I need to become okay with uncertainty.

That's all life is: uncertainty. The future - uncertain. What I'm going to do - uncertain. Who I'm going to become - uncertain.

I like control. I need control. But there are some elements of life that I've either been ignoring or am now just experiencing that I cannot control. Maybe those elements came into play when there was someone other than myself in my life. Hm...

I'm often terrified of what's going to happen. I don't like not knowing things and not being able to change the situation around me to give me an advantage makes me uncomfortable. But I have to become okay with not being able to control my environment, or the lives of others.

I need to let go.

I think I'm starting to let go.

My future, until this point, has always been nailed down. I've aspired to these lofty careers - doctor! professor! - which few ever actually achieve. It's all too possible (probable) that I'm not meant for a life of prestige. Maybe I'm supposed to be the lab tech or the museum curator (which wouldn't be a bad job at all...) or the educator. Maybe, whatever direction my life (Steve?) leads me in will be the right direction, no matter what my brain may think about it.

I need to accept that I'm not in control of my life. Or not as in control as I hoped/thought I was.

Where ever I go, doors will open for me. I'm intelligent and I'm capable. I need to settle with myself that fate doesn't work for one person. Fate will not land Steve an incredible job with an incredible graduate school nearby which I would miraculously get into. No. Fate will deal me something completely different and I have to be ready for what that difference is. I also have to be ready for the consequences of the choices I have to make.

But I can do this. Whatever it is that's going to happen, I can get through it.


I'm letting go.

There's a philosophical question that I've never given much thought to before: Given the choice to know the time of your death, would you take that knowledge? 
I've never thought about it because it could never happen. But in fleeting, my answer is yes. Yes, tell me when I will die so that I can be adequately prepared. Tell me when I will die so that I can really live with no regrets, like I'm meant to.

Well, what if you didn't have the choice?

What if you were told the time of your death? What would you do?

As I see it, there are two options.

The first is to quit delaying the inevitable. You're going to die. It's going to suck. If you keep living, it will just make dying harder. So die now. It saves you and everyone around you grief because you become no more attached to life, no more enthralled by the beauty of it or by how good it makes you feel to live. You've had your time, so cut the cord and maintain control while you still can.

The second is to live. You know when you're going to die, so live it up in the mean time. Yes, dying will suck. Your last months will be miserable because you know that your time with the people you love is limited. But soon, you will have to leave everyone important to you and they may (or may not) mourn you. But at least you had all the time with them you could, even if there was a pall around every look, touch, and smile.


So which do I chose?

And this new thing I'm going to try is called thinking positive.

So the set-up: 
Last night, I tore myself down.
Again.
I find that I do this often when left alone without a distraction. My mind just gets to wandering and all of my issues attack, reducing me to a sobbing mess six feet in the air. 
It's not pleasant.
I don't like doing it.

Therefore, I'm going to stop.

I'm not going to think that Steve doesn't like me or doesn't want to see me. Because frankly, all of the evidence implies that he does.
I'm not going to assume that I should be more important than class or group presentations because, quite frankly, I'm not. I'm a spectator, an individual who will probably just flit through his life. I will have no lasting impression. Grades, on the other hand, do make a lasting impression. If he doesn't have the grades, he doesn't have a job. 

I am not his future.


I think I need a new way to define myself. Pre-Steve, I was "The Single Friend." That was my definition. Post-Steve, I'm not "Steve's Girl" (because I don't need a man to define me), but I'm no longer "TSF." So what am I?

This will take some thought, but I think it will help.

I'm unhappy.

Today's weather was glorious. I had two (relatively) easy exams and I saw Steve for lunch. It's Thursday, and I love Thursdays. The weekend is here, and on Saturday I have 1) the Purdue game and 2) Steve and mine's two month.

I should be happy.

But all today, I was fighting back tears. Ha, actually, screw that. I broke down into them no less than three times and have a feeling that tonight is going to be rough.

I just feel worthless. I feel worthless and undeserving and imperfect.
I'm not good enough and I don't understand why I can't just be okay.

That is all.