How Did I Become Such a Cowardly Girl?

When I hear couples talk about how they met and what falling in love was like for them, I can't help but feel a twinge of envy. I mean, I know that I will most likely get married someday- the statistics are in my favor- but it's the waiting that takes a lot out of the person. I mean, I get so frustrated waiting...and waiting...
But it's okay.. I think. I mean, I have a couple of more years before I will be able to support myself properly. I currently living hand to mouth so I am hardly in a position to think about meeting someone and having a family. Of this I am certain- I am content with my situation. I think I just get impatient. I'm human after all. If we could only see the big picture I am sure that His plan would be quite satisfactory to our selfish little minds and we would realize that waiting is perfectly acceptable. However, we do not. Instead we fly around like a chicken without a head waving and flailing our arms trying to compensate... for what?
As my mother points out to me often (I know this already Mom!) God did not intend for us to be alone. Okay. I get that.
The thing is, I don't mind being alone. Not really. I am a private person by nature. Friendly but private. I can handle alone. In fact, actually meeting the man that I will love for always is frightening. I will pledge my everything to him. He will be second to God in my life. How huge!
Okay, okay, I admit that I feel some excitement thinking about it. Who wouldn't? I want love in my life. Of course. Maybe. I think.
I guess what I am saying is, I would welcome finding my soul mate, I am terrified of meeting him, I am afraid that I won't, I know that it is likely God has that in store for me, but I enjoy my solitude. Oh my selfish, selfish heart! But it is the waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.
One way or another, I just want to know the future. Silly to think like this.
God knows everything. He knows me.
Right now he knows all the mischief I am into (my silly, errant thoughts!), and what I want out of life.
To be one woman, I am overwhelmingly afflicted with the ridiculous!
:sigh:

I think I should clarify how I am feeling right now. I am fine. Please don't worry. Yes, I am stressed out, I do wish I could do something fun and exciting. Of course I miss my family. No, I am not depressed. Yes, I am tired. School is stressful, life is hard, work is repetitive and fun is relative. The good news is, I am perfectly capable of handling it. Regardless of how my last entry sounds. If I feel something, I write it. It just so happens that I decided to blog on a very stressful day.
Thanks for caring guys. That was so precious of you.
Much Love,
Roxie

I am at this point in my life where I am not sure who I am anymore. I DO NOT know myself. Who am I? What am I passionate about? What's wrong with me? Why can't I make friends or trust anyone? Sometimes I feel as though I am never going to get it right. I am myself. And that scares me more than anything else. I run from "fitting" in so fast that sometimes I am so afraid of letting anyone really see me. I am Me. Whether or not I am "cool" or beautiful or thin or fat or awkward or lonely, I am always going to be myself. How frightening.
Is it pathetic that I think no one would want to date me? Ever. If someone shows interest in me I assume it's a joke. How unfair. To myself and to that person. I put on a mask of coldness and indifference that I just don't feel. I am so terrified of it. All of it.
I don't know why I am blogging this. It's not exactly fun and warm.
I am, of course, Happy. In a relatively speaking sort of way. Happy as in content with myself and my goals, my chosen career path. Of course. But about the little things... hanging out, making new friends, excitement... I have not one of those things happening.
Maybe I'm a prude. It's possible. I don't have a social life- unless you call.... nope, there's nothing to compare it with. Not one little miniscule ounce of fun in my life. Nothing. I go to class, I go to work, I come home. I read. I sleep. I cry. I hardly laugh.
I read somewhere that a woman needs a certain amount of touches a day. No one touches me. Ever. I can't remember the last time someone hugged me.
I never thought that I could get so lonely. And tired. Just tired of it all.
I don't even want to read anymore. I have been reading since I was three and have never had this happen to me. Something is wrong and I don't know how to fix it. I hurt.


I can't believe I even wrote this down. I am so tired of the quiet. I am sick of the loneliness.
And I want/need a hug. Very badly