I've moved again, and soon it'll be Christmas. It's been stressful... juggling work, packing, then moving, then more work -- so many boxes still unpacked. Haven't had time to Christmas shop really, but I've squeezed in a bit of time somehow to find something at the mall near work after I was able to leave an hour early.
This year he's on my mind again. Reminiscing about December. Soon the new year will come and go, and in 2019 I'm sure nothing will be any different. Life resumes as usual, I've had so many hours lately it's taken up a good chunk of my time and attention. Jacques is in Switzerland, but I guess I don't miss him much, at least not enough to feel any real of degree of sadness. I like his company but I've barely even messaged him. I don't know why, as usual, I find myself missing the one person who could probably care the least about me. I'm sure he's just been doing other things and I haven't even crossed his mind. Yet even knowing that, as I commit myself to daily tasks, or especially when I'm walking home under a night sky, I'll think of him and feel heavy.
Wouldn't it be best if I just tried to release my grip on these feelings? But still, I haven't managed to do that and a dim hope flickers in my chest despite obvious signs and constant denials. A hope that one day he'll see me with new eyes, untainted by the past. That he'll smile for me the way he used to. That's a hope that pessimism and the reality of the situation can't seem to snuff out. Should I even want that, knowing what I do? I really can't help it. Love truly has a mind of its own.
But I don't know if I'll ever really see him much now. I guess not...
Am I really so bland and unpalatable that there's nothing to miss about me? I can't ignite the passion of anyone, least of all him. Affections for me always seem to be... shallow and easily forgotten. Some people just seem to be able to charm everyone around them, to the point that people would sacrifice just about anything for them, and feel a lifetime's love. I'm envious of such people, because I just feel like a shell that people eventually tire of. No one really sees me. And even the memories I really cherish, don't mean the same.
But life is what it is, and even though it feels like a piece of me is missing, otherwise things are good. I know the holidays will be enjoyable, I just need to finish my shopping on time.
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These are the records of certain occurrences and musings in my life. It is probably not of much importance to you, unless you enjoy being a sleuth or have some vague interest in listening to me prattle about my flavour-of-the-month.