There was a time when finding love seemed impossible and was the only thing that mattered. I felt that my ideals were set to high, but I was unwilling to settle. I was setting up the pieces of an infinite no-win situation.
It was liberating not having to read on a predestined path, but it was also cowardly. When there is no objective, there can be no failure. One can envision a never-ending adventure, and no one to answer to. I would label myself stoic as opposed to apathetic, a self-affirmed single-lady instead of a spinster cat-lady.
Fate had something else in store for me though. I fell in love with an amazing man, have two amazing soon-to-be men, an old dog, and live in a great little bungalow home. I wonder though, if I still disapprove of people who are always looking to “climb the ladder” or achieve more accolades as examples of attaining extrinsic motivation, while I delude myself on top of my high horse of intrinsic rewards. The sad truth is that I cannot define those inherent tendencies to challenge myself at all! This writing exercise feels like grasping at straws. Other novel activities are entirely tedious and form a cloud of ether in my head
It feels like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces don’t quite fit, but you jam it in anyways, hoping the raised bulge and slightly off shade of blue sky will go unnoticed. But I know it’s there; I know about my own jumbled puzzle pieces forever. The solution is easy – just find the right piece and fix it. But all I see is 10,000 pieces of a dozen shades of sky blue, taunting me.