I think I messed up with someone I admire, that I wanted to be a new friend, by trying too hard. Maybe I came across as creepy or weird-in-a-bad-way. So now I feel worthless and stupid.
The potted plant from the potager that had been in my studio for 2 days, but then returned to the balcony with the plants in the windowboxes because it seemed happier there… the first frost killed it. And I feel guilty and sad.
I looked at tea kettles in person, and then online, today. Hundreds of them. I didn’t buy anything.
I stopped following some people on Twitter I’d really liked, who didn’t seem to like me back. I’m sure they haven’t noticed.
I’m not writing a post a day anymore. It was interfering with how my creative process works best. I could, hypothetically, still reach 400,000 words by the end of 2014. I’m not sure I care anymore. So now I feel like a failure, 2x over.
Because Spouse has decided our December visit to his parents might as well be over Christmas (gah!), my last visit to P will be 12/17.
And if we are actually to celebrate a winter holiday, like we’d been talking about, we’d have to fit it into the week before Christmas. Which means it probably won’t happen. (I was looking forward to it, for the first time in years.)
Why do I miss people who didn’t/don’t care about me? Oh, but there’s been so many! Far more than those who did care. See, I do too matter! There are so many people who have known me, sufficient to have opinions about me, and didn’t like me. I’m not invisible at least. I’m not imaginary. I’m not boring.
I’m just unlovable.
I want beginnings, but I’m mired in endings.
I want someone to want what I am offering.