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And on the Eighth Day, God Created Whining
January 14, 2004, 10:50 a.m. I am an aimless arrow; shot without purpose. I long ago reached the zenith of my arc, and now descend to some unknown target. My flight has lost its imperative, is no long steady and sure, is sent spiralling by the slightest wind change. I no longer know why I was loosed, nor even why nocked. I may never reach my target, if it actually exists. I need to find imperative of my own, I need to free myself from dependence on a bowstring strung and pulled by something else, sprout wings of my own, and fly by my self. All this over a little holiday boredom? I need to go clean my room . . . No. Not yet. I am beginning to feel desperately unhappy. Maybe I’m just being a little melodramatic, but I constantly feel like I’m missing out. I’m afraid it all might just be “I wanna boyfriend!” syndrome. Oh shut up, I know it is. I’m lonely. I miss the security of knowing someone wants you and loves you like that. I want that back. I don’t know how to get it back. I go out to parties, I am social, I smile at people and all that . . . I can’t really do anything more than that, because I abhor schemes and deliberate plans when it comes to relationships. I don’t want to ‘snare’ a man, I just want to find someone I can connect with.
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