...and carry a big stick

I'm really p'd off at myself. I've been living in la-la land for the past few weeks, and it took a mere 3-word email to wake me up.

You see, I'm the independent type. I don't need no-one and nothing to complete me. I've got a life (albeit a rather mundane one mostly), I've got direction. Or I had...

But I've let it slip away recently. I don't get lonely - but started to wonder if I was ready to become someone's partner again. I don't need a sugar-daddy - but started to wonder what it would be like to have someone else there to support and help me achieve my dreams. I don't get soppy - but started to wonder if I remembered how it felt to be cherished and adored, if I ever have really been in my life. I even started to daydream about finding a guy to be with.

Bah humbug. I should know by now that's not for me.

Yet I allowed myself to drift off into dreamland, and it stuck it's creepy slimy fingers into every aspect of how I was living. The "what if's" took over, supplanting what I should have been doing to plan and work toward the goals I have for the future. I put them all on hold in favour of fantasy.

Well, no more. That 3-word email roused me from reverie, letting me know just how far-fetched my dream state had become.

Today I'm picking up those bits I let slip. Searing closed the raw parts, putting away the sentimentality. And once more carrying my big stick.