and I find if I don't talk about you, I have nothing else to say.

With the realization that you might not be right for me comes the realization that I might be wrong.I used to obsess about my "future." Used to? I still do. But I define future differently now. It's not the what but the who that suddenly matters most. My biggest fear has always been to end up in the wrong job. Suddenly that has shifted to an absolute phobia of ending up with the 'wrong' person. And I don't even know if there's such a thing as a 'wrong person.'

Maybe life can't be wrong. Could it be that we just have to let things happen to us and make them work, and fit? What difference does it make what we choose? I can stay with him and be happy, but always wonder if I could be more happy. I can do the same with anyone else.

Why am doing this to myself, to him?

Deep down I think I know...it's this restlessness in me that does this, always has. Sometimes I need to rock the foundation of things until everything is just a heap of rubble. So I can rebuild the kind of life I think I want. And when it's done I'll look at it with heartbreaking disappointment and realize it simply didn't turn out the way I imagined in my head. And I'll start the cycle again.

Damn my stupid head, and rediculous imagination. I can't believe how little I know.