Flat. Traveling for thousands of miles only to arrive at the beginning.


One day, when the universe decides to finally reveal its truths, I hope to discover why I was created to fall so easily, trust so readily and love so deeply if I was never meant to be loved in return.

It takes all of the courage I can muster to give someone an inkling that I care for them, much less tell them. I often get creative in an effort to make it fun and less nervewracking for myself. Often, these attempts are rejected, or worse, not even recognized at all. So much of my heart goes into planning and executing things to make people happy that if they are never acknowledged, I feel as if my heart is worth nothing.

That I am worth nothing.

I’ve given so much of my heart away that I feel as if there is barely anything left. I have tried to not waste this precious gift, searching out those who I have thought would never take it for granted, but have unfailingly been proven wrong. I am foolish and must suffer the consequences of being so.

But who?

I’m not the girl who is ever approached or asked out. Though it would be lovely, and an absolute dream, I can’t ever imagine ever being courted. If I can’t even get noticed, why should I think that anyone would put forth the time and effort to try and “woo” me?

I have settled for being the person who makes the surprises and tries to make others feel special. Unfortunately, that has never worked either.

By now, you must know that I am a dreamer. I live in a life of my own imagining. It has always been wildly fanciful… so much so, that real life could never compare. Yet, I feel as if some of my wild imaginings are often very real, very tangible, very POSSIBLE events that almost everyone seems to have had in their lives but me.

I pray for a hand to hold, not a Tiffany ring.

I wish for a funny, steadfast confidant, not a supermodel.

I plead for someone to wait outside security at the airport, JUST ONCE, not a limousine pickup.

I have played “choose you own adventure” with my life, in a fairly successful way. I have met people that have previously only been seen in picture frames on the walls of my childhood bedroom. I have traveled, experienced new cultures, held an inordinate amount of fun, serious and interesting jobs… but I still feel empty.

People say that you must focus on yourself… that only YOU can make YOU happy. I understand this, but I also have to disagree in some respect. When you are built to love, you must have someone besides yourself to love.

I will not say that I’m not totally unselfish. I do want love in return.

I ache for it everyday of my life.

Sure, I love my friends, and I truly believe that they love me in return. I just want a more livable type of love. Day to day. *Not every second, however. That would drive me insane. I, most definitely, am my own person and need my own space. Catch 22 with the whole children thing…

I try so very hard to do everything I can possibly think of to fix myself… to make myself into someone lovable. I plan heartfelt things to make others smile and be happy. I lose weight. I try to look my best at all times. I hug, smile and listen.

I try my best to book a show or a modeling gig in a fruitless attempt to validate myself.

Look! I really am pretty! This photographer/company thought so.

Listen to the applause! They like me. They really, really like me!

But nothing really comes of that either. Hollow applause from nameless faces. Compliments from anonymous “yes” men.

I’m still invisible. I’m not worth getting to know. I can’t win anyone over with my talent or my overly made up face.

I just don’t know what else there is. I don’t know what to do anymore.

I am stuck.

I am numb.

Forever alone on this road to nowhere.


~ by sillyauntjen on August 1, 2011.

One Response to “Flat. Traveling for thousands of miles only to arrive at the beginning.”

  1. i am sorry you feel this way because i’m feeling it too and i know it sucks.

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