Expectations

I'm a blogger? I like that word...
It sounds like a hobby. A hobby where I share my thoughts with myself (or the one or two people who will stumble across the page and read what I have to say). If I'm lucky.

so when you're done...

when you think about the people you love- your parents, brothers and sisters, best friends, new friends, old friends... you think about the good times with them. You love them, because they bring a sense of meaning to your life? They were part of the best day or the worst day of your life and everything inbetween. But being human, we hurt and we get hurt. Whether we mean to or not. We learn from these mistakes, or we don't. We love the idea of the people we once knew. The pain inflicted heals... eventually.

To you- the one that hurts me, whether you mean to or not, I want to say this: I love you. And not the "I love you" that serves as over-used words that fill the empty spaces or the silence or make the sin more forgiveable. You stumbled into my life with your teapot and your jokes and you made things better.  So when you come back, I'll still be here. When you're done finding you, done painting, done.
When you're done... I'd love to hear the sound of you playing piano in the silence again.

With this comes expectations. Do I expect too much of you? Do you expect me to be just where I am? Expecting things is... normal- we expect to wake up, expect do go write that test or find the cup of coffee waiting as it has every morning for the last 5 years. Expect the soda to bubble, expect the chocolate to taste, well, like chocolate.
If we dont expect anything- will it hurt less? Will people stop expecting from us? Will we be happier? Sad? Why expect at all?
Expectations, expectations, expectations. Life's little shards of confusion.

When you're done... I don't expect you to be there.
When you're done... I expect myself to still love you.

The teacup is half empty, half full
xo
Crys