I hate giving myself the chance to hope, to dream a little, about something I know is impossible. I don't know why I do it. I'm better than that, more logical than that. I should just be happy with what I have and let the rest go. Why pin any hopes on what could be when I can just as easily focus on what is? Sometimes, I feel like what's the point of even trying... like lining up at the starting line and looking around you and knowing - just knowing - you're out of your league. I should have pulled out before they said "go!" and saved myself the heartache of hoping.
I'm giving myself 24 hours to wallow and to feel sorry for myself. You will simply have to bear with me, poppets. The usual sunny DissovledGirl will return. Watch this space.
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