Hope is a funny thing. They say it’s the only thing more powerful than fear. What decides what we hope for? Can we control what we hope for? I wish I could. I wish I could not hope sometimes. I wish I could just stop hoping for things, then I couldn’t be disappointed, right?
I hate the feeling of disappointment more than almost anything I think. It’s such a gut wrenching feeling of loss for something, maybe even something intangible, that you never even had.
I’m beginning to believe in signs. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be. I can be very stubborn and trample straight through and past obvious signs. That always ends in regret. So, this time I’m going to follow the sign. The big, bright, in my face, neon sign that says not this house, not right now.
So, tonight I’m going to go home to my non-pool home with the stained carpet and lack of furnishings and lack of any organization or feeling of home with no hope to leave next week or next month. I don’t know when we’ll move now; I’m so frustrated I don’t even want to look anymore honestly. I’m tired of hoping and being let down. I’m tire of falling in love with homes that feel more like home the first time I walk in than mine has in over a year, I’m tired of all of it.
The home that almost was. RIP
The Uncategorized Life 