Every rose has it's thorns and even weeds have pretty flowers.
Even a nice warm fire sometimes blows smoke in your eyes.
If your unwilling to endure a little pain and try to find the goodness in things, it's your own fault if you never find happiness.
I was happy before. Well maybe more content than totally happy. I would say my happiness was in my contentment.
My mistake was in allowing someone to find a crack in my wall and blow smoke in my eyes with warm words. Second mistake was in thinking that those warm words could have been spoken by someone who really wanted me, wanted to share what I have and play in my playground. I've been around the track enough times to know that some people just dream and never do.
Guess the trouble was that I was so content that I was feeling happy in my own little world and thought that there was more happiness to be found.
Seems I was right in what I once before had go through my mind.
Some people are just meant to be alone and observe the world and what goes on within it. Our job is to find the good, enjoy it and tell the rest of the world about it. Our place is the place of contentment.
I'm at the stage now where I feel content for a day or so and then something hits me like a rock upside the head and knocks that contentment out. Some little truth will be mentioned by someone and I have another setback. Or I'll be working at my own plans and a passing thought will trip up my contentment.
It would be nice to completely shut the rest of the world out until I'm through healing, but that seems impossible.
Almost wish I had a rerun button so I could go back and see just how I became so content being alone before.
But keeping busy with work is sure a lot of help. Seems the harder and longer I work, the less time my mind has a chance to wonder. Then when it does wonder it is usually because of a good memory or something I learned along the way. The kinds of things that make me smile.
If I'm unlovable, who cares. I can go on loving things around me and care about the world and people in it.
After all, it is the love we put out that counts most of all. It's that which will be remembered after we're gone. Not the love we have received.
Wonder if that means that desiring someone to love me is just being selfish...
Now there is something to ponder as I go smiling through my day!