Oatmeal

So I feel like oatmeal. You know, bland, beige, lumpy, tasteless. That is how my life feels. Really. I don't really know how to change it from that either. I am of the school of thought, that if you don't like something, change it to something you do like. Find the problem, fix the problem. However this time, the problem to be fixed, isn't in my hands. So I can't fix it.

Of course I am talking about DCS.

You know right now, this is the weekend he said he would be down for a visit in. As in, "I will visit in September, then you come up for the wedding in October, then I'll come down in Novemeber for Thanksgiving and then you move home in Decemeber." Except he isn't here in September, and I think I have been uninvited to the wedding (But he can't just say "No" he has to dress it up and beat around the bush but not actually say no). And yet, stupidly, I am still filled with hope and love and wanting to be with this man. Who lies to me. Or at least can't keep his word to me.

God, I remember him, years ago, when he was CRAZY in love with me. He would walk to the ends of the earth for me glancing in his direction. He wanted an intense hypercommitted relationship from the get go, I wanted a laid back dating thing, of course he got his way, and I bought into the program (like Amway) and now he wants the laid back casual dating thing, and I am stuck wanting, really wanting that committed grown up we're getting married type of relationship.

Oatmeal. Mucky lumpy oatmeal. I should be turning fricking cartwheels. I am so close to the end of the most laborius section of my thesis data anylysis that I can touch it, but I have no one to celebrate that milestone with. And I fear that he will snatch my coming home away from me too, at the last moment.

I fear. I live my life in spurts of cold, stomach grasping, breath stealing, tearful fear, and etheral whisps of hope that I am trying to harvest to use as a foundation for my life.

I guess the balance between hope and fear is oatmeal.